Lightning Strykes

by Sherryl Hancock

  “You need to put on more clothing,” Remington said seriously.

  Wynter grinned rebelliously. “Try and make me,” she said, without looking at Remington.

  “Wynter…” Remington tried to reason.

  “I can’t sleep in a bunch of material, Remi!” Wynter snapped. “You’re fucking lucky I’m even wearing this; I usually sleep naked. So give it up already.”

  Remington’s lips twitched, feeling like a rat caught in a trap. She shifted her head, stretching her neck and heard it pop. It was going to be a long night.

  In the end, Remington ended up sleeping in the chair she sat in. She woke up with a major crick in her neck, but at least had avoided more issues.

  The group joined the buses that morning at ten. It was getting cold in New York at that point. Wynter continued to use Remington’s leather Affliction jacket, so she pulled out another jacket she’d brought. It was a brown leather bomber-style jacket with a US Marines patch on one side, and the patch that identified her as an Iraq War Veteran and a patch that said “LaRoché”. Wynter couldn’t help but admire the jacket and the woman wearing it.

  The three-hour bus ride went smooth enough. There was press work to be done for the show, and then there were contest winners to meet so it was a long day. Wynter was exhausted before they even did their sound check that afternoon. Remington made a point of getting her something to eat in the afternoon and handed it to her as they walked to the next press conference.

  “What’s this?” Wynter queried.

  “Food,” Remington told her. “You didn’t eat any breakfast, and it’s almost two, you’re running on fumes.”

  “What have you had to eat?” Wynter asked.

  “I don’t have a show to do tonight,” Remington answered immediately.

  “Meaning nothing,” Wynter said, handing Remington half of the sandwich back. “You’re working tonight too.”

  Remington smiled, nodding her head. “Alright, thank you,” she said and leaned in to kiss Wynter on the temple.

  The cameras didn’t miss the nice gesture. They’d also caught the discussion between them on the balcony, including Wynter taking off her shirt and walking into the room. Wynter had already had numerous texts from Lauren about the story. She hadn’t taken the time to address them yet. There were already questions about a burgeoning of a love affair between the wild child, sexy singer and the gentlemanly retired MMA fighter. The press was watching them carefully.

  After the sound check, they had two hours before they needed to leave for the show. Wynter crawled into one of the bunks on the bus to attempt to sleep. It was cold so she once again pulled Remington’s jacket over her to help keep her warm. Remington woke her an hour and a half later.

  “You have a half an hour,” Remington told her gently.

  Wynter nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Okay.”

  She sat back and picked up her phone. There were so many messages from Lauren she shook her head. She just couldn’t deal with Lauren’s insecurities at that point, so she deleted the messages and set her phone aside. The fact was, she did want Remington so telling Lauren that she didn’t was outright lying, and she wasn’t up for doing that before the show.

  There were more technical issues at the show that night, and they had Billy screaming and throwing things backstage. Jerith Michaels sat back watching his lead singer lose her mind. Everyone noticed that Jerith never lost his temper; it was why he was the head of the band.

  As everyone climbed onto the buses that night, they noticed the temperatures had dropped significantly. Their next show was in Columbia, South Carolina, which was a twelve-hour drive. The buses were going to drive through the night to get there.

  Wynter had chosen the bunk on the top, with Remington in the bunk below her. She was freezing, her teeth chattering. She did everything she could think of to get warm, even putting on more clothing and socks, but she couldn’t. Finally, she did what she promised herself she wasn’t going to do again so soon.

  “Remi?” she queried softly.

  “Hmm?” Remington responded tiredly.

  “I’m freezing,” Wynter whispered.

  “Put on more clothes,” was Remington’s response.

  “I did! It’s freezing in here,” Wynter whispered.

  Remington was silent for a long few moments then Wynter heard her sigh.

  “Come down here,” Remington resigned.

  Wynter climbed out of her bunk and crawled into the lower one. Remington held the blankets aside for her and Wynter snuggled under them, and right next to Remington.

