Dirty Money Page 2

  “Can you stay here? I’m going to get Reese.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t seem happy.

  “Be cool,” I said as I let myself out of the dank bathroom.

  *

  I deposited Ryan on the sofa in our rented bungalow. Reese trailed behind me and deposited a bottle on the table. She disappeared into the bathroom only to reemerge moments later with a palm sized cardboard box and a first aid kit. They joined the bottle.

  “Ryan, how’s your stomach?” I took his hand and rubbed it between mine. “Feel like you might heave?”

  “No. I’m fine.” He reclined into the corner of the couch.

  “Ready to get shit faced?”

  “Bring it on.”

  Reese cracked open the bottle of tequila and handed it to him. It was the best the bartender had, or rather, the highest proof. None of the shops in town were open, so we were working with what we had.

  “Do I have to eat the worm?” Ryan swirled the bottle and peered into its depths.

  “Bottoms up,” was all Reese said.

  “Water too.” I grabbed a couple bottles from the small fridge and set them next to him. “Pace yourself.”

  “I think I know how to get drunk, bro.” Over the next half hour, he proceeded to gulp from the bottle. With each mouthful, he would shake his head and swallow with a grimace.

  Once his drinking was underway, we started pulling out supplies. Reese filled a small cup with peroxide. I broke open the sewing kit Reese had pulled from the bathroom and dropped the needle into the cup. Reese poured a bunch of ibuprofen into Ryan’s hand. He gulped them down with some tequila.

  “You sober enough, babe?” Reese pulled me into one of the bedrooms so Ryan couldn’t hear us.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I reached for her just so I could feel better. “What if it is infected?”

  “We won’t be here long.” Her delicate fingers played over my wrists and hands. “We can take him to a hospital if we need to when we get wherever we’re going.”

  “All right,” I said even though I wasn’t sure about it.

  “The main thing is just getting it clean. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry, okay?”

  “Right.”

  “I can do it if you want.”

  “Guys.” Ryan appeared in the door of the room. “I’m officially plastered.”

  “Get more plastered,” I told him.

  He gulped some more tequila. The bottle was half gone. “How ’bout now?” As if one more mouthful would do the trick.

  “Depends. How do you feel?” Reese abandoned me for his side.

  “Drunk.” He unintentionally swayed in demonstration. Reese slipped an arm around his waist before he fell.

  “Can you finish the bottle?” I asked even though I doubted he could.

  “I don’t wanna.” Great. Now he was whining.

  “All right, sweetheart. Come on.” Reese dragged him back to the couch and sat him down. Then she rummaged in the kitchen until she found two shot glasses. She sloshed tequila into the glasses and handed one to Ryan. “I’ll help you drink it down, okay? On three.” He looked queasy. “One.” Ryan sniffled. “Two.” He frowned. “Three.” They tossed back their shots and smacked the glasses back to the table.

  Reese immediately poured each of them another, which they slammed like water. She poured another. And another. After that, I stopped counting.

  They started slowing down, each regarding the bottle as if it contained buttermilk instead of tequila. Two inches from the bottom, Ryan finally protested.

  “I can’t.” He rubbed his eyes. “No more.”

  “We are almost at the bottom. Come on.” Reese managed to sound encouraging even though she was trashed and looking nauseated too.

  “Uh-uh. Can’t see. Vision’s blurry.” Probably because he had tears in his eyes that he wasn’t aware of. “And I can’t, umm.” He pointed at his mouth. “There’s water in my mouth. It’s watering. Can’t swallow. Yeah, swallow.”

  “All right. You ready to do this?” I moved out of the way so Reese could stumble with the discarded shot glasses into the kitchen. Awesome. Now they were both going to be plastered and belligerent.

  “No. Wanna sleep.” Ryan scooted down the couch and curled up on his side. “No more tequila.”

  “Take off your shirt.” I slid an arm behind him to help him sit up. Instead of taking his shirt off, he stared at himself and plucked at the material. “Come on, Ryan.” I gripped the bottom and started working it up. “Help me out here.”

