There’s a switch in my brain and my crotch that shuts off the emotional attachment part of my soul, leaving me empty, and incapable of giving and receiving love. Okay, fine, I’m exaggerating just a smidge. I do love Andi and Jaz, but when it comes to anyone outside of our three-ring circus, the emotions are rather sparse. So, to say I’m a little taken aback by the way my insides are tingling is an understatement. Hellz bells, this guy, Jett Roman, fuck me, he’s stupid, crazy hot. He’s so mesmerizing that the tiny bud between my legs, otherwise known as a clitoris, so I’m told, is buzzing. It’s the strangest sensation and it’s making me anxious.
I try to inhale a slow and even breath before I say, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Roman.” Holy monkey brains, my voice just cracked when I said his name. Because, even his name is goddamn sexy. I try to hide my shaky voice, asking, “What can I do for you?”
Hot damn, he’s needs to stop smiling. My face is flushed, and I’m pretty sure that was sweat that just trickled down between my breasts. And did I just pee myself? Why do I feel dampness in my panties? Shishkabobs, am I actually aroused? Why does he keep staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face? I must. I need a fucking mirror. I probably have the biggest booger hanging out of my nose and that’s why he’s grinning at me like a damn idiot. It’s that or he really does know my secret and he’s just using Thomas Anderson as a ploy to get me to turn myself over to him.
OMG, I need to get a grip.
“Sir?” I ask, prompting him to spit out why he is sitting in my classroom, eyeing me like I’m a piece of candy. I’m guessing he’s not here for a staring contest.
He shakes his head, as to clear his thoughts and his roaming eyes. “Sorry. I, um, I understand that Thomas and you have had some arguments. I just wanted to come in and see how we can resolve these issues.”
“Well, Mr. Roman, I wouldn’t quite say they have been arguments, rather some disrespectful and rude outbursts. I assure you, there has been no yelling or name calling, on my part anyway. But yes, Thomas has had some difficult days,” I say politely. My voice is back on track and purring with sweetness. It’s a trait I’ve had to work on, but I manage to hide my foul mouth and dirty thoughts well. To anyone outside of my circle, which is only Andi and Jaz, I’m as sweet as cherry pie.
“That’s the problem, Ms. Knight. See, Thomas’ mom, my wife, she recently passed away. And because I am just the stepfather, Thomas is having a hard time adjusting to life without his mom. I’ve really only been in the picture for just over five years, so our relationship is not so...um, close, I guess you might say. I’m just worried about him and how it is I can help him cope and get through this.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Roman. It explains a lot about Thomas’ behavior, and I wish he felt comfortable enough to have come to me. I’m here to help in any way, whether it be academically or a trusted adult to open up to.”
I almost laugh out loud with that last part. Trusted adult my ass. I’m probably the last person anyone should trust, and not by the means of confiding in...I am a good listener, and actually have some wise words to share. But for obvious reasons, I’m not one to cozy up to, especially if you have any secrets that would cost you your life. There is a reason my circle of friends is so small—that’s because I don’t trust anyone, and since I don’t trust anyone, I suppose people can sense that and find me not easily approachable.
“I appreciate that, and I’m sorry if Thomas has gotten out of line in your classroom. I would hate to think that he has disrespected you in any way. And I will be talking to him about that. That is not how he was raised, I assure you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Roman—”
“Please, call me Jett,” he interrupts.
I nod with a gentle smile. The more he talks about Thomas, the more I begin to relax. He really isn’t here to read me my rights. “Jett, do you think Thomas would be willing to talk with our onsite counselor? Maybe if he’s not comfortable with opening up to you or to me, he would do better with Mr. Carson. He’s a great guy and very easy to talk to. And if it helps, I am more than happy to offer Thomas any extensions on homework, as long as he doesn’t take advantage of the situation.”
There’s that beaming smile again. It’s quite striking. His whole face is, to tell you the truth. His light brown hair is short on the top and buzzed close to his scalp on the sides, with neatly groomed eyebrows that enhance his light blue eyes. They’re so light they almost appear to be clear. There’s a prominent definition in his cheeks that accentuate his chiseled jawline. And his lips...they’re fucking perfect. Full and kissable. Oh hellz nah, did I really just say kissable? This isn’t good. I need to end this meeting. Of course my eyes trail down his chest, stopping at where the desk hides the rest of him. His shoulders are broad, and I wonder if he’s truly as muscular as he appears or if he’s wearing a flack-jacket that’s bulking him up. For God’s sake, make it stop!