  “Oh my God, you’re so warm!” Wynter said, still shivering.

  “Jesus, you’re freezing!” Remington exclaimed, having touched Wynter’s arm. She immediately wrapped the blanket tighter around Wynter, pulling her closer.

  Wynter snuggled against Remington, doing her best to ignore the fact that Remington smelled so damned good it wasn’t even funny. Remington wore a white thermal long sleeved shirt and black yoga pants. Wynter had on her sweatpants and a short-sleeved flannel shirt.

  “Didn’t you bring any cold weather stuff?” Remington asked.

  “Some, but I usually can’t stand to have too much on me when I sleep… Plus I figured the damned bus would be heated.”

  “Well, I’m sure it is, but it’s really getting cold out there, so it probably can’t keep up all the way back here,” Remington said.

  Wynter shivered again and Remington tightened her arms around the smaller girl.

  “Try to get some sleep, Wynter, tomorrow is going to be another long day.”

  “I know,” Wynter said, nodding, closing her eyes.

  She lay in Remington’s arms and tried not to imagine what it would be like if they were actually lovers. Since she was facing Remington, she could smell her skin. Her lips were so close to her neck. Wynter wondered if Remington had any weaknesses, or if she was impervious to everything.

  Remington lay telling herself over and over not to think. She could feel Wynter breathing against her neck and Wynter’s hand curled around the button-down lapel of her thermal shirt. She could also feel Wynter’s body pressed against her in various places. She couldn’t keep the picture of Wynter in her lace bra from flashing through her head. She gritted her teeth, and found that inhaling through her nose only made her painfully aware of how good the girl smelled. Her hair, her skin… Jesus… was all she could think.

  It took both of them a long time to get to sleep. During the night, Quinn got up to go to the bathroom and walked by their bunk. She noted how close they were. She couldn’t help but think that they looked good together. When she got back to the larger bed that she and Xandy had claimed, she climbed in behind her girlfriend, sliding her arms around her. Xandy immediately snuggled back against her and Quinn smiled fondly, unable to imagine her life without this beautiful creature.

  The next morning, Quinn told Xandy about seeing Wynter and Remington sleeping in the same bunk.

  “Do you think there was anything to that story yesterday?” Xandy asked.

  Quinn shrugged. “Maybe not, but Remi was definitely agitated after that first show, so… I dunno… I’ll see if I can get anything out of her. I just hope Wynter isn’t pushing too hard.”

  “What do you mean?” Xandy asked, knowing that Quinn understood Remington better than she did.

  “If she pushes Remi too hard to get to her, Remi will push back, and I doubt Wynter’s ever been in a situation like that.”

  “What would Remi pushing back look like?” Xandy asked.

  Quinn looked pensive. “If I had to say, I’d bet she’d go ice cold and there won’t be any thawing her out after that. I could be wrong though,” Quinn said. “Remi’s a whole other mystery sometimes.”

  Xandy smiled. “Well, I get that…” She reached up to touch Quinn’s lips.

  “I wasn’t mysterious,” Quinn said, her grin engaging. “I was just not what you were used to.”

  “Oh my God, you were the farthest fro
m anything I’d ever known,” Xandy said, laughing softly.

  “And sometimes that’s a really good thing,” Quinn said.

  “Well, it definitely was for us,” Xandy agreed.

  She looked pensive then.

  “What is it, love?” Quinn asked.

  Xandy blew her breath out. “I really don’t like Lauren,” she said. “I just want Wynter away from her. She’s not good for her.”

  Quinn smiled. “I know, babe, I know.”

  “Remi would be good for her,” Xandy said.

  “But would she be good for Remi?” Quinn asked.

  Xandy pressed her lips together. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s so wild and independent, and Remi really seems to prefer women who aren’t so… outlandish.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Outlandish, huh?”

  “You know what I mean,” Xandy said. “Wynter is this totally free spirit and independent as all get out. Remi seems like she’s like you, she needs to be needed.”

  “Is that what I need?” Quinn asked, grinning.

