At FBI headquarters, I give my lawyer a backbreaking man-hug. “Quinn, you ol’ mother-fucker. What’re you doing here?”
He adjusts his tie and straightens his jacket. “Saving your sorry ass. Sit down and answer concisely, no rambling. Understood?”
“Yes sir.” I sit beside him while a very Special Agent Joe someone-or-other begins his interrogation “What were you doing in Long Island?”
“Saving Mrs. Rossini.”
“From what?”
“Being kidnapped.”
“How did you know she was kidnapped?”
“How did you not?”
Andy gives me a disapproving look.
“You said to make it short.” I grin as Andy’s eyes narrow, clearly not amused.
Trying to walk that fine line between too much and too little information, I fold my hands and place them on the scarred table. “Martha’s our client and hired us when y’all wouldn’t believe she saw someone get murdered. I guess, bein’ about ninety, you figured she had dementia. Anyhow, I too, was inclined to drop the case until she told me about her kick-ass night vision binoculars.”
I pause for effect and stare at the frowning Fed. “Y’all getting this?”
The man, about forty with a military buzz cut grunts. “Keep going. I want everything you remember.”
Andy sighs as I pop the ring on a can of cola. “Well, we got this detective agency, Suds and Sam? Maybe you heard of us? Sam, Samantha, she’s my partner. She used to work for y’all in DC but I got her fired on account I might’ve blathered during her questioning. Now sure, I carry on some, but that’s because you people ask so many unnecessary questions. If you’d stick with the important stuff, this would take a hell of lot less time.”
Special Agent Joe leans across the table with his best intimidating stare. “Mr. Sutcliff, if you could stay on topic. What happened in Long Island?”
Chuckling, I put my elbows on the table and we almost touch noses. “Why, after we saw the video of her being kidnapped, we called Jason, and rescued poor old Mrs. Rossini. You’ve worked with Jason, right? The AI unit?”
“Artificial Intelligence. Dr. Jones’ software. Yes. Go on.” He glances at the mirror, no doubt signaling to whoever’s listening, to double check my story.
“I told Jason to call y’all immediately but me and Sam knew time was running out. We hopped in a car and the moment we arrived, a guy came out of the house. He had a big ol’ rug all rolled up and by the way he was carrying it, for sure, Mrs. Rossini was in it. And damn, the waves? You ever been out on the tip of Long Island? I remember once, when I was on leave… Did I mention I’m a Navy SEAL?”
“Mr. Sutcliff. The man with the rug?” The special agent’s jaw tics and Andy kicks me under the table.
I pretend to look offended, sit on back, and take my time sipping my pop. “I was only trying to explain the waves. If you’re going to interrogate someone, you really need to be a better listener. Anyhow, so this man sets the rug in the water then walks into the ocean up to his knees.”
“Stop. He just walks in?” The agent’s eyes narrow.
“Well, it might’ve been on account of my shoulder pushing into his back, I suppose. Y’all will need to ask him his motivation.”
After he gives up, I wear out two more agents before they send me into the hall where Sam is waiting.
I kiss her and slip my arm around her waist. “How long have you been waiting?”
She says dryly, “Too long.”
Andy yawns and slaps me on the back. “I’m going to bed. Damn, Suds. I swear to God, if you could bottle your storytelling, you could make a fortune.”
“I will take that as a compliment.” Smiling, I wink at Sam.
Andy takes out his phone and texts. “It’s not. Tell Slate from now on, I’m upping my fee for listening to the likes of you.”
“I’m sure he’ll bill it back to our agency. Thanks, though, I mean it.” We shake hands and after my expensive lawyer leaves, Sam bites her lower lip.
“Will he really bill us?”
“Yeah, probably, but it’s an expense that we can tack onto Martha’s bill.” I squeeze her hip. “Do you know she’s worth over ten million dollars?”
“Get out of town. How did you find that out?”
“You’re not the only one with access to Jason. Ready to go home?”
She moans and glances down at her phone. “It’s Sunday? Shit. I promised Father O’Connell I’d take you to church. Then, there’s dinner at my mom’s. We can’t miss it again.”