“Wow, you would be willing to do all that for Thomas? That’s really great of you, Ms. Knight. I’ll make sure he takes you up on all that.”
I keep focusing on Jett’s mouth, and obsessively blinking and licking my lips. “So, is that all?” I say rather sharply. I don’t want to come across as rude, but if I don’t get Mr. Roman out of my classroom, Lord only knows what I’ll do or what I’ll confess.
His head tilts slightly to the side as if he’s about to question why I’m cutting our conversation short. “I suppose so,” he says. He stands, so I do the same, and when he holds out his hand, I slip mine into his for a firm shake. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Knight. Thank you for your help.”
My lips curve up in a subtle grin. “I’m here to help. Anything Thomas needs, please, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
Preferably over the phone, so I don’t need to wear a napkin tucked into my shirt to catch the drool.
I’m left alone in my classroom, my belly twisting in knots, and the only way I know how to calm my nerves and bring order to my world is to organize. But there’s nothing left to do. I’ve done it all...from correcting papers, to re-alphabetizing the bookshelf, to cleaning down all the tables with hospital grade disinfectant and re-sharpening all the pencils. I reach for my purse and notice my bare wrist.
My bracelet.
Damn, I’m losing my mind. Have I been that preoccupied that I haven’t bothered to even look for it? No, that’s not my style. I’m usually on point, so what the fuck is my problem? Okay, let me think about this. When was the last time I wore it? I must’ve taken it off at some point during class the day Thomas hip-checked my desk and forgot to put it back on. I’ve done it before, removed it because it gets in the way of the whiteboard. I can’t stand the way the beads dig into my wrist every time my bracelet taps the board as I write. Some people think beady things are stress relievers. I, however, find it fucking annoying. Anyway, I typically put it in the same place...the little antique dish a student gave me.
Now that I’m thinking about it, the last time I wore it was the night we went after Lloyd Dawson. I rub my face in deep thought.
No, it’s not possible. Is it?
I’m being paranoid, that’s all. My bracelet couldn’t have gone far. It’s probably in my purse. That has to be it. I must’ve put it in the zippered pocket and forgot all about it. Though, when I open my purse and unzip the inside pocket, the only thing inside is a pack of gum and a tampon. Oh, and my trusty syringe of Thiopental that I keep on hand just in case of an emergency.
For fuck’s sake, I have a bad feeling.
There’s no way I lost it at the bar. I would have noticed for sure, right? No, no I would have. Maybe I forgot it at the compound. I do take it off before I dive elbows deep into a chest cavity. Although, I would have had it neatly tucked into the drawer on the right of the cabinet, in the designated container, next to the box of gloves. But, I don’t recall seeing it in its spot when I was there last, which was the night of Caleb Foster.
Oh hellz nah.
I grab the lip of my de
sk and shove it across the floor. I drop to my hands and knees, searching every crevice and open space along the wall and surrounding area of where my table usually sits. Nothing. I crawl over to my desk until I’m under it and run my hands along the carpet. I’m not much of a crier, but today I’m on the cusp of shedding big ol’ crocodile tears. I don’t like this intense feeling swirling through me. It’s not one that I’m familiar with, and I’m not sure how to cope with it. And the voice coming from above me throws me for another loop.
WHAM.
I cry out as my head slams against the underside of the desk. I scurry out from underneath my table, rubbing the top of my head. When I glance up, Jett Roman is stretched over the table looking down on me.
“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, coming around the table, kneeling down in front of me.
I’m staring back at him, confused and dazed, not one hundred percent sure if it’s from my head nailing the desk or if it’s because he’s super close to my face. Close enough that I can feel his breath across my cheek.
“I’m fine. Really,” I mumble. “Did you forget something?” Jett stands, then holds his hand out to me. I take it graciously, and with his assistance, climb to my feet. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I didn’t forget anything. I was just...um, I’m sorry, this was easier when I repeated it over and over in my head.”
My brows pull together. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought, because he’s making no sense whatsoever.
“Sorry,” he says again. “I wanted to ask you if you would like to grab a drink some time.”
