Family & Fortune (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod Book 5) Read online

  There had been a time I’d privately pored over photograph albums for many hours to get some sense of who my deceased parents were behind the posed smiles.

  The clearest memory I had of them was a month before the plane crash that killed them both. I was around six and in my Laura Ingalls Wilder phase.

  Hand in hand, Jazy and I were walking home after a satisfying interlude of playing “Prairie Settlers.” I was Laura and she was the little sister, Grace that never talked. We had a little house in some nearby woods along the rushing Cannon River. Almost to our house, I spotted my dad among a group of big men in cop uniforms on the front porch steps. He was a homicide detective and worked so much it was a rare treat to see my dad home in the daytime. I’d gone running up the sidewalk, exuberantly yelling his name. I’ll never forget the enormous smile breaking across his face when he saw me, or how he rocked me on his lap while smashing my face against his chest, or how he furiously scolded me for turning my mother’s hair gray.

  I had looked suspiciously over at my mom’s dark hair. She was crying for some reason and hugging Jazy, whose round baby face was dimpling as she cooed over Mom’s shoulder at all the men surrounding us with enormous smiles.

  I shrugged in confusion and patted my father’s cheeks. “Oh, don’t worry, Daddy, she uses Clairol #4. Right, Mom?”

  My mother had groaned loudly, but the gathering crowd of policemen and firefighters who’d been frantically searching for us that afternoon roared with relieved laughter.

  Questioning my older sisters back then about our deceased parents was of no help either. Their remembrances of our mom and dad were in direct relationship to themselves. Mac primly declared that our parents told her she was the perfect child because she was the best, most responsible helper. In her world that meant we all had to obey whatever she said. Kenna bragged our parents told her that she was the prettiest girl in the world and they loved her best out of all their children.

  Gee, imagine my surprise when Mac grew up to become a clean freak nurse and Kenna a serial wife with a penchant for liquor and lying.

  ‘Mmm, I’d rather imagine men’s laps,’ the sex kitten voice purred, and we both giggled. I guess my siblings and I all have our issues.

  Other than getting married young, having five kids in ten years, and being saddled with Regina for a first name, I had no clear picture of the real woman who birthed me, but I’d always faintly pitied her.

  Maybe not knowing my mom better was my own fault. After my parents died, I hadn’t asked many questions about them and never to the people outside of our immediate family. First, I had been too young and miserable. As I grew up, I didn’t ask much because I secretly thought my mom would be disappointed in me. Back then, the adults in my life had been divided into two distinct camps--the ones who considered me spirited and encouraged my individuality, and the grownups who considered me a troublemaking smart aleck. I had somehow come to the conclusion my mother would be in the latter group.

  At my party last night, I’d replied to Jamie, “Here I thought my mom was a perfect saint.”

  “More like a patron saint of the perfect smart ass.” Jamie wiped a bright blue eye while I clapped my hands in delight at the revelation. She sniffed, “Who gave you that ridiculous idea about your mother being perfect, anyway?”

  Recalling all the years of repeated warnings from Jamie that my mom was flipping out in her grave at my behavior, I rolled my eyes.

  We traded fond smiles.

  “Was she fun to hang with?”

  “Fun? Reggie was the life of the party!” Jamie grinned in memory. “Not in a loud way, mind you, but something about her presence always made whatever we were doing seem more exciting or special.” Jamie chuckled and pinched my cheek. “I don’t want to shock you, but this was the seventies I’m talking about, honey. The drinking age was eighteen and everyone smoked weed like crazy. It was nothing to see people smoking joints in their cars or walking down the streets sharing a pipe. Hell, we’d drive to South Minneapolis to go to a kegger held at some stranger’s house, simply from an address posted on a telephone pole announcing a party.”

  “Holy crap,” I breathed, unable to imagine doing such a thing. Not without ending up dead from some psychopath cutting me up into tiny pieces, but only after he’d kept me as a sex slave for twelve years under his bed in a box.