  “Coop?” He slurred.

  “What?”

  “I’m real drunk.” It was good he was pretty.

  “I know. Hold your arm up.” I lifted his right arm so I could get the shirt over his head. After that, it was easier to pull it down his injured arm.

  Reese staggered in to lean heavily on the couch. “Do you want me to hold him down?”

  “You can’t tie me down, girl.” Ryan was reclined again and talking to the couch cushions.

  “Let’s just see how the cleaning goes,” I said. I put a folded towel under Ryan’s bicep and free poured peroxide into the wound. It started to fizzle and the pus disappeared under white foam. “How does that feel?”

  “Cold.” For a second, I thought he fell asleep. “And tickly.”

  “Let it sit for a sec. I’m going to wash my hands.” I’m pretty sure he did crash out then. When I got back from scrubbing my hands pink, his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm.

  Clumsily, Reese handed me a package of gauze as I got on my knees in front of Ryan. He moaned when I wiped away the mixture of chemicals and puss. When it was clean enough to see the inside of the wound, I poured more peroxide on. It bubbled and turned white, but not as much as before.

  “Is it clean?” Reese leaned over my shoulder to look. She lost her balance and had to hold on to me so she wouldn’t fall.

  “I don’t know. I guess.” I stood and guided her to the edge of the couch so she was sitting between Ryan and me. “Sit here so he can’t move.”

  “Okay. I can do that.” Reese straightened and placed her palm on his chest. She was taking this seriously. Adorable.

  It was now or never. Fuck. I opened the sewing kit and retrieved my needle from the peroxide.

  “What color thread do you think he wants?”

  Reese shrugged then giggled. “Is there any purple?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. Ryan hated purple. It was his least favorite color.

  “Yeah.” I unwound the purple thread and took a good five minutes feeding it into the needle.

  “Do you need some help with that?”

  “No. I think I got it.” I didn’t.

  “Do you even know how to sew?”

  “Yeah.” No.

  “You look a little lost.” She started to reach for the needle.

  “I got it.” I moved out of her reach. Her hands weren’t clean. “Sorry if I never took home ec.”

  “Neither did I. Your mom taught me how to sew.”

  That threw me. “She did?”

  “Yeah.”

  Where the hell was I? “Oh. I, uhh, didn’t know that.” The thread finally slid through that impossibly small hole. “Yes.”

  “So are you ready?” Reese stared at the threaded needle I was holding.

  “No. Why do you think I’m just sitting here staring at it?” Dead serious. I had no desire to give Ryan stitches with a hotel sewing kit. Then again, I really wished he hadn’t been shot. I also wished a bunch of freaky, hairy, overweight dudes weren’t after us.

  “Suck it up,” Reese said. “If you do, I’ll let you look under my skirt again.”

  “Right,” I scoffed. “You’ll let me look up it anyway.”

  Reese just glared. Sexy.

  *

  During the entire process, Ryan moaned and whimpered and tried to scoot away. Instead of holding him still, Reese kept closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch. I didn’t blame her
. I didn’t want to watch. It was disgusting. And difficult. I finally understood why they used curved needles for this shit.

  Once I was finished, Ryan immediately fell asleep and Reese looked like she wasn’t too far behind. Great team. Unlike them, I was wired, drenched in sweat, and ready to hurl. Stitching up your best friend when you have no idea what you’re doing will really set you on edge.

  I stood, swaying from the rush of blood, and made my way to the small kitchen where I washed up to my elbows like before. Reese was in the same spot when I returned.

  “Babe.” She raised her wavering gaze to mine. “Do you think we should put him in bed?”

  After a second of deliberation, she shook her head. “No. Leave him here.”

  I took her outstretched hands and yanked her to her feet.

  “Are you okay?” She threaded her arms around my neck and pushed close.

  Any response I might have had was lost in the feel of her thighs, belly, breasts suddenly pressed against mine. The fear and trepidation immediately became the need for her. Just her.

  “You’re shaking.” Reese kissed me lightly.

