Wanted

by J. Kenner

  I carried my wine to bed and repeated his words in my head. I'd be thinking of him, too. About him. About threats and crimes and the FBI. About Washington.

  And, yes. About flying.

  I stayed awake as long as I could, fighting sleep. For the last few days, there'd been no nightmares. But tonight, without Evan beside me, I knew that they would come again. Salt-water scented dreams punctuated by the hollow screams of my sister. Dreams that reached out and grabbed me from sleep, so pernicious that they even followed me to work the next day where I sat, bleary-eyed at my desk, and tried to focus on Kat's voice, tinny and thin over the phone.

  "Kevin's a prick," she was saying. "He's just flashing his badge around so he can feel like a badass."

  "Maybe. I don't know." I'd told her about Kevin, but not about Larry. "But I don't want to think about Kevin at all." I sighed. "I still haven't heard from Evan today. I need a distraction. Want to grab a drink? Flynn's working tonight. We could go harass him at the bar."

  "Sounds like fun. See you there around eight?"

  "Perfect."

  I left a message for Flynn as soon as I got home from work telling him to expect us that evening. And then, since I had a couple of hours to kill before I changed and headed to the saloon, I decided to take a sketchpad and a glass of wine and head up to the patio.

  I was sketching Evan's face from memory when the intercom on the bar buzzed, followed by Peterson's cultured voice. "Mr. Black is here. May I send him up?"

  I pushed the button to reply. "He's here? Or he's on the phone?"

  "He's standing right in front of me."

  My pulse quickened. "Send him up." I stood and started pacing. I was so damn eager that I felt like a fool. He'd been gone less than twenty-four hours, and I felt like he'd been away for a year.

  In other words, I had it bad.

  In other words, in about a week, I was going to be royally screwed.

  Dangerous. Yeah. Evan Black was as dangerous as they came.

  I heard him push open the door, and I sprinted that direction, only to skid to a stop when he emerged, looking relaxed and windblown and sexy as hell.

  I wanted to stand there and soak in the wonder of him. I wanted this moment, when it was just the two of us, and no secrets and no threats.

  Then he held out his arms and I collapsed into them, overwhelmed by the sudden, inescapable feeling that this was like coming home.

  Except it was only an illusion.

  I knew the surface of his secrets, but only what he'd revealed to me and only as an allegory. And while I'd been telling myself that was okay since I was leaving--that it was for the best, even--the truth was I wanted more. I wanted so much more.

  Because I'd realized that it wasn't the fantasy I'd spun about Evan Black that gave me that thrill I craved so much--it was the man himself. His presence, his humor, his tenderness. Even his secrets.

  And all I wanted in that moment was to know him. To really and truly know him.

  "What is it?" he asked, stepping back to take a good, long look at my face.

  I half-laughed. What was it I'd said? That he saw me? Apparently, I'd been dead on the money with that one. There was no keeping things hidden from this man.

  I wanted to beg him to tell me his secrets, but I was desperately afraid that if I asked he would say no. And I didn't want to face that, not right then. Not when he'd just walked through my door.

  And so I kept my own secret, hiding my real needs behind a false smile. "It's nothing," I said. "Just that I didn't expect you tonight, and I already have plans with Kat and Flynn at the pub. But I can break them."

  "Don't do that. I'll go with you. Cole wanted to grab a drink tonight anyway. I'll tell him to meet us."

  "Yeah?" I couldn't help my smile. It felt so nice--so normal--to be planning an evening out with friends. "What about Tyler?"

  "Tyler thinks that you and I are a bad idea."

  I nodded, my chest feeling unwelcomely tight. I loved Tyler like a brother and hated this feeling that I was disappointing him somehow. "But Cole doesn't?" He sure as hell hadn't been the picture of support at Destiny.

  The corner of Evan's mouth quirked up. "He thinks we're a bad idea, too. But he also knows you're leaving soon. He said we might as well get each other out of our systems while we have the chance."

  "I see." My stomach felt like it was filled with rocks. "Well. There you go. I always knew Cole was a smart guy." My smile felt wobbly. "A fling before Washington. Almost sounds like the name of a really bad movie."

