I felt the blood run out of my face.
“Brody,” Monty said, his voice low with warning.
“What?” Brody asked, looking at Monty, completely lost in the excitement of it all. Then he caught the hint, his exhilaration faded and he looked at me. “Oh yeah. Right. Sorry. Well, glad to see you’re okay and everything.”
He didn’t sound glad. He sounded like he would have preferred the place still to be wired.
“Why don’t you take Roxie to your office? Show her what you do,” Monty suggested.
“None of the confidential stuff, right?” Brody asked.
Monty shook his head and it wasn’t hard to read that Brody was trying his patience.
“Right,” he said.
“Okay. Come on,” Brody said.
I waved to Luke and Monty as I followed Brody out of the control room. They didn’t wave back but they did both smile.
Brody took me to another door down the hall and into a room that had four cubbies in the middle, all of them with computers and filing cabinets.
“I do my stuff here. Credit checks, employment checks, stuff like that. I also have other projects that are more fun but I’m not allowed to talk about them to anyone, even Hank’s girlfriend,” Brody told me.
I stopped next to what was his cubby. It was decorated profusely with a variety of energy drink cans, big grabs of chips and candy wrappers with the odd action figure thrown in for class.
I looked at Brody. “Did Hank really put his fist through a wall?”
Brody brightened. “Yeah! They haven’t fixed it yet. Do you wanna see?”
I bit my lip and shook my head.
Holy motherfucking cow.
Hank, Mr. Control, had put a fist through the wall. For me.
Shit.
Brody went on, “He was real upset. Your uncle was super upset too but he mostly yelled. No offense but I thought it was cool. See, Dawn’s got a thing for Hank now that Lee’s taken and she knows she isn’t gonna get anywhere with Vance, Mace or Luke. She’s been trying to get something on with one or the other of them, like, forever. Always flirting even though she has a boyfriend. She was like, totally pissed off when she found out Hank had a girlfriend, especially when he went all ballistic. Me and everyone else were thrilled. Dawn thinks her shit doesn’t stink. She may be pretty but everything about Dawn stinks. It’s great working here, except you can’t tell anyone about the cool stuff you do. Everything’s great but not Dawn. So, we all were happy that Hank really likes you, because we like Hank but we don’t like Dawn. We weren’t happy that you were kidnapped or anything.”
Well!
I just knew Dawn was a bitch.
I didn’t share my thoughts and gave him a smile.
“Thanks,” I said.
None of the other computers were taken so I asked him, “Can I check my email on one of these computers?”
“Sure. Let me set you up,” Brody replied.
I checked a week’s worth of email, sending replies, deleting junk and doing a few changes and updates through the administration panels of some of my websites.
A little later, Dawn came in with a couple of pizzas and sodas and Monty and Luke took turns joining us, having a break from the monotony of surveillance. Monty chatted about his wife and family. Luke didn’t say much but Brody and I made up for it. Dawn didn’t join us at all, likely for fear that the cheese on the pizza would give her instant cellulite, but she came in, face set and hard, to clean up afterward.
Once the door closed behind her, Brody gave me a huge grin.
I was logging out of one of my sites when Brody walked behind me and saw what I was doing.
“You do websites?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m a designer.”
“Cool beans!” he yelled. “Show me one of your sites.”
He rolled his chair next to me and we trolled through a few of my sites. Then he showed me a game the computer team had loaded called “Diablo”. It was a role-playing game where you got to be a character and went on quests through scary, devastated lands, caves, deserts and cities. You picked up gold, armor, weapons and magical spells and fought bad guys. It was kickass.
Brody networked the game then rolled in his chair back to his cubby. I picked the assassin character because she had the best outfit and we started playing it.
What seemed like minutes later, but was actually hours, we were in a battle to the death with a whole bunch of orcs and trolls and I shouted, “Yeah! Go Brody! Kick his ass!”
“Don’t stand there! Move away. He’s killing you!” Brody yelled.
I chanced a quick glance at my stats. The bad guy was killing me.
I panicked.
“I’m out of health potions. Retreat! Retreat! Give me some of your health potions!” I screamed.
“I don’t have any potions. Run, bitch, run,” Brody squealed.
The red ran out on my health and my assassin was transported, stripped of everything we’d earned, back to the starting camp.
“I’m dead! Fuck, they killed me! They fucking killed me,” I wailed, jerking my hand from the mouse and rolling my chair back in disgust.
Brody had gone quiet.
I looked at him and saw he was looking at the door.
I turned my gaze to the door and it was opened. Hank, Lee and Luke were all standing there in various amused-male poses, watching us.
Shit.
“What?” I asked, deciding to go with uppity.
“Enjoying yourself?” Hank asked, his mouth twitching.
“No,” I said angrily. “I’m dead. Now I have to run all the way back to my lifeless body and get my stuff. The orcs and trolls will be hanging around and we’ll have to fight them and I can’t do that without my good armor. I’ll have to use the crappy stuff I have stashed in my trunk. I had a really good sword and helmet and now they’re gone. That just plain sucks.”
