She nodded, pushing her plate to the side, giving up all pretense of trying to eat. “The position opened up unexpectedly, and they’re looking to fill it right away.”
“Wow. That’s great.”
“It is.” She smiled, excitement making her eyes bright. “Kind of scary too. Everything is happening so fast.”
Way too fast. He’d thought they’d have more time. He’d convinced himself that cooling things off was the best thing for both of them, but now that he was actually looking down the barrel of that gun, he felt blindsided.
He summoned a smile. “You’re going to do great.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you for saying that even if you don’t believe it.”
“I do believe it. You are an incredible, talented, intelligent, kind, amazing woman. I have no doubt you’re going to kick some ass in the big city.” He just hadn’t thought it would happen quite so quickly. “So, this is your last night in town, huh?”
“Yes.” Her eyes met his. “And I want to spend it with you.”
Everything clicked into place. This wasn’t just a there’s nothing holding me back now dinner. This was good-bye.
And as much as he wanted to reach across the table and tell her not to go, there wasn’t a chance in hell he could say no.
Chapter Forty-Three
Sandy
Sandy breathed a sigh of relief when Heff signaled for the check. For a while there, she’d been certain he was ready to tell her they couldn’t see each other anymore.
The remains of their dinner were wrapped up and carried to the motel room in silence.
The moment they crossed over the threshold, it was as if someone had lit a match. He had her up against the door. Within seconds, she was stepping out of her jeans and fumbling with his zipper. She couldn’t help the groan that escaped as she wrapped her hand around his heavy, hard length.
He hissed and lowered his head to her neck, sucking and biting.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded.
She didn’t hesitate, grabbing on to his shoulders as his large hands cupped her ass, lifting and then lowering her onto him. She moaned in bliss at the glorious feel of him entering her, stretching her, filling her.
“Shit. Condom.”
He pulled out, and she wanted to howl at the loss, but she made the most of the opportunity by going to her knees and employing her mouth while he cursed and fumbled for his wallet. A wave of possessiveness washed over her. He tasted like her.
“Enough,” he said roughly, tangling his fingers in her hair and gently but firmly pushing her back.
She retaliated by scraping her teeth against his length, earning another groan.
Soon, she was against the door again, welcoming him into her body. She held on to his shoulders as he pistoned and pumped, giving herself over to him completely. She came in record time with a burst of bright lights behind her eyelids and only a vague recognition of him growling her name as he came too.
In another blink, they were on the bed, and he was removing the rest of her clothes. Round one had been hot, hard, fast, and wholly necessary.
Now that the initial edge had been slightly dulled, the real fun could begin. She closed her eyes and relished the feel of his hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, committing each sensation to memory. She took greedily. Gave selflessly. And he was right there with her every step of the way.
They didn’t waste time on sleep, but the night still passed far too quickly, and all too soon, it was time to go.
They drove down the mountain in heavy silence. Their bodies had already said everything there was to say.
Chapter Forty-Four
Heff
“Where the hell have you been?” Mad Dog asked when Heff walked into the kitchen, drawn by hunger and the scent of coffee.
His hopes that everyone else would have already eaten and gone elsewhere were immediately dashed.
“Out.”
“How is Sandy anyway?” Doc smirked.
“None of your fucking business.”
“Did you ask her what she knows about Petraski or any of those other yahoos?” Smoke asked.
“No.”
“Look at him. The only talking he did was with his—”
Heff’s hand wrapped around Doc’s throat, cutting off his words and sending the chair he was sitting in onto its two back legs. “Don’t.”
“Easy there,” Smoke said. He’d moved closer, stepping into Heff’s peripheral vision. “Doc’s just giving you shit because he’s jealous.”
Heff released Doc and stepped back, walking over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee instead.
“Right, well,” Cage said, clearing his throat, “McCain and some of the guys from Pine Ridge are coming by today. They’re very interested in our neighbors, and they’ve offered to help with whatever we need.”
“Good. What time?”
“They should be here within the hour.”
Heff nodded. “I’ll be back.”
He grabbed a muffin and took his coffee with him. He needed food, caffeine, and a hot shower—in that order. Then, he needed to get his shit together, forget the fact that Sandy was preparing to leave town at that very minute, and focus on what he’d come to Sumneyville for in the first place—Sanctuary.
* * *
Jake and Ian Callaghan were much as he’d expected after hearing Brian talk about them for the last couple of weeks. Both were on the large side, slightly older than he’d envisioned, and still in great shape. Jake was a big guy with an air of quiet leadership about him that reminded Heff a lot of Church. Ian was much like Cage in that he had a knack for digital wizardry. It was Ian who’d helped them locate Sam when her stalker kidnapped her.
Over coffee and sandwiches, Heff, Smoke, and Mad Dog shared what they’d found. Ian produced high-def satellite images, and they marked off the locations of the food, fuel, weapons, and ammunition.
“What are those?” Church asked, pointing to another stack of images Ian had placed on the table.
“GPR scans. Ground penetrating radar,” Ian explained when he received a few blank looks. “We thought they might have some underground bunkers as well, but nothing’s showing up.”