  I tried to force a grin, but Evan's expression was entirely humorless. He reached out and gently stroked my jawline. "It won't ever happen, you know. It's not possible that you would ever be out of my system. You could walk away right now, and even if I never saw you again, I would always hold you tight inside me."

  The rocks dissolved, and I felt lighter than air. I couldn't seem to form a proper response, but when I lifted myself up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, I think he understood. His mouth tasted like mint, and though it had only been one night, I missed him like crazy. I didn't even want to think about how I was going to survive in Washington. If nothing else, I supposed Congressman Winslow was about to get himself the best damn employee ever, because I was going to dive so deep into my work that I didn't have time or energy to think of anything else, not even the man I was falling in love with.

  I trembled in his arms, finally acknowledging the thought I'd tried to ignore at the art exhibition. I'd fallen for Evan Black years ago. But I'd fallen in love within the last few days. When I had to leave, it would be a different kind of fall altogether.

  "Hey," he said, breaking our kiss and then dipping his head to brush his lips over the tip of my nose. "Tell me what you're thinking."

  "That I want you inside me," I said.

  He glanced at his watch, then back up at me. His smile was slow and sensual and completely melted me. "What time are we supposed to be at the pub?"

  "Do you care if we're late?"

  "Hell no," he said.

  "Then it doesn't matter." I pressed against him. "We should go down to the bedroom."

  "We should," he agreed.

  "I don't want to move."

  "Then don't."

  "I want it hard," I said. "No talk, no niceties. Just you inside me five minutes ago."

  "Jesus, Lina," he growled, then scooped me up so that my legs were around his waist. We were only a few feet from the kitchen area, and he plunked me down on the countertop, yanking my skirt up in the process, then ripping his jeans open so fast I was surprised the buttons didn't pop. I spread my legs, wanting him, unable to wait even another second, and then reached down to try to fumble out of my panties.

  "No," he said, and as I tilted my head up in question, he reached out and tugged the crotch of my panties roughly to one side. He thrust two fingers inside me, so hard and fast and deep that I cried out, and then he moved in between my legs, his cock positioned now where his fingers used to be. I was already soaked, but as soon as I looked down at where our bodies were joined--at the way he was moving inside me and the way my body was drawing him in--I got even wetter still.

  "Harder," I demanded as he pistoned against me, his hands on my hips holding me in place even as I leaned back, bracing myself with my hands on the counter. "Yes, please, more." I'd lost the ability to form a coherent thought. I was need only. I was desire.

  And then--faster than I could ever remember coming in my life--I burst into a wild flurry of molecules, everything I was melting into everything that was Evan.

  "Baby." He sighed, his body still trembling against mine as I clung to him.

  After a moment, I pulled reluctantly away. "I should probably change before we go."

  "No," he said, as he reached for some napkins and cleaned us both up. "Keep the skirt and the panties on."

  "Really?"

  "I like it," he said. "I like knowing you're freshly fucked. That just a few minutes ago your legs were wide and
I was deep inside you. I like you sitting there in your little work outfit looking all proper, and knowing that I'm the reason your panties are damp. It reminds me that you're mine. At least for a few more days."

  "I am yours," I said. I always will be.

  I didn't say the last part aloud, but he knew it. How could he not? Hadn't I learned that Evan Black knew me better than anyone?

  "I'm serious," Kat said, holding up her third beer. "I think the two of you should go skydiving."

  I glanced at Evan, who was clearly amused by my very drunk friend.

  "And why would we want to do that?" Evan asked.

  "Well," Kat said, leaning across the table with a very serious expression. "In case you hadn't noticed, our little Angie is a bit of a thrillseeker."

  "No," Evan said, his voice laced with mock surprise.

  "It's true." Kat nodded a few times too many, as if she was trying to mimic a bobble-head doll. "And you need to make sure that she gets it out of her system, because once she moves to D.C., she's going to be boring as shit. Daddy issues," she added, in a mock whisper. "It's true. Honest."

