by Nicole Snow
She’s dressed, my oversized shirt gone. Even wearing shoes. Sandals. The white ones that show off her legs and how short her flower covered green dress is. I open my mouth, but she speaks first.
“Let’s go.”
I lift a brow. “Where?”
“You're taking me out to eat.” She plants a hand on her hip. “You said we can leave. Go wherever I want. Whenever, right? Well, I want to go out for dinner. Soon. All this arguing made me hungry.”
“Okay,” I say softly, wondering what game she's playing now. Slowly, I push off the couch. “What are you hungry for?”
Casting me another dull glare, she says, “Fish.”
I hide a grin. The one food I hate.
She knows that. I’ve told her.
I’ll eat it, of course. I'll pretend like I love it, just like I did years ago during Aunt Judy's big fish fry cookouts for our extended family. Shrugging, I name a seafood chain restaurant nearby.
“Perfect,” she says. “When we're done eating, we'll stop by Martha’s.”
I open the door. “Martha's? How? You left the keys there.”
“That set, you mean. I'm not a total idiot, Noah.”
No, of course not. “Martha's it is,” I tell her, still suspicious of the about-face she's doing.
Her silent treatment returns as soon as we enter the elevator. I leave it alone. Letting her believe she has the upper hand.
If it's keeping her safely at my side, without fighting me tooth and nail, that's something I can work with.
The seafood place is packed, but they find us a booth soon enough. She lifts a brow when I order the king crab.
When the waitress walks away, Lucky unfolds her napkin and sets it on her lap. “Another lie? Thought you hated seafood.”
Looking her square in the eye, I shake my head. “Wrong, darlin'. Said I hate fish, but I love crab. And shrimp. Lobster, not so much. Too damn fishy.”
She takes a slow, measured sip of water. “I won’t be the reason, Noah.”
“What reason?”
“The reason you don't catch Lucient. Why you don’t find out what happened to Jess.”
Goddamn.
She’s serious, severe, and sad.
I reach over and stop her finger that's running around the rim of her water glass. “You aren’t.”
She pulls her hand away. “Yes, I am. You said it yourself, you should be out there, tracking him.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I admit. “It's not like I've never had a chance. I've been there, done that. Been tracking him for months, really. Even before Jess disappeared. The man's like a ghost, no matter what I do. He's seen when he wants to be. Bastard sends minions in his place ninety percent of the time.” Knowing she knows about the night Harkness died, I continue, “He only met me because I refused to deal with him otherwise.”
I shake my head. “That’s what I need to happen again. And this time, I have to get him alone. Make him talk.”
I stop just short of mentioning what I'll do next. We're in public, and she's probably not ready to hear how hard I'll beat a man to get to the truth about where Jess really went.
“I’m scared, Noah.”
I reach across the table, taking her hand. “Nothing bad's gonna happen, Lucky. I promise.”
“Oh, it’s not me I’m scared for,” she whispers. “It’s you.”
I blink, wishing I’d sat in the booth next to her rather than across the table.
“Don’t waste the energy,” I say. “Lucient's small fish compared to other devils out there. He's not magic.” That’s the most I can say. Army code and security clearance still keeps my lips tight about how the special army unit I was attached to searched out some of the worst Al-Qaeda fucks and captured them.
The waitress arrives with our salads and warm cheddar biscuits. I let go of Lucky’s hand, but never take my eyes off her.
The waitress leaves and Lucky shakes her head. “Hate to say it, but I think my father would like you.”
I feel as if I’ve just been paid a compliment. A great one. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”
“Because he would. He’d be proud that you served. He couldn’t join the service when he was younger because he has a prosthetic. His left leg from the knee down. He lost it as a kid, got ran over by a big tractor on his uncle's ranch. I thought about joining up, once, just for him, but my mother put a stop to that.” She stabs a chunk of iceberg lettuce with her fork. “So did Charlie.”
