"Mate, she's fuckin' psycho on a good day. She got a hangover and cramps, I wouldn't fuck with her. Just give in. You'll be going to jail regardless. It's yer choice if ya do that with yer cock intact or not."
"Killjoy," she grumbled when he fell back against the wall, offering up his wrists.
And just like that, she got another collar, sitting him in the back with a glaring Linny, cuffed to the Oh, Shite bar with a strip of packing tape across his mouth.
"What? Sometimes they spit. Or talk. Which is even worse."
"Why not duct tape?"
"Because if people see duct tape on someone in the backseat of someone's car, they get concerned. Try to be all noble, and call the cops. We can't be having that since I am not licensed, and this would look very much like federal offense with a twenty-year bid. I don't know about you, but I don't plan on spending the next two decades in a box."
"Got it," I agreed, nodding as we pulled out of the driveway, stopping at the corner store, seeing Kevin sitting at a picnic table at the side chowing down on a day-old hotdog. "What's up?" I asked.
"If I don't get some Reece's in the next two-point-five minutes, I can't be held accountable for my actions," she declared, eyes small with what I knew to be a mix not only of typical hangover pain, but likely cramps as well. The woman was plain striking out on the wellbeing front.
"Got it," I agreed, swinging open the door, and heading inside, coming back with the entire shelf display of Reece's along with a coffee, Gatorade, and cheese crunches.
She reached for those first, brows furrowed. "For you?"
"Dunno. Thought it was a comfort food kinda day," I suggested, almost feeling a little embarrassed about my lack of knowledge surrounding period food cravings.
"It is," she agreed, tearing it open, and placing the bag between her thighs for easy access while she drove, slapping my hand if I tried to grab one, so I satisfied myself with peanut butter cups, scooping out a bit of the insides to let Linny enjoy, right in the face of the schmuck cuffed in the back.
"Not a scratch?" the guy I assumed was Christian asked as we walked into Geoff's office late that night.
"On me or him?" Lou asked, holding the man in question by his upper arm in a grip that made her knuckles white, so it must have been bruising his flesh.
"Both," he shot back.
"Really? You don't see a scratch right... there?" she asked, swinging the man around, making his temple crack the side of a load-bearing beam in the middle of the room.
"Don't be too hard on yerself, mate," I consoled Christian. "She's got other-level frustration to use to her advantage today."
"So who is this?" Christian asked, light blue eyes roving over me, assessing me.
He was likely around Lou's age with wide shoulders, ink on his arms, and medium-brown hair. Good-looking in that perfect features kinda way.
"Christian, Adler. Adler, Christian. Should we all hug now?" Lou asked, clearly in need of bed, some Advil, and three-quarters of a pizza.
"Boyfriend?"
"My neighbor."
Not gonna lie, that stung.
"You got a Henchmen for a neighbor?"
"What can I say? I live in a shitty area," she told him, walking over to the sidebar of coffee, pouring herself a mug of something that smelt like it burned hours ago.
"Doesn't look at you like he's just your neighbor," Christian went on.
"Yes, well, I have a great ass. I don't care if he was my Catholic preacher neighbor, he'd still look at me like that."
"Fuck's up with you today?" Geoff asked after coming back from sticking the skip somewhere in the back. "You on the ra..."
"On the what?" she asked, moving from the coffee station to his desk in all of two strides, holding the steaming coffee mug over her boss's crotch. "On the what, Geoff? Say it."
"Maybe take her home," Christian suggested, giving Lou a smile that I could only describe as brotherly. "Get some food in her or something. She's surly as fuck when she's hungry."
"Come on, duchess," I said, taking the mug out of her hands, placing it down on the desk. "Today might not be the day for that."
"Any day is a good day to threaten my boss. I don't know what kind of lame ass places you've been working. It keeps morale up," she added, sending Geoff a saccharine smile as I put an arm around her lower back, and led her outside. "I want pizza," she declared in a pathetic little whining voice as I led her to the passenger side of her car without protest.
"Ya got it."
"And mozzarella sticks."
"As if I would deny ya them."
"Fried ravioli," she added when I closed her in, walked around the hood, and slid into the driver's seat.
Then I said words I never could have even imagined thinking before I met Rey. "Anything green to go with that?"
"Oregano is green."
To that, I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. "Guess I can't argue with that logic," I agreed, getting her home, watching as she fetched a blanket from her room, coming back in baggy black sweatpants, and throwing herself down on the couch.
Leaving the food up to me.
Which, for a woman such as her, one so accustomed to taking care of every aspect of her life down to the smallest of details, yeah, I thought that was a step in the right direction, her asking something of me. Even if all it was was to feed her.
"Adler?" she asked sometime later, after watching an unhealthy number of episodes of Buffy.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you here?" she asked, then folded up quickly, shooting me an uncertain look. "I didn't mean that the way it came out."
"What way did ya mean it, duchess?" I asked, reaching out to tuck her wild hair behind her ear.
"I mean... why? Why did you decide to engage me, continue to try to get to know me? Why? I'm not an easy person, Adler."
"Ya are kinda insulting me by implyin' I like easy people."
