Live Wire

by Bijou Hunter

  Today, I decide to ignore my mother's training and run hotter while on this job. Brad is beautiful, and I can't deny I'm interested in him. He seems to be interested in me. No doubt, my mother's soul is damned, so her training will now be too.

  9

  ~ Saskia ~

  Melodramatic Me

  Before she leaves for the day, Minka and I do a final perimeter check. I know she's looking to tease me more about Brad, but I ignore her every attempt. I only want to lock down the place before the sun sets. Minka likes my idea of traps but agrees with Rafael that they're likely illegal.

  Before she leaves, Minka leans down and whispers, "If you get another shot, take it and we'll clean up the mess."

  "I will," I say and then force myself to warm up a little more. "Thanks for the info about Brad and movies."

  Minka pulls me into a hug. "You're so adorable. A regular Princess Peach."

  "Who?"

  Letting me go, she sighs. "Google it."

  I watch her drive away before doing another walk around the perimeter. The more I care about Brad, the more paranoid I am about his safety.

  Despite my lust for the sexy giant, or likely because of it, I avoid him from the moment I return. Dodging him is tough even in a big house. Only when I know he's in the living room do I get a drink from the kitchen.

  As I crack open one of the soda cans I bought, Ruth watches me, making no effort to pretend otherwise. I don't mind her gaze on me. She likely intends to intimidate, but the woman isn't scary. When she reveals herself to be a homicidal manic, I'll consider fearing her. Until then, she's free to stare to her heart's content.

  "Are your parents alive?" Ruth asks, stirring a pitcher of tea.

  "No."

  "How did they die?"

  "They were murdered."

  "Is that why you got into this line of work?"

  "Yes."

  "How old were you when they died?"

  I give Ruth a quick glance, realizing she's only partly interrogating me. The mother part of her is actually curious about the orphaned woman before her.

  "My father was killed before I was born," I say without adding how my mother fired the weapon. "My mother died when I was seventeen."

  "Any siblings or other family?"

  "No."

  My mind lingers on the worn face of the only person who ever probably loved me. Sela rarely smiled, but often her eyes were filled with warmth. Thinking of her makes my chest hurt, so I excuse myself from the conversation and leave the room.

  Brad sits on the couch, watching TV. After all the effort to avoid him, now I join him immediately. He doesn't even look at me, but I notice a smile on his face.

  "Are you watching a movie?"

  "No, it's a TV show Ghost Hunters."

  "What's that?"

  "They go to reported haunted locations and try to get proof."

  "Do they get the proof?"

  "Depends on what you believe. Some of the things they show could simply be the mind playing tricks. Like they'll tell you the ghost is saying a word on a recording, so your mind hears the word."

  "Why watch it?"

  "It's creepy."

  "Wouldn't you want to avoid supernatural shows after what happened?"

  Brad turns slightly on the couch, facing me now. "I did avoid anything creepy for a long time, but my psychiatrist suggested I face my fears. He worried I was becoming controlled by my phobias. So I started watching horror movies and TV shows. Now I'm hooked. Facing my fears is a good thing."

  Brad's right hand lifts up and reaches slowly towards me.

  "Like right now," he says in a quiet voice, "I fear you'll bite my hand off for trying to touch you, but I'm going to try anyway."

  My instinct demands I smack away his hand. My heart insists I lean into his touch. Brad smiles when I press my cheek against the palm of his warm hand.

  Quickly, my heart races so fast that I'm lightheaded. Skin flushing with unbearable heat, I'm afraid to reveal my arousal. I use a trick my mother taught me to hide pain and bite the inside of my mouth. When Brad studies my reaction with his perfect blue eyes, I feel beautiful under his gaze.

  The TV gets loud when the ghost hunters become frightened of their own shadows. I flinch away from Brad and focus on the show.

  "Are these people always so melodramatic? Is that what the squealing is about?"

  Brad laughs. "Oh, yeah, they squeal a lot. It's pretty funny."

