Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (5 page)

“Oh no. No. No. She didn’t.” I drop the dress on the coffee table and, after throwing the boots on the floor, reach back into the bag.

She did. She so did. Oh my God.

“Oh no,” Alison whispers.

The cheapy material crinkles beneath my tight grip as I pull the pinstriped jacket out of the plastic bag. Horror floods my body as the full realization about what this is sinks in.Every year, my mother is the resident Bond costume picker for the Halloween party. Usually, she gets it pretty good—and I usually have a get-out-of-jail-free card for the old couples’ costume.

This year, apparently, I don’t have such a card. Or costume bail money.

And, now, I’m wondering how the hell she managed to get this past Drake. Or if he even knows.

“Aria, where’s Sil?” Alison directs to her daughter.

“In the backyard. Looking for bugs.” She shrugs. “Aunt Noelle, what
is t
hat? It doesn’t look like a costume.”

“Bottom cupboard next to the sink. There are two doughnuts in there,” I fire off, dropping the jacket like it’s covered in red ants ready to sting me.

“Chocolate ones?” Aria’s dark eyes light up.

“Obviously. One each.”

She speeds out of the room, and Alison winces once again. This time, I’m guessing it’s because of the mess Silvio will undoubtedly get himself in. Although, if he’s looking for bugs, chances are he can’t get much dirtier.

Then again, he’s a four-year-old boy. Anything is possible.

“This is ridiculous,” I hiss to Alison. “What did she send you?”

She takes hold of the dress and lifts it up in front of her, her perfectly shaped eyebrows drawing together. Furrows line her brow, and she replies, “I’m Princess Leia, Trent is Han Solo, Sil is Luke Skywalker, and Aria is...supposed to be Amidala, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be happening.”

“What the hell? She sends you
Star Wars
but sends me and Drake a hooker and a fucking pimp?” I snatch the dress back. “I don’t even think this will fit me! She thinks I’m fifteen pounds lighter than I am!”

“That’s because you keep telling her you’re fifteen pounds lighter than you are,” she points out, grabbing the bag and emptying its remaining contents on the table.

Pants that match the jacket and a white, silky-looking shirt tumble out, as well as a thick, gold chain, a plain, black tie, and a wad of fake dollars.

“Did she think this through, or did the store have no others? Drake is never going to wear...this.” She dubiously holds the chain up.

“I don’t even know if he’s going! He could be working for all I know. But a pimp? A hooker? Yes, let’s give costumes for illegal professions to a goddamn
police detective
.”

“She hasn’t thought this through,” Alison surmises, standing and folding each item of clothing. “Proven by the fact that she sent you boots. Don’t you have boots you could wear?”

“Okay, one”—I hold a finger up—“I am not dressing up as a hooker for Halloween. And two, my boots are suede, not leather, and they’re knee-high, not thigh-high.”

“And probably worth at least two hundred dollars.” She half smiles.

Can’t argue with the truth. I’m a shoe whore. Sue me.

“Whoa!” Bek exclaims, and she closes the door behind her as her eyes find the dress in Alison’s hands. “Shut the front door! The hell is that?”

“You already did,” I reply smartly. “And my mother’s idea of a Halloween costume.”

She roars with laughter and grabs the bag. “Is there a pimp costume too?”

I snatch the bag and throw it across the room. It rolls once it hits the floor, the boots peeking out.

“Yes. It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world.”

Bek’s eyes widen. “What did Drake say?”

“About what?” The man himself now walks through my front door. His sleeves are rolled up above his elbows, his top buttons undone and his hair messy and unkempt.

I hate it when he turns up looking hot.

Alison glances at me. “I don’t think he needs the costume.”

“Nobody needs that costume! Either one!” My voice is shrill, and I drop myself back down onto my sofa and cover my eyes with my forearm.

“What’s going on? What costume?” Drake looks between us all.

I groan.

“They’re not that bad,” Bek offers. “I mean, the dress is kind of...shiny... But...”