“Damn. I guess that means we have to postpone we-solved-the-caper sex.”
“Sorry.”
Back at home, as she opens the bathroom door, I call out from the shower stall. “Did I ever mention I’m allergic to religion?”
Sleep deprived and over-talked, I need to hit the mattress but Sam’s had way too much coffee and bounces off the walls like the Ever-Ready bunny.
“Please? Father O’Connell says you need to attend if we want to get married in the church. You do, right?” Naked, she jumps in the shower, presses her chest to mine, and devours me in a heated kiss.
All spare blood rushes to my cock and the few awake brain cells refuse to fire. “Sure, sugar. As long as we get married, I’ll be a happy man.”
Lips busy, I reach for the soap and when the lathering get serious, she pants and steps back. “We really don’t have time for this.”
“You sure?” My hands slide up and down her body, stopping at all my favorite places.
“But we’ll be late for… ” Her voice trails away as I tug her pelvis into my long, hard, length.
Nibbling her earlobe, I whisper. “God won’t mind, I promise. We saved a sweet, little old lady from death and a murderer’s going to jail. That’s got to count for somethin’.”
I adjust the shower controls and frigid water splashes us, coming from all directions.
“Ai! That’s cold!” Using me as a human shield, she backs against the glass door.
When the streams warm, her grip loosens and she does a little butt-wiggle dance. “Wow. This is awesome. I could stay in here forever.”
“Me too.” My thumbs rub over her taut nipples.
Chest heaving, her hands glide to the back of my neck, and her lips cover mine. She arches her pelvis into my raging hard-on as I thrust my tongue in and out to the rhythm of love. Then, with her back to the wall, and with water whooshing around us, I find her silky clit.
“Damn, I love you.” Placing my tip at her core, I enter and wait for her to relax before entering fully.
Moaning, I pull out, dance my tip around her opening, and sink in so deep, she gasps. As one leg wraps around my upper thigh, I hold her in place with my hand to a butt cheek.
She humps my finger as I pump, our cores connecting.
“Fuck, sugar.” I dig my fingers in and bite down on her ear lobe.
Shuddering, she tightens as I swell inside her.
Stars explode in front of my eyes, she screams, and shouting, I explode inside of her. Twice more I thrust into her, and hold her as her legs turn to jelly.
The first to stir, her eyelids open and these incredible brown eyes lift. “Every time we do it, it gets better and better.”
Groaning, I slowly pull out of her. “Make a note, Watson. Quickie-before-church-sex rates high.”
“You Watson, me Holmes.” Kissing me once more, she turns on all the sprayers and washes my liquids from between her legs. All wet, her lips plump from kissing, I want her again and reach to a breast but she pulls my fingers to her mouth and nips.
“Time to go.” She turns the shower knob to the far right, laughing, hops out.
“Fuck! That’s cold! Payback is a bitch.” I grab a towel and snap it at her.
“Ow!” Giggling, she grabs another, cracks it at me, then runs up the stairs.
I follow, ready for more sex but she sees my intent and points at my dresser. “Black jeans, button down shirt, presto.”
I
glance at the time and sure enough, we’re late but not enough to skip as I’d hoped.
“Go.” She throws on leggings, a bra, and a long sweater, then dashes down the stairs.
I can’t help but laugh as I follow.
She mumbles something about her nonna and dying as she tucks wet locks into her hat. Soon, we’re out on the sidewalk where I grab her mittened hand and make a mad dash to church. Laughing and trying to catch our breath, we pause briefly in front of the nativity. The original baby Jesus is safely stored in a museum in Boston. The replacement, however, is a pretty damn good facsimile.”
While she stares, Sam’s face goes soft, the way it does with her niece. Hell, I’d love making a kid with her, maybe one of each.
Inside the church, she dips a finger in a font of water, crosses herself, and sits us in the back where no one notices. The sermon begun, I’m guessing we’re late but it’s still acceptable because lightning doesn’t strike us dead.