“You heard from him?” I'd almost forgotten about that little shit since I sent the emails with Eli's pics off to his parents, and Lucky's, but I've received confirmation they were opened.
I figure she’d have told me if she’d heard anything. A few days have passed, so it's baffling she hasn't. If her ma and dad were horrified by the dirty pics of that cheating fuckwit, I should've known it a long time ago.
“No, not a word, and I hope that's how it stays,” she tells me.
“You know you’ll have to deal with him sooner or later,” I warn.
She levels a clear stare my way. “Just like we’ll have to deal with our divorce?”
Fuck.
I’d call that a low blow, if it had come from anyone but her. “Yeah, we will.”
Fred has sent the paperwork. I just haven’t printed it out yet. Haven’t even opened the PDFs. Don’t want to.
“Better eat your salad,” she says. “Your crab legs will be here soon.”
I wouldn’t take that from anyone, other than Aunt Judy, but it makes Lucky feel better. Gives her some defiance, some control, something she’s been without her entire life. I know when to pick my battles, and this isn't one of them.
The meal turns out surprisingly delicious. So does watching Lucky eat.
I’ve never seen someone enjoy food like she does, damn near cherishing every bite.
It tells me seafood, like spicy food, was something else she rarely got to have in her old life back home. Once again, I'm proud that she’d taken the initiative to make me bring her here. I’m glad I never knew the paper Mindy who had to keep her real self buried all these years.
I’d have felt sorry for that girl.
This woman, I admire.
Once we're in the truck, I drive straight to Martha’s place, and survey the surroundings as we park. Lucient knows she’s been living with me, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have someone casing the building.
“Is the coast clear, Mr. Bond?” she asks.
Her sarcasm reminds me of Jess. “I’m just looking out for you, darlin',” I say, opening my door.
She grabs my arm before I step out. “I know, and I’m sorry. This is all still...pretty new to me, I guess.” She shakes her head. “I don’t mean the whole PI, missing person, bag of money in the closet stuff. I mean, someone being so sincere. So concerned about me, for my sake, for once.”
I turn, grasp the back of her head, and pull her forward for a short, but deep kiss.
“I care, Lucky.” More than she'll ever know.
“I care about you, too,” she whispers, her sweet eyes cast down.
I tilt her face up, hand on her cheek, sweeping a stray lock of hair over her ear. Just long enough till I have her eyes.
We climb out together, and as we meet near the front of the truck, she hands me the key ring and then takes my hand. The action is endearing and gives me hope. So does her smile.
She lets go of my hand in the elevator and cups her nose with both hands. “Ew...I don’t remember it smelling this bad here. What gives?”
“Old building,” I tell her, softly dropping the bad news. “You were just used to it. Acclimated.”
“Ugh. Don't ever let me acclimate again.”
I drape an arm around her shoulders, smiling. “It's fine. Age and humidity does this to buildings. That’s all it is.”
She looks up at me, and those green eyes twinkle in the dim lights. “You're sure? There's nothing else...nothing in the atmosphere?”
“If you're implying I'd rip ass in this elevator –”
“Gross! That's not what I meant, Noah, and you know it.” She sinks forward, throwing her handss around my neck.
I do know, and that's exactly why I'm grinning like the moon.
Excitement zips through me. Nodding, I know what she wants, and have no reason to disappoint her.
I kiss her, and caress the tender nook above her lush hips, until the elevator stops. When the door dings open, I grin at how plump her lips are, how pink her cheeks glow, just before she shifts her dress down and steps into the hallway.
“Ass,” she hisses.
“You loved it,” I say next to her ear.
“So did you.”
“Not denying it, darlin'. You're one hot little slice.”
“Slice? You're calling me a freaking piece of...?”
She can't say it. Too adorable.
Smiling, I pull her close, loving how her eyes shine with disbelief. “Word you're looking for is ass, Lucky. Same word you just used on me. And yeah, that's what I'm calling you. Because you've got the hottest little slice of ass I've ever had under me, and later, I'm having it again.”
