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Saks had hoped to get his car and leave as quietly as possible. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. No. Instead the stupid beast refused to turn over. Okay, it sounded like the starter, but that couldn’t be it. He changed the starter when? Saks tapped his head with his fingers. No. It was the one part he didn’t switch out. Slapping his hands on the steering wheel, he got out and opened the trunk to fish for a hammer. A few taps to the starter might get it to move past whatever dead spot it had. He’d pull into the shop when he got back to Westfield and change out the starter before Monday morning.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Saks sighed and resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. Chrissy.
“Getting my car,” he said. “I’ll be out of here in a moment.” Avoid dumping anything else on my head if you can, please.
“I’m sorry,” said Chrissy.
Saks whipped around to face her. “What was that?” He’d expected her to go nuts on him. Had she just apologized?
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I went a little overboard.”
Saks continued his search in the trunk of his car. “A little? You think?”
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Fuck it. “Do you have a hammer?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t think so.”
“What do you need a hammer for?”
“Car repair,” he said.
“That’s an odd tool for car repair.”
Saks turned toward her again. He tried to ignore how beautiful she looked, or how tightly her clothes fit her curves, or how blue her eyes were. But he failed and did so miserably. And as he looked at her, it was as if a knife went through his heart. He could never get involved with a crime boss’ daughter. It was the sort of thing that he’d avoided all his life. But there she stood, beautiful and too damn sexy for her own good. Her makeup was off, but her eyes were slightly red. Had she been crying? Shit. He redoubled his efforts to steel his heart against her. “Is there a problem?” he said frostily.
She bit her lip, and it drove Saks crazy. He wanted to bite that lip, and every other place on her, from her luscious neck, to her creamy breasts with their pretty pink nipples, to—
He had to stop thinking about her like that. This was getting him nowhere, and his traitorous dick hardening in his pants wasn’t helping the situation.
Chrissy’s eyes flashed and Saks saw the storm coming.
“Yeah,” she said angrily. “You’re the problem.”
“Me? Listen, lady—”
“You leave my sister alone!”
Saks turned to stare at the dark-haired woman stomping down the stairs in stilettos. Shocked, he realized she was the woman from the Red Bull last night.
“Gloria, stay out of this,” Chrissy snapped without even looking at her sister.
Gloria came to stand by her side. There was fire in her eyes, too. “Come on, sis. You don’t need to bother with this carogna.”
Saks’ Italian was good but even he had to flip though the different and diverse meanings of carogna from carrion to stinkpot and decided Gloria was going for bastard.
“Believe me,” said Saks. “She won’t have to.”
“Why? My sister not good enough for you?”
Gloria’s belligerent words, Chrissy’s obvious pissed-off attitude, and the events of the past twenty-four hours coalesced to spark anger in Saks’ heart. It was bad enough to have one angry woman confront him, but two was one too many. Saks had to disengage, and he turned to the trunk of the car again. That’s when he spotted the handle of his hammer under a bunch of rags and pulled it out.
Gloria gasped. “Marcus!” she screamed.
What the fuck? But before he could move, six-feet-two-inches of hard Italian muscle flew at him. Saks and Marcus toppled to the unforgiving blacktop. If Saks hadn’t worn his Hades’ Spawn leather, his blood would’ve stained the ground.
His attacker was on top of him, landing one blow after another into his face. Saks’ ears rang from the repeated strikes.
“Stop, Marcus!” yelled Chrissy.
Marcus paused a quarter second—enough for Saks to wind his legs around the beefy Italian and flip him to his back. Saks leaned forward and put his arm across Marcus’ windpipe as the man struggled to unseat the biker. But Saks was stronger than he looked. His muscles wrought from the hard work hefting and riding bikes and long days on his feet forced the beefy Italian to the ground. His flexibility gave him an edge over the gym-sculpted muscles of the Italian.
“Get off him!” Gloria was behind Saks and sank her sharp nails into his neck.
“What the fuck?!”
“Gloria!” Over his shoulder he spotted Chrissy tugging on Gloria from around her waist, and the two women fell on the ground with grunts of pain.
“You bitch!” screamed Gloria.