  “You know it is,” Xandy said, smiling. “That whole white knight complex you have.”

  “Uh-huh,” Quinn said, grinning.

  “You know it’s one of the things I love most about you,” Xandy said, sliding her hand through Quinn’s red hair. “And your wild side too,” she said, sliding her hand up Quinn’s tattooed arm.

  Quinn and Xandy made a very different couple. Xandy with her honey-blond hair and almost lavender eyes and her farm girl innocent look, and Quinn with her short red hair, tattoos and piercings, and her tendency to wear Harley Davidson gear and leather. But it was obvious to anyone who was around them for long that they were very much in love.

  Wynter woke first. She lay in Remington’s arms enjoying the feeling of such strong arms holding her close. The glaring difference between how it felt to be held by Remington and to be held by Lauren was just one more thing to put in the “lose” column for Lauren. Taking a chance, Wynter put her hand up on Remington’s shoulder and slid it down over her arm. The muscle there bulged and felt firm and unyielding. Remington shifted in her sleep, the muscle under Wynter’s hand flexed and Wynter had to clamp down on the thrill that went through her. This woman was so incredibly attractive to her at that moment, she was sure she was going to go crazy.

  Wynter tilted her head up, looking up at Remington’s face. She had a strong jawline, whereas Lauren’s was somewhat weak. Remington had so much character in her face with the high cheekbones and sensuous lips. Lauren had always had the look of a boy, an effeminate boy. Wynter has realized that it no longer attracted her.

  She knew that it was more than just looks though. Remington had a history, a past, experiences, she had morals and standards and ways of being that she stuck to no matter what. Lauren didn’t seem to know what her opinions were or what she stood for ever. She just existed and lately she existed by using Wynter’s money to buy drugs and booze and stay out with her friends. Lauren was immature and Wynter was tired of it.

  Wynter felt Remington stir and she glanced up to see hazel eyes, more gold than green in the morning light, looking down at her.

  “Bonjou,” Remington said, grinning tiredly.

  “Good morning,” Wynter replied. Remington’s accent was more pronounced at that moment, Wynter assumed because she was tired.

  “How did you sleep?” Remington asked politely.

  “I slept great… once I wasn’t freezing to death,” she said, grinning.

  “I’m glad,” Remington said, smiling.

  “Thanks to you,” Wynter said, levering herself up to kiss Remington on the cheek.

  Remington smiled fondly. “You’re welcome.”

  Wynter shifted to open curtains and looked out the window, unintentionally pressing closer to Remington as she did. Remington rolled from her side to her back so she could allow Wynter better access to the window. Unfortunately, it also put Wynter lying more on top of her.

  “I wonder where we are,” Wynter said, watching for freeway signs.

  Remington levered up on her elbows to look out the window as well. It put their faces close together at that moment and created an intimate moment between them.

  Wynter suddenly realized that not only were their faces close, she was practically lying on top of Remington. She knew she should move but her body said, Oh hell no! Instead, she flexed her fingers that were resting on Remington’s chest, still looking out the window.

  Remington felt Wynter’s nails graze her chest through the thermal shirt. She had to clamp down on the shudder that went through her. Dropping back onto the bed, she looked at her watch and did a quick calculation.

  “We should be about an hour or two out by now,” she told Wynter keeping her tone perfectly normal, despite the sensations Wynter’s slight weight over her was causing.

  Wynter turned her head, looking down at Remington, her blue eyes searching.

  “I’m sorry if I’m a pain in the ass, Remi,” she said softly.

  A grin tugged at Remington’s lips. “You aren’t so bad,” she replied, her voice equally soft.

  Wynter chuckled. “Well, that’s good to know,” she said, reaching out to touch one of Remington’s braids. “Do you ever wear your hair down?” she asked curiously.

  Remington thought about her answer.

  “I haven’t in a long time, this is just easier,” she said indicating to the braids.

  “How often do you have to have them redone though?” Wynter asked.

  “About every six weeks or so, depending on how fast my hair decides to grow,” Remington answered, grinning.

