Raid

by Kristen Ashley

  He leaned toward me. “They give me a bad feeling, Hanna. They don’t give you that same feeling, cool. But this date goes well, we go further, I will not hang with them. Straight up. No bullshit. You’re into me, I’m into you, but that does not mean I gotta be into all your friends and the same goes for you.”

  I had to admit, that was fair.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  “And I’m not sayin’ that shit knowin’ how into me you are, layin’ down the law. I mean it. You connect with my people, you aren’t into them, same goes for you.”

  That was nice.

  “Okay,” I stated more resolutely, then asked (yes, stupidly), “How into you do you think I am?”

  “Honey, you crawled around on all fours in a pet store, totally unable to cope with bein’ in my space. You’re seriously into me.”

  This was true and this should have mortified me.

  It didn’t.

  For some reason, it annoyed me.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s kind of annoying you figured that out, and more annoying you keep bringing it up.”

  To this he threw his handsome head back, burst out laughing and held my hand tight for a second.

  Then his hold loosened and he lifted our hands so our elbows were on the table, our hands up between us, but he again leaned into me.

  This time super-close.

  Which meant he was pressing my hand into his hard chest.

  I held my breath.

  “Open book,” he said quietly. “Like I said, it’s cute. It’s also refreshing, baby.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” I whispered, no longer annoyed. With him that close and my hand pressed to his chest I was back to nervous.

  “I do,” he confirmed.

  Okay then, he thought it was cute and refreshing, so I felt it safe to give him more.

  Therefore I did.

  “Just so you know, I find you extremely attractive and I’d really like this date to go well because I’d like another one, and not as an excuse to buy another dress and killer pair of shoes.”

  I did it, but felt no relief when something weird and a little alarming flashed in his eyes. His fingers squeezed mine before he hid that look, let my hand go and sat back.

  “For a guy, that question is answered at the end of the date.”

  Fabulous.

  Something to be more nervous about.

  He grinned at me.

  I licked my lips.

  His grin faded and his eyes dropped to my mouth.

  I stopped breathing.

  The waiter showed with our appetizers.

  Thank God.

  * * * * *

  “Be back, yeah?” Raiden asked as the waiter swept away our dessert plates.

  I nodded to him while he stood

  When he was up, he reached out a hand and tucked my hair behind my ear. My scalp tingled, the tingle shooting straight down my spine, and I wished I could touch his hair or that he’d do that again (and again) while he walked away.

  I watched him go while internally shivering through the remnants of the hair tuck maneuver.

  Once he was out of sight, my mind turned to the date.

  I wasn’t certain how it started, but once we were over the Bodhi and Heather thing and the how into him I was thing, Raiden steered conversation to safer subjects. People in town we both knew. How great Rachelle’s café was doing. Grams. How I did up my house.

  I thought, in the end, it was going well.

  Conversation was easy. It flowed. There were smiles, some laughs for him and for me, the food was delicious and I’d loosened up because of my company, not to mention three glasses of wine.

  The one thing that was weird was that Raiden shared zilch about himself, outside talking a bit about his Mom and more about his sister, both of whom, when he spoke of them, it was clear he cared a lot about.

  But he didn’t tell me about his house when I was talking about mine. He didn’t share about what he did for work. He didn’t talk about the time he was away. In fact, it was him that led the conversation and I followed its flow, sharing generously without getting but a hint of anything personal back.

  It was on this thought I realized I had to use the restroom, and this thought led to the fact I should have told Raiden that before he left. I figured he’d know where I was when he got back and saw me gone. A bonus, it would save me having to give him that information and the nerve wracking moment of walking away while he was watching.

  So I grabbed my bag, moved from the table and headed in the direction of the restroom.

  I got to the ladies in the back hall and put my hand on the door, but stopped dead when I heard Raiden’s voice coming from around the corner that was at the end of the hall.

  “She’s clueless,” he stated.

  I stared at my hand at the door, my mind going blank.

  “Totally,” Raiden went on. “Hanna has no idea those two assholes are transporting ice with her afghans.”

  My breath clogged in my throat.

  Ice?

  As in methamphetamine?

  “Yeah, it’s completely escaped her,” Raiden continued. “She thinks the girl is helpin’ her out. Hanna’s got no part in it. I end this with her tonight, we’ll meet, plan the takedown.”

  I end this with her tonight.

  Oh my God.

  What?

  How?

  What?

  “She trusts them. Whacked,” Raiden carried on. “Motherfuckers are using her. Thinks they’re her friends. She’s got no fuckin’ clue.”

  I pushed the door and hurried inside. I somehow had the presence of mind to tiptoe in because the bathroom was tile, the hallway carpeted, muting my footfalls and he obviously didn’t know I was there.

  The door swung closed behind me. I put my back to the wall beside it and deep-breathed.

  Holy Moses, Bodhi and Heather were using my shipments to transport drugs.

  Holy Moses! How would they even do that?

  And why?

  And…

  And…

  For some reason, Raiden was out with me to ascertain my part in this hideous scenario.

  He wasn’t into me.