Marcus took advantage of the distraction by wriggling out of Saks’ grip; he clamped onto Saks’ arms and threw him to the blacktop again. Chrissy and Gloria were going at each other with the fierceness of cats, and Marcus stood brushing off his black pants.
“One sec,” he said incredibly to Saks. He hauled Gloria to her feet.
“Get in the car, Gloria,” he growled.
“But—”
“Get. In. The. Car. What’s your grandfather going to think if you’re bruised up? Will he blame you or me?”
That seemed to stop her. Gloria stuck her lip out in a pout. “Sorry, Marcus.”
“Stop that!” he snapped. “You know it drives me crazy. And you,” he said, casting his gaze at Chrissy. “Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll be back to get you for dinner.”
“I can drive myself.” Chrissy crossed her arms defiantly.
“Boss’ orders.” He glared at her.
“And you,” he said, turning at last to Saks. “Get out of here.” Marcus looked at Gloria again. “Get in the fucking car.” He muttered more quietly, “What a clusterfuck.”
“In case you didn’t notice, asshole, my car isn’t working.”
Marcus crossed his arms and regarded Saks, checking to see if he was telling the truth. “What’s the problem?”
“Starter.”
“That’s what the hammer was for?”
“Yes.”
“Mamma Mia, I thought you were going to hit one of the girls with it.”
“I wouldn’t hit any woman,” he turned pointedly to Chrissy, “unless she asked me to.” He snorted and shifted back to Marcus. “Which is why I keep getting the bad end of the deal with these Serafini women.”
“Hey,” protested Chrissy.
“Didn’t I tell you to go get cleaned up?” said Marcus, all warning and no patience.
“Men!” spat Chrissy, throwing her hands in the air. But she walked away and up the steps to her apartment. Saks took one parting look at her behind as the two round globes swayed as she walked. It was too bad this was going to be the last time he saw them. Best thing, buddy, he told himself. But his heart sank as the thought crossed his mind.
“Do you need help?” asked Marcus.
The offer surprised Saks. One minute this guy was beating the crap out of him and the next he wanted to help him with his car? “If you can turn the key when I say when?”
“Sure.” Marcus moved to the driver’s side. “Hey, don’t take what happened personal. It’s my job to protect those girls.”
“Really? I thought it was your job to whale on me whenever it was convenient.”
“No, just to protect the girls. You got in the way. A lot.”
“So you worked for the Serafinis long?”
Marcus shrugged and Saks opened the car door for him. “A while.” The man of few words slid behind the wheel of Saks’ beater car. He batted the large fuzzy dice Saks hung off the rearview mirror. “Real classy car you got here,” rumbled Marcus with amusement.
“You’ll find my humor is very nuanced.”
“What?” said Marcus. He scrunched his face in confusion.
“Never mind.” Saks rotated his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall. Soreness radiated from the joint. It would be stiff tomorrow.
During the ridiculous altercation, the hood of the car had fallen. He shook his head. It was his own fault. He’d put off putting in a new hinge. He yanked the hood open again and tapped the starter with the hammer.
“Try it,” Saks called out.
Marcus turned the key; the car whined but refused to turn over.
“Okay, okay, cut it,” said Saks. They’d lose battery power if they let the starter go too long without catching. Saks gave another couple taps to the starter. “Put a little gas to it and try again.”
The engine sputtered briefly, providing a brief thrill of victory, but ultimately died.
“Fuck,” spat Saks. “Okay, one more time. After this I’ll call a tow.”
Marcus did his best to help the engine catch and finally it rumbled to life. Saks kept his head under the hood listening to the sounds, deciding that along with a new starter he needed to check the ignition coils. In a car this old it was easy enough for a coil to go bad, or maybe the ignition wires had gotten corroded.
Satisfied with his diagnosis and happy the son-of-a-bitch was running, he pulled away from under the hood.
But not soon enough. The hood banged the top of his head. Sickening pain jolted him as he pulled free of the massive jaws of the car. He stumbled, unable to maintain his balance. In a flash Marcus was at his side with a steadying arm under Saks’ armpit.
“Shit, man, I heard that! You okay?”
“I... no,” Saks mumbled. That’s when he blacked out.
