Wrong for Me Page 17

She gave him a brief glance, then passed a hand over her face. “Yeah, I have to.”

  “Why?” He slid an arm around her waist again, drawing her up against him the way she’d been before, so his aching dick was pressed against the delicious curve of her butt. “I haven’t finished yet.”

  There was a certain stiffness in her muscles, as if she was trying to stop herself from pulling away from him. Which was annoying, especially when he thought they’d dealt with that particular issue the night before.

  Sweeping aside her hair, he brushed his mouth over the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.

  “Levi . . .” She gave a shiver.

  “What? Don’t tell me that studio of yours needs to be open. No one wants to get a goddamn tattoo at eight in the morning.”

  “No, I just . . .” She stopped.

  He pulled at her shoulder, easing her onto her back so he could see her face. “You just what?”

  Her dark eyes were guarded, her expression unreadable. And all the satisfaction he’d been feeling earlier abruptly drained away, that tight feeling back again. Because he didn’t want to see that wary, shuttered look. He wanted what he’d had last night, when she’d been panting and desperate and sobbing in his arms. Telling him she wanted him. Telling him she had missed him.

  She was keeping a part of herself locked away, and he wanted it.

  But maybe she saw the intention in his gaze, because she moved, twisting out of his arms and sliding out of the bed.

  “Hey.” He made a grab for her and missed. “Where the hell are you going?”

  “Bathroom,” she said over her shoulder, heading for the adjoining bathroom.

  He lay there for a moment as she disappeared through the door, debating whether or not to follow her and force the issue, use pleasure to make her tell him what the problem was even. But for some reason, he didn’t like that idea.

  You want her to tell you not because you made her, but because she wants to.

  He frowned, uncomfortable with that thought. Uncomfortable with the memories it bought back, of when she used to come to him and talk to him about anything.

  There was no hope of her doing that now.

  He glanced toward the bathroom again, the unsettled feeling back with a vengeance.

  This wasn’t part of your dream, was it?

  No, it fucking well wasn’t. He’d wanted Rachel the way it had been before, when she’d shared everything with him, with the added bonus of lots of sex. He didn’t want her guarded and wary, protecting herself the way she was doing now.

  Levi let out a breath. Maybe he could give her the Sugar Ink building, the way she’d demanded last night. He’d given in because he’d wanted that dress off her, but he hadn’t promised her. It was supposed to be the centerpiece of his plans for the area, and changing those plans wasn’t going to happen. But maybe he could work some deal with her, grant her a permanent lease for her studio or something.

  Or you could just get her to trust you again. Rebuild that old friendship.

  The unsettled feeling slowly began to creep back inside him, tightening his chest and making him ache. Yeah, well, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, was it? Whatever trust there had been between them was gone, shattered years ago and probably beyond repair. Certainly he had no hope of fixing it. Which meant if he was going to get what he wanted, he’d have to use either blackmail or business.

  Blackmail had only gotten him so far, which left business.

  Luckily along with the MBA he’d gotten inside, he’d also gotten a very good understanding of the business world.

  You want her trust. You know you do.

  Levi shoved the thought away. Trust had never been part of this particular deal, and he didn’t want it anyway, not when it would mean opening himself up to her in return. Because the last time he had, she’d left him in a police station with a manslaughter charge on his rap sheet.

  Not again. Never again.

  He got up, pulled on some clothes, and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Cooking wasn’t his strong point, but he could do a mean bacon and eggs and coffee.

  By the time she got out of the shower, he had breakfast on the table all ready for her, and his satisfaction was starting to return when she came out of the bedroom, pausing in the doorway and staring at the food on the table with obvious surprise.

  In black skinny jeans and a tight, black T-shirt that had the mural painted on the wall of her studio printed on it, she looked hot. Her hair had been pulled back, the marks on her neck covered imperfectly with makeup.

  It irritated him that she wanted them hidden, but he let it go. Give him another week, and she’d be showing them off to anyone who wanted to see them.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “What does it look like? Breakfast.”

