Blame it on the shame Part 2

Chapter 3 (Ricardo)

 

I watch as Jackson ushers the very same girl who managed to piss off DeLuca tonight into his kitchen.

When he holds an ice pack up to her head, I want to be a dick and say there would be no need for him to do that if she didn't go bat shit crazy and attack my girl.

But I can't because I need to figure out why she's here in the first place.

Fuck. I'm really hoping Jackson hasn't developed some type of crush on her because that shit will not go over well.

"So, why exactly, do you have the same girl from earlier tonight standing in your apartment, Jackson?"

I can't help but notice the pair of handcuffs around her wrists."Handcuffed, no less," I add.

I take a step closer and she gives me a look of a

That's when I notice her eyes.

Jesus, it's like I'm staring at a ghost. This can't be fucking happening.

Before I can stop myself, I'm whispering, "I've seen you before."

"Yeah," she says softly while looking down at her feet.

Relief flows through me because there's no doubt in my mind that if she knew who I really was...she wouldn't be sitting here so calm.

She'd be stabbing me with a fucking butcher knife and I couldn't blame her.

The hair bristles on the back of my neck because something inside me is telling me that it is her.

I roll my shoulders and force the thought out of my head. No, it can't be her. She'd be an idiot to ever walk into DeLuca's club.

She flew under DeLuca's radar once...she won't be so lucky next time.

Question is...why is she still hanging around Jackson?

Maybe she's using him?

If that's the case, the quicker I get her out of here and away from Jackson the better everything will be. "I have a blowtorch, I'll be right back."

She sprouts up from her chair. "A blowtorch. No. Fuck, no!" she screams.

I curse under my breath when I see Jackson run a hand along her cheek and she leans into his touch. "Look, I promise, I won't let him hurt you. It's the only way to get those off, though," he says.

I walk back to my apartment and get my blowtorch, along with a pair of gloves and my welder's helmet. I briefly contemplate stopping by Lou-Lou's apartment, but I need to take care of this first.

When I walk back in, Tyrone's holding a glass of what looks to be Jack Daniels up to her lips. "No thank you. I really don't like to drink," she says sharply.

I pull out another pair of gloves and hand them to Jackson. "See if you can put these on her hands so I don't end up burning her."

He makes quick work of putting them on and she looks at him and swallows hard. "There's going to be sparks," she whispers.

"I'll protect you," he assures her.

Fucking hell, this is not good.

Out of all the girls in the world, this is the one who catches his eye?

I walk behind her and pull my face mask down. "Hold still."

She glances over her shoulder at me. "Um, do you have any experience with this?"

I'm the son of a notorious mob boss—me holding a blowtorch should be the least of your worries, sweetie.

"With a blowtorch or getting people out of handcuffs?"

"Both."

Yeah, she clearly doesn't know who I am. Which means, my suspicions regarding her are wrong.

I jerk a shoulder up. "I'm a Puerto Rican from the Bronx," I tell her.

Shit, it's half true.

Her entire body tenses and Jackson moves closer to her. "Keep your head against my chest," he whispers. "The sparks will hit me, not you."

Bark up another tree, Casanova. Any tree but her.

She shakes her head, her expression turning solemn. "No, I don't want you to get hurt either."

"It's fine," he says as she tucks her head against his chest.

Aw, hell. Is he sniffing her hair? This is bad, real bad.

Tyrone makes a "tsk, tsk" sound under his breath and I'm glad I'm not the only one having reservations about her.

Because even if my suspicions are wrong and I'm almost positive they are...this girl is clearly trouble just based on the fact that she's currently in handcuffs and she assaulted Lou-Lou.

Not to mention, she made Jackson lose focus during a fight and put him back on DeLuca's radar.

I start the blowtorch and less than a minute later, her hands are free.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

I nod and head for the front door. "Training is at 3pm tomorrow, guys," I remind them before I leave.

Hopefully, she'll be long gone by then.

I walk down the hallway and knock on Lou-Lou's door. Then I remember that we exchanged keys a few weeks ago and I pull mine out.

When I walk in, I find her smoothing a very sexy red dress over her hips and stepping into a pair of high-heels.

My dick twitches and I can barely keep my mouth from dropping to the floor.

Shit, did we make plans and I forgot about them?

When she proceeds to ignore me and grabs her jacket before heading in the direction of the door, I know what's going on.

She's upset because she feels like I didn't defend her.

And she's partially right, I suppose, but I needed to figure out what was going on with that girl and Jackson.

I latch on to her elbow. "I'm sorry."

She pats me on the shoulder, crinkles her nose, and throws open the door. "It's fine. Have a good night."

Her cold front could rival Antarctica's.

I thought we were over the bullshit and games.

I follow her down the hallway and try to ignore the way her ass sways as she walks away from me.

"Stop being like this, Lou-Lou. I told you I was sorry and I meant it."

She turns around and gives me a 'fuck you' smile. "And I told you it was fine. Like I said before...have a good night."

Yeah, she has the art of passive-aggressiveness mastered.

I follow her down the steps, growing angrier with every second that passes. "Where are you going?"

"Out," she calls over her shoulder when we reach the lobby.

I walk ahead of her and stop her from walking out the lobby doors. "I can see that." I tilt her chin up to look at me. "I meant what I said before...I'm sorry."

Her face softens for a second before it turns hard. "It's fine."

"You keep saying that but we both know you don't mean it. So cut the shit and talk to me. Hell, yell at me if you want, just don't be like this."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Like what?"

And just like that, she's sparking the asshole in me. "You know damn well what I mean. If you're mad at me, put your big girl panties on and tell me. Don't pull this passive aggressive shit, put on a sexy dress and then tell me you're going out. You're 24, not 12. Start acting like it."

Her eyes narrow and she takes a step closer to me. "Wow, okay."

She pauses and shakes her head. "Fine, Ricardo. You hurt me—there I said it. And you're right...I was being immature but I'm over it now."

She sidesteps me and reaches for the door. "Now let me enjoy one of my last nights of freedom while I still can. Who knows how many I have left."

And there it is...the real reason she's so upset.

I reach for her wrist, halting her. "I'll figure something out."