Father O’Connell’s voice distorts the old speaker system. “So, my brothers and sisters, Jesus taught us to feed the sick and clothe the hungry.”
Huh?” I turn to Sam.
“Shush.” She pretends to close her eyes and pray but she’s pissing her pants behind those folded hands and bowed head.
“When Jesus climbed to the top of the mount, he said, “Blessed are the poor. So, never worry about money. God will provide.”
“Poor in spirit.” I mutter for her ears only. It’s a damn sight different.
“Shush.” The lady in front turns and glares at me.
“Well, it’s true.”
He finishes up about fifteen minutes later with how we shouldn’t have sex outside of marriage, ties it to the loaves and fishes, and mentions Moses. I’m not even sure how he got there. Like I said, he’s amazing and I start to applaud but Sam throws a hymnal into my hand.
We kneel, stand, sit, kneel, sing, and then she goes up for communion while I stay put and watch her pretty behind which I may go to hell for thinking what I’m thinking in church.
Dear Lord, thank you for my woman and if you wouldn’t mind, keep her safe. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I can’t do it all on my own.
After more praying, more blessing, and one more song, I head for the back door but she takes my hand and leads me down the stairs.
“Sugar, please. I done what you asked. I’m plumb exhausted and so are you.”
“It’s only for a second.” Smiling widely, she introduces me to a priest from the Dominican Republic and we all chit chat.
“It was real nice meeting you.” Stifling another yawn, with my firm hand on her lower back, I push her toward the exit but the priest shoots out his hand.
“I’m looking forward to your Pre-Cana weekend. I’m so glad you’re joining us.”
My mouth drops open and I turn to Sam who’s looking like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. Not wanting to cause a scene, I wait until we get outside to blow a gasket.
“I thought you said a couple of classes not a whole fucking weekend.” I glare at her in the empty parking lot while the tops of her cheeks redden.
“I was going to tell you. Let’s be honest, we haven’t had a whole lot of time to talk recently.”
“C’mon now sugar. You must understand I’m not okay with this.”
She frowns. “I thought you’d want to get it over with.”
“You need to ask me about shit like this.” I walk her home in silence, trying to understand why she’d think a man like me could spend a whole weekend with a bunch of holy rollers.
I’m still pondering at home as my phone rings. Shit. The caller ID says it’s my stepmother. This day keeps getting better and better.
“Hello Sue.” Being how it’s Sunday, I brace for her monthly have-you-been-saved speech.
“Hello Sebastian. Your dad is going to be fine but you should come home. He had a small heart attack and is asking for you.”
Chapter 21
Sam
Sebastian’s face pales as he drops into the chair next to me. “Yeah… I will. Uh-huh. I’ll text you when I get a flight.”
He hangs up, closes his eyes, then lifts them. “My father had a heart attack. I need to go home for a bit.”
I hug him. “I’m so sorry. I’ll come too.”
“No, don’t. It’s only for family.” He stares blankly, as if he didn’t slap me in the face with his words.
“Right.” Lips pursed, I stand and my tone goes as dead as I feel.
Before I can escape, he pulls me into his lap. “Now, don’t go puttin’ on your frowny face. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“Hey, sure. I understand.” First, he doesn’t want to get married and now this.
Tears welling, I jump up, grab my coat, and rush to the door. Hopefully I can find someplace to sob. Alone. Outside, I zip up my coat and count the days to my period.
Nope. I am not PMS-ing.
“What the fuck, Sam?” His voice startles me and I turn.
“It’s nothing. I’m tired, that’s all.” A tear escapes and I wipe it away while he stares, brows creased.
He’s either angry or confused, perhaps both. “Come inside and we’ll pack, okay? I didn’t know it meant so much to you.”
However, he doesn’t apologize for excluding me from family. How clueless can he be? Pulling out of his grasp, I kick the snow with a boot, and dig my palms into my eyes, willing them to stop with the waterworks.
His temper flares. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What more do you want from me?”
“Me?” I bite my tongue because his dad may be dying. However, as soon as we get back, we’re going to hash this out.
Back inside, his jaw tics and his fists clench as he throws clothes into a knapsack.