  “I guess you didn’t order this in.”

  “No. This is all me.” He put the coffeepot down onto the table. “Come on, eat. You’re going to need to get your strength back today.”

  She glanced down the hallway as if she were checking to make sure the front door was still there, reluctance clear on her face.

  The irritation gathered tighter in his gut.

  What? Did you think you were going to sit here with her and have a nice, friendly breakfast?

  Yeah, actually he kind of had.

  Doesn’t work that way, asshole, and you know it.

  His mood darkened. Of course it didn’t work that way, and he was a fucking idiot to expect that it did.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, a rough edge creeping into his voice. “I’m not staying. Going out for a run.”

  “Oh.”

  He didn’t miss the flicker of relief that crossed her face, and it only made him angrier. Yeah, it was better to get out of here, leave her to enjoy the food he’d cooked for her alone. And maybe in the process he could figure out just what the fuck his problem was.

  Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and worked one off the ring, putting it down onto the table. “Apartment key. I’ll text you the code for the front door too.” He stuffed the keys back into his pocket. “Enjoy breakfast.”

  And he didn’t look at her as he brushed past, heading into the hallway.

  As he strode down to the front door, a small, traitorous part of him waited to hear her call him back.

  But she didn’t.

  * * *

  The following week Levi pushed open the cracked glass door of Gino’s, Royal Road’s original bar, and stepped into its familiar dark interior, the memories of too many rowdy nights spent in its alcohol-soaked atmosphere assaulting him.

  They were good memories for the most part. Nights with Gideon and Zee, watching them downing boilermakers, racing each other to see who could drink the most and still speak at the end of the night. Nights with Rachel, sneaking her in while she was still under twenty-one and buying her illicit beer when she’d had a tough day with her gran. Nights with the whole crowd once Zoe turned twenty-one, no less rowdy or wild. Laughing as Zoe got drunk for the first time and had a stand-up, screaming fight with Gideon about something that Levi couldn’t even remember now.

  Nights spent dragging his father’s drunken ass home after another vodka-fueled binge.

  Levi stopped in the entrance, looking around. Same grimy, slightly sticky carpet. Same stained walls. Same cracked vinyl booths and wobbly barstools. Same musty scent of spilled alcohol and stale cigarettes.

  Shit, some things never changed.

  The place was virtually empty apart from the usual drunks—not unusual at lunchtime—and a couple of men leaning on the bar. Men who stood out from the rest, purely because they were wearing suits and had expensive haircuts.

  Ryan and some other guy. Who the fuck was that?

  Ryan looked sharp in his dark suit, but the other man’s was custom-made, Levi would have bet anything on it. He was older too, late sixties maybe, with a fine head of silver hair and the well-preserved look that only the very wealt
hy or the very important had. Levi had seen enough men like him before he’d gone inside, when he’d used to hang around downtown, watching the suits go to work. They’d given him hope back then. Hope that since they were men like him, he could do what they were doing. Going to work in a big city building every day, earning big city dollars to take back to their lovely wives in their equally lovely apartments. No drunken dad to keep out of trouble. No drug dealers threatening you and the people you cared about with knives.

  Yeah, he’d looked up to those men. He’d wanted to be one of them.

  And now you are.

  Levi smiled. Yeah, he fucking was. Tattoos and criminal record and all.

  Ryan turned as the door opened and raised a hand in greeting. He didn’t actually smile—he didn’t smile much, anyway— but then maybe the suit at his shoulder was the problem. That guy didn’t smile either, only stared at Levi with disturbingly direct dark eyes. He seemed familiar somehow, though Levi couldn’t place him.

  “Rush,” Ryan said as Levi approached them. “Nice place you got here.”

  Levi ignored that, shifting his attention to the older man standing behind Ryan. “Didn’t know we were going to have another guest.”