Hank stared at me.
Then he said, “You do know I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
“Diablo,” I replied, like that explained it all.
He stared at me.
“Nothing. Forget it.” I turned to Brody, “Will this run on my laptop?” I asked.
“Sure, if you’ve got a good one,” Brody replied.
I looked back to Hank. “We need to go to the mall, I’ve got to buy this game.”
“Maybe we’ll do that tomorrow, Sunshine.”
“Now!” I snapped.
“Uh-oh,” Brody said. “I’ve seen this before. It’s not pretty. Soon she’ll be playing all night on the Internet.”
My head swung back to Brody. “You can play on the Internet?” I breathed.
“Now’s a good time to shut up Brody,” Lee warned.
Hank walked into the room and grabbed my hand.
“Let’s go, warrior princess. Time for dinner.”
“I wasn’t a warrior princess, I was an assassin,” I told him.
Hank smiled at me.
My heart fluttered.
I rallied. “Anyway, we just had lunch,” I said as Hank pulled me out of the chair.
“Five hours ago,” Luke put in.
I stopped and stared at Luke, openmouthed.
“No shit?” I asked.
He shook his head, the amused-male pose still in full force.
“Holy cow,” I said.
The game had sucked five hours out of me and it felt like five minutes.
I turned to Brody. “I don’t think Diablo is good for me.”
“Some can take it, some can’t. It’s the will of Diablo,” Brody replied.
I nodded at the profound sageness of his reply.
Hank tugged me toward the door and I could swear he was laughing.
“Later,” Brody called as we walked out.
Chapter Sixteen
Prayers
Hank went to get Shamus and I went to the safe room to pack my stuff.
I was standing at the reclining chair, shoving the last bi
ts into the bag when Shamus ran to my side.
“Hey boy,” I said, bending at the waist to give him an ear scratch that turned into a hand wash from Shamus’s over-excited tongue. Apparently, the last five hours away from me had been doggie-traumatic for my furry chocolate boy.
“Ooo,” I cooed. “Did Auntie Roxie leave you with the scary, badass dudes in the boring room? Poor fella.”
I felt Hank’s heat at my back before his arm slid around my middle and I straightened. His chin came to my neck and shifted my hair, then his lips were there. Shamus sat on my feet.
“Have a good day?” Hank said against my neck.
I shivered, then turned in his arm, his head came up and I looked up at him. Shamus shifted to sit with his body leaning against both of us.
“Yeah,” I told Hank, surprising myself because I meant it.
“Good,” he said, and I could tell he meant it too.
I looked at him. He looked his usual handsome but tired. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep, interrupted or not. He hadn’t had his food delivered, even by a snotty bitch. He hadn’t spent his afternoon being a make-believe, kickass assassin and killing make-believe orcs. He’d spent his day being a real life cop and going to ugly crime scenes.
“How was your day?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Shit,” he replied.
Yes, I was right. I knew the answer and I felt something happening to me, something drawing me to him and, against the directives of my mind (if not my heart), my body leaned into his. His other arm came around me.
“I guess it’s not fun, going to the scene of a homicide at three o’clock in the morning.”
“No. As many times as I’ve done it, it’s still not fun.”
As many times as he’d done it.
Good God.
Before I could stop myself, I lifted my hand and, with my middle finger, I traced the lower edge of his bottom lip. I watched my finger touch him and then I looked into his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I whispered.
His eyes changed. I couldn’t describe it, they warmed, softened and I felt the change in a physical way, straight to the deepest depths of my belly.
Then his head bent toward me, my hand slid across the stubble of his cheek and he kissed me, no messing around, it was full on hot and heavy with lots of tongue.
When he was done, his mouth trailed to my ear as I held on tight, trying to recover from the kiss. My hand that was at his lip was around his neck, my fingers in his hair, my other arm was wrapped around his waist.
At my ear, his voice hoarse with something—passion, maybe just emotion—he murmured, “I want to fuck you right now. I want to slide inside you and erase this shitty day.”
“Whisky,” I breathed, not intending to say anything more, his words had robbed me of speech.
Did he honestly think I could do that for him?
One of his hands went under the hem of my sweater and into the waistband of my corduroys. The other one slid over my behind and he pressed me into him. I could feel his hardness against me.
Yes, I guessed he thought I could do that for him.
And that thought overwhelmed me.
It all hit me then. His job, his responsibility, three o’clock phone calls, a gun on his belt, the shit he sees, the people he deals with. Then, after a day of that, going home to his house and his dog and, once there, he would be alone. No one to talk to about it or just help him forget.
It seemed ludicrous, a man like Hank being alone, he could be with anyone he chose.
He probably didn’t even care.
But I cared.
Oh shit.
I was seriously in trouble.
Before I could process how much trouble I was in, his tongue traced the curve of my ear and I melted further into him. He twisted, taking me with him. Shamus scurried away from our legs and then moseyed to lie down by the door.
Hank started backing me to the bed.