  I readjust on the couch and sit with my legs crossed. Positioned closer now, Brad studies me. He's clearly thinking about kissing me, but I'm not ready for such intimacy. No doubt, if he kisses me at this point, I will climb into his lap and ask for more. My desire is too strong to control.

  Everything is wrong for either of us to make a move. Ruth and Nell are in the next room. The dogs stare obsessively at Brad. The sun isn't fully set, and I haven't done a final check of the perimeter. Maybe when everything is taken care of, I will kiss him on the couch and finish in his bed.

  For now, I decide to enjoy the ridiculous show. I laugh at their squeals and allow myself to think they're actually hearing ghosts. Enjoying Brad's company, I'm nearly able to forget he's gorgeous, and how I want him naked on top of me.

  10

  ~ Saskia ~

  Owning My Choices

  Somehow, I survive the night without climbing on Brad. Ruth helps by joining us to watch TV. My tension increases as the night approaches. By the time the dogs fly into a barking fit around ten, I'm too edgy to think of stripping off Brad's clothes and exploring all the muscles on this six-foot-four man.

  I barely sleep all night. The dogs bark regularly, forcing me to check for movement on the property. Each time, I find nothing on the motion sensors. Either the dogs have a grudge against a squirrel or something undetectable is setting them off.

  The next morning, I sleep an hour past my usual wakeup time of six. Body aching, I enjoy a long hot shower before stumbling into the kitchen for a cup of black coffee. Brad sits at the kitchen island, reading the paper.

  Noticing me, he smiles in the most brilliant way, and I'm lost like never before. He tears away all of my barriers, leaving me exposed.

  "Sorry about the dogs," he says, watching me until I want to hide my face from his view. "Did you figure out why they were barking so much?"

  "Nothing human was lurking," I mutter, fighting a yawn.

  "A ghost maybe."

  We share a smile before I look away and focus on pouring coffee. Needing to make space between us, I drink the hot coffee as quickly as possible without burning my throat. Brad sets aside the newspaper and watches me again.

  "Is Minka coming over today?"

  I desperately fight the urge to frown, but my fatigue ensures I lose.

  "Yes, we're going over the plans for your New York City trip."

  "So you won't be leaving for the day?"

  "No."

  When a clearly relieved Brad smiles, I realize I was jealous of Minka. He is my weakness, and I refuse to share.

  "Marx is coming over to train today," Brad says, standing up. "He's teaching me Judo."

  He's waiting for me to show disdain for the idea of Marx knowing enough to train anyone. While I think this thought, I don't react.

  My silence goes on while Brad opens the fridge and pushes objects around inside. He finally stands behind me and leans forward.

  "We don't have much to eat today. Mom didn't want to leave a full fridge before a trip. Would you like cereal or a bagel?"

  "What kind of cereal?"

  Brad gives me a couple of options. When I can't decide, he fills two small bowls and gives them both to me. I breathe in his scent when he stands too closely.

  "How about you come to my training session and see if Marx is teaching me good moves?"

  I glance up at him standing behind me. "Sure. I might even teach you a few tricks."

  Brad wants to kiss me. His gaze focuses only on my lips, seeking them in his mind before he moves. I wait f
or him to lean down and take what he desires.

  The world refuses to allow us this moment. Hearing Ruth speak to the dogs as she walks down the hallway, Brad steps back from me. His gaze remains on my lips though. I don't turn away until the very last moment before Ruth enters the kitchen.

  Likely sensing the tension in the room, she says nothing about Brad's silence. Or ask why I have two bowls of cereal. She's only interested in the dogs barking half of the night.

  Eating quickly, I need to work rather play lovesick girl. Brad sits across from me and returns to his paper. He barely glances up when I take my bowls to the dishwasher before hurrying from the kitchen. Despite claiming he has little experience with women, Brad knows I'm hooked.

  The dogs follow me outside. Remaining agitated, they search for whatever pissed them off the night before. I notice the dogs don't sniff the ground, catching a scent. The German Shepherds follow me around the perimeter where I find nothing disturbed.

  By the time Minka joins me in the backyard, the dogs are snoring in grass.