"Oh, please. I'm sure you are all over the easy women you can find."
"It's different."
"Why is it different? How is it different?"
"I dunno, Lou. Guess ya are different."
"I'm going to need more than that."
"I wish I had answers for ya. The kind ya want. There's just something about ya, duchess. I can't put my finger on it. But it's there. It hooked me, reeled me in. Despite how much ya fight me on it."
"You barely know me."
"I know a lot more than ya think. What don't I know? I know yer schedule, yer likes and dislikes, yer inhuman food cravings, yer determination, yer snark..."
"You don't know everything." Her voice was low, hesitant.
"Not yet," I agreed, reaching out to cup her knee, squeezing it. "Can't claim I am a patient man, Lou, but I get that some shite takes time to dig up and uncover. Some wounds hurt like a motherfucker when you try to rip them open to share them with someone else. I get it. I know that ain't gonna happen tomorrow or the next day. But I will wait for it. I want to know everything."
"But... why? You said yourself, you are a casual guy. Putting in time with me isn't casual."
"Why haven't ya fucked me yet, Lou?" I asked, making her head snap up.
"What?"
"Ya aren't the kind of woman to overanalyze sex. Ya take it when ya want it. And ya want it with me. But ya fight it. Why?" Her mouth opened then clamped shut, her shoulders hunching up a bit. "Exactly. Ya don't get that any more than I get why I want to give ya time. There's just something goin' on here. It's new, and neither of us know how to handle it. We're wingin' it."
"What do you want from me?"
"Not asking for more than ya can give me, Lou. I get that it is gonna be like pullin' teeth at first. But I got a good grip."
Her gaze dipped to her sock-clad feet peeking out of the blanket. "That sounds very one-sided."
"Ya want parts of me, duchess, ya can have 'em."
"And what if I want all of you?"
My stomach dropped at the very idea, a familiar heaviness settling down on my
chest.
Because no one got everything.
No one even got a large piece of the puzzle.
There were people who knew bits.
People like Ward who'd been down in the muck with me.
But the before and the after?
No one knew those parts.
The parts that created the kid who could shoot his friend then kill the man who had imprisoned them, the parts that led me to a life of shameless killing, fucking, and wilding out.
Sharing all that was something that made me harden inside, something that brought up some intrinsic, animalistic drive to protect myself.
So it said something that I fought it back, I refused to hide, I opened my mouth and spoke.
"I will give ya what ya want from me too, Lou. Including multiple orgasms," I added, wanting to lighten up the mood.
She snorted at that, rolling her eyes, then shaking her head. "We aren't fucking for the next couple of days."
"Get that. But I think we already established that I want more than fucking from ya. I mean, I want the fucking too. Lots of it. On every surface of this apartment. In yer car. In the glass room at the compound..."
"The glass room at the compound?" she asked, eyes twinkling.
"It's a bucket list item," I admitted, shrugging, knowing most of the guys who were shacked up with a girl had tried that room out, finding myself a bit jealous of that experience.
"I'm not above a little risqué, semi-public sex," she agreed.
"Ya got any sex goals?"
"Sex goals," she mused, pursing her lips slightly.
"Come on. Tell me," I demanded, sensing hesitation.
"It's a bit out there."
"Out there can be fun."
"Alright, fine. I want to be a skip."
"A skip? Like the guys you chase? Ah," I said, getting it. "Ya want to get a head-start, then get chased and fucked."
"Yes," she agreed, sending me a smile I felt in my cock. "I think a guy being able to find and capture me - someone who makes a living finding and catching guys - would be great foreplay."
"Only the worthy get the goodies."
"Exactly," she agreed, eyes dancing, glad I wasn't judging her.
"I think that sounds fun. I bet ya I get the goods."
"Oh, yeah?" she asked, something taking over her face, something I couldn't quite read.
"I don't think I like that look."
"How about this," she started, and I was starting to recognize challenge and wicked pleasure in her eyes. "Once my uterus stops throwing its baby-less fit, I disappear."
"Oh, ya are fuckin' evil," I decided, shaking my head. "If I don't catch ya, I don't get ya at all?"
"That's the plan."
This woman.
Turning sex into a game.
Offering her body as a trophy.
"How would it work? Do I get a file? Known contacts?"
"Not a damn thing," she told me, eyes dancing. "If you are as good as you say you are, you will be able to track me down."
"With ya as the prize, duchess, I know I will find ya."
"So, it's a plan. I guess I will see you in... five days."
"Wait... what? Why five days?"
"Because that's when my lady bits will no longer be a crime scene."
I snorted at that. "Aye, but why can't I see ya until then?" Her lips formed into an O at that, her shoulder shrugging. "Christ, duchess. Haven't we established that I want more than just sex from ya? Want the other stuff too."
"What other stuff? I don't have a job that I know of anytime soon. I'll just be going on runs. Fucking around the house."
"Does this 'fucking around' include cooking?"
To that, she let out a small laugh, light and airy, girly even, a sound you wouldn't think she was capable of. "You know, if you learned to cook, you wouldn't have to beg others to cook for you."
