Chapter 17
KINGSTON “FROST”
Iglance over my shoulder to find Stevie grasping the railing; her splinted hand pressing against the wall on the other side as she goes up the stairs. I’m off the couch, picking her up so she doesn’t fall.
“King, I can do it.”
“Yeah, you’re doing a great fucking job of it.” Instead of bringing her upstairs, I place her on the chaise section of the couch. “I’ll heat up the food. What do you want?”
She folds her arms. “I’m not hungry.”
“Fine. I’ll choose and shove it down your throat.”
Stevie punches the cushion. “Why do you have to be such a dick?”
“Why do you have to fight over the dumbest shit?”
My eyes pin her in place and then they drift down her body.
She’s so skinny I can use her as a toothpick.
Her head shifts to the television, so I heat one of the dishes the women brought.
I return to the living room carrying two plates only to find Stevie asleep.
Returning her plate to the kitchen, I cover her with the blanket draped on the back of the couch, and dig into my meal while continuing to watch TV.
Rebel and I find a new routine. She’s out of my bed before I am, showers, and curls up in her own bed.
When I’m ready, I carry her to the kitchen as she shouts and calls me names, which only makes me laugh and her scream louder.
In the kitchen, she sits playing on her phone, and I prepare breakfast.
Today, I slide a plate in front of her, place mine down, and like usual, we don’t talk.
Just eat and look at our phones. My phone rings and I notice it’s Cristo, which automatically has me tensing.
This is one guy I never want to fuck with.
No matter how nice he comes off, he’s twice as vicious when he doesn’t like you.
I’ve seen the results, and so has Stevie, except she has no idea some of the corpses she cleaned up were Cristo’s doing.
I answer, “What’s up?”
“I’d like to see you and Stevie at my house for lunch today.”
My eyes rise to meet hers, which are locked on me.
She must have heard him. I’m uneasy about bringing her around Cristo.
I can’t think of anything good coming out of the meeting, because there’s no reason for him to see Stevie.
Unless he knows she worked at Times Up and has a beef with her. But if that was the case, why help her?
I’m drawn out of my thoughts as Cristo says, “Frost!”
“Yeah, sorry. Sure. What’s this about?”
“You’ll find out. Lunch is at noon.”
He hangs up, and Stevie’s staring at me. “Who is Cristo?”
“Don of the Savini family. The mob boss.”
“I don’t want to go. I don’t even know him.”
“No choice, Rebel. When Cristo calls, you don’t ignore it.”
Stevie places her fork down, slowly swallowing. A slight shiver drifts down her body. She’s worried, which she should be. No one is summoned to Cristo’s without a reason. A damn good one. And this raises the hair on the back of my neck.
It’s now that I realize how much I care about Stevie, and it bothers me.
Close romantic ties are weaknesses, and will leave both of us vulnerable.
Unfortunately, she’s grown on me like a fucking weed.
Depressed, feisty, or angry, it doesn’t matter.
I like her small, warm body next to mine in bed.
Looking after her so she’s clean, fed, and protected from her nightmares.
In the beginning, having her here was tough, but now I want it and that doesn’t sit well with me.
I reach for her hand and say, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Shocked by my actions and words, I retract my hand immediately.
What the hell?
Is this how people act when they like someone or am I turning into a pussy?
Stevie’s sitting here, blinking at me, and then shakes her head, placing her hand in her lap. “How are you going to do that?”
“By doing whatever it takes.”
We haven’t stopped staring at each other, and my phone rings again.
Without looking at the phone, I answer, “Yeah.”
“It’s Jess. I gotta thing to do this morning, so I can’t open the shop.”
“Fine. I have an early client.”
We disconnect. Jess is always vague about what he has going on, and I don’t ask. It’s his business. If he wants to tell me something, he will, so until then I ask nothing.
I clear the breakfast dishes while saying, “I have a nine o’clock client. It will take a few hours, so you’ll have to come with me. From there, we’ll head to Cristo’s.”
For the first time in a while, Rebel doesn’t argue. “Okay, I’m going to change into something a little nicer.” She gives a weak shrug with a humorless laugh. “I might as well look good when I die.”
“You’re not fucking dying, Rebel.”
“You don’t know that, King.”
I carry her upstairs to her room, and place her on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I do know it.”