  He was using me.

  Like Bodhi and Heather.

  My friends who I rode trails with, snowboarded with, laughed with.

  Using me.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, pain searing through me, the heat white-hot, leaving devastation in its wake.

  I wasn’t an idiot. I was…

  I didn’t know what I was.

  A moron.

  A loser.

  I shoved my bag under my arm so I could put my hands over my face and I pulled in huge, broken breaths to control the tears clawing at the backs of my eyes.

  A new dress.

  Excited laughter with my best friend.

  Shoes that I’d have to knit five afghans to pay for.

  And all because I was a moron.

  Thoughts assaulting my brain, it took everything I had to pull myself together.

  Raiden couldn’t know I knew. I had to pretend. I had to finish this stupid, stupid date.

  Then I would end things tonight.

  Then I would take care of business.

  Then I would learn my stupid lesson.

  A narrow life was better.

  Books. Movies. Friends I’d had since junior high who I could trust. A great-grandmother who adored me. An ornery cat who liked me occasionally. A job I enjoyed that was free of the drug trade.

  That was it.

  The rest of it…

  No.

  I had no idea I’d been smart before. I had no idea I’d been living the right life.

  I had no idea.

  Now I did.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  I rushed into a stall, took care of business then left the restroom carefully. Checking the back hall, which was empty, I stealthily moved out and saw Raiden at our table. I skirted the main area of the restaurant, walk
ed outside and took in huge lung-fulls of crisp, mountain air, coming up with a plan while doing so.

  The wine had gone to my head. I was a bit tipsy and more headachy.

  I needed to go home.

  I squared my shoulders and swallowed my tears. I turned to the front door, walked in and moved to the table, Raiden’s head coming up when he saw me, his brows snapping together at my direction.

  God, he was gorgeous.

  Amazing.

  Phenomenal.

  Using me.

  “You okay?” he asked as I sat.

  I drew in one more breath.

  Then I turned to him. I took him in and felt my dream take its final, shuddering breath before it died…

  And I lied.

  Chapter Six

  Last Chance

  The drive home was silent. The whole time I looked out the side window.

  That wasn’t strictly true.

  The drive home was silent, except once we were in the Jeep on our way home, Raiden asked, “This happen often, headaches comin’ on this fast?”

  “Yes,” I lied.

  Raiden left it at that.

  I spent my energies holding myself together.

  This took a lot of my energies.

  Therefore, by the time we got to my house, I was exhausted.

  Raiden parked, and as he was shutting the Jeep down, I swiftly unbuckled my seatbelt, threw open the door and climbed out as gracefully as I could.

  I was hoofing it double time to the front door when my efforts were foiled by Raiden’s hand closing around mine.

  He slowed my dash and dug into his jeans pocket, got out my keys, stopped us at the door and let us in.

  I took two wide steps inside, unfortunately dragging him with me. I tugged my hand free of his and turned on him, hand up.

  “Thanks for letting us in. I’ll take those now.”

  I avoided his eyes as he deposited my keys in my hand, my fingers closing around them instantly, and my hand dropped.

  “Hanna, you gonna be okay?”

  I looked up at him.

  Raiden Miller in my foyer.

  A dream come true then turning straight into a nightmare.

  “I’ll take some ibuprofen and I’ll be fine,” I lied.

  I wouldn’t be fine. Not for ever and ever.

  “Can you hang on a second?” I went on to ask. “Before you go, I want to give you something.”

  “Sure, honey,” he replied gently.

  Raiden Miller calling me honey.

  Gently.

  Total nightmare.

  I looked to my feet, tucked my hair behind my ear and hurried to the stairs. “I’ll just be a sec.”

  I rushed up the stairs on the toes of my sandals.

  I’d had the idea on the way home. It didn’t make sense at all, but the instant I had it I knew I had to do it. And I never knew I had to do anything the instant I had the idea, so I decided I was going to go with it.

  I ran to my bedroom door and tossed my clutch and the keys across the room to the bed. Then I dashed to the spare bedroom where I kept my finished afghans and found the one I was looking for. A fluffy, black, loose weave cashmere already tied in a wide, dove gray satin ribbon with my signature tag on it. Heavy cream cardstock, and on it, in black, handwritten in the calligraphy I taught myself from a book after painstaking hours of copying, Made special… by Hanna.

  I hastened down the hall, slowed my step at the stairs and again avoided looking at Raiden while I descended.

  But I walked right up to him and held out the throw.

  “I want you to have this.”

  “Jesus, baby,” he murmured, his voice deeper than normal, and I looked up at him.

  He was staring down at the afghan, his face strange.

  He looked stunned, moved, pleased.

  Really.

  He was an amazing actor.

  His eyes came to mine. “I can’t take this.”

  I jerked it toward him. “Take it.”

  He lifted a hand then dropped it and held my eyes. “It looks like a five hundred dollar one.”

  “It’s a seven hundred and fifty dollar one.”

  He did a slow blink. “Come again?”

  “Cashmere,” I explained then jerked it at him again. “Please take it.”