“Hank,” I said, but he didn’t answer. He pushed me away from him and undid my belt. It fell to the floor and we stepped over it. His hands went into my cardigan, opening it and then he pressed my almost naked torso against his.
Then, I remembered something and ice shifted into my boiling veins.
“Hank, they have cameras in here.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
Oh no.
He couldn’t mean that.
Could he?
“I think they even have microphones,” I went on.
“I don’t care,” he repeated.
He did mean it.
The backs of my legs hit the bed and I wasn’t prepared for it. I fell back and he came down, his knee settling on the bed between my legs. He was on top of me a moment and then rolled to the side, pulling me with him, sliding his thigh between my legs as his hand at my ass slid my crotch along its length. His mouth went back to my neck.
Oh my, but it felt good.
Even so.
“I don’t want them watching,” I said.
“They won’t watch. They’ll turn off the cameras.”
I wished that was true, but I’d spent time in that room and after awhile, you’d watch anything.
“No they won’t,” I said. “I know what it’s like sitting in there, it’s boring as hell. They’ll totally watch.”
His head came up. Then he said in his authoritative voice, addressing the room at large. “Turn off the cameras.”
Then his mouth went back to my neck, clearly thinking that was that.
Good grief.
“They aren’t going to do it,” I told him.
His tongue slid down my neck to touch at the base of my throat.
“They’ll do it,” he said against my throat.
“They won’t. You have to go check.”
His head came up and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to pop out and fetch me some Russian caviar. “Seriously?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
He pressed my behind, putting me in intimate contact with his rock-hard crotch.
“Sunshine, I’m in no condition to go check.”
Mmm, it would seem he was right.
I thought about it then I made my decision. I’d hate it, but I’d do it, with conditions.
“Okay, but, just in case they’re watching, we have to do it with as many clothes on as possible and you have to be on top so they won’t see me.”
He stared at me a beat. Then he buried his face in my neck and I felt his body move with laughter. Then his lips slid along my cheek again and he kissed me, still laughing.
Then he kept kissing me.
I knew two kinds of Hank Kisses. The light kisses and the make-you-dizzy kisses.
These kisses were a third kind of kiss. His hands roamed my bottom and back and I realized these kisses weren’t leading anywhere. They were cuddling-with-Hank kisses; softer, sweeter, slower, still lots of tongue but mostly just-be-together-and-touch-while-you’re-necking kisses. They made me a different kind of dizzy.
After awhile, he stopped kissing me and rubbed my nose with his.
Then he said, “Let’s go get something to eat.”
I looked at him.
“We’re not gonna do it?” I asked.
“No. I appreciate your sacrifice Sunshine, but if you’re not comfortable, we’re not gonna do it.”
I hugged him, grateful, burrowing my face into his neck.
He was such a good man.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head.
“I’ll erase your day after I get back from the Haunted House,” I offered.
His hand went to my chin and lifted it up so I was looking at him. His eyes had that look in them again, the soft, warm look that made my stomach pitch. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he said.
I found I had no problem with that at all.
* * * * *
We dropped Shamus off at his house and he took me to a restaurant called Reiver’s t
hat was on a street called South Gaylord which was in Hank’s ‘hood. We sat at the bar and Hank ordered for us. Our beers had just been delivered when my purse rang. I yanked out my phone, flipped it open and put it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Yo Bitch!” Annette yelled into my ear. “Get shot at today?” she asked.
I looked at Hank and mouthed “Annette.” I watched the sides of his lips turn up, then to Annette I said, “Not yet.”
“Girl, Jason and I are in love,” she said.
I smiled at the phone. “I already know that.”
“No, I mean with Colorado. We’ve been mountain biking all day. It’s unbelievably amazing,” she told me.
“I’m glad you’re having fun.”
“Fun? This isn’t fun. This is nirvana. The trails here kick… fucking… ass. Sofa-King phat. Bitch, I’m opening Head 2, Electric Boogaloo in Denver. There’s a store across the street from Fortnum’s that’s for lease. I’m not fucking joking. I’m calling about it tomorrow.”
Holy cow.
I wasn’t sure this was good. In fact, I was pretty sure this wasn’t good. I didn’t want Annette moving to Denver.
As for myself, I was in Denver-limbo. I couldn’t leave, I wasn’t going to stay.
I’d had a day without incident, time to settle, get my mind around things. I’d cleared my email, did some work, felt my life wasn’t totally out of control.
And I knew what I eventually had to do.
The signs were all there; the right ones. Lee’s cheek kiss, Kitty Sue making us spaghetti, Indy’s unspoken invitation to the Sacred Sisterhood of Nightingale Women, me getting straight As on Malcolm’s Test.
It wasn’t that, it was me.
Things with Hank were good, fucking fantastic actually, but that wasn’t going to last. I knew that like I knew The Gap’s clothing sizes ran small. I was damaged goods and when things settled down and Hank had a minute to think, he’d realize just what I was and that he could do better. I wanted to be long gone before that happened.