"Aye, but why learn to cook if I can have a beautiful woman cook for me? Preferably in the nude?"
She smiled then, all white teeth and genuine joy, the first time all day I saw her truly look happy. "Nude, huh? Have you ever reached into an oven to fetch supper? Do you want me burning my boobs?"
"Okay, so in a bra and thong."
"Let me guess... and heels?"
"Now ya are getting it."
"You know, it might not be a hardship having you around, Adler."
"Well, good. 'Cause it sure as fuck ain't a hardship bein' around you, Lou. But ya look like ya are about to drop," I told her, noting the heaviness of her eyelids.
"It's been a long day," she agreed, taking a deep breath.
"Ya managed to chase down a skip in another state while nursing a hangover and having... that whole situation," I said, waving at her lap, "goin' on. Ya need some rest. Want me to take Linny for a walk for ya? I'll let myself back in. Won't wake ya up."
"I think I can get behind this co-dog-parenting thing," she decided. "But you have to take that bone and stuff it with the extra crunchy peanut butter in the cabinet for her when you get back. That's her nightly ritual."
"Got it," I agreed, leashing up Linny, looking back at Lou as she flopped back down on the couch, hitting the play button on the remote so the eerie pulse-pounding intro to Buffy started playing, yanking the blanket up to her chin, her eyes already starting to flutter closed. "Goodnight, duchess," I called, realizing it might have been the first time in my entire fucking sorry life that I said goodnight to a woman.
And what did Lou say back?
A long, incoherent grumbling noise.
Which, in the moment, was the best sound I had heard in a good, long time.
It was right about then that I realized how fucked I was.
EIGHT
Lou
The next few days were the oddest, most interesting ones I had experienced in longer than I could remember.
I had no calls from Geoff, leaving me to do exactly what I said. I worked out. I cleaned. I did three month's worth of laundry. I shopped.
And, well, I hung out with Adler through all of it.
With the situation with the president's daughter - for the time being - settled, the club seemed to have little demand on his time. He went in some nights after he left me, pulling some guard duty while I slept, leaving me to wonder when he himself got any rest.
But, quite frankly, I was too selfish to demand he take some time to himself, to rest, to recoup.
Because, as I quickly found out, I liked having him around. I liked his head on my shoulder, looking down at what I was mixing on the stove, his chest expanding wide against my back as he took a deep breath, like he could taste the food by sniffing it.
I liked the way he stole my cell, and my call list, and cold called for me while I folded laundry, charming his way to more actual sales than I had likely ever made.
I liked how he shot back at me when I snarked him, how he attempted to wash the dishes after dinner, how he joined me at the grocery store, tossing various items into the cart, challenging me to find a way to make them all work together.
I liked how when I strapped myself into my shoes every morning, leashing up Linny as well, he was waiting in the hall for us, running alongside even if he cursed the activity inventively... in several languages, leaving me to remember how he once told me I wouldn't be able to track him down, how we had wagered on it.
And I wanted to know.
I wanted to know more than I wanted to track down my next skip, have my next meal. And everyone knew how much I loved my food and taking shitheads off the streets. So that was saying something.
But it felt wrong now.
To use my contacts to look into him.
To snoop.
It felt like a betrayal.
Especially since he told me that he would tell me. Someday.
My problem was that I had never been accused of being patient.
But he was willing to be patient with me, give me time to get comfortable before I let him in, showed him my ugly and weird and uncomfortab
le.
I owed him the same amount of time.
So I stifled the demands, the questions.
And I learned something that was somewhat new to me. I learned to be present. To enjoy the moment. To take pleasure in whatever we were doing without thinking about pasts or futures.
It ended up being the least stressful six days of my life.
I was almost upset when my little visitor went away finally, leaving no reason at all that we couldn't go through with the plan.
To play a game.
A game that would end with us in bed.
Which was crazy.
I had always been one to rush into sex, and stay far away from the getting to know someone stuff.
And here I was wanting to delay the sex to get more of the chaste interactions with Adler.
I guess he had been right.
About something being different between us.
Even if neither of us could put a finger on exactly what it was. Even if it didn't really make sense. For either of us.
I had never been someone to simply accept some deeper plan, some secretly woven fabric of life, some higher power setting us up out of the billions of people on the earth.
It was hard to reconcile my aversion to believe in an order to the universe with this thing, this feeling, this knowing, this intrinsic understanding that this man who I barely knew - especially when I first experienced the sensation - was different, was a game changer, was someone important to my life.
But regardless of if I could understand it on a logical level, I felt it on another one, an emotional one, an almost spiritual one, even though that made no sense.
Everything with Adler just felt almost... easy. Effortless. Maybe because we were so similar, so full of attitude, blunt, interested in things that other quote-unquote normal people didn't find appropriate. Weapons, knives, martial arts, old torture techniques.
And, well, it had to be said that we got each other. The guards, the fear of them being pulled down, all the real and hideous bits of ourselves being on display to be judged, found wanting, be rejected.
I didn't know his damage, but I somehow understood that it was like mine, the kind of jagged and raw that most people could not accept because it was nothing close to the reality they had lived.
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