Once he calmed down and she saw his eyes fill with need again, they tumbled back into bed. They both knew their time was limited and the war would start again soon, so they used every second to remind themselves and each other what they were fighting for.
He rolled over and grabbed the box of condoms off the nightstand. “We’re going to need more soon, honey.”
Her head popped off the pillow. “Did you just call me ‘honey’?”
His brow crinkled and he looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, I think I did.”
“Honey is really…sweet.”
His eyes widened with amused horror. “Oh my god, you’re right! It is! It is sweet!” Then he brushed his lips down her neck, tasting her. “Just like you are…right here. And, if I remember correctly, in a few other places as well. Though I should probably check to make sure.”
She laughed as his unshaven jaw tickled and scratched her skin, his lips moving down her body. “It’s just…I don’t feel sweet.”
“Oh, you are,” he said, his teeth grazing her hipbone. “But if you don’t want me to call you that, I won’t. What should I call you instead? Baby?”
“God no.”
“Honey is already out, so…sugar? Molasses? Drumstick?”
“You’re terrible at this.”
“Huh.” He ran his hand over her belly and lower. And lower. Until she couldn’t feel anything but his touch. “I thought you liked it when I did this.” Then he used his mouth.
“I do,” she said breathlessly. “That, you’re very, very good at. I meant the pet names.”
“Maybe that’s because I’ve never had a pet.”
“Never?” Why the hell was she distracting him?
He looked up from between her legs and shook his head. “I think animals hate me. Well, it’s probably Hyde they hate because everyone loves me.”
“So true. I’ve never had one either—foster care and all.” Her hips curled towards him, aching. “But I want our kids to have a dog, so we’ll have to find one that likes you.” Oh, shit. She cringed and let her head fall back on the pillow. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?” Her eyes stayed glued to the ceiling because she didn’t want to see his expression. Because she hadn’t meant to say that. Or think it.
I can only imagine what he’s thinking. Great, now she had to look.
His face was blank, all color gone. As if he’d just been shot and was bleeding out. “Are you…?”
Her head shook so fast, it probably looked like there was an earthquake inside. “No, I’m not.”
He blew out a quick breath of air. “Okay. It’s not that I…” He sat up, blinking a lot and looking a bit shaky.
“I know. It’s fine, Mitch. Don’t have an aneurysm over it.”
“Maybe…someday...I…” He shrugged helplessly.
“It’s okay. It’s not even something I think about anymore. Just pretend I didn’t say anything. I’m not even sure why it came out of my mouth.”
“I do.” He scooted up beside her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because having kids is something you want and is normal and is—”
“Impossible,” she said, pulling away slightly, but he didn’t let her go far. All true things. She wanted a normal life, a calm and boring life with him. But they’d never have it.
He kissed her lightly. “A few months ago I thought I would never feel this way about anyone. A few weeks ago I thought I’d never see you again. A few days ago, I thought I’d never take another breath of freedom. So how the hell do we know what will happen tomorrow?”
She held his face, pulling him closer to kiss him for a good, long while. “You’re wonderful.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.” He gave her a quick peck. “Now, I need to work on my karma.”
“Karma?”
“Karma. Payback. Whatever you want to call it.” He spoke as his lips wandered down her body again. “You do something nice for someone and it cosmically comes back to you in another way.”
“I know what karma is, but I don’t get—Oh!” She gasped when she felt his tongue. “Sure. You work on that.” And she’d very happily pick up some good karma of her own later. They were going to need all they could get.
§§§
After not-enough-time, Mitch realized that she might need a little time to recover. This brilliant realization occurred right after she said, “I need a little time to recover.”
He stretched out alongside her, way happier than he deserved to be. As she napped, he caressed her hair and enjoyed the way her breath warmed his chest. He wondered how long it had been since she’d slept this peacefully. He’d put money on eight days. At least.
He was so sure she’d be okay—Landon would be able to protect her and she would wipe her hands of Mitch and move on. But she was so thin, so fragile-looking, despite her physical strength. The bags under her eyes were a clear sign that, no, she wasn’t okay.
Boyfriend of the Year, for sure. Congratulations. The only thing your big ‘sacrifice’ did was drag out her pain. Made it more of an emotional death than a physical one. Nice work, asshole.
Even though he left her, she didn’t leave him. She hadn’t given up on him, instead becoming so focused on rescuing him that she didn’t see the damage it was doing to her.
Not good. Really, really not good. In fact, it was really fucking bad.
All he wanted was for her to be free and have a chance at a life. A good life. Another instance of him not getting what he wanted. Maybe he should start wishing she’d be miserable and see if that worked.
He would do anything for her—he knew that down to his marrow. He would give up his life a thousand times over to keep her safe. Live in the black hole of pain inside Hyde for eternity if it would give her a chance. If he had fifteen minutes left, he would use them to help her. If he knew how. How many ifs did that make? Too many.
But on the bright side, or on the dark-but-if-you-squint-really-really-hard-you-can-see side, Mitch felt great. Coming back from hell changed a man, made him reprioritize. He had a second chance and wouldn’t screw this one up as badly as he had the last one.