“You're insane!”
Maybe so, but she's laughing, lighting up in that way I love. Just like a Christmas tree. Must be something mystic in the air tonight after all.
Doesn't explain the stench though, which is only getting worse the closer we get to the apartment.
I pull out her keys while she's distracted, standing next to Martha's door. With any luck, we'll make this quick, and I'll have a nice long slice of her long into the night. Damn long.
We're both still smiling as I unlock the door and push it open. She slides past, walking in ahead of me.
It's so dark I can't make out the whole living room at first. Lucky stops mid-step over the threshold. A raw hiss oozes out of her first, then she says, “What the hell are you doing here?”
I grab her arm, to keep her from completely entering while stepping around the door to see who she’s talking to.
Charlie boy. In the flesh.
Skinny, overly tanned, looking more like a damn manicured mannequin than a human being in his slacks and polo shirt fit for Sunday service. Sprawled out on the rumpled flower couch like he owns the place.
His shit-eating grin fades the second he sees me.
Lucky walks all the way in, her anger mounting. I’m at her side and pull the door shut behind us, giving it a hard rattle.
Fuckboy sizes me up. I do the same, wondering if he'll try to prove he has any balls.
His coordination appears to fail him as he tries to jump off the lumpy sofa. Its springs are shot, I know that from sitting on it. I damn near sank to the floor.
It’s a bit comical watching him extract himself from the faded, flowered material, using both hands to help stabilize his soft, skinny body.
He finally manages and then puffs out his scrawny chest. “Mindy? Who the hell is this? Don't tell me it's –”
He doesn’t even finish his sentence, or wait for her to answer, before leaping forward, hand out to grab her.
Any humor I may have felt disappears.
I step forward, blocking his attempt to grab her, hurling his hand back at him like a stone. “Touch her, and I’ll break all eight of your fingers, then both thumbs. You won’t be able to hold a fucking pen for the next two months while you're at your next conference, boning your secretary.”
He takes a step back, sniveling. “W-who is this guy, Mindy?”
“The man I told you about on the phone,” Lucky says. “Did you think I was lying, Charlie? Or did you ever bother fucking listening in the first place?”
He avoids eye contact with me while once again puffing out his chest like a dirty pigeon on a rooftop posing over a pizza crust.
“Mindy, this needs to end right now,” he says, a nasty edge in his voice. “There’s no need for such raw language. Mother doesn’t like it.”
“Oh, here we go...” She shakes her head, soft brown tassels going everywhere. “Look, Charlie, I really don’t care who doesn’t like it. Not anymore.”
“Mindy? Enough. Let's stop this insanity.” He says her name like he's seriously questioning who he's looking at, all sorts of imagined importance in his tone. “I'm taking you home tonight. We'll cool our heels and forget this ever happened.”
I’m ready to pounce, put an end to the entire ugly scene.
Lucky senses it and loops a hand through my arm, quietly restraining me. I can understand why she wants to do this on her own, stand up to him, and I respect that. Biting my tongue and balling my hands, which would like to strangle this backstabbing prick’s thin neck, I stay still.
Fine. Patience.
Let her have her words. But the second this fucking twit puts a finger on her, he's done.
“How'd you get in here?” she asks, totally ignoring his demand.
Charlie boy looks at me like he’s thinking he could take me down. I've seen it before in bar fights, mostly with the rare idiots on leave who had too many drinks and wanted to blow off their stress fighting other guys wearing the same uniform over nothing.
I almost laugh. This little prick really thinks he’s something, doesn't he? Hopefully, for her sake, he won't need a definite answer.
“I called my mother, what do you think? She called your mother, who called Martha. And then she called the manager, who, knowing we're engaged, kindly let me in to wait for you. I've been waiting since yesterday. Had a funny feeling you'd be by tonight.”
There are no words for this fool. I fold my arms, biceps twitching angrily.
“Why?” Lucky asks.
“Saw your car in the garage,” he says. “I knew you’d be back.”
