He stared at me a beat then nodded his head but said not a word.
Totally weird.
“Uh, sorry that you, uh… couldn’t join us in the lounge at the airport or that we uh… didn’t get you in first class.” I tipped my head back to look at Sam and asked, “Why didn’t we do that?”
Sam started to speak but Deaver beat him to it and I looked back to him when he did.
“Can’t assess a threat drinkin’ champagne in first class. Cooper had that covered, not a two man job. I covered coach.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
He went on, “And can’t scan the area sittin’ on my ass in the first class departure lounge.”
“Right,” I muttered.
That was when Deaver became talkative… ish.
He jerked his head toward the floor where Memphis was sitting on her doggie bottom, sweeping Sam’s tiled floor with her tail, waiting for Deaver to lavish affection on her and he declared, “Need a Rottie.”
Here we go again.
“That’s been noted,” I told him.
“Or a Shepherd,” he continued.
“That’s been mentioned too,” I replied.
“Or a Mastiff,” he went on.
That was a new one.
“Uh…” I mumbled.
“Or a Dogo Argentino.”
I blinked. “Sorry, a what?”
“The badass mofo of the canine world,” he explained.
“Oh,” I whispered thinking this guy was a little scarier than the average scary.
“Not that,” he jerked his head down at Memphis again.
Memphis yapped.
“She’s friendly,” I defended Memphis then added, “and cuddly.”
Deaver’s eyes sliced to Sam, clearly unimpressed with friendly, cuddly dogs and wanting to know why Sam didn’t eject my baby immediately.
“And anyway, I have badass mofos of the human variety looking out for me so I think I’m good,” I finished.
That was when Deaver decided to share his badass mofo wisdom. “You got a threat, you use every available means to neutralize it.”
“Uh, that makes sense, of course, but Memphis would probably yap pretty loudly to greet an intruder so at least we’d have a head’s up,” I told him.
He again looked at Sam and since I just met him I didn’t know if it was with respect that Sam had the patience to put up with me and Memphis or if it was with disdain that Sam was putting up with me and Memphis.
I decided I was done meeting my bodyguard so I said brightly, “Nice to meet you and if you should want to, say, use the bathroom or get a bottle of water, you obviously know where we are.”
He took the hint and I didn’t have to know him very well to see his relief at being dismissed from this particular duty, he jerked his chin up and replied, not brightly, “Right. Thanks. Hope you don’t get dead. You gettin’ dead means I fucked up and won’t get paid.”
Yikes!
“Well, I’m glad Sam had the foresight to put that clause in your contract,” I muttered and felt Sam’s body start shaking against mine.
“Standard,” Deaver grunted, jerked up his chin again, frowned down at Memphis again, turned on his boot and disappeared.
Sam’s silent laughter became an audible chuckle when I turned into him and looked up.
“I’m not sure I want to meet Aziz,” I shared and Sam’s chuckle became a roar of laughter as both his arms closed around me.
When he quit laughing but he was still grinning huge, he replied, “Aziz wasn’t raised by Argentine Dogos. He’s a little more sociable.”
“A little?” I asked and Sam’s huge grin turned into a blinding smile.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “A little. A guy checks the box marked ‘friendly’ on a job application for bodyguard, he’s not gonna get much work.”
This made sense.
“Right,” I muttered.
Sam kept smiling at me then he looked to the counter at my list and back at me. “You ready to hit the grocery store?”
“I will be when I ascertain if there’s anything in my cooking arsenal you won’t feel forced to eat.”
“I don’t have a cast iron skillet, baby, and shortening is not an acceptable addition to my pantry. That help?”
“Yes, but barely.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured.
Yes, we damn well would and I knew this because I was on a mission to make it so.
“Um… if Deaver comes with, he’s not going to attack any grocery store patrons for looking at us funny, seeing as you’re famous and all, and leave bite marks, is he?” I asked.
