One Hot Mess (35 page)

There were gasps of shock and disappointment.

He raised a calming hand. “I realize that many of you had hoped for different news. For better news, perhaps. But in light of recent events, I feel it is time for me to focus exclusively on personal issues.

“My family, for instance.” He glanced toward Rivera, smiling gently with his ever-wise eyes. “Lieutenant Gerald Rivera—thank you, my son. You are my greatest accomplishment.”

Ten feet away, Rivera showed no emotion whatsoever but for, perhaps, a slight stiffening of his musculature.

“And his inamorata, Ms. Christina McMullen.” He clenched his fist against his well-dressed chest. “You shall forever be in my heart. You are like the daughter I always wished to have.

“And you others …” He lifted both arms like a benevolent demigod. I couldn't help but wonder what it cost him in pain and dry-cleaning bills. Surely the wound was seeping. “You have cheered for me in the good times, mourned for me in the bad, and, perhaps most important, forgiven me my mistakes. Of which, sadly, there have been many.” He looked solemn and earnest.

“But good comes even from mistakes.” He drew a deep breath. “As you may have heard, there was a terrible tragedy at my ranch. My good friend and longtime confidant,
Theodore Altove, who had been battling depression for some time, took his life.” He paused again. The crowd murmured, bubbling with the need to gossip. He lifted his hand and Thea slipped out of the crowd, graceful and solemn. How he had convinced her to be there so soon after Theo's death was beyond my imagination. But there she was. “His beautiful daughter, Thea, will have to carry on without him. And for that I feel terrible sorrow. But together…” He took her hand, lifting it high. “She and I will be founding a broad-reaching charity in East L.A., a wonderful program that will help end the suffering of our fair city's urban poor.”

There was enthusiastic clapping, perhaps initiated by shills, and he smiled. “I am thrilled with your response,” he said, “for I shall certainly appeal for your individual support when the time is ripe. But until then, please—enjoy the hospitality of this fine establishment. Eat, drink, and remember to live life to the fullest, for only God knows the number of our days.”

With that, he turned and disappeared, taking Thea with him.

I slipped outside a few minutes later. The parking lot was well lit and my Saturn stood close to the door. I popped the locks and reached for the handle.

“I suppose I should thank you.”

I glanced up with a gasp. Rivera stood on the far side of my car.

“For saving the bastard,” he said.

I shrugged. The last twenty-four hours had been rather trying. The senator had been rushed to the hospital. Altove
had been declared dead, and Rivera hadn't said more than ten words to me.

“Shouldn't you be in there answering questions?” I asked.

“I'm sure the good senator can explain everything away. He's an expert at talking while saying nothing at all.”

I couldn't argue. It seemed as if I'd had endless conversations with him, each one leaving me more confused than the last.

“Besides,” Rivera said. “I don't think they want to hear that the old man's an ass.”

The night air felt soft against my face. Strange how a near-death experience can make one appreciate even the feel of the air. “He apologized.”

“Six people are dead,” he said. Despite the darkness and our distance, I could feel the anger in him. “Because of him, because he can't keep his dick in his pants.”

“Why didn't you out him, then?” I asked. “Tell them the truth.”

He shook his head, jaw set. “Thea's life is going to be hell enough without having to admit she's the old bastard's illegitimate daughter.”

He looked tense and hard. But it was a tension I had missed. A hardness that touched me in ways I couldn't explain. “At least she knows,” I said.

He snorted. “The senator gracefully agreed to tell her that much.”

I wondered if that meant there had been no bloodshed.

He drew a deep breath, rounded the bumper. “What about you?” he asked.

I could feel his approach like the advance of a storm
and lifted my chin against the onslaught. “What about me what?”

“You okay?”

“Sure.”

He glanced away close now. “I'm sorry.”

I savored his words for a moment, knowing it might be the last time he ever said them. “For… ?”

He stared into the distance, then shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and propped the heel of his shoe on my hubcap behind him. “My temper.” He exhaled, making the apology seem physically painful. “My bad judgment. My genetics.”

“I believe you've met my family.”

He smiled a little. A teaspoon of tension seemed to drain from him. “I'd trade half a dozen old bastards for three crazy brothers and a father with a flattop.”

“Even if he called you Pork Chop?”

“God.” He shook his head. “It's a wonder you're as sane as you are.”

“Gee,” I said, “I don't think you've ever said anything quite that nice to me before.”

He chuckled, turned toward me, and suddenly his arm slipped around my waist. “You're not half ugly when you get cleaned up.”

“Stop it. I'm blushing.” The sad part was that I might truly have been. We were standing pretty close, and there was something about him … something indefinable and alive.

Running his hand up my arm, he brushed the hair away from my face. “I had a dream about you,” he said.

“Yeah?” I didn't manage to say more. Dreams had started this whole debacle, and I couldn't help but wonder
if his was the death-on-the-sidewalk kind or the steamy-shower kind. I have to admit, I really prefer the steamy-shower kind. Especially if they come true.

“You were naked,” he said.

“Oh?” My chest hurt a little. I wondered vaguely if my heart was about to pound its way through my rib cage and grab his ass. “Was I still alive?”