  Ryan shifted. “Yeah, about that—”

  “It’s all right, Jason,” the man said, his voice deep and cultured. “I can introduce myself.” And this time he did smile, perfectly friendly, even charming, as he held out his hand. “My name is Oliver Novak, and I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Rush.”

  Novak. Okay, now it made sense.

  While he’d been inside and studying, Levi had made it his mission to read the business pages of the local and national newspapers every day, and Novak’s name came up quite frequently. He was old Michigan money and head of Novak Incorporated, a national company that had fingers in all sorts of different pies, from real estate to manufacturing to investment. An important man, very important. Even more so since, the last Levi had heard, the guy was gearing up for a political career, a senator’s position in his sights.

  So what the fuck was he doing in Royal?

  “Likewise,” Levi said, taking the man’s extended hand and shaking it.

  “I hope you don’t mind my crashing your party. But Jason came to me a couple of days ago raving about the plans you have for this area, and I have to say, I was intrigued.”

  Levi flicked a glance at Ryan. It was difficult to imagine him “raving” about anything—the guy had a total poker face when it came to business—and it was even more difficult to imagine Novak’s being intrigued with Levi’s plans.

  It wasn’t that Levi didn’t think they were good—he knew they were—but they were centered totally on a small Detroit neighborhood. So what would this guy find so intriguing about those plans?

  “Raving, huh?” Levi raised a brow at Ryan.

  The other man shrugged. “I might have mentioned your ideas a couple of times.”

  “A good thing he did,” Novak said. “I’m always looking for new investment opportunities, and this seemed . . . very attractive indeed.”

  Levi leaned his hip against the bar. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but I’m finding it difficult to believe a guy like you would be interested in an area like this. Or in development plans from an ex-con.”

  Amusement glittered in Novak’s eyes. “I’m not interested in your record, Mr. Rush. I’m interested in your ideas. And an area like this is just what I’m looking for.” He nodded around the grimy bar. “Somewhere with the potential to be something greater, bigger. And Royal Road has that potential, I think.”

  “Why?” Levi asked bluntly. “I mean, what’s your interest in developing someplace like Royal?”

  Novak’s mouth curved in a slight smile. “Good. You ask questions. I like that in a man, Mr. Rush. It speaks of intelligence. What’s my interest? I believe Detroit’s due for a renaissance. And I’d like to be the one to put that in motion.”

  Of course he would. With buildings cheap enough to offset the cost of construction and lots of people looking for alternatives to the rapidly rising rents of downtown, now was a great time to be investing in gentrification. There was money to be made, and Levi was betting Novak had his eye on making more.

  But money alone didn’t explain his interest in Royal. There had to be other reasons, and Levi bet he knew what they were.

  He gave the older man an assessing look. “Nothing to do with your senatorial campaign, I guess?”

  Ryan had gone still, beer lifted to his lips. A warning flashed in his blue eyes.

  Levi ignored him. “I mean, it’s going to look good for you, isn’t it? Investing in a rundown part of the city. Kicking out the dealers and whores, and giving the old buildings a new lease on life. Stuff like that.”

  It was a gamble, being so confrontational. But Levi had no time for bullshit. Plus he’d developed a healthy distrust of rich men in positions of power. He liked to know where people were coming from so there were no surprises. Especially not when such surprises could potentially affect the success or failure of his plans.

  Far from being offended, Novak only laughed. “You’re very blunt, Mr. Rush.”

  “Sorry, but when money’s involved, my bullshit threshold tends to be low.”

  “As it should be. As it should be, indeed.” Novak reached for his beer bottle sitting on the bar and took a sip. “Another point in your favor. And since you’ve mentioned it, yes, providing the money behind such a positive revitalization project wouldn’t hurt my campaign.” He smiled. “In fact, I’d like Royal Road to be the centerpiece of that project. An example of how great we can make this city with a little hard work and an injection of cash. You see, I want to make Detroit big again, Mr. Rush. I want to make this city proud of itself the way it used to be. The way it should be. Wouldn’t you like to be part of that?”