He pulled me closer and told me, “Good part of bein’ home, in Kingston, people are used to me. Unless it’s new folk or tourists, they leave me be.”
This was good.
“Excellent,” I replied.
Sam smiled again. Then he bent his head and touched his mouth to mine, let me go and muttered, “Shower then store.”
“Gotcha,” I muttered back.
He moved to the stairs. I turned to my list.
I was scratching out the word “shortening” when I heard, “Kia?”
I turned and looked over my shoulder to see Sam at the wall by the base of the stairs.
“Yeah, honey?”
His head cocked slightly to the side and his eyes moved over me. I held my breath because they’d gone that super intense and I suspected he was seeing something, feeling something, something I didn’t understand, while looking at me in his kitchen.
But he didn’t share.
Instead he said, “Won’t be long.”
“Okay,” I replied softly.
He tipped up his chin and disappeared.
I took in a breath and went back to my list.
* * * * *
It was night, the moon lit the ocean, the sound of waves crashing on the beach shifted lazily toward the deck – those, a nice dinner and a good day spent with Sam lulling me into a relaxation I hadn’t felt in years.
Years.
It felt good.
The grocery store mission was successful. I got what I wanted and Sam got what he wanted. I paid close attention to what Sam got which gave me ideas for dinner and, after we left the grocery, we hit the liquor store then we went home.
And Deaver, who I noted trailing us twice, didn’t attack anyone.
A plus.
I put chicken breasts in to marinade and Sam and I took Memphis for a long walk on the beach. Then Sam and I came back and he took me upstairs for a long, energetic session in his bed.
We emerged from Sam’s bed late afternoon and I met Aziz. Sam was right, he was friendlier if not less scary. He was Arabic, had less bulk than Deaver but not less muscle, though his was lean. He had more height and when he departed he did not share his wish I didn’t get dead. He gave me a look that promised I wouldn’t (thus him being not less scary).
The only thing that semi-marred our day was that twice Sam got calls where he looked at the display on his phone then took them elsewhere. This was not exactly unusual, he had a lot of calls at home where he did that and I suspected they were discussions with Ozzie or his crew of badasses. So I didn’t think anything of it, in Indiana or in North Carolina.
That was until, during the second call, I headed upstairs on bare feet to see to unpacking and I did this while he was in his office on the phone.
The door was open and I heard him say, “Like I said before, tell them I’m considering it but I haven’t made a decision.” He paused, I debated the merits of eavesdropping and before I made a decision, he went on, “They’re impatient for an answer then the answer is no. They can keep their shit then they can wait for me to fuckin’ consider it.”
It was then, considering his tone sounded frustrated and the conversation was clearly not about my safety, not to mention, I had some anxiety about what it was about, harking way back to the conversation I overheard Sam have with Luci, I moved swiftly to the bedroom. For the first five minutes of unpacking, I
made way more noise than I needed to. Firstly, I did this to drown out hearing anything Sam was saying. Secondly, I did this because I wanted Sam to know my whereabouts.
When he came into his bedroom, he was no longer on the phone and he was also in his usual not in a sharing mood.
I knew this when he came up behind me as I was bent over my suitcase by the bed, he hooked me around the waist, leaned into me and said quietly in my ear, “Meant it yesterday, honey, make yourself at home. You need to move shit, move it. I’ll stow your bags when you’re done.”
Then he kissed my neck and moved away.
That was nice, very nice and I definitely liked it. But it still wasn’t Sam sharing.
And, it should be noted, Sam didn’t grab his bag and unpack his own stuff.
Whatever.
I did it for him.
A bit later, Sam grilled the chicken at his grill on the deck. I made a salad of raw spinach, arugula, cucumber, carrot, mandarin orange slices and pistachio nuts and prepared some wild rice. I ate mine with a buttered dinner roll we got from the bakery at the grocery store. Sam ate his with an extra breast, double the amount of rice and salad and zero roll.
Sam had also made certain that I had Amaretto and he did this during the detour to the liquor store on the way home from the grocery.