  "Someone's flying drones over the property at night," I say rather than offering a greeting.

  "How do you know?"

  "Something rattled the dogs all night. The motion sensors and cameras didn't pick up anything. Drones are the only other possibility I can think of."

  "Makes sense. So who was spying?"

  "Could be the press, the cult, or some loser looking for interesting video to upload on YouTube."

  "It's illegal to shoot them down, so make sure you treat any downed drones like a body and get rid of the evidence."

  Smiling at her comment, I ask, "Are you ready for the New York trip?"

  "Yeah, sure. But more importantly, have you thrown yourself at Brad yet?"

  "No."

  "Why not?" she asks, sitting at the patio table. "What if you get shot in the vagina tomorrow? You don't want to live with regrets, babe."

  Joining her at the table, I yawn. "I can't tell if you're being nice or mocking me."

  "Why can't it be both?"

  Rolling my eyes, I hate how easily she teases me. "What if I get distracted by the sexual activities and the cult breaks in and kills everyone?"

  "In this scenario, are you dead? Because dead girls suffer no regrets."

  "And if I live?"

  "You say oops and move on with your life. I can't imagine allowing these people to die would be the worst thing you've ever done in your life."

  Balking, I mutter, "I care about these people."

  "Why?"

  Shrugging, I fall into silence and hope she'll go away. Minka refuses to give me a break.

  "Would you care if I died?"

  "Yes," I admit.

  "Would you cry?"

  "If you died in a sad way, I might."

  "Define sad. Like if I died holding a puppy?" I laugh at the mental image, which proves such a death wouldn't be too sad. Minka grins. "Brad seems soft."

  "Is this where I tell you to fuck off and storm away? Or am I supposed to turn to you for big sis advice?"

  "I think I'm younger than you."

  "You are mentally, yes."

  "Touché."

  "I will sleep with Brad on my own terms and time table."

  "Good."

  Frowning at her, I say nothing. Minka grins brightly as if she's won the argument.

  "I don't have many girlfriends," she says, "For whatever reason, I've never gotten along with women."

  "You have a very harsh personality, and women seek kindness."

  "Do you need a hug?"

  "I imagine people often want to punch you."

  "I imagine that too. Hey, see how much we think alike?"

  "Twins again."

  "Hmm... Sarcasm is sexy on you. Try that stuff with Brad."

  A flush of heat overcomes me at the sound of his name. "I know how to seduce a man."

  "Sorry to talk down to you. I guess I figured you were a little frigid."

  "Thanks for helping," I say, standing up. "We need to set up cameras on the roofline to know when the drones are watching."

  "There are ways to jam the signals. Again not legal."

  "The law pisses me off."

  "Lawlessness was definitely more fun."

  Walking inside the house, we find Ruth reading a book in the living room.

  "The boys are training," she says, looking up to smile at Minka.

  I don't particularly care that Ruth clearly prefers Minka to me. A mother's disapproval isn't necessary to quench my lust for Brad.

  Finding a sweaty and shirtless Brad, I'm momentarily dumbfounded by the sight. Certain nothing can quench my intense lust, I doubt even hours and hours in bed might help. Nothing seems enough to douse the heat in my gut.

  Despite my need for this man, I notice the scars on his back. The police report indicated a cult member named Dennis Stein carved symbols into Brad as a part of a ceremony. The scars lack the precision of a professional hand. Stein wasn't accustomed to slashing into the human body. His lack of skill likely explains why he found himself dead at Brad's hands.

  My thoughts return to the present when I hear Marx grunting in an exaggerated fashion. He's likely showing off for my benefit. Or possibly he thinks Minka might be nearby and he wants her to notice his efforts. Either way, Marx doesn't interest me.

  "I bet this badass could show us some moves," Marx says, giving me a big smile.

  Ignoring him, I slide off my boots and walk onto the padded floor.

  "You turned this room into a sparring room?" I ask Brad.

  "It was Mom's yoga room first."

  Now standing less than a foot from him, I smile. "We'll save yoga for another day. For now, I want you to try and hit me."