  My fake godmother laughed at my expression. “Yeah, times have changed. It was a wild decade to grow up in. I’m telling you this because your mother was straight as an arrow. She’d go to the parties and the rock concerts, but she didn’t drink or do drugs. Still, I’ve never seen a person have so much fun. She was friendly and outgoing, always quick with a joke or a shoulder to cry on. I think men and women loved her because she had a way of making them each feel special.” Jamie’s voice had grown softer and then she sighed gustily. “Now, that’s my definition of a real people person. You couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

  “I must take after my dad,” I said, thinking of my anti-social tendencies.

  Jamie raised her plucked brows and leered. “Don’t get me going on your dad! Good Lord, and excuse me for saying this to his daughter, but that man was a walking wet dream. He could have any girl he wanted, and I mean any girl. I would have done him in a New York minute. But your dad took one look at Reggie and cross my heart,” I was laughing hard as Jamie earnestly crossed her heart, “I saw his eyes pop out and horny little cupids dancing around his head. He never glanced at another woman again.”

  I mimicked her gusty sigh, and thinking of my own set of horns where Luke was concerned, said morosely, “Yep, I take after my dad, all right.”

  The older woman wolf whistled. “Then that sexy man of yours is one lucky boy.” She chuckled when I smiled and went on bracingly, “Okay, I need to let you get back to your party, but listen, I dragged Al along tonight so you could question him, since I didn’t do so good…”

  I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “Oh, please. As if you couldn’t give Isabella Boyd a run for her money. No, I totally trust you got Al to cough up any intel he had to give.”

  “Thank you, honey,” she beamed for a second at the praise, and then frowned, “but that name isn’t ringing any bells.” Jamie Wade is the Queen Bee in firm control of the gossip mill in Northfield. A deep furrow marked my fake godmother’s forehead at the idea of competition in her town that she didn’t know. “Who is this Isabella Boyd woman?”

  I quickly assured her that Isabella Boyd was long dead, a Confederate spy from the Civil War era. Her frown cleared instantly at the word dead, but she was looking at me funny when Anna interrupted our private chat to drag me back out to the party to cut my birthday cake.

  Jamie had passed that info to me several hours ago, and I’d been turning Bartender Al’s report over in my mind every time I had a quiet second to think. Luke was right about one thing. In a small town, all it took was complete strangers buying a round of drinks to loosen the blabbing tongues of the locals.

  Jamie was most likely being over protective and the conversation was probably innocent. Still, it was bizarre to know people were bantering about my height, weight, and bra size down the street at the pub. Yes, being a male, those were the only pertinent details Bartender Al could recall. In my mind, that did not fit within the parameters of typical gossip. It seemed anybody could judge those physical traits for themselves by simply stopping into Bel’s. It nagged at me that a man would ask such odd questions to strangers in a bar.

  “I cooked. You ditched on clean up.”

  Luke’s voice startled me from my ruminations, as he came into the bathroom and braced his arms on either side of me on the vanity.

  Moving aside my hair with his chin, he nuzzled at my ear and demanded in a low voice, “Isn’t that against one of the Anabel Axelrod rules of the kitchen? Do you deserve punishment?”

  I leaned back against him and assured him airily, “Oh, those rules aren’t meant for me.” I tilted my head to give his mouth better a
ccess. “Besides, I was born at 1:01 AM, so I’m officially the birthday girl.” I smiled at his reflection. “My deliciously darling man, everyone knows the overriding rule is that the birthday girl doesn’t do a lick of work on her birthday.”

  “Ah, my mistake,” Luke’s voice contained a smile as he kissed my neck. I think he loved the names I called him. “Happy Birthday, Princess.”

  “Thank you.” I watched his strong profile while his lips lingered close to my skin. I squirmed from the chills his voice near my ear had sent racing through my body. However, adventure called and I stood up straight. “Okay, I’m ready to go take care of your business whenever you are.”

  Luke had on his black leather jacket, but didn’t appear to be in any hurry. He lightly flicked a sparkling earring with a long finger and sent it swinging. “Do you like your latest birthday present?”

  “Oh, they’re tolerable,” I teased while he stroked my neck. “Thanks for the reminder. I need to take them off before we leave.”

  Luke brushed my hands aside. “Here, let me.”