  “Hanna—”

  “Take it.”

  “Honey—”

  “Please,” I whispered, my voice suddenly husky, “take it.”

  He studied me closely as he took it then abruptly his head jerked down, and, as if he didn’t know his mouth was saying the words, he stated, “Fuck me, it feels like heaven.”

  “Cashmere,” I repeated and his eyes came back to mine. “I had a nice night,” I continued, moving directly to the door, opening it then standing wide so he had plenty of room to get through. “Thank you.”

  He looked at my feet then out the open door then at me.

  He hesitated what seemed like days before he walked to me and stopped close. Too close. I had to tip my head way back (even in four inch heels!) and he had to dip his chin way down.

  “Outside the headache, you okay?” he asked low.

  “Outside the headache, peachy,” I lied and quickly concluded. “Thanks again for a nice night.”

  Raiden didn’t move.

  My heart kept breaking.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he told me.

  Right.

  “Okay,” I replied, though I didn’t know how he’d do that since he didn’t have my number. He also wouldn’t be able to do that because I was no way, no how picking up any call from an unknown number. And last, he simply wasn’t going to do that because he was totally lying.

  “We’ll go to a movie,” he stated.

  “Great. I like movies.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

  He moved into me.

  I moved back.

  He stopped, his brows snapping together. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I should never drink red wine,” I shared.

  Another lie. I loved red wine and it loved me, though in abundance it could make me maudlin, but I was three whole glasses away from maudlin.

  Something else was making me maudlin.

  “It always does a number on me,” I kept lying when Raiden didn’t move or speak. “But I just can’t seem to eat a steak without it.”

  “Next time, beer,” he said.

  Like there’d be a next time.

  Raiden still didn’t move.

  I didn’t either.

  This lasted some time.

  God! He wanted to “end this”? Why didn’t he end it?

  “I should probably get some ibuprofen,” I told him on a prompt for him to leave.

  “Doesn’t feel good, leavin’ you alone and feelin’ like shit,” he replied, and seriously, seriously, what was it with him?

  He could just go.

  Why didn’t he just go?

  “I’ll be fine.” More lying.

  “All right, baby,” he murmured.

  I closed my eyes.

  Baby.

  “Hanna?”

  I opened them. “Goodnight.”

  He held my eyes and his were searching. Then he lifted a hand and tucked my hair behind my ear.

  I felt his sweet touch in my scalp, down my spine and the tingles it caused exploded along the small of my back.

  And there he was, Raiden Ulysses Miller, in my foyer, tucking my hair behind my ear, faking concern about my fake headache and faking that he was into me.

  He wanted to fake it?

  Fine.

  He could fake it.

  I’d give him a doozy of a chance to fake it.

  And at the same time, I was going to take my shot, my last chance, the only one I’d ever have.

  And I was going to go for the gusto.

  I lifted my hand, wrapped my fingers around his bicep, leaned in and went up on my toes.

  I pressed my lips to his.

  They felt great.
>
  So great, I couldn’t take more. That was all I was could do. That took all the courage I had left. I didn’t want to know how good it could be and never have it again, even if it was fake.

  So that was it.

  But Raiden…

  He was good at faking.

  The master.

  I knew this when his arm instantly sliced along my lower back. He hauled me into his hard body and his mouth opened over mine. Mine automatically opened under his and his tongue slid inside.

  His tongue felt better, tasted divine, and I pressed into him, tangling mine with his.

  My last chance.

  He was giving it to me.

  Suddenly, I didn’t care if it was fake.

  Suddenly, I didn’t care if I’d never have it again.

  I had it now.

  I was going for it.

  I tilted my head and offered him everything.

  He slanted his. I heard the soft “flunf” of the afghan falling to the floor and his free hand drove into my hair, fisting. I felt pain that should have felt bad but felt oh-so-good spike across my scalp and I pressed deeper into him, giving more.

  He took it.

  My hands slid up his arms, his shoulders and finally, finally, I had his hair sliding through my fingers.

  It was thick.

  It was silky.

  It was perfect.

  He shuffled me back. I hit the door, the door hit the wall and he pressed in.

  I pressed up, held on and kept giving.

  Raiden kept taking.

  It was the best kiss of my life.

  It could have been the best kiss in history.

  It took superhuman effort to remember it wasn’t real. To tear my mouth from his, wrench myself out of his arms and step out of reach.

  Lost momentarily, I lifted my hand to touch my mouth, my breathing heavy. Then I lifted my eyes to see his head turned toward me, his eyes on me burning in a way that made me burn, everywhere.

  Really, a great actor.

  Tactical error, taking my last chance.

  Now I had to get this done.

  I rounded him, crouched where he dropped the afghan, picked it up and moved to stand at the other side of the door, holding it out to him.

  “Drive safe home,” I said and he stared at me.

  “Come again?” he whispered and there was something sinister in that whisper that scared the heck out of me.

  But I ignored my fear, jiggled the afghan at him and repeated, “Drive safe home.”

  He approached me and I felt my body stiffen from head-to-toe.