“Not smart on their part, but it does simplify things,” Cage mused.
“Better for us,” Smoke agreed. “Survivalist cells are popping up, becoming more common as people start to realize how close we are to an international clusterfuck.”
“It’s not a bad idea to be prepared,” Doc offered.
“No, it’s not,” Jake agreed. “But no one wants to see a fuck-ton of firepower in the hands of civilians who haven’t been trained on how to use it properly either.”
“Or idiots with big ideas and short fuses,” commented Mad Dog.
Murmurs of agreements sounded from around the table.
“There’s not a lot we can do at this point. They’re on your radar now and ours, so if they make a move, we’ll know about it. Speaking of, we brought up some new motion sensors.”
“Appreciate it.”
“No problem. What you guys are doing here, it’s a good thing. In fact, we’d like to help, any way we can.”
Church nodded and shook Jake’s hand. “We’ll take all the help we can get. Want a look around?”
“Absolutely.”
Jake and Ian shook everyone’s hand and then followed Church out of the room for a tour.
Business concluded, Heff went back to his trailer and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to think about anything at all.
Chapter Forty-Five
Sandy
The studio apartment was small, but Sandy wasn’t complaining. She was grateful she had a roof over her head on such short notice. Apparently, Kensington owned several apartment buildings in and around the city and gave discounted rates to employees and international business associates working on long-term projects.
Besides, she wouldn’t be spending a lot of time there anyway. Internships, esp
ecially in such a competitive field, meant many long, grueling hours at the office.
The first three days were a whirlwind of activity. There were forms to read and sign, orientation videos to watch, equipment to procure. In the midst of that, she was expected to be at the beck and call of her new boss, lead designer Andrea Collins, who quite possibly was the coldest, most demanding, rudest woman Sandy had ever met. By the end of the first week, Sandy felt she knew why an internship position had opened up under her.
Andrea found fault with everything she did, from getting coffee—“Are you trying to poison me with this swill?”—to her inability to be in two places at the same time, often berating her in front of coworkers and clients.
It was as humiliating as it was demoralizing.
But this is what you wanted, she constantly reminded herself, the opportunity to learn from the best.
And Andrea was definitely that—from a designer perspective anyway. As a human being, not so much.
Sandy had known it was going to be hard, and she was willing to start at the bottom and pay her dues. That meant biting her tongue and working her ass off.
She was finally living her dream. Except in her dreams, it had all been so much better.
It was late September when Sandy finally snapped. She’d spent the entire weekend in the office, pulling back-to-back all-nighters and surviving on caffeine and sugar from the vending machines to create mock-up renderings for a meeting with a client coming in from Milan. It was an impossible task, dropped off by Andrea on her way out of the building Friday night, but Sandy was determined to prove her wrong and get it done.
By Monday morning, she was exhausted, and her head was pounding, but she’d finished.
Andrea took one look at the boards, dumped them into the trash, and then poured her coffee over them.
Sandy was dumbfounded. She wanted to scream and cry and shove one of those Louboutins right up Andrea’s ass, but she did none of those things. Instead, she simply blinked the tears away and whispered, “Why do you hate me so much?”
Her boss leaned back against the desk and regarded her, seemingly intrigued by the uncharacteristic show of emotion.
“I don’t hate you. You actually exhibit some potential. But so do hundreds of others, many of them much better than you. What I do hate is those who believe having friends in high places is an acceptable substitute for actually earning a chance to prove yourself.”
Sandy gaped at her. “What are you talking about? I don’t have any friends in high places.”
Andrea leaned forward, her eyes filling with loathing as they narrowed into slits. “The only thing I despise more than a free ride is a liar.”
Exasperated and stunned, Sandy threw her hands up in the air. “I’m not lying.”
Andrea laughed, the sound as brittle as breaking glass. “Are you really going to tell me that you don’t know Bianca Kensington?”
“No, of course I don’t ...” Sandy let the sentence hang, the name familiar in the haze of exhaustion and outrage, spoken in another woman’s voice over the phone.
“This is Bianca Kensington-Summers. You called about my son, Kevin.”
Bianca Kensington-Summers. Kensington Graphic Creative.
Sandy sank down into a chair, her legs weak.
Her boss’s smile was cruel. “Ah, so you do know her.”
“I ... yes, but not in that context. I knew she came from money, but I never connected her with ... this.”
Long moments passed in silence as Sandy tried to process the information. Bianca was a Kensington, and Sandy had told her all about how she’d given up her internship at Metzgar and Fitz to take care of Kevin. But Bianca hadn’t mentioned anything about Kensington Graphic Creative.
“You’re not going to vomit, are you? I just had my office redecorated.”
Sandy shook her head, though she was feeling nauseous. If she’d eaten anything more than the pack of cheese crackers and bag of candy-coated chocolate she’d snagged out of the vending machine in the last twelve hours, it might have been worse.
“Here. Drink this.”
Sandy looked up to find Andrea holding out a glass of water. She carefully took it, vaguely wondering if it was poisoned. “Thanks.”