  I didn’t say anything. I simply closed my eyes and let the desire to feel her wash over me. There wasn’t anything I could do about it. She was drunk. I was sober. That was just taking advantage. Besides, I was fine as long as I was holding her.

  “Let’s go to bed, all right?” Reese took me by the hand into our room. Carefully, she started to undress me. Her hands skimmed up my side to strip off my shirt leaving behind the smooth tingling I felt whenever she touched me. A shiver went up my spine. I kicked off my shoes and Reese dropped my pants and underwear to the floor.

  “Reese?” I asked.

  “Sit down, sweetheart.” She guided me to the bed and knelt between my legs.

  “We should sleep.”

  “We will,” Reese promised me.

  Really, I wasn’t going to let her do anything. We were just going to go to bed. But when she kissed me, so lightly and right where I needed her, I lost all conviction.

  “Fuck.” I moaned and dropped my head back.

  “It’s okay.” Reese smoothed her palms up my thighs, opening me wider.

  “But,” I protested. “I should…” I couldn’t remember what I should do. “We have to…” I wasn’t sure what we had to do.

  “Babe, just relax.” And then her lips were on me. Not hard at first, just a light pressure, kisses, and small, light bites. Her fingertips twitched on my flesh as she held me open. She took her time, carefully sucking me off so I wouldn’t go too high too fast. Like she was taking mercy on me instead of her usual teasing, fucking with me until I wanted to cry. The smooth strokes of her tongue took me higher and higher. She took both my hands. Placed one on her breast. Held the other tightly. Her nipple got hard in my palm.

  She was moaning now. The slight vibrations echoed into my flesh. When I came in her mouth, she just sucked me harder, willing another climax from me. It didn’t take long. All I could feel was Reese. I’d do anything that girl wanted.

  I sobbed as I came again. She climbed up me and straddled my thigh. I let go of her hand to grasp her hip. My fingertips dug into her ass. She rocked hard against me. I pressed my leg into her. She leaned down to kiss me. Her tongue tasted like tequila and me, but with some Reese mixed in. I moved my other hand from her tits, down the plane of her stomach, and slid a finger on either side of her clit. Her breathing came in short, staccato gasps. Then she came and collapsed on me.

  I fell asleep covered by a blanket of Reese, the warm wetness on my thigh turning cool, the taste of us still lingering in my mouth.

  Chapter Two

  “Do you want to go out with me?” Reese asked as she sat across from me with a cup of coffee.

  “You mean, like going steady?” I injected as much breathless sarcasm as I could into my question.

  “Shut up.” Reese rolled her eyes and glared.

  “Fine. Where are we going?”

  “There’s an internet café in town so we can check…” She hesitated, gauging my reaction. “The situation in Vegas.” I nodded to let her know I wasn’t freaking out so she continued. “And there’s a pharmacy. I want to get some antibiotics and painkillers for Ryan.” We both looked to where he was still sleeping on the couch.

  “Umm, don’t you need a prescription for that?”

  She looked at me like I wasn’t so bright. “We’re in Mexico.”

  “So?” I didn’t get it.

  “You buy the prescription at the pharmacy. It’s like ten bucks.” She shrugged. “Why do you think people drive to Mexico for their prescriptions?”

  “’Cause it’s cheaper?” I was still lost. “But don’t you still need a prescription?”

  “No, you buy the prescription,” she said all exasperated. Hairpin trigger, that girl. “Like the little piece of paper that a doctor gives you. It’s ten bucks. Then they fill the prescription.”

  “Gotcha.” I didn’t.

  “You’re dumb.” Reese leaned over the table, cupped the back of my neck, and kissed me deep and hard.

  I didn’t care if she thought I was dumb. As long as she kept sticking her tongue in my mouth like that, I was happy.

  “Let’s go.” She broke away from me.

  “Uh-uh. No.” I reached for her again. “Let’s get naked and rub up against each other.”

  Reese glared. “Do you always have to sound like my brother?”