  I held up my hair while his big hands gently removed each earring. “Thank you for respecting the no work rule.”

  He snorted softly in reply and I smiled while quietly observing our images. We were both dressed appropriately in mission black, although I didn’t know if Luke had done so on purpose. My spray tan was still rockin’ it, so for once, I wasn’t pale white to Luke’s bronzed skin tone. His black hair completed the monochromatic look while my blondeness stood out brightly in comparison. It was a reminder to stuff my hair up into a hat before we left or I could be spotted from a block away. I thought again of the couple asking questions in the bar.

  “Luke?”

  “Hmm?” He was carefully draping each earring inside the designated spots carved out in the satin-lined interior of their century’s old, white velvet jewelry box.

  I dropped my hair and fluffed it. “What would you think if a stranger asked questions about your height, weight, and even your ball size?”

  Luke’s hands paused briefly before he snapped the velvet case closed. He rested his hands on my shoulders and met my eyes in the mirror. “It’s either a first visit to a new doctor or somebody has some explaining to do. Why?”

  “I knew it was bizarre.” I nodded at his answer, vindicated those types of questions were weird to ask. “Somebody at the party tonight told me somebody they knew had heard a guy asking questions like that about me at a bar here in town last night.”

  Luke waved his hand in front of his head, as if swatting at a fly. “This somebody’s somebody wanted to know your ball size?”

  “No, no, of course not,” I laughed at his justifiable confusion, “I was using your balls as an example. He asked about my bra size.”

  Luke held up his hands. “Hey, just so you know, I’m okay with you using my balls any way you like, Anabel. But,” Luke’s voice rose sternly over my giggles, “for the 99.9% of men out there with much smaller balls than mine, it’s guaranteed to make them extremely nervous.” His arms came around me and he kissed my cheek while he unzipped my hoodie. “Now, as for your bra size--why don’t I verify that again right now?”

  I stopped his hands. “Do you think I need to care somebody was asking?”

  “Did somebody’s somebody tell you anything else?”

  “Not much.” I repeated what Jamie had said concerning the couple, but my gaze was fastened to the mirror as Luke’s hands moved again and cupped my breasts on the outside of my T-shirt.

  “Huh.” Luke’s hooded eyes were focused on his hands on my breasts. “It’s probably nothing to worry about. I’ll wager most men want to take your bra off to check the size.” His brows flared up suggestively. “I know I did.”

  I smiled; surprised, but relieved he was treating it like a joke. Soon he had me laughing when he playfully hefted my breasts and guessed outrageous bust sizes from 2TTs to calling out to the tenth power like a lust-crazed Power Ranger.

  A little later, far from meeting my goal of leaving the apartment in less than three minutes, I had somehow become topless and Luke’s hands had turned serious.

  “Luke?” I asked, dispelling the expectant hush hovering over us in the bathroom.

  “Hmm?” He replied against my upturned mouth. His tongue licked along my bottom lip.

  “Does it make me a narcissist that I get so wet watching your mouth and hands all over me?”

  His hands molded and massaged my breasts. “I don’t know, baby, are you watching my hands or watching your body?”

  “What I want to watch is my hands and mouth on your body.”

  “Sorry, I do all the work today. Not even a lick from you, remember?”

  “This is officially the best birthday I’ve ever had,” I breathed out and tilted my head slightly more to meet Luke’s lips, “except for maybe my thirteenth.”

  He squeezed and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “You wait. You haven’t opened all my presents yet.”

  “Really, I haven’t?” I gasped, looking up at him. “There’s more than Sparky and the earrings?”

  “Hell, yes.” Luke frowned and went on with an arrogant lift of that nose, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I signed over a condo to your friend worth an easy 300K, but only gave you a couple of hand-me-down jewels for your birthday?”

  I ran my fingers over the hands holding my breasts. “The kind that owns my heart?”

  “Oh, Christ, Anabel,” Luke growled, kissing me fiercely. A few moments later, he raised his head. Eyes glittered when he demanded, “If it wasn’t the presents, what made your thirteenth birthday so memorable?”