And evidently, the one time you’re guaranteed to keep your shit together is when the person you love is losing theirs. Eden was the priority and she wasn’t doing well. He’d already had his turn at being a mess—the whole time she’d been at The Clinic and the fifteen years before that. So whatever happened, whatever disappointments or crap came his way, he would suck it up and deal with it, so that she didn’t have to.
And how healthy was that?
§§§
When he kissed her forehead, she felt his happiness, his faith in her. Deserved or not.
“Go back to sleep,” he said quietly.
“I don’t want to sleep.” Because she didn’t want to miss a moment with him. This was her reprieve from the obsessing and worry and fear. She’d changed in the time he was gone. But she could change back. She would respect herself again and let go of the anger that simmered under her skin. It wouldn’t break her. Not now. Not now that Mitch was back.
“Well, if you’re not going back to sleep and Landon will be here eventually, what do you want to do until then?”
“Before you showed up, I was planning on doing my nails,” she said. “So I’ll probably do that.”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He rolled on top of her, his smile something she’d never tire of seeing. “You have a terrible sense of humor. It’s embarrassing.” He spoke into her neck, nibbling, kissing. “Thankfully, you’re good at other things.” He reached for a condom off the nightstand. “Like…calculus and using the telephone and—”
“Being on top.” With his arm extended towards the nightstand, she had just enough room to twist, grab his shoulders, and use her leg and both arms to flip him over to pin him down.
“Damn, I love it when you do stuff like that.”
“Is that all you love?” she teased as she took the condom from him and ri
pped it open.
In only a few seconds, he was sheathed by latex and then by her body. He sat up, leaning on one hand and brushing her cheek with the other. Perfectly still as they looked at each other.
“No, that’s not all,” he whispered. “I love you.” Then his eyes widened as if he was shocked he’d actually said it.
“I know.” She smiled. “But I’m glad you finally caught up.”
He blinked, his lips forming the words as if he was trying to get comfortable saying them.
When he was ready, he spoke. Perfectly. “I love you, Eden Colfax.”
“I love you too.” Each of the four words in her response was lengthened as he curled his hips, pushing himself deeper inside of her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and rocked against him until she couldn’t breathe anymore.
When he kissed her, she clung to him, her hands in constant motion across his chest, his jaw. Just to make sure he was still there. And that he’d never leave again.
Chapter VIII
Landon became a cop because he believed in justice. After everything was taken away, he still believed. So as badly as he wanted to kill Fuller, he wouldn’t. He’d feel sorry for Fuller’s kids when they went to visit their daddy in jail though.
The bastard made his own goddamn bed, and Landon wouldn’t feel guilty about pulling off the covers and showing the world what was underneath. He tried not to think of it in selfish terms, but he wanted his damn job back. He wanted his pride back, his reputation, his life. He wanted a chance at normalcy when this was all over. No hiding, no espionage, no frigging cages. Was that too much to ask?
When he got tired of his mind turning in circles, he splashed some water on his face and headed back to the living room.
Fuller and Steve were standing on opposite sides of the room. Not a good sign. It’s tough to do any heavy-duty whispering from across a room.
“I should get going.” He leaned against the wall next to the Lego box. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the box and its contents flying all over the floor. As the two men looked down in shock, Landon grabbed his phone and stuck it into his pocket. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He bent down and started picking up the pieces.
“Leave it,” Fuller said gruffly.
“I don’t want your wife to hate me.”
“Leave it, Landon.”
“Okay, but if she asks, I’m blaming you.” Landon dropped a handful of blocks into the box and stood. “Thanks for the recommendation.”
“Good luck, Landon. And stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll try, but sometimes trouble appears right in front of you and you can’t get around it.” After a quick handshake with Fuller and a nod to Steve, Landon shoved his hands into his pocket, making sure the phone was still there, and walked outside.
He parked about a block away to wait for Uncle Steve to leave. Until then, he had his phone to occupy him. But only moments later, he saw the man walk briskly to his car, yank the door open, and get in. Evidently Steve wasn’t big on long goodbyes.
Landon knew how to follow a suspect—how far to stay behind, how many cars to keep between them, how to anticipate each turn. But it didn’t matter—Steve gave no indication he knew he was being followed.
As he drove, he listened to the recording.
“Why is he here?” That was probably Steve—nervous, fairly weak-sounding voice.
“It doesn’t matter. Just keep your head down and let them deal with him.” If only Fuller could be a little more specific about who ‘they’ were.
“Do you think that’s why he’s here?” Steve again. “To go after Landon and the other ones?”
“Specifics, guys,” Landon said to the phone. “Fewer pronouns and more names.”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know.” That was Fuller. “When did he get here?”
“Five-thirty, Monday night. He wants to meet again in about an hour.”
It was silent for so long, Landon checked his phone’s display to see if the recording was over.
Then Fuller spoke, his words clipped and tight. “Be careful. Answer only the questions he asks and don’t offer anything.”
“Give me a name,” Landon grumbled. “My miserable, non-existent kingdom for a name.”
“And be smart, Steve, don’t mention Landon coming here.”