  “Your brother said that to you?” I grimaced like I meant it. “That’s just not okay.”

  “Move it, Cooper,” Reese demanded, annoyed enough by my teasing. I decided to do what she wanted.

  *

  Warped. That’s what that shit was. Fucking warped. I scrolled through the Web pages, the ads flashing at me, beautiful people, perfect skin, white teeth, date your soul mate, just click here, God is online now, eat this and live forever. I didn’t see, though. I didn’t notice any of it. I could only see the articles as they blazed out from the computer screen, changing my life while I sat there doing nothing.

  All Reese did was suggest I hang out in the café while she got Ryan’s prescription, but no. I had to know. I had to sit at that well-used computer and type in a few choice keywords followed by the date of that damn night. I just had to keep clicking links open. Did I want to know that I’d killed two of them, not one? Did I really have to know that those men I left to bleed out on a stretch of desert highway were suspected mob enforcers? Really, did I need to go from there and type DiGiovanni into the search engine?

  Then I saw the articles, the stories, that blurb in the obituaries, headlines like estranged daughter disappears from crime family. The phrase “mafia princess” was on every page, lashing out like so many blows to the head.

  My heart sped. I told it not to. My hands were shaking on the keyboard. I couldn’t swallow. Why couldn’t I swallow? My vision blurred. Was it from the sweat in my eyes?

  All I could think of was Reese. Any second, she would come through the door into the stagnant heat of the café. She would want to know what I was doing. What would I tell her? How could she not tell me? Why did I have to be curious?

  That was it. I was done. I pushed myself out of the chair, sweating palms sliding away from me on the counter. When I turned to seek the air outside, I stopped as if I’d been struck. Reese was inches away, her smile losing altitude as she caught my eyes.

  “Babe, what’s—” But her question was already lost because I was running out the door.

  On the street, I turned and just started walking. That was when I should have gone home, cried to my mommy, and lived my half-scarred life alone. Alone wasn’t so bad. Problem with alone was there were no DiGiovanni twins. I could handle alone, but I couldn’t handle life without them. Without Reese.

  Right there on the crowded street, I stopped and waited. She didn’t take long.

  “Cooper?” she whispered, though I heard her anyway.

  I spun to face her, searching fo
r words. Only one came to mind.

  “DiGiovanni.” The loss hit me and I nearly gasped. No longer did DiGiovanni mean warm memories of summer vacation and notes in class and bickering with a sexy girl. Instead, moments rushed at me, rising bitter and acidic, moments when they could have, should have told me and chose to lie.

  “But you knew.” Her eyes were pleading.

  That hit a nerve.

  “I knew?” The sneer came out a scream. I brought the volume back down. “The biggest crime family east of the Mississippi,” I quoted the newspapers. “And you think I knew?”

  Her eyes became granite. Hell, her whole face did. “Keep your voice down.” She glanced frantically around us. People were staring.

  “No.” I didn’t care about appearances. “You’re one of them. You knew,” I accused her.

  “Stop talking,” Reese commanded. “I won’t discuss this on a street corner.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. You’re part of the biggest crime family on the East Coast.” I used my hands to punctuate the words.

  “I’m not doing this here.”

  Just like that, she spun and walked away.

  “Well, I am.” I went after her, still talking. “How long have you known? When were you going to tell me?” No answer. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  “Away from you.”

  That hurt.

  “Right.” I pulled the keys from my pocket. “Get your ass in the car, buttercup.”

  “What?” Reese finally stopped walking.

  “I said get your ass in the goddamn car. I’m leaving and you’re coming with me.” Roughly, I grabbed her arm and dragged her in the direction of the SUV. Reese yanked her arm away and looked for a moment like she might slap me. I’d been there and didn’t care to repeat the experience.

  “Don’t fucking touch me.” She kept her voice very, very low. “And don’t tell me what to do.”

  We stared at each other waiting for the other to back down.

  Finally, I broke the silence first. “Do you want to discuss your family here or in private?” That worked. Reese climbed into the passenger seat without saying a word.