He got it to celebrate, forever and ever, putting King Drug Man, Mr. Death to many (probably), better known as my f**king father, in prison. That was just great.

Well if I didn’t already have my proof that we were ill-suited, it was tattooed on Hector’s f**king back.

“And the rose clamped in his teeth?” I asked, wanting to know what that meant, perversely looking for more reasons to buy my tickets to Crete and fill my luggage with beach towels even as I was wearing Hector’s t-shirt and lying in his bed with his arm around me.

“The rose is you.”

Plans of buying beach towels flew out of my head, my stomach dropped, my heart seized and I could feel a tremor shiver through my body.

“Me?” I whispered.

He did another ab crunch, his arm moved to around my waist, he twisted me so I was facing him and reclined, me pressed mostly to his front with my face close to his.

I put my hand on his chest and pressed up but his arm went solid at my waist and I stilled.

“You,” he said firmly, his eyes back to that warm intensity. “In time, this arm…” He squeezed me with his right arm but lifted his left. “Right here…” His right arm left me and he pointed to the inside of his forearm and my eyes moved there then back to his as his arm came around me again. “Is gonna have the same rose. Because you belong on my arm. Do you understand what I’m sayin’ to you?”

I understood what he was saying. I understood what he meant when he said “My Sadie” now too.

The tremor shivered through my body again.

“Sadie, do you understand what I’m sayin’ to you?” he asked again, his tone no less firm but it had grown slightly soft.

I was staring at him but I forced myself to nod. I couldn’t trust myself to speak.

His arm went tight around me, sliding partly up my back, hand catching under my shoulder blade, bringing me to him. He kissed me, slow, sweet, mouths open, tongues tangling, toes (or at least my toes) curling.

His mouth broke from mine and he murmured, “Now, we’ve had our talk. You know where I stand. Can we watch the game?”

I nodded again. His arm loosened, I turned, rested against him and stared, unfocused, on the game.

Blooming heck.

I wasn’t in a mess of trouble, I was beyond trouble. I was in so deep, I was over my head and the water felt so warm, snugly, comfy, lovely that I was beginning to wonder if I minded drowning.

Chapter Twelve

I Think I Made Hector Mad

Sadie

My sleeping body jerked awake when I heard the loud noise from somewhere too close for comfort.

Then it froze when I heard the crash.

I had nearly a nanosecond to assess my position tucked tight against Hector’s warm body, his arm around my waist, my cheek on his left pectoral, my hand resting dead center on his chest, Before that nanosecond was over, his heat vanished and a blast of cold hit me.

I lifted up on an arm, my heart racing, pulling back my hair with my other hand and seeing Hector’s shadowy body moving beside the bed.

He had the bedside drawer open, I heard a soft thump as he put whatever it was on the nightstand and then his hand immediately came out, his fingers closing around my wrist. He lifted up my arm and I felt him press something in my hand.

“Stay here. You feel a bad vibe, hear something you don’t like, you dial 911,” he whispered. Then he tagged whatever was on the bedside table and disappeared from the room.

I stared at the door and heard noise, voices and visions of Marty or Ricky blowing Hector’s beautiful head off danced sickeningly through my head.

I threw back the covers in a flurry and tiptoed across the room to the side of the door. If someone was going to come and get me, I wasn’t going to be sitting in bed waiting for them.

I pressed my shoulder against the wall by the door and assessed my options.

I had Hector’s cell phone in my hand. This was lame.

I could get one of his boots. I could seriously clobber someone with one of Hector’s boots.

Or I could get one of my spiked heels. I could poke someone in the eye with the spiked heel. That would sting.

On that thought, I heard raised voices, Hector’s and a female’s. They were yelling at each other in Spanish. Although this was yelling, it was not bad vibe yelling, it was irritated yelling.

I took a deep breath and crept out the door, down the hall and the yelling kept going, mostly the female.

I made it to the top of the stairs and looked down.

There was a light on and Hector was standing at the foot of the stairs, his back to me, the King Skull on display, a gun held loosely in his hand.

In front of him were three Hispanic women. One of them (the one yelling who was also gesticulating wildly with her arms) was short and gorgeous. She looked like a younger, less round but no less fiery version of Blanca.

A relative.

I let out a breath and put my hand holding the cell phone to my chest.

The minute I did her eyes lifted to the stairs, she stopped yelling and her mouth dropped open.

I wanted to turn and run back to the bed, pull the covers over my head and wait until Hector got back.

Instead, New Sadie clicked into place, took her hand from her chest, waved the cell phone at the woman and called, “Hi.”

Hector twisted and looked up at me. I watched him bite his bottom lip and as I’d never seen him do that before I didn’t know whether he was biting back a smile or annoyance.

I took in a deep breath and walked down the stairs.

All three women watched me descend, all of them had their mouths hanging open.

I thought this was bizarre. Hector was Hispanic Hottie, he’d nearly been married to Belinda. It wasn’t like he’d never had a woman at his house.

Hector stepped to the side when I got to the bottom and I stopped next to him.

“Sadie, this is my sister Gloria. Gloria, Sadie,” Hector introduced us when I came to a halt.

So this was Catfight, Rough Up Belinda Gloria.

I couldn’t help it, I smiled at her.

Her eyes bugged out.

Now, this was bizarre too.

Hector rapped out something in terse Spanish and Gloria blinked.

Then she said to me, “It’s just like Mamá said, you do look like a fairy princess.”

Oh. That again.

I shrugged.

Eyes still on me, she breathed, “Dios mio, please tell me it’s just a little hard to be that beautiful.”

I stared at her, not knowing how to react.

On the one hand, what she said was really sweet and that made me feel nice.

On the other hand, it was more than “just a little hard” to look like me because looking like me made me a Balducci Brothers Target of Terror.