“He just wants to talk to me again, right?” More anxiety in Steve’s voice. Maybe this nameless guy wasn’t particularly good-natured.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Not convincing. Fast speech meant to cover doubt. “I’d send someone with you, but if Newman noticed…I don’t know what he’d do.” His pause gave Landon a moment to rejoice about finally hearing a name—Newman. “But you’ll be fine, Steve. You’re valuable to them. Call me after the meeting.”
“What if he knows I’m leaving?”
“If you don’t tell him, he won’t know. And once you’re gone, it won’t matter.”
“What about you, Marnie, and the kids?”
“I’m the Chief of Police. Do you seriously think he’s going to do anything to me?”
Landon heard his own voice, the thud and scatter of the Legos, and that was it. Damn it, he should’ve given them more time. But at least he had a name and an arrival time. He’d check out flights that arrived at 5:30 on Monday. How many could there be? Forty. Fifty, tops. And how many people named ‘Newman’ could there possibly be? Two, three million?
Shit. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something. And as long as the pieces kept coming, crumb by frigging crumb, eventually Landon would end up with something that resembled a cup cake.
He considered calling Turner and Eden to give them the big news about his ex-boss, but he wanted to listen to Fuller and Steve’s conversation a few more times. Maybe he’d notice something he hadn’t already. He’d call them later. Plus, the guy deserved a little time to enjoy life. And maybe somewhere in the middle of all that enjoyment, he could get through to Eden. Because Landon sure as hell hadn’t been able to.
Steve turned his car into the parking lot of a strip mall. One of the thousands in South Florida, all of them looking roughly the same—a bank, a nail salon, a café in one long building, then a pharmacy, a dry cleaners, and an ethnic food place in the next. Landon watched Steve get out of his car, glancing around nervously, and sit down in the café’s outdoor seating area.
Landon did a loop around the strip mall, noting every exit and gate. The café was on a corner, a thin alley separating it from the next row of businesses. The gate at the back—a wire-job with wooden slats fed through the holes—was padlocked. No escape there. He moved on, continuing around until he came out front again and pulled into a spot hidden by a row of parked cars. Unfortunately it was also under a streetlight, but Steve was facing away from him so he wasn’t too worried. Until the alarm of the car next to his went off at the same time as the one in front of him backed-up.
“Damn it.” Bad time to lose focus on his surroundings. All eyes turned in his direction, including Steve’s.
Landon was out and running before Steve had even stood. To avoid having twenty witnesses who would be able to pick him out of a line-up, he went slower than he’d have liked. With loose pants and a thin jacket that hid his weapon, he looked like a jogger as he weaved in between two moving vehicles, trying to corral Steve into the dead-end alley.
It worked. Instead of going straight, Steve turned left around the side of the building. Then he broke from a speed-walk into a full-out run. But Landon was faster, even keeping it slow enough to look natural.
Steve slid to a stop when he saw the fence. He glanced back, breathing hard, and scrambled for a foothold on the metal dumpster. Landon grabbed his collar to haul him down and then shoved him into the brick wall. This was definitely not what he thought he’d be doing today.
“I didn’t do anything,” Steve shouted.
“That’s great. Then we can just talk for a second.” Landon knew what a mess he was in, and everything he did was only mak
ing things messier. Being spotted had forced the move, but it had also blown any chance he had of seeing this ‘Newman’ guy.
“What about?”
“You worked for The Clinic.”
Steve kept his mouth shut, eyeing the only way out of the alley.
“It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact,” Landon said. “I know you worked at their facility. And, after seeing your smooth reactions and your brilliant escape attempt, I’m pretty sure you weren’t a guard.” He took a deep breath. “So I’m really hoping that you’re the guy in charge of prescriptions.”
When Steve still didn’t respond, Landon added, “I took down a few of The Clinic’s fairly well-trained guards with my hands. If it turns out that you’re tougher than you look, I also have a gun. And…I left my patience in my other jacket. So let’s skip the bullshit and your empty protestations and cut straight to you telling me what I need to know.”
One more chance and then he gets hit. Landon stepped forward, speaking very slowly. “Okay, we’ll do the yes-or-no thing. I ask the questions and you nod for yes or shake your head for no. Until I get tired of being so accommodating. Then all bets are off.” He shrugged. “I get grumpy when I’m hungry. And no offense to your niece’s cooking, but plastic fruit and steak just aren’t enough for a guy my size. So…were you in charge of the pharmaceuticals?”
“Just do it.” Steve closed his eyes “Do it!”
“Do what?”
“Shoot me. Like you did to Bradford. Do it!”
Bradford—the guy they found in the Everglades. “I didn’t kill Bradford.”
Steve opened his eyes to glare. “So he, what, fell on the bullet that was lodged in his forehead?”
“My theory was a run-in with a gun-toting alligator. Either way, the guy’s dead.” They’d sent a cleaner in. Had to be. Newman, maybe? “Who are you meeting?”
“Someone you don’t want to meet in an alley.” He looked around them. “He’ll be here any minute.”
“We have a little time.” Not a lot but, according to Steve and Fuller’s taped conversation, they had at least another half hour. Plenty of time. “Let’s get back to our discussion.”
Strange Case, an Urban Fantasy (Hyde Book III) Page 7
