Rush

by Beth Yarnall

  Lucas held his hands out to her. “Want to hold him?”

  Dropping to her knees, Mi looked into the bright blue eyes of the little orange kitten and her heart melted. She scooped him out of Lucas’s hands. “Oh! He’s purring.” She hugged the kitten close to her body. Gently stroking his head, she marveled at how soft his fur was.

  If Lucas had known what kind of miracle Mi’s smile was, he would have carried a dozen kittens in his pockets just to see it every day. She looked up at him with the most amazing expression, her amber eyes crinkling at the corners. His heart did a slow roll in his chest and he swallowed hard, his palms growing damp. If he’d thought her pretty before, he was wrong. When she truly smiled, she was luminous. The simple joy of holding a kitten radiated from her into him and he felt like a teenager on the verge of his first kiss.

  “Where’d you get him?” Mi asked, cradling the kitten against her chest.

  “Found him on the side of the road a couple of blocks away.”

  “A stray. You poor thing.” She snuggled the cat closer. “What’s his name?”

  Lucas would have given anything to trade places with that cat and felt a bit stupid for having the thought. “Gooch,” he answered.

  Mi’s brows dipped. “Why did you name him Gooch?”

  “He reminds me of a friend I had.”

  “You had a friend named Gooch?”

  “It was what everyone called him.”

  “Why does he remind you of your friend?”

  Lucas took the opportunity to scoot closer to Mi, stroking a finger over the kitten’s head and down his back. “Gooch had orange hair that stuck up all over his head when it grew long and huge blue eyes.” Lucas chuckled at the memory that still carried the pang of loss. “His eyes were so big and round they looked like marbles. Just like this guy’s.”

  “What happened to him?” Mi asked her tone hushed as if she was afraid to tread on bad memories.

  “He was killed during the same mission that earned me a ticket home.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  “What happened?”

  Lucas looked away and out into the night as if the lights that twinkled back at him could relieve the misery of that night a year ago. “He took a bullet meant for me.” There was more, the blood flowing over his hands as he held the pieces of his friend’s skull together. The tufts of orange hair matted with blood and brain matter. And the blank, far-away look in those big, too fucking trusting, blue eyes.

  “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Lucas looked down at Mi’s hand gripping his forearm, then up into golden eyes wide with sympathy and something more… understanding maybe. She’d known loss. He could see it in the honest way she looked at him. Knowing they shared that, gave him more comfort than her words. If she had been anyone else he would have brushed her off with something glib like It was a long time ago, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

  “I miss him,” he said simply, reaching out to stroke the cat again.

  She didn’t comment, just let the words hang in the air between them. The silence she lent him soaked up some of the grief. She didn’t give him platitudes or try to tell him it was God’s way or some other kind of bullshit like that. She let him have the moment to miss his friend.

  Mi smoothed her hand away, her attention once again on the kitten. “I knew you’d been in the military. What branch?”

  “Navy. SEALS.”

  “Huh, I would have figured you for a Marine.”

  “Those girls?”

  “My father was a Marine.”

  “Damn,” Lucas said. “Sorry. No offense to your father.”

  Mi laughed and Lucas thought it was the most incredible sound he’d ever heard. He felt a little bit light headed when he was with her, as though the air was somehow thinner in the space around her.

  “None taken,” she replied.

  “Where does he live, your father?”

  “He died when I was two.”

  “Now I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  She shrugged it off, but Lucas felt her decades old pain as if it was his own. He wanted to reach out, touch her, but she’d tucked herself up tight. Her legs bent under her, her arms close to her body.

  She sighed and bent her head towards the kitten. “I look like my father, I think. He named me after his Japanese mother.”

  “I’d wondered about that. And Price-Jones?”

  “Welsh. On his father’s side.”

  “What about your mother?” Lucas asked.

  Mi shifted and if he hadn’t been watching her so closely he might have missed the look of regret that flashed across her face. “She lives in Garland.”

  “Any other siblings besides your brother Jason?”