So now I had a snifter (yes, Sam even had snifters) of Amaretto and Sam on a deck at a house on the beach in North Carolina after a good day.
Life was good.
And Sam needed to know that.
So I whispered to the ocean, “Life is good.”
Sam made no verbal response. What he did was a whole lot better.
He trailed the tips of his fingers along the outside of my thigh.
I sighed.
Then I took a sip of Amaretto.
I dropped my hand to rest the base of the glass to the arm of my chair and told the ocean, still whispering, “It was hell, honey.”
Sam again made no response but this time his non-response included physically.
I kept whispering. “Everywhere I’ve been since he’s been gone, I thought was heaven.”
Sam responded to that, both verbally and physically. His fingers glided from the outside to the inside of my thigh and he pulled it toward his until it was resting there and he muttered, “Baby.”
I turned my head to look at him to see he was looking at me. “I was wrong.”
His fingers gave my inner thigh a squeeze.
“This is heaven,” I said softly.
I saw Sam smile.
Then I heard him murmur, “Glad you like my place, honey.”
I shook my head, turned my torso, leaned into my armrest, dropped both my legs into his, imprisoning his warm hand between them and I placed my hand on his chest.
“That’s not what I mean,” I whispered.
Sam twisted toward me, lifted his free hand and wrapped his fingers around the side of my neck.
“What’d you mean, Kia?”
“Anywhere is heaven as long as it’s an anywhere with you.”
The fingers on both Sam’s hands clenched deep, hard, fast and I knew it was reflexively because he didn’t check it and they caused a hint of pain.
Then he was up. Then my snifter of Amaretto was on the deck railing. Then my footrest was shoved out from under my heels. Then I was up, my hand was firm in Sam’s and we were in the house.
He stopped long enough to lock the screened porch door, the front door and quickly punch buttons on the alarm panel.
Then we were in his bed.
There Sam demonstrated to me how I was figuring out Sam demonstrated how much he felt about me.
And two hours later, climbing back into bed after cleaning up and tugging on panties and a nightie, I fell exhausted into Sam’s body and then fell directly asleep.
So directly, I didn’t feel him pull the covers over me.
I also didn’t feel him turn to his side or his arms get tight around me.
And, unfortunately, I didn’t hear his rough-like-velvet voice softly rumble, “Heaven is you, too, baby.” I didn’t feel him kiss my forehead. I didn’t feel him tangle his legs with mine. And, last, I didn’t feel him gather me super close and hold me that way even long after he, too, fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty
Khakis
I woke suddenly when I felt Sam’s arms clamp around me, he rolled us, squeezing the breath out of me when he was on top then he rolled us again and we were in freefall.
I cried out my surprise into the dark.
In the split second it took us to fall, Sam twisted so somehow we landed with bone-jarring thud, me on him, Sam on his back. We stayed that way a millisecond before he rolled us toward the bed then he was knifing up as he growled, “Stay down.”
I did as I was told, heard a drawer open, scraping then Memphis yapped and kept doing it.
What was happening?
Memphis yapped again, quick successions, in a way I’d never heard her yap before.
A warning.
Fear slithered over every inch of my skin.
Then I heard Memphis growl under Sam’s rumbled order of, “Drop it on the bed.”
“Now –” A man’s voice started to say and hearing a stranger in the bedroom in the middle of the night, I quit breathing.
A gunshot blasted the air, loud and terrifying. My body jumped but Sam stayed still and I noted in shock he was the one who fired. Memphis yapped then I heard her claws on the wood floors and with my baby on the move, without thinking, I jerked into action.
Sam clipped, “Kia, stay the fuck down.”
I sucked in air, stopped moving and stayed down as I heard what sounded like Memphis attacking one of her chew toys but she wasn’t playing. She meant business.
“Drop it on the fucking bed,” Sam bit out.
“Get the dog off me,” the man said.