  I raised my arms up behind me to slide around his neck, undulating along the hard length of his body pressed to mine. “Thirteen was when I got fingered for the first time by Johnny Marsoupias.”

  Luke looked down at me in stupefaction for one nanosecond before he spun me around, unsnapped my jeans, and yanked them down--panties and all. Kneeling before me, his dark features embodied masculine carnality. A hand on each thigh spread me wide open, and then he looked up. I flushed with excitement at the sight of his bold desire.

  “Let’s see if I can’t do better than that.” With a flash of a white grin, he unleashed the power of the twenty-ninth.

  Chapter III

  “Birthday” by The Beatles

  Tuesday, 12/18

  2:42 AM

  “For a man with business to take care of tonight, you sure don’t watch the clock,” I commented a half hour later.

  I sat on the church pew in the foyer, fully-dressed and foot tapping. Even my hair was ready to go, safely tucked under a black knit cap my brother must have left behind.

  “Do you have a complaint about how I spend my time, Anabel?” Luke asked, arching a dark brow as he walked towards me from the bedroom hallway, slowly slapping a long cardboard tube against his muscular thigh.

  My eyes were glued to the blue satin ribbon tied in a bow around the tube. “Only if you consider rapturous screams a complaint.”

  He stopped before me and agreed with a self-satisfied grin, “You are loud.”

  I lifted my chin. “I prefer to think of it as sexually expressive. Loud sounds so…”

  “Loud,” Luke repeated with relish.

  “And you are a very competitive boyfriend,” I countered with equal relish.

  “Uh huh,” Luke tapped the tube against his thigh again. “And how is your 29th birthday comparing so far to the busy little fingers of Johnny Metacarpals?”

  “Marsoupias,” I giggled and lowered my lashes to add coquettishly, “but you’ve wiped my memory of all who came before you, Emperor of my Ecstasy.”

  His grin was wolfish when he handed me the tube with a flourish. “Here’s to our continued happiness.”

  A smile bloomed across my face at the unexpected gift. I stroked the satin bow. I ran my hands up and down the length of rolled cardboard lying across my lap, squeezing the tube experimentally and shaking it. It w
as stiff, but there was some give. I gripped it again. It was the type of tubing that housed rolled up posters or…

  “Sweetheart, you’re giving me a hard on. Either open it or take off your pants again.”

  Startled, I glanced up into Luke’s swarthy face, and then tilted my head to consider his choices for a moment.

  Hands on hips, he spoke fervently to the ceiling. “Thank you, God, for sending me this woman.”

  Laughing, I pulled on the wide strings of the blue bow. As it unraveled, Luke reached down and took the length of blue satin out of my hands.

  “I’ll save this for later.” His voice was as silky as the ribbon. He folded it and stuck it in his jacket pocket while I swallowed hard.

  Gauging from my reaction when Luke had captured me in my bedroom and pinned my arms during My Turn a few weeks ago, and after being captured by Dickie, I had a love-hate relationship with the idea of getting tied up. Choosing to be dominated during My Turn for a second time, I was a bit apprehensive of what to expect. I suspected that was why the mere idea also titillated the heck out of me, and why Torquemada was waiting so long. He was big on titillating and waiting.

  ‘Great,’ I thought with a sigh. ‘I can add thrill junkie to my résumé of stellar character traits, right after ass kicker and killer.’

  ‘Don’t forget control enthusiast,’ the accountant voice reminded.

  ‘Thrill junkies don’t often come to a good end,’ the detective voice mused.

  ‘But I bet they die happy,’ the sex kitten voice meowed.

  “Or maybe you want me to forget about business and use the ribbon right now?” Luke asked softly, and I realized I had been staring at his jacket pocket.

  Not acknowledging his evil chuckle, I quickly pried off the white plastic cap from the end of the tube and carefully pulled out a rolled set of papers.

  Before I could open them, Luke held out his hand to me. “Let’s bring those into the dining room and unroll them on the table.”

  I allowed him to pull me at a fast trot into the other room, smiling at his impatient enthusiasm that rivaled my own. I recognized a set of blueprints. My head went all over the place trying to imagine what his present could be that it required blue prints.