  “I think he’s asleep.”

  Lucas looked down at the kitten curled up her hands. He let her change the subject and gazed out at the skyline, content just to be near her.

  Mi adjusted her position, drawing his attention back to her. She sat Indian-style, pulling her plain cotton nightgown over her knees, creating a cradle in the hollow between her legs for the kitten. When she’d settled him she met Lucas’s gaze and gave him a small smile.

  “How’d you go from being a Navy SEAL to being a bodyguard?”

  Lucas rubbed his thigh, extending his legs out in front of him, his bare feet pressing against the window. If he leaned a little closer to her it was no accident. “I didn’t. I’m not.”

  She pulled back a little, frowning. “Then what’s this?”

  “I’m doing a favor for Cal while I’m between jobs.”

  “What do you mean a favor?”

  Lucas stretched his arms out across the seat of the sofa. He lifted the ends of Mi’s hair between his fingers, mesmerized by its softness. “I owed Cal a favor and had the skill set to do the job so I took it.”

  “Must have been a huge debt you owed.”

  “It was.”

  She looked as though she’d inquire further, then changed her mind, gazing out at the view. He watched her, absorbing everything about her. The scent of her, lighter now, but still hers. The way her nightgown dipped down between her breasts, the thin cotton clinging to her hardened nipples. The red painted toes peeking out from beneath her knees. The way she absently petted the kitten as she looked out into the night. He wanted to touch her, bring her attention back to him. But then he wouldn’t be so free to let his gaze roam over her.

  “I’ve heard it before, but what does querida mean?”

  He hadn’t realized she’d turned her head to look at him. He’d been so focused on her breasts poking against the fabric of her gown, wondering if she was cold or something more.

  “Darling, dear, beloved,” he answered softly.

  Her eyes grew wider, darker and her tongue swept across her bottom lip. “Oh.”

  He brought the hand that had been playing with her hair up to her nape, cradling the back of her head in his hand. Bringing her closer, he leaned down, his focus on her lips and the way they parted, inviting him. She tilted her face up to his, a further invitation. And that was all he needed. As their lips met, he thrilled with the satisfaction that she could be his.

  She moaned, winding her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through the hair at his nape. His other hand went to her knee, the thin cotton covering it was no barrier for him. In a flash, he slipped beneath it to the smooth skin of her thigh. He explored her mouth, tracing his tongue over her lips, dipping inside. She let out a soft sound of pleasure when he sucked on her lower lip, his hand at the curving the underside of her breast.

  He cupped her breast, so small and firm, her nipple pressing into his palm. Her hand had found its way under his t-shirt and he’d thought he’d die with need for the feel of her hands on him. He left her mouth, nibbling and kissing a path down her neck. He hooked a finger, then another into the neckline of her nightgown, pulling it down. She arched into his caress, lifting up onto her
knees.

  “Meow.”

  She jerked away from him, reaching for the kitten she’d dislodged from her lap. His fingers lost their grip and he watched in shock as her nipple disappeared back down the neckline of her gown. He’d been millimeters from having it in his mouth.

  Damned cat.

  “Oh, Gooch. You poor thing.” She examined the kitten, lifting it up. “You could have been crushed.”

  “He’ll live.”

  She settled the kitten in her lap again. “Have you taken him to the vet? He might have fleas and he’ll need shots.”

  “I know.”

  “Where does he sleep?”

  “I have a box for him in the laundry room.”

  She looked at him as if he put the cat to bed dangling at the end of a fishing pole out the window.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You make him sleep alone?”

  He didn’t have a coherent response for that. He figured it was probably a trick question anyway so even if he could come up with an answer it would be akin to Why yes, those pants do make your ass look huge. But then he looked down into those amazing golden eyes and grew stupid enough to say, “He can sleep with you tonight.”

  “Really?” Holding the kitten, she bounced up to her knees. She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” Before he could get a hold of her, she was on her feet, walking away. “Goodnight.” She snuggled the kitten to her neck, murmuring to it as she disappeared down the hall.