  "What's true is that you are taking a taxi home," I said, forcing myself to smile and sound lighthearted when I really wanted to strangle my friend. My move was barreling down on me, and I didn't want to be reminded of it, thank you very much. Even more, I didn't want Evan reminded of it.

  "Are you suggesting I'm drunk?"

  "Not suggesting at all. Flat-out stating."

  "Drunk or not," Evan said, "I think your friend has a great idea. Shall I arrange for a skydiving session?"

  "Don't you dare."

  "And here I thought you wanted to fly."

  Beneath the table, I cupped my hand over his cock and smiled sweetly. "That's what I have you for," I said. My voice was a tease, but I meant every word.

  In the interest of public decorum, I started to move my hand away, but he pressed his hand over mine, holding my palm firmly in place. He met my eyes, his amused, and I couldn't help but grin.

  "The lady makes a good point," Evan said, and I had to laugh. I wasn't the only one who got off on the thrill.

  "She has so got you wrapped around her little finger," Kat said.

  "She does," Evan agreed cheerfully, and Kat flashed me a brilliant, approving smile.

  "So where's Cole?" I asked as Kat signaled to a waitress for another round of drinks. "It's almost eight-thirty."

  "I've texted him twice," Evan said. "No answer."

  We'd arrived only ten minutes late thanks to Evan's ability to maneuver the Thunderbird at incredibly fast and unsafe speeds. But there'd been no need to hurry. Cole was still MIA, and Flynn had gotten stuck covering another shift, and so the hour he'd planned to take off to hang with us now had him behind the bar working his ass off. And when he wasn't running around mixing drinks, he was occupied by a woman who looked to be in her early forties, and who kept calling him over to talk to her.

  Kat had noticed her first and pointed her out to me. Now we'd both been eyeing the action, trying to figure out who she was to Flynn. I guessed she was no one--just a woman looking to get laid by the cute bartender. Probably recently divorced. Probably had a crappy day at work.

  "I think she's looking to fool around while her husband's out of town," Kat said when we'd gone to the ladies' room together.

  "I hope not. The last thing Flynn needs is a pissed-off husband poking around."

  Whoever she was, she was keeping Flynn busy. He'd only made it to our table once, and that was just to introduce himself to Evan. I was hopeful that when Cole showed up the second bartender would have made it in to work, and Flynn could take a break.

  "There he is," Evan said, looking toward the entrance. Then he pushed back his chair and stood. "Something's wrong."

  Since I was a head shorter than Evan, I couldn't see Cole's approach until I stood as well. The moment I did, I knew that Evan was right. Cole was like a storm of muscle moving toward us, his expression thunderous. Even his usually kind eyes flashed with fury that he wasn't bothering to conceal.

  "What the fuck?" Evan asked, obviously as baffled as I was.

  Cole cast one look my way. "Sorry, baby girl. I need him for a few." He pointed at Evan. "We've got a problem."

  "What's going on?" I asked, but Cole was already walking away, and Evan was moving fast behind him, his phone out and at his ear.

  "What the fuck?" Kat said.

  "Business stuff, I guess. Evan said there was some shit going down with one of their California ventures." I tried to sound nonchalant, but I was worried and Larry's warning and Kevin's voice was ringing in my ears.

  They'd been gone about five minutes when Flynn came over and sat down at our table. "Where'd they go?"

  "Parking lot, I think." I looked over and saw that the cougar was gone. "Lose your friend?"

  "Fuck her," Flynn said.

  Kat laughed. "That's what we thought you had planned. What happened?"

  "It's like a negotiation," Flynn said. "We couldn't come to terms."

  "More business shit," I said, then swallowed the last sip of my cabernet as Flynn and Kat laughed. "Another round?"

  "Hell, yes," Flynn said, as he signaled for one of the waitresses. "I'm off work for a full thirty-six hours."

  I'd finished two more glasses of wine and was feeling the effects of it by the time Evan came back. Cole wasn't with him, and I watched the disappointment play across Kat's face, becoming all the more pronounced when Evan refused to explain why Cole was blowing us off. "Work stuff," he said, which was hardly a satisfactory explanation.