  Stupid question. And yet there was something about the way the guy said it that deepened the distrust inside Levi a little more. Which was crazy when an opportunity like this was just what he was looking for. His plans needed investment dollars and lots of them, and Novak here was just the man to provide them.

  “Sure, I would,” Levi said slowly, keeping his expression guarded, not letting any of his distrust show. “What sort of things are you thinking about for this project then?”

  Novak smiled, a distinguished and important businessman who nevertheless had the common touch. “You’re the ideas man, Mr. Rush. I’m just the money. You tell me.”

  It couldn’t hurt. Levi wouldn’t lose anything by doing it, though there might be issues if Novak decided to cut him out of the deal and handle it all himself. Then again, considering Levi now owned the more important buildings in Royal, Novak might have a few difficulties with that.

  “Sure you need me?” Levi asked, testing the waters. “You don’t want to go it alone?”

  Novak stared at him a moment. “You’re right to be careful. But I’m a busy man, and I haven’t got the time to plan something like this myself. All I want to do is find a project already up and running that I can put some money behind. You’re the brains behind this, and I’d like it to stay that way.”

  Well, okay then. This was getting better and better.

  “Mr. Novak also agreed to allow a formal presentation of the project to some of Detroit’s other major players,” Ryan put in. “In fact, he’s offered to host it himself.”

  Now that was a big deal. Ryan had a certain reach, but Novak was a much bigger draw. He had the reputation and the contacts, and moved in circles that Ryan didn’t have access to. Novak could potentially pull in a whole lot of people. Valuable people. People with money.

  “You have?” Levi met Novak’s gaze. “That’s a pretty major vote of confidence.”

  “Like I told you,” Novak said levelly, “I’m intrigued and excited by the vision you have. And I think there are many people out there who’d want a piece of it too.” He smiled again. “So why not?”

  Yeah, why the fuck not?
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br />   Well, that sense of distrust for one. Then again, Levi didn’t trust anyone. And this was an opportunity he’d be stupid to turn down.

  “Okay,” he said. “I guess I’m good with that.”

  “Excellent.” Novak put his beer down on the bar with a click. “In that case, Mr. Rush, would you care to show us around the neighborhood?”

  Chapter 12

  “You want a phoenix?” Rachel asked dubiously.

  “Yeah,” Tamara said. “One like Zee’s, only little and on my shoulder.”

  Rachel glanced at Zoe, who only rolled her eyes.

  Tamara had decided she wanted a tattoo as a surprise for Zee and had sworn both women to secrecy about it. Rachel had even closed Sugar Ink for the night so Tamara could get it done in privacy. It wasn’t something Rachel would do for just anyone, but she’d decided she liked Tamara, and, since that made the other woman nearly family, concessions could be made.

  Especially when Tamara had turned up with a jug of ready-made margaritas.

  Since Rachel was the one doing the tattooing, she’d made do with one drink, but Tamara and Zoe clearly had no such qualms, both of them already starting on their third.

  Now they were all sitting on the couch, Tamara in the middle looking through the book of tattoo designs, while Zoe peered over her shoulder and Rachel tried not to wince when Tamara pointed out something hideous. Which was quite frequently.

  It seemed like alcohol wasn’t Tamara’s friend when it came to choosing a tat.

  “I’m thinking maybe something like this.” Tamara reached out and pointed to a brightly colored design. “That looks cool.”

  “Sure,” Rachel said patiently. “If you want your entire upper back covered.”

  Tamara pulled a face and reached for her glass, taking a healthy swig. “Uh, no, that’s what I do not want.” She leafed through more pages, then stabbed a finger down on another design. “What about that one?”

  “That’s a sleeve.”

  “Oh.”

  “Could look cool,” Zoe offered, squinting over Tamara’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind the baby deer.”

  “Baby deer?” Rachel frowned at the picture. What the hell was Zoe talking about? Rachel didn’t include baby anythings in her designs.