“But? But what? And kind of shiny?
Kind of
?
A
re you wearing sunglasses? It looks like it was crapped out by the fucking tooth fairy!” I push myself forward and lift the sequined wonder. “Look! I could put it on my fucking Christmas tree and no one would say a goddamn word!”

“What is that?” Drake asks. “Is that a—I’m confused.”

“This is my Halloween costume!” I wave it in his direction. “Mom deserves a gold star! You’re a pimp and I’m a hooker!”

“You really need some sugar, sweetheart.”

“A hooker!” I kind of feel like I’m overreacting. Maybe I am being dramatic, but I feel like this is something to be dramatic about.

Honestly, I’ve never seen something so hideous in my life. This whole thing is awful.

I bet Devin and Amelia don’t have to put up with this shit.

I bet she sent them a cop and a robber or something.

“Here.” Drake comes back into the front room with a box from Rosie’s. It’s open, revealing a lemon cupcake.

I snatch at it and flick my tongue right through the frosting.

Mmm. Yummy.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

“You’re welcome,” he snorts. “If only you were as excited to see me as you are the cupcake.”

I meet his eyes and lick the frosting again. Fucker.

“Are you telling me you’re happy with dressing as a pimp for Halloween?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m happy about that...” He reaches for the dress as Bek snorts. It looks even smaller being held up by a six-feet-something tall, muscular man. “Although I could get on board with the hooker thing. Did it come with boots?”

“I swear to God, Drake Nash, I will hook my fist around your cock if you don’t take this seriously.”

“And I’m going to find my kids,” Alison mutters, getting up.

“I’ll help,” Bek laughs, grinning at me.

Drake’s lips quirk to the side as my best friends vacate the room. Then, slowly, he turns back to me, his ice-blue eyes glinting with laugher. “Noelle, sweetheart, you’re wearing a Tweety Bird T-shirt and you have cupcake frosting on your nose. How am I supposed to take you seriously?”

“Because I’m wearing real pants?”

He drops his eyes to my lap. “You’re wearing leggings.”

“Which are real pants.”

“I’m not getting into this argument again. Last time, you changed into six different pairs of pants in your effort to prove that leggings were real, and the best, pants.”

“You’re getting good at this understanding-me thing. A stupider man would try to argue.”

“Aw, I love it when you compliment me.” He chuckles quietly and leans forward. He flicks his thumb across my nose, removing the stray frosting, and shows it to me.

I lick it off his thumb. He opens his mouth to say something before closing it and deciding to shake his head. He’s probably realizing that what I just did is exactly why leggings are real pants. Jeans and cupcakes don’t mix, and those little calorie fuckers are still shrinking my clothes overnight.

“Bye, Aunt Noelle!” Aria waves with one hand. She’s typing on her phone with the other and almost walks into the wall.

“Bye! Fanks for the doughnut!” Silvio yells, running into the back of his sister. There’s chocolate smeared across his cheek—or maybe it’s dirt.

I smile. “Bye, double trouble.” I wave as Alison follows them out.

Bek pauses. “I came here for something, but I forgot what.” She glances at Drake.

“I know you’re going on a date with Jason,” he informs her.

“How?”

“I know everything.”

“He’s like Dumbledore,” I butt in, peeling the wrapper away from the cupcake sponge. “Or Voldemort, depending which side you think he’s on.”

“That’s enough Harry Potter for you.” He tugs my hair and sits down next to me.

“Oxymoron,” I mutter. “No such thing as ‘enough Harry Potter.’”

“She’s right,” Bek agrees.

Like it was in doubt. Pfft.

“And that wasn’t what I was going to ask you about,” she says. “I was going to ask you if Carlton could get me...information.”

Drake rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Bek, if you’re gonna lie, make it believable.”

She looks at me. “I can’t stand him sometimes, you know that?”

“Me either,” I reply, picking some cake out. “But he brings me cake, so I keep him around.”

Drake jabs me in the side.

“Hey. That’s police brutality.” I look at him.

He raises his eyebrows, pauses, then grabs me so swiftly that my cupcake goes flying out of my hand. I shriek as he slides me down the sofa in one easy movement and tickles my sides.