  He glanced down at the raging hard-on straining against his shorts. Fucking Gooch always did get the girl.

  *****

  The following morning Lucas and Mi met the detective in charge of her case at Mi’s house. She wanted to stay in the truck, but Lucas wouldn’t let her. Following him and the lead detective into her house, loneliness crept over her, leaving her oddly bereft. Her little neighborhood had gone through a transformation, changing from a place she felt safe to a place that had let her down. Mrs. Wickerson peeped through her drapes across the street just as she always did when anything bigger than the Stanton’s Chihuahua stepped foot on the street. Where was her nosy neighbor when that creep had installed cameras in her house?

  Lucas took Detective Rolls through the house to her bedroom to show him the cameras he’d found. The detective seemed to defer to Lucas and his knowledge of covert surveillance from the moment he’d stepped foot in the house. Plainly showing how impressed he was, Rolls asked question after question. The steady flow of them reached Mi in the entryway.

  Mi stood in the foyer of the house she’d been so proud of, feeling it had somehow betrayed her. Somebody had been watching her in her most private moments. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she swallowed hard, pushing back the sob that crept up her throat. Rubbing her arms, she shuddered. She heard Lucas and the detective coming back down the hall. Dropping her arms and standing up straighter, she pasted on a brave face.

  “I’ll need a team to go through the place. That’ll take some time, ya know.” Detective Rolls turned his fat wrist, glancing at the watch straining against his flesh. “Couple hours or so. You got somewhere to be?”

  “I have to be at work by ten,” Mi said.

  “Work,” Rolls snorted as he shook his head, his jowls flapping, like a hound dog. “Jesus H. Christmas just when I’d thought I’d seen it all.” He gave Lucas a jab with his elbow. “You seen what they do there for profit?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Now I ain’t one to judge, mind you. What two reasonably mature people do in the privacy of the boudoir and all sure ain’t my business. But it just seems so unseemly, all them fake wieners lyin’ about. And then those other things.” He waved a meaty hand around. “Whatchya call ‘em? Them things with the holes for the men?”

  “Strokers,” Mi provided.

  “Strokers. Jesus H. Christmas. Don’t need to waste my money when I got Rosie and her five sisters right here.” He put his hand up and wiggled his sausage fingers. “If you catch my meanin’.” He winked and prodded Lucas with his elbow again.

  Mi rolled her lips under, suppressing a smile. She’d come across Detective Rolls’s type before. They were relatively harmless, seeing what Mi did as a novelty. It was the others, the ones who didn’t think what she did was fun or entertaining who were the dangerous ones. People like Cookie Dixon and the members of C.A.L.M.

  Lucas cleared his throat. His brows nearly touching over the bridge of his nose, his mouth pressed into a grim line, the glare he gave Rolls was hard-edged reproof. He waited until the other man subsided, visually shrinking under Lucas’s stare. “I’m guessing you’ll find a camera either outside over the front door or over there.” Lucas pointed to the sliding glass door that lead out to the small backyard. “He’d want to see her enter.”

  Rolls gave Lucas an assessing look, his florid face bunching up around his eyes. “Uh, huh. And just howd’ya figure that?”

  “It’s what I’d do.”

  “That so. What else wouldya do?”

  “I’d want an eye in every room.”

  Lucas seemed to settle into the roll of expert as he walked Rolls through the living areas, pointing out the best possible vantage point for each camera. Mi wasn’t sure she liked this side of Lucas. It brought him in line with the man who’d invaded her home, her privacy. Mi moved to the door, shivering. She wanted out, away.

  “Ah, damn.” Lucas came to her and rubbed her arms. “Sorry. Do you want wait in the bedroom while we talk?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to be in there alone. She just wanted to be far, far away. “No. I’m fine.” She waved him off with false reassurance. “Go ahead.”

  Lucas looked as though he wanted to call a halt to the whole thing and maybe whisk her off until Rolls drew his attention away.