“No, I mean why are you here at all?” she clarifies. “I told you several times: it’s over. Done. No regrets.”
“And I know that’s not true. We’re engaged, Mindy. The wedding's in a few months. We just need to calm down and get a few things cleared up,” he says, sounding like some sly, everyone-gets-a-trophy coach. “Let's just go on home. Sort this out. Find a counselor.”
“There's nothing to clear up, Charlie,” Lucky says. “I told you before you left for Aruba with Debbie, we're done. Past the expiration. Nothing's changed. It never will. Not anymore.”
“Don’t be silly! You know you don’t want to disappoint your mother. Or mine. They’ve worked so hard on the wedding. It’s nearly planned and you haven’t had to lift a damn finger!”
His tone is so condescending, I can’t stay quiet. “Maybe she wants to lift a finger. Have you ever thought about that, you selfish little fuck? Or were you too busy squirting off in skanks in Aruba to figure that part out?”
He goes bright red, his jaw opening, then closing, several times. “Who are you?”
I smile. “Your replacement.”
He folds his arms across his chest like a child not getting his way.
Natural reaction, probably. Can’t help but think he wants his mommy right now to step in and fight his battles. “Tell me, Chuck,” I say sarcastically. “Did your ma like the pictures of you on vacation?”
His eyes bug out for a second. Then he drops his head and charges me like a bull.
A tiny one.
I put a hand out, plant it against his forehead, and hold him there. It’s like a cartoon, the way he’s still trying to move forward, hitting an invisible wall. His fists swing wildly, a toddler trying to fight like a man. Too bad his arms aren’t long enough for him to hit shit at this distance.
Lucky grabs one of his arms. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, stop it. Before you break something here. Lord knows this place is full of things that can’t be replaced too easy.”
I give him a shove, which sends him flying backward. He lands on the couch and topples over. Sinks deep. He looks like a scolded pup. Droopy-eyed and frowning, still shaken in disbelief because I've yanked away his milk bone.
“Really, Mindy?” he asks with another whine. �
��Really?! Now, I know you've just lost it. No one in their right mind would choose this...this stupid thug of a Neanderthal over me.”
Her laugh is laced with disbelief.
“Wrong, Charlie. That’s exactly what any woman in their right mind would do.” She steps forward. “And this is me, in my right mind. Finally. We're done, Charlie. I’m not going back to you. Please don't make me say it again.”
She glances my way with a thoughtful gaze. “I’m not even going back to Scottsdale. Never, maybe.”
A surge of something fills my chest. I can’t deny that I know what it is.
Love. Joy. Exuberance. Pure and right and simple.
Lucky's coming into her own, and she's ready to kick some major ass.
Charlie boy peels himself off the sofa, finally, with slightly more speed than last time. “Jesus, Mindy. You have to...you have to talk to my dad. Tell him everything is fine between us! If you won't come back with me, one last favor at least. Tell him those pictures don’t mean anything to you. That it isn't really me. A bad prank or something. Mindy...please.”
She’s shaking her head, finger in her lip, deep in thought.
“Hmmm. How 'bout 'no?'” A frown takes over her face. “Wait. What pictures do you mean?”
Charlie boy turns to me. I can almost see the little hamster running on its wheel in his head, trying to get somewhere, but not making much headway.
I don’t say anything, just stare back, waiting for his next move. If he figures it out or not. That'll determine what I say, or don’t.
Lucky is smart, though. She's already caught on. “What pictures is he talking about, Noah? You mentioned them too, didn't you?”
Still staring at Charlie boy, I lift a brow. A signal that I’m giving him the chance to come clean.
“You had me spied on,” he says, horror in his trembling voice, clearly not willing to take any of the blame.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the fury rising inside Lucky. Fuck.
I'm busted.
I’ve already spent a day with her not talking to me. That may be nothing compared to the storm she’s about to let loose when she fully realizes I exposed Charlie boy in some very compromising positions.
“You had someone spying on him?”