“He’s the head of the mafia. I might have lived a sheltered life, but I know about the mafia and none of it’s good.”
“Get dressed.”
When she appears at the top of the stairs, my gaze brightens before I realize her effect on me, returning to my normal brooding dickhead self.
Rebel’s wearing a short-sleeve knee-length pink dress decorated in flowers.
The neckline plunges down into her small cleavage.
She’s gorgeous even with the brace and splint on.
Her brunette hair rests on her shoulders.
For the past week, she’s looked like an emaciated meerkat. Right now, my dick wants out.
Again she protests when I move her from house to car to shop.
Inside the shop, I sit her in one of the guest seats while I turn on lights, check my stock, and place my equipment by the table in the backroom.
My client Peggy has been coming a few times a week.
We’re working on a design, taking breaks in between because of the pain.
I walk out into the waiting area to find Stevie limping over to each design on the wall, inspecting them.
Her head turns to me. “Did you do these?”
“Yeah.”
Her attention moves back to the tattoos and then to me. “These are beautiful, King.”
Fuck!
Rebel just complimented me, and it causes a shooting warmth to my heart and dick.
I give a half-hearted thanks.
Peggy walks in to save me from any other nice thing Stevie might say. I’m not good with giving or receiving compliments. They’re weird and awkward as fuck. But getting a compliment from Stevie is like getting the best blowjob I could ever ask for, warm, and explosive.
Peggy tosses a hello to Stevie and says to me, “Hey, King. I’m ready for more pain.”
I laugh at this middle-aged woman wearing a tank top that says, ‘no boobs, but my twat’s fine.’ She looks over at Stevie and asks, “I’m sorry, were you ahead of me?”
Stevie smiles. “No. I came here with King.”
She eyes Stevie from head to toe, and says, “Well, it’s nice to meet King’s girl.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Peggy.”
“Stevie. And I’m not his girl.”
Peggy’s gaze shifts from me to Stevie. “My mistake. Friend?”
I cut in and say to Peggy, “Let’s get started. Head on to the back area.”
She looks at both of us again, and as she slowly walks to the back, she says, “Sure. Whatever you say? Come on Stevie, we can talk to distract me from the pain.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, breathing hard through it, and I glance up to find Stevie smiling at me as she follows Peggy.
She knows I’m not liking it. This windowless room is small.
It’s the room I used to masturbate and come all over Rebel and where I tattooed her.
I gesture to Stevie to sit on the stool on the other side.
Peggy jumps up on the table and removes her tank top.
Stevie gasps and Peggy says, “No worries, sweetheart. Seeing these babies can be intimidating.” Peggy bursts out laughing and Stevie’s not sure what to do. “Double mastectomy.” She points to me. “This sexy, bad boy is making them beautiful again.”
Stevie says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It happened three years ago and I’m still in remission.
” She makes the sign of the cross. “Thank God for that. For a time, I was depressed until I heard about King’s magic wand.
” Peggy throws her head back and laughs.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. No disrespect, but this guy is gorgeous and has genuinely made many of us feel confident again. ”
I’m gloved and seated, instructing Peggy to lay back, so I can position the overhead light over her right breast where I began tattooing a large sunflower.
Stevie asks, “I didn’t realize King did this kind of tattooing.”
Peggy’s eyes roll over to me, which I ignore and then back to Stevie.
“Obviously, Mr. Tough Guy doesn’t want to brag about being the best kept secret among us scarred women.
” I ignore her, and focus on filling in the yellow petals of the flower.
“King does scar camouflage tattoos, mastectomy tattoos, cancer survivor tattoos, and the list goes on. He does this for women and doesn’t set a price.
We pay him whatever we can afford.” She places her hand over Stevie’s splint and I growl because she moved.
“Sorry, King.” She turns back to Stevie.
“Have you met his apprentice, Jess?” She shakes her head.
“Another hottie. Well, one day we were talking and it turns out, Mr. Tough Guy also does scar camouflage tattoos on veterans free of charge.”
I block out the rest of the conversation, finishing the right sunflower and stem that stretches down the middle of her stomach to her belly button.
At some point, Jess shows up. Once I’m done, I retrieve a mirror, and hold it up for Peggy to see.
Like always, she cries and Stevie joins her as they talk about how beautiful it is.
I apply ointment, cover it, and she slips on her tank top.