“Brutality? You want brutality?”

I shriek again as he tickles me harder.

“You two make me sick!” Bek yells.

I catch her smile before she walks out the door.

T
here’s a devil on my doorstep.

Actually, there’s a box of devils on my doorstep.

And Lucifer’s head is poking out of the top.

I rub my eyes and stare hopelessly at the box. I know exactly what this means. Nonna woke up extra early just to remove every demon or devil decoration outside the Bond family home. I don’t even need to look in the box to see that they’re there. I just know they are.

“What the...” Drake pokes his head over my shoulder. “Is that Lucifer?”

Slowly, I nod, my lips flattening into a grim line. “If you open the box, you’ll probably find Asmodeus, Beezlebub, plus all of their buddies.”

“I’m not even going to question that,” he says—wisely. “Why are they here?”

“Nonna has taken matters into her own—never mind.”

Mom’s car comes speeding down the street, and I turn my head. Drake’s eyebrows shoot up so high that they’re almost going into orbit, but he doesn’t say anything as Mom parks at the end of my driveway, tires squealing against the asphalt.

“Where are they?” she yells, slamming her car door. “What’s the crazy bat done with them?”

I point down at the box in front of me.

“Kellie, were you just speeding?” Drake asks.

“Oh, bite me,” Mom snaps. “It’s not my driving you should be worried about. It’s whether or not Liliana Bond will be alive by dinner tonight!”

From anyone else, that’d be a legit threat. From Mom though? Same shit, different day.

“That’s a little drastic,” Drake offers. “Do you want coffee?”

“No, I do not want coffee. Unless it’s laced with arsenic and being given to my mother-in-law!”

“Mom, maybe you should calm down,” I try.

“Calm down?” Mom responds shrilly. “Do you know what that woman has done, Noelle? Do you know how far she’s gone?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re about to tell me.”

She points her finger at me and waggles it around. “Garlic hung over every doorway and window. Crosses erected in every room. The Lord’s Prayer cross-stitched and hung above the fireplace. Every horror movie disc snapped in two. And the best? The best? Holy water in my coffee machine to ‘wash-a out-a the-a devil-a eating-a my-a soul-a!’ Well, the joke’s on her, because I live with the devil and she already ate my goddamn soul! I love God, but He is going to have to reserve me a bucketload of forgiveness, because so help me, I am at my wits’ end with this dang woman!”

Drake breaks out into a coughing fit behind me.

“Drake Nash, I hope you’re not laughing!”

“No, ma’am. Tickle in my throat,” he rasps, beating his fist against his chest.

I roll my eyes. Liar. The holy-water-in-the-coffee-machine thing is kinda funny.

“What has Dad said?”

“He locked away his guns and changed the combination on the safe,” Mom grumbles.

“Smart man,” Drake says under his breath, turning away and walking into the kitchen. “I don’t think I should listen to this any further.”

I’m glad he has the option to walk away. Lucky bastard.

“Mom, I don’t know what to tell you. She’s still shaken up after what happened in the summer. Why can’t you just put away the demons for this year?”

“Because she’s like a dang child, Noelle. Habits are learned, and the second I give in to her, she’s going to expect it all the time.”

“But you’re driving me insane and Halloween isn’t for another three days.”

Oh, shit.

Halloween is in three days.

“Uh-oh. Amelia’s bachelorette party is in three days.”

“Oh, no,” Mom whispers, her hand flying to her chest. “Why didn’t you notice?”

“Me?” I cry, turning and walking back into my house. “Mother, I run a hectic business! Why didn’t you notice and tell me?”

“Tell who what?” Drake holds a cup of coffee out toward Mom.

She takes it. “This smart cookie booked Amelia’s bachelorette party on Halloween!”

“At least I won’t have to dress as a hooker?” I say lamely.

Mom narrows her eyes in such a way that I snap my mouth shut. “Noelle, this is not funny. Your grandmother will use this as the prime excuse to get out of everything Halloween.”