  “So they have to take your hair out of the braids to do that, right?” Wynter asked.

  Remington nodded. “Yeah, of course, why?”

  “’Cause I want to see what you look like with your hair down,” Wynter said simply.

  “Why?” Remington asked again.

  Wynter looked back at her for a long moment. “Because I’m betting not many people have seen that,” she said smiling then.

  Remington wet her lips, almost nervously looking bemused.

  “And, I’m betting you look really, really hot,” she added with a reckless wink.

  Remington shook her head. There was the Wynter she was used to again. Stretching, Remington could feel her joints pop and groan from the position she’d laid in all night holding Wynter. She noted that Wynter was watching her with amusement.

  “Do your muscles always do that?” Wynter asked, grinning.

  “When I lay in the same position all night, yes, and it’s my joints, not my muscles,” Remington said nodding with a grin.

  “Oh, that’s my fault,” Wynter said, grimacing.

  “It’s the cold’s fault,” Remington told her.

  Wynter reached out, sliding her hand over Remington’s shoulder and under the neck of her shirt. She leaned over and felt for the bunched-up muscles where her neck and shoulder met.

  “Wow, Remi, you’re really tight right here,” she said, rubbing gently at the knots she felt. “Sit up,” she told her bodyguard.

  Remington raised an eyebrow at her commanding tone and received a sweet smile and batting eyelashes in return.

  “Please sit up?” Wynter said in an overly sweet voice.

  Remington chuckled and did as she was. Wynter moved behind her and used both hands to do her best to loosen up the muscles that were in knots. Remington LaRoché was pure muscle and it was sexy as hell. Wynter was used to Lauren’s slight build and complete lack of muscle of any sort. I’ve got more muscle than Lauren! she thought, rolling her eyes.

  She felt Remington jump slightly when she touched a spot near the trapezius muscle on her right side. She pulled back the material of the shirt Remington wore and saw a one-inch scar that was still red.

  “What’s this?” Wynter asked, touching the scar gently.

  “It’s from a surgery,” Remington said.

  “What happened?”

  �
��It was an injury,” Remington said, shrugging slightly. “My last fight, I ripped a tendon.”

  “Ouch,” Wynter said.

  She felt and heard Remington chuckle. “Yeah, it hurt.”

  “I’ll bet,” Wynter said, sliding her hand around the scar to continue trying to smooth out the knots. “How exactly did it happen?”

  “I did a throw and she grabbed my arm at the last minute and it gave,” Remington said.

  “And you still won?” Wynter said astounded.

  Remington nodded.

  “Wow…” Wynter said. “I’d have been curled up in a corner crying.”

  Remington didn’t answer. Wynter’s hands were still on her bare skin and she was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation. She did, however, stretch her neck, something she did when she was agitated or nervous, or in this case both. Once again joints popped.

  “Ugh, quit doing that!” Wynter said, smiling even as she winced.

  “It bothers you?” Remington asked.

  “It’s a terrible sound; it sounds like bones breaking or something.”

  Remington laughed. “It’s actually just gas bubbles from your joints and completely normal.”

  “And you know that how?” Wynter asked, always surprised by Remington.

  “You do what I did for long enough, you learn a thing or two about physiology,” Remington answered, grinning.

  Wynter nodded. “I guess it’s probably helpful.”

  “Yes, it is,” Remington said nodding.

  Wynter slid her hands down Remington’s back, not wanting to stop touching her bodyguard, but knowing that if she didn’t stop soon she’d do something to put Remington off again, and she really didn’t want to do that.

  “Is that better?” she asked when she forced herself to sit back.

  Wynter was rewarded with the sight of Remington rolling her shoulders, her muscles rippling, even visible through the shirt she wore. It was a lovely sight to behold, Wynter had to force herself not to sigh out loud.

  “Yes, much better,” Remington said, glancing back at her and smiling. “Thanks.”

  “Only fair, since I’m the one that caused them to get that way,” Wynter said with an embarrassed smile.