Peggy wraps her arms around my neck and whispers a thank you to me. Uncomfortable as fuck, I pat her back until she releases me. We walk Peggy to the door after she slips folded bills onto the counter and leaves. I introduce Stevie and Jess, but we’re short on time, so I usher her out.
The car ride is quiet, and I catch glimpses of Rebel watching me. My hands tighten around the steering wheel, and I turn up the radio to drown out the heaviness in the car and to stop her from scrutinizing me. Stevie doesn’t say anything.
When we’re allowed onto Cristo’s estate, Stevie bites her lower lip, searching the premises.
We pull up to the front door. Before Cristo’s goons can touch her, I help Stevie out of the car, and I continue to hold her hand, guiding us through the main door, which a beast is holding open for us.
A servant escorts us to the back of the house onto a large terrace, overlooking an enormous pool and garden.
Cristo stands, shakes my hand, and then moves to Stevie’s, which I haven’t released yet. “I’m not going to bite her, King. Release her.”
I realize Stevie is frightened, so I release her hand and nod.
Cristo takes her hand and kisses the top of it. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Stephanie.”
We both tense, because I don’t recall ever calling her Stephanie.
She recovers and says, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Cristo.”
He gestures for us to take a seat. The fucking money poured into this terrace is beyond anything I could ever achieve.
White concrete columns connect the overhang and terrace floor.
Bushes outline the area and there’s a spa at the end of the long pool.
A white cloth covers the table. There are filled water glasses, and too many forks, knives, and spoons for any fucking meal.
Cristo asks, “What would the two of you like to drink?”
Stevie looks at his wine glass, and says, “I’ll have whatever you’re drinking.”
I add, “I’ll take a beer.”
The server leaves us for a moment, and Cristo smiles at Stevie, and I don’t like it.
His gaze is too relaxed and there’s a little upturn at the corners of his mouth.
I sure as hell don’t want to cross him, but Stevie’s mine.
He’ll have to look elsewhere. Anger paralyzes my face, brows caved in, eyes squinting at Cristo’s exchange.
Cristo notices and says to me, “Stand down, King or we’re going to have a problem.”
“We’re here, Cristo. What do you want with us? What do you want with Stevie?”
His eyes bore into mine. Blood pounds in my ears, heart beating fast, and a trickle of sweat slides down my temple. The server brings our drinks and then Cristo dismisses him with a wave of his hand.
“You better learn some manners, King.”
My jaw tightens, and then out of nowhere, I feel Stevie’s hand on my forearm. “It’s a nice day, King. Let’s enjoy lunch.” She turns to Cristo and says, “We’re a little on edge.”
Cristo tilts his head to the side and asks, “Why?”
“Well, it’s not every day we’re summoned to the Don’s house.”
His smile grows while listening to Stevie. “Fair enough.” He turns to me. “It’s not serious, so calm down.”
I fucking hate when people tell me what to do.
Apparently, Stevie senses it and she gives me a slight squeeze and smiles.
She was scared coming here, and she’s the one remaining calm.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m supposed to protect her.
Stevie removes her hand and I instantly feel the cool air. I like her touching me.
I sit back and Stevie reaches for her wine, and Cristo lifts his glass and toasts, “To new friends.”
This has me raising my glass of beer. Not a bottle, but a glass. Stevie’s warming up to him, and my stomach clenches. We shouldn’t even be enjoying this lunch. I want him to get to the fucking point. Why are we here? Aside from having a doctor look over Stevie, what does he have to do with her?
Cristo asks Stevie, “How are you feeling? I see you still have bruising, along with the splint and brace.”
Stevie finishes her sip and says, “Fine, thank you. King has been caring for me.”
Cristo gives me the side eye and returns his attention back to Stevie. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.” He takes a drink and then adds, “I hope you both enjoy steak.”
He gazes out at his property and returns his attention to us. “Stephanie, I called you here to thank you.”
She gives me a look and then she says, “Um, I’m confused. Forgive me if you think I’m being disrespectful, but the only time I’ve met you was when King brought me to one of your doctors. I should be thanking you.”
He pinches the stem of his glass, turning it in a circle. “I don’t know if King told you, but my home is my sanctuary. Very few people are allowed here. Since you did me a favor, I owed you one.” He pauses and adds, “Does the FBI ring a bell?”