  What was worse was the way he was distracted for the rest of the evening. He was nice to my friends, saying the right stuff, laughing at their jokes, buying rounds of drinks. But he felt absent somehow. I put up with it until we left, but in the car, I demanded answers. "What's going on, Evan?"

  "Business," he said. He stopped at an intersection, and shot me a sideways look. "It'll blow over."

  "So what's the trouble?"

  "Problems," he said. "At Destiny."

  I licked my lips, remembering his red, raw knuckles. "That guy? Larry? Are the girls okay?"

  He focused on the road. "They're fine. It's being dealt with."

  I could tell he was getting irritated, but I pressed on anyway. "So is this a legitimate business thing? Or should I be worried that the FBI is going to swoop down on you?"

  He yanked the wheel to the left even as he slammed on the brakes. I squealed, the sound of my voice matching the sound of the tires as he careened into a parking lot and killed the engine. "What the fuck, Lina?"

  I gaped at him.

  "Seriously," he demanded. "What the fuck?"

  I shook my head. "What's going on, Evan? Did Cole hit you on the head? Because your mood has turned on a dime here, and I don't know what's going on, but you're taking it out on me."

  "Are you staying?"

  "Staying?" I repeated, because I was completely confused now.

  "Are you staying in Chicago, or are you heading off to Washington in just over a week?"

  "I--" I licked my lips. "I just want to close this distance, Evan. Cole burst in and you ran off with him, and when you came back, it was like you were lost behind a wall. And I get that. There's stuff you can't talk about--stuff we both know about but that we've been avoiding, and it's my fault, too, because I've been skirting around the edge, as well." I sucked in a breath, not sure if my pounding pulse was because of my words or the lingering result of his reckless driving. "I don't want evasions anymore. I don't want stories or allegories or what-ifs. I want you, Evan. I want the real you."

  I was spilling out my heart to him, watching his face, searching for softness, for acceptance, for relief.

  Instead, all I saw were hard lines and angles. I saw regret, too, and it sent cold prickles of fear through me.

  He turned away, his attention focused on some point outside the front windshield. "I want that, too," he finally said.

  I exha
led in relief and waited for him to say more. To tell me the truth. To finally let me see what was underneath the knight's armor.

  But that wasn't what he said.

  "Are you staying in Chicago?" he repeated, this time speaking very slowly and very clearly. "Or are you heading off to Washington in a week?"

  "Dammit, Evan," I shouted, losing all patience now. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

  He continued to face forward, but his voice had the same edge that I was feeling. "Answer the question."

  "I--yes," I snapped. "You know I have a job. And in a few days, I'll even have a place to live."

  He put the car back into gear and pulled out onto the street. I sat frozen, certain that we'd just crossed some line in the sand that I hadn't even realized he'd drawn. When we reached my condo, he passed the valet stand and pulled to the curb. He sat silently, and it took me a second to realize he was waiting for me to get out.

  "What the fuck, Evan?"

  "You're not being true to yourself, Lina," he said, turning to face me. "Don't expect more from me than you're willing to give yourself."

  eighteen

  You're not being true to yourself.

  For the rest of the night and into the next day, his words ran through my head over and over, like some horrible children's ditty that had turned into a pernicious earworm.

  You're not being true to yourself.

  At first I was pissed. I paced and I drank and I managed not to throw things, but only because I liked all the things that were in Jahn's condo, and I'd already sacrificed one coffee cup to Evan Black.

  So I worked off my anger by burning calories, stalking wildly around the condo, muttering to myself like a madwoman and making up some pretty damn fine curses in the process.

  You're not being true to yourself.

  Then I sat. And I tried to watch television in order to drown out the annoying little voice that kept popping into my head, telling me that he was right.

  But the voice was too loud and I couldn't concentrate. Not on CNN, not on streaming episodes of Buffy. Not even on the fine figure of Gordon Ramsay cursing out all those little chef wannabes.

  You're not being true to yourself.

  Goddamn Evan Black.

  He was right.

  He was right, but I was scared to change. I'd been living my life under someone else's terms for so long that I wasn't sure I knew how to do anything else. For that matter, I wasn't sure I knew how to be me.