  "I'm not hitting you."

  Giving him a slight grin, I say, "No, you probably won't. That's why I said 'try.' I want to see what the writer has taught you so far."

  Marx moves out of the way while I step back to give Brad a chance to take his shot.

  "Don't be afraid," I tease.

  Grinning, Brad bounces slightly before taking a halfhearted throw. When I shift easily out of his way, Marx snickers. Brad's male ego needs to prove himself worthy, so he takes another shot. When I dodge the second punch, Brad frowns. I know he isn't really trying to hurt me, yet he likely believes his weak attempts should still get closer.

  "Shake it up," Marx says. "Loosen your body and use your legs."

  I smile at Brad to signal him that I'm ready. He's fast and strong, but I have no trouble dodging his moves. I even slide past Brad and poke him in the back.

  "I don't understand," Brad mutters, clearly frustrated. "Logically, my size should mean I'll win."

  "The problem is we’re both focused on the same person. You. Rather than watching me for signals on what I intend to do, you focus solely on where your body should be and what move you should use."

  "So you don't think about what you're going to do at all?"

  "My focus is on where your body remains vulnerable. My reaction to your movements is instinctual, but this comes from experience. You need to take part in real matches, so you'll think less about what you're doing and more about your opponent."

  "How old were you when you began training?" Marx asks.

  I give Marx a side-glance, unsure if I want to answer. He bothers me with his questions. His curiosity feels forced as if I'm being hunted. He should be careful about taunting a bear.

  "Young," is all I give him.

  Marx opens his mouth to ask another question, but shuts up as soon as Minka arrives.

  "Maybe Brad can get involved in boxing or mixed martial arts," she suggests.

  I instantly say, "No."

  Brad frowns at my quick answer. "Why not?"

  "The level of damage you could suffer compared the amount of skill building you might gain isn't worth it."

  Smiling, Minka walks further into the room. "She doesn't want anything happening to your pretty face."

  Brad looks down
at me, and I shrug. His smile sends heat directly to the part of me that I normally ignore. I hate being aroused in front of Minka and Marx.

  "I think a book about a woman assassin would be fascinating," Marx suddenly announces.

  "Woman assassin?" Minka asks, laughing. "Is that even a real thing?"

  Her laughter pisses off Marx who walks out of the room. Minka waits until he's gone before winking at me.

  "He's fun. I think he and I are due for a bonding session."

  Grinning, I admit loving when Minka teases other people. Brad waits until we're alone until he steps closer.

  "Would you be that calm in a real fight?" he murmurs.

  "With you? Yes."

  "What if I was one of those cult fucks?"

  "I'd be as calm on the outside," I murmur, staring into his blue eyes. "I don't believe in allowing people to know they've rattled me."

  "Your acting skills are impressive," he whispers, leaning down until our lips nearly meet.

  When Nell calls out Brad's name, he steps back. "The universe is conspiring against me."

  My gaze takes in the sight of his sweaty tanned arms before lingering over his handsome face and sparkling blue eyes.

  "I don't believe the universe cares about us. That's why I make my own destiny."

  I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him down until our lips meet. My tongue licks at his mouth, wanting to go deeper. Nell calls for Brad again, but I don't relent. Instead sucking on his tongue, taking what I want and tasting what I've craved since the first day.

  As quickly as I kiss him, I step away before Nell appears at the doorway. I suspect I appear calm and collected, though I'm on fire on the inside. Brad refuses to hide his desire, and Nell realizes she's walked in on something.

  Without another word, she leaves. The flesh between my legs throbs painfully, and I know I need to escape this situation. Following Nell, I give Brad a quick grateful glance while disappearing out the door. His gaze says everything I need to know. I might have started this thing, but he doesn't plan to let it end any time soon.

  11

  ~ Brad ~

  Now, Not Later

  My skin is on fire. Saskia's beautiful lips found mine for less than a minute, but she's all I taste now. My cock throbs painfully in my jeans. Every inch of my body craves her. I can't pry my gaze away from Saskia during dinner.