  “What about at night? Wouldya need night vision?”

  Lucas gave her a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes and her arms a gentle squeeze. “We won’t be much longer.” He turned to Rolls. “And motion detection. I’d want ears, too, but then I’m greedy.”

  Lucas really seemed to be in his element. Mi was glad to have him on her side.

  “That would cost ya.” Rolls draped an arm across his belly and propped his elbow in his hand while he stroked his chin, considering. “There’s a factor to keep in mind. Whoever did this had some bank. Or access to.”

  “I’d be surprised if you found more than basic motion activated cameras. But if you do, would you let me know?”

  “I could do that. I bet you have some stories to tell.” Rolls nudged him with his elbow again. “I was an Army man myself. Got me an in with the force, but then that was before all that Post Traumatic B.S.”

  “Uh, huh.” Lucas’s brow buckled in a deep frown. “An associate of mine is on his way over. He’ll lock up when your guys are finished.”

  “Ah, here’s the tech boys now,” Rolls said, moseying to the screen door to let them in.

  Lucas and Mi waited while Rolls directed his team. When he’d finished, Lucas handed over the letters from Doyle Gann, explaining what the convict’s last letter contained.

  Rolls snorted. “Revolvin’ doors, that’s all prisons are these days. I’ll contact his parole officer.” He waved the plastic bag with the letter. “This’ll get him revoked, I’m sure. Don’t cha worry miss, we’ll get ‘im.”

  She sincerely hoped that was true. “Thank you, Detective.”

  Lucas led Mi out of the house and into the hard baked sunshine. Heat waves shimmered above the pavement and the air closed in around them, like a stifling embrace. A sleek red car pulled up across the street and a tall, lean black man emerged, his eyes covered with mirrored aviator glasses. Mi watched him cross the street with an ambling gate, all loose limbs and confidence.

  “Malcolm, thanks for coming.” The men performed a combination handshake/half-hug greeting. Lucas turned to her. “Mi meet Malcolm Oubre. Malcolm, Miyuki Price-Jones.”

  Malcolm whipped of
f his glasses, revealing startling turquoise eyes. He bent over Mi’s hand, his deep baritone vibrating her chest. “Miss Price-Jones, a pleasure.”

  Mi couldn’t help it. She blushed, her other hand fluttering over her breasts. Such charm should be bottled and sold with a warning label. “Pleased to meet you, too, Malcolm. Please, call me Mi.”

  Lucas shifted behind her a fraction, swelling up to his full height. He leaned in, crowding Malcolm out. She felt the heat from his wide palm low on her back like a brand.

  Malcolm straightened and donned his glasses, his wide, white-toothed smile never wavering. “Oh, I always aim to please, Miss Mi. Always.”

  Mi resisted the urge to fan herself. She was surely buying whatever it was Malcolm was selling, as Lucy would say. “I’m sure you do.”

  “If you’re finished,” Lucas said to Malcolm, disapproval sharpening each word. “I’ll introduce you to the detective in charge so you can get to the job you came here to do.”

  Mi followed them back into the house, going no further inside than the foyer. In a moment Lucas came back down the hall, gripped her elbow and led her back outside to his truck. She had to jog a little to keep up with him. He opened the car door, wrapped his hands around her waist and hoisted her up on the seat before she knew what was happening. She began to say something about Lucas’s strong reaction, but the door shut abruptly, leaving her open mouthed and sputtering.

  Lucas climbed into the truck and turned the key with more force than necessary. She’d just barely clicked on her seatbelt when the truck shot away from the curb, knocking her back against the seat. She angled herself to glare up at him, preparing to unleash her temper, but one look at his at his face stopped her before the words could form.

  “You’re grinning.” Her bubble of annoyance evaporated into disbelief. She gaped at him, sure she was stuck in the cab of the truck with a lunatic.

  “You should have seen yourself.”

  “What?”

  “Malcolm.” He shook his head, his smile spreading, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know how he does it.”

  “What?”