“Drop your fucking weapon on the fucking bed.”
Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod!
What was happening?
I heard the soft fumf of something heavy falling on the bed.
“Now get this fuckin’ thing off me!” the man snapped.
“Memphis!” Sam called sharply, the noises Memphis was making stopped, I heard her claws clicking then I heard another soft fumf on the bed and I knew Memphis was moving toward Sam. “On your knees, hands up, palms to me, fingertips at your ears,” Sam ground out then came a barked, “Do it. Now!”
Oh God, oh God, oh God!
“Kia, up,” Sam rumbled.
Immediately I got up. Sam was reaching across the bed toward something at the same time he had his head back and his eyes and gun trained on the dark shadow of a man on his knees across the room.
“Get me some shorts,” Sam ordered.
I didn’t delay. Sam was standing there naked holding a man a gunpoint. I could see this would be uncomfortable.
I hurried across the room, opened a drawer, grabbed a pair of his shorts, left the drawer open and ran back to him. He handed me his gun and I took it without dropping it even though holding a recently fired therefore clearly loaded and deadly weapon freaked me way the fuck out.
“He moves, you even think he’s gonna move, shoot,” Sam instructed.
“Right,” I whispered and now it was me who was aiming my eyes and a gun at the man on his knees.
Sam took the shorts from me and in about two seconds he took the gun back from me.
I just stopped myself from heaving a sigh of relief.
“Turn on the light,” Sam demanded.
I turned on the light. Then I saw Memphis in reaching distance so I snagged her off the bed and cuddled her to my chest.
“Behind me, stay there.” Sam kept the commands coming and I kept doing as I was told.
Then I peered around him at a man with nice hair cut, khaki pants and a golf shirt. He was slim, fit and very alert.
And, lastly, I guessed he was my hit man.
“My next directive to my woman is dialin’
nine, one, one. You got two minutes to talk me outta that,” Sam told the man.
“We need a chat,” the man told Sam.
“I’m guessin’ that since you breached my security system and approached with your gun not at the ready, the fuckin’ safety on. Now you got a minute and a half for your chat. Don’t waste more,” Sam returned.
“I need assurances,” the man stated.
“Think your broker gave you those,” Sam retorted.
“Need them direct from you. I do not need Tanner Layne on my ass. Man’s bad enough but he comes with fuckin’ Ryker and he’s a pain in the ass. Now both ‘a them come with a man named Devin Glover who’s a serious fuckin’ pain in the ass. I want it direct from your lips, I stand down; you give the order for those assholes to stand down.”
“You already got that through your broker,” Sam told him, clearly losing patience.
“Yeah, well Layne, Ryker and Glover are pains in the ass but I’ve had the opportunity to look into Nightingale and I need to know him and his fuckin’ whack jobs in Denver won’t get a wild hair and go on a mission just for shits and giggles,” the man shot back.
“Don’t control Lee or his boys,” Sam stated. “My advice to you, now you’re on their radar, don’t do anything to piss them off. Further advice, you already done somethin’ that would piss them off, you disappear and do it really well.”
“Fuck!” the man exploded and I jumped then I pressed Memphis and I closer to Sam’s back.
Sam didn’t move.
The man started bitching.
“That cunt didn’t pay me to put up with this kind of fuckin’ headache.”
“You made a bad career choice. These are your consequences. Now do not stand there wastin’ my time. I’m givin’ you a good deal and you fuckin’ know it. As much as it shits me to allow it, a deal’s a deal and the deal is, you stand down, you walk outta here and breathe free. You got ten seconds to decide. At eleven, I’m incapacitating you and then you’re goin’ down another way.”
“I’ll stand down,” the man said immediately.
Sam sucked in an audible breath.
Then he was silent for three seconds (I counted).
Then he said with very scary, very quiet menace, a tone that, even knowing him and how he really was, sent chills up my spine, “Anything ever happens to her, ever, I will find you, I will hurt you and in the end you will beg me to kill you.”