Damn. What did I do? He’s the one who didn’t want me with him and was a jerk about the Pre-Cana classes which I’d already explained he had to take.
Shit. We don’t say much in the Uber to the airport and even less as we wait by the gate. Exhausted, my eyes droop and my head falls on his shoulder until the loudspeaker announces our flight.
After boarding, he grabs my knapsack and stuffs it overhead with his and as he walks away, it dawns on me our assigned seats are on opposite ends of the plane. In the long run, I guess it doesn’t matter because I’m sound asleep before the wheels leave the ground.
My ears pop and I watch out the window until we come to a stop in front of our gate. Sitting while those around me debark, I catch his sad gaze as he makes his way forward.
He reaches into the overhead compartment and hands me my bag. “Sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” I squeeze his arm and follow him down the narrow aisle and into the accordion-like structure leading us into the terminal.
His long strides make me jog to keep up. “I rented us a car.”
“How far is it, to your parent’s house?”
“We’re going straight to the hospital, then I got us a room at a motel.” He frowns. “Me and my stepmom don’t get along so well.”
That explains why he didn’t want me to tag along. As we wait for our rental car, I take his hand. “Are you still mad?”
“Mebbe. You?” Troubled eyes search mine and I almost say no but we need to be truthful if we’re going to take our relationship to the next level.
“A little.” I’m not letting him off the hook. He really hurt my feelings.
After he signs a thick wad of paperwork, we walk outside and cross the street, following the rental sign. In silence, we drive out of the airport and go north.
On an empty stretch of road, I figure I’ve had enough. I don’t want to meet his parents in the middle of our first fight.
“Listen, Sebastian, I’m sorry I didn’t clear the Pre-Cana weekend with you. If you want, I’ll cancel.” I wait for him to say sorry about how he said I’m not family but nothing comes.
Fine. Be like that.
We leave our baggage in the car, ask for Mr. Sutcliff at the front desk, t
hen follow the yellow dotted line to the elevator.
Swallowing hard, I hold back tears as I wait for our floor. “If you’re going to give me the silent treatment, I might as well go home.”
“You’re the one who insisted on coming.” He stares ahead, not at me, and it breaks my heart.
The waterworks which I have managed to hold back the whole flight, roll down my cheeks. “I wanted to be included as family.”
“No, you don’t. Believe me.” Who is this cold-hearted man?
Too late to escape, the elevator doors open and as we walk down the hall, I manage to pull my shit together and smile at the woman who approaches.
A sixty year old, Malibu Barbie holds open her arms as if expecting a hug from him but Suds grabs one of her hands and shakes it.
“And who is this with you?” The pleasantness in her voice doesn’t match her eyes.
“I’m Samantha. His fiancé.” At least I was.
“Oh, I had no idea.” Raising her brows, she shoots Sebastian a nasty look before plastering on another smile and entering the hospital room.
Theatrically, she throws opens the curtain where a frail, gray haired man looks up from his reading and glares.
“What’re you doing here?” His icy tone freezes me in the doorway but it’s not me he’s addressing, it’s his son.
“Now, don’t go getting all mad. I invited him.” The woman I assume to be Suds’ mother, steps to the bed and takes the older man’s hand.
“What for?” The angry gaze moves off from Suds and onto me.
No wonder Suds didn’t want me to meet them.
Suds holds forth his arm, the SEAL tat apparent. “Nice to see you, too, Dad. This here is my fiancé, Sam.”
A fifth wheel, I wave and smile but his dad doesn’t return it. “Sam. What kind of name is that?”
“It’s Samantha, dear.” His mother pats his hand.
Suds, however, growls under his breath. “Nice way to greet, her, Dad.”
His step mom holds her hand out to me and smiles a little nicer. “Don’t mind him none. He’s ornery because he hates hospitals. I’m Sue and he’s Dave. Lovely to meet you.”
We chat awkwardly about the weather, the upcoming elections, and taxes. I’m about to escape to find coffee when two young boys bound into the room.
The Dead Gigolo Caper (Suds and Sam Book 4) Page 12