Some of the harsh suspicion had left Andrea’s features. “You really didn’t know?”
Sandy shook her head.
“Why don’t you tell me how you know Bianca?”
Well, that was easy enough. “My father got her pregnant and left my mother, brother, and me for her fifteen years ago.”
Andrea blinked. “I think we’re going to need something stronger than water. And food. Get your jacket.”
That was how Sandy ended up in the restaurant, spilling the whole sordid story over orange juice and breakfast paninis at a coffee shop down the street.
“That’s quite a story,” Andrea said when she finished.
Sandy looked up to find Andrea staring at her intently. Her expression was blank; it was impossible to tell what she was thinking, and Sandy was too tired and drained to try to figure it out.
Sandy exhaled. “It’s the truth.”
“Don’t think I’m going to take it easier on you because you told me your sob story.”
“I’d settle for not being treated like something on the bottom of your shoe.”
“You’re an intern,” Andrea said, as if that explained everything.
“Yes, I am. And despite what you think, I do deserve to be here. I don’t want easy, nor do I want sympathy or pity. I’m willing to put in the time and effort. To work the seventy-hour weeks and be at your beck and call.”
Andrea’s lips actually twitched a little. “It’s about time you grew a spine.”
“Excuse me?”
“This is a ruthless business, Cassandra. Raw talent isn’t enough. You’re going to need that attitude and my help if you hope to make it.” She tilted her head. “For the record, I think you just might.”
* * *
Later than night, Sandy reflected on their conversation. After their unconventional breakfast meeting, Andrea had called her a cab and sent her home, telling her to take the rest of the day off and get some sleep. Too tired to argue, Sandy had done just that. She’d managed a solid eight hours before she woke up, having to use the bathroom and wondering if she’d dreamed the whole thing.
She hadn’t. She’d snapped, and while she hadn’t actually vomited in her office, the stuff she’d spewed in the form of words wasn’t much better.
She popped a frozen entrée in the microwave and ate it without even tasting it, wondering if they really had turned a corner or if Andrea had already sent her termination papers down to HR. Either outcome was as likely as the other. At that point, she didn’t know which was better.
After tossing the remains of her dinner in the trash, she took a few ibuprofen for her lingering headache and took a shower. Afterward, she felt marginally better but not good.
I haven’t felt good, she realized, since I came to New York.
Scared, tired, excited, angry, incompetent, unappreciated—yes. But not good.
She opened the window in her tiny studio and stared out at the brick wall that was her view, almost missing the smell of Lenny’s vanilla vape pen and freshly cut grass, falling leaves, and pine needles. Instead, she breathed in the scents of vehicle exhaust, garbage, and garlic.
Instead of hearing crickets and frogs and the woodpecker that frequented the trees at the edge of her property line, she heard traffic and sirens and the shouts of people down on the sidewalks below.
The buildings were so close together. There were so many cars. So many people. The vibrant, pulsing energy she’d craved for so long felt ... suffocating.
She felt so alone. She’d been on her own for years, but this was the first time she’d felt lonely. She missed her house and her big backyard. She missed having breakfast with Kevin, getting hugged by Jeannie, and talking with Tori over coffee. She even missed the gang down at town hall,
arguing about crab apples and fishing bait over coffee and homemade muffins.
But most of all, she missed Heff and the way he’d made her feel wanted and desired.
She’d relived their last night together so many times. It hadn’t been like the first time. They still reached the heights of passion. He still impressed her with his skill and mastery over her body. But there was something there that hadn’t been there before. A desperation. A tenderness. A deeper connection than she’d ever felt with anyone.
It wasn’t just the way he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from her body. It was the way she’d felt every time she was around him. He had a way of making her feel as if she was beautiful all the time. Of soothing her with his voice. His presence. Of making her heart beat faster just by finding him waiting for her in the parking lot or watching him with Kevin and Danny.
She closed the window and crawled into bed, feeling tired and alone and empty. Like she had so many times, she pulled up the seventies playlist on her phone and closed her eyes. She smiled, remembering Kevin and Heff dancing to the music.
Somehow, Hugh Bradley had done the impossible. He’d made her think that maybe there was something more important out there for her than chasing a dream. That maybe Sumneyville did have something she wanted after all.
But as much as she might want to pick up the phone and hear his voice, she had to be strong. She was here, and she had to try to make it work. Otherwise, she’d never forgive herself.
She thought about contacting Bianca, asking her if she had pulled strings to get her an internship, but decided to save that for another time. Bianca might have gotten her foot in the door, but Sandy would be the one walking through as a full-fledged associate designer when she completed her probationary internship at the end of the calendar year.
* * *
September rolled into October. True to her word, Andrea hadn’t let up on the workload, but at least she wasn’t as verbally abusive, and when she did criticize Sandy, it was done in her office instead of in the team room or in front of clients. Sometimes, she even said something semi-complimentary about her work. She was tough but, finally, fair. Neither of them mentioned Sandy’s meltdown again, which was just fine with her.
Best Laid Plans: Sanctuary, Book Two Page 23