“You were screaming my name.” He slipped his hand behind my neck. His skin felt hot and rough against mine.

“Because you were trying to kill me?” I guessed.

“Because you hadn't had an orgasm for a millennium.” He moved closer still. I could feel his erection against my belly. “You hadn't forgotten how, though.”

I swallowed. “It's probably like riding a bicycle,” I said.

“Christ, it
has
been a while for you, hasn't it?” he asked. “Tell me the truth…” His breath felt warm and hopeful against my cheek. “Those other guys…” I could see the muscle in his cheek tighten. “Do you have feelings for them?”

There were so many things left unresolved. Ramla's sister. Micky's son. My stupid septic system. But at that moment the world seemed to narrow down to Rivera's whiskey-dark eyes.

I wanted desperately to kiss him, but I stayed as I was, nearly as desperate to refrain from stupidity. “Which ones specifically?”

“Are you intentionally trying to make me crazy?” he asked, and pulled me closer.

“Don't blame the physician,” I said.

He almost smiled. “Pretty clever how you made sure I was there every time you were cuddled up to a different guy.”

“You're delusional,” I said, and he kissed my jaw.

“You saying you didn't plan it?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying.”

He slipped his other hand behind my neck. “So you're just irresistible?”

“You seem to have been resisting pretty well.”

“Hardly any damage at all.”

I raised a brow.

“From spending the nights beating my head against the wall.”

“It was probably a real hardship spending your time with the supermodel with hair.”

“She's my
sister,”
he said.

“Well, it didn't look like you were feeling too brotherly when I saw you at Caring Hands.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“The senator had asked me to meet him there the day you and he had words,” I explained.

“The senator…”

I nodded.

“Asked
you
to go there.”

“Yes.”

He inhaled deeply. “He asked me to meet him there.”

“At the same time?”

“Two o'clock.”

Weird. My mind clicked over that fact. “He must have been trying to get us together.”

Rivera shook his head. “He was dead set against me meeting Thea. I didn't understand why until yesterday.”

“Then why would he want us there at the same time?”

“Did he call you in person?”

I shook my head, remembering back. “His secretary.”

“A guy named Rick called me for him. Said it was urgent. How about dinner at Vegas?”

“What?”

“The night I saw you with Curly Top. What made you choose that restaurant?”

“I got a coupon,” I said.

“One night only?”

“How'd you know?” I asked, but he was shaking his head.

“Fucking bastard.”

“You don't think your father set it up.”

He snorted, but just then a shadow stepped from the shadows.

I jerked.

“Miss Chris.” D sauntered toward us. His cowboy hat was gone, but his sunglasses remained.

“D!” I straightened abruptly and glanced at Rivera, who had eyes only for the supermobster.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He shrugged, grinned. “The senator makes a rousing speech. If I hadn't known he cuckolded old Altove, I would have been pretty moved.”

“How did you know—” I began, but Rivera interrupted me.

“You know a lot of things, don't you, Dagwood?”

Their gazes met and clashed. D was grinning a little. Rivera was as serious as a hangover.

“I know she's too good for you,” D said.

“But not for you?”

D laughed. He looked loose and amused. “Archer's a nice guy. Drinks a little too much, maybe. On the other
hand, that small-town cop hardly drinks at all, but he's got some issues. Celibacy being—”

“Holy crap!” Understanding hit me like a falling house. D had set it all up. Every seemingly accidental meeting with Rivera and each time I had been with a different man. The restaurants, Caring Hands. I scowled.

“What about the meeting at the dog park?” I asked. “Was that just a coincidence?”

Rivera was glowering. “I got a call from an informant,” he said. “Asked me to meet him there.”

“But he never showed,” I surmised, and shifted my eyes to D's.

His were laughing.

“A little competitions good for the soul,” he said.

“Who do you think—” I breathed.

“You one of them?” Rivera asked.

D turned slowly toward him.

“My competitors,” Rivera said. “You one of them?”

D smiled. “Miss Chris,” he said, not facing me. “Tell the lieutenant here that I'm a sixth-level black belt.”

“Listen, D, I—”

“Tell your mobster I don't care if he's a damn junkyard dog.”

D smiled. “Is your lieutenant suggesting he would like to fight me for your honor?”

My heart clenched tight in my chest. “No,” I said. “No, he's not.”

“Bare fists,” Rivera said.

I turned on him with a snarl. “Don't be stupid,” I hissed.

“Good to see he's got some balls,” D said.

“First man down is out of her life,” Rivera said.

“Rivera.” I felt breathless, shaky. “Don't be stupid. He's—”

“What?” Rivera turned toward me, eyes burning. “A felon? A lying bastard?” His face was sharp-edged and earnest. “Not good enough to say your name out loud?”

“Dangerous,” I breathed.

“Thank you,” D said. “But I say the last man standing gets to take our girl Chrissy to bed.”

“Don't even think about it!” I hissed, but D smiled as he made the first strike.

Rivera was somber as he blocked it. I swore at them both, scared and frustrated and madder than hell as I pulled out my Mace….