Ah, there’s Douchey McDoucher-bag. What a creep. He did say that he just lost his wife, did he not? And now he’s asking me on a date. Whoa, did he just ask me out on a date?
I don’t believe, in my entire life, that I have ever been asked out before...on a legit date. Of course I’m repulsed, yet oddly flattered. There’s no way I should be remotely intrigued by his proposal, but I am, dammit. I need to keep my cool, so I suck in a steady breath and smile, then respond. “Oh, I’m flattered, really, but I try not to get involved with my students parents. I don’t want to make it weird for anyone.” Which is partially true. It would be weird. That, and because he’s a cop, and I’m pretty damn sure that he’ll be able to see through my facade the more he’s around me. I mean, these cops are trained to detect the evil that’s lurking within the bad guys...right? And let’s face it, I’m not quite dating material. I’m not exactly the girlfriend type. And, shit, he just lost his wife. That’s weird, right?
Well fuck, Jett’s face looks like someone just kicked him in the nuts. I think I really just knocked the wind out of his sails, but before I can apologize, he speaks up. “No, no, I get it. I totally understand. That makes perfect sense.” He takes a moment to think of what he’s going to say next to make him look less like an idiot for just being turned down, and as if he can’t think of anything else, he asks, “Is there a reason why you were crawling around on the floor?”
I chuckle. “I lost my bracelet.”
Jett presses his lips together and nods. “What does it look like?”
“It has red and black beads with a tiny elephant charm on it.”
“All right then, let’s take a look, shall we?”
Before I can answer, Jett’s down on his knees skimming the bottom of the desk with his hands, and grazing his cheek along the carpet so he can see underneath the furniture. I’m not sure what to do with myself, but standing here watching as he searches for my charm seems a bit awkward. I puff out an unsteady breath and follow suit, dropping to my knees.
Chapter 10
Gray
I typically don’t go out on weeknights, but tonight I had to make an exception. The meeting I had with Jett in my classroom today has left me flustered. So, before I left school, I called my girls and told them to meet me at a brewery on 119th street. Jaz and Andi aren’t ones to turn down a girls night, especially when I mentioned it was an emergency dinner. I beat them here, and I waste no time ordering a beer and downing it, with a second one on its way.
“What has your panties all in a twist?” Jaz asks, pointing at the three empty beer glasses sitting in front of me as she lowers herself in the chair across from me.
Andi takes the seat beside her, her lips twisted in a playful grin. “Do we get to have a weeknight playdate?”
“No,” I snap. “You know the rules. I just, fuck, I needed a breather. You know those days where you just feel...smothered? Well, I’m having one. I got a visit from Thomas Anderson’s stepfather.”
Jaz furrows her brow. “So?”
“So, Jett Roman was...” I pause. I can’t finish my thought. I don’t know if I can say the words out loud and not sound like a complete moron. I know it might seem like I’m being a bit dramatic here, but this is so far out of my norm that I have no fucking clue as to how I should react to these...feelings. If that’s what you want to call them. And I can’t stop thinking about him. His eyes, his lips, his arms...strong and muscular arms that could easily pin me up against a wall and...
Holy shit, I need to stop this right now!
Thank God for Jaz and her mouth. She knows me so well I don’t need to finish my sentence. She does it for me. “Jett Roman is a hot piece of ass you want to screw until you’re deaf, blind, and fucked stupid?”
Nothing Jaz says should surprise me, but that doesn’t stop my bottom jaw from dropping to the table on a gasp. I refuse to admit the truth, even if Jaz is right. Fuck that, I’m not actually gonna say that I want him to touch me in places that might make me feel...human. “Um, I wouldn’t go that far, but um, yeah. He was something I’ve never seen before. I’m not sure what’s happening to my body right now.” I begin fanning myself with the drinks menu, trying to cool my feverish skin.
Andi giggles. “You’re a horny bitch.”
“Oh shut up.” I groan. I sink down in the chair and wave the waitress over to order another beer. I may have to get myself shitfaced wasted to finish this dinner.
“There’s no shame in wanting to fuck someone and actually feel something. Shit, you might want to pull the stick outta your ass long enough to climax. All you need is a guy to give you one fat orgasm and the dam will open...and so will your legs.”
“He’s a goddamn cop,” I mutter between my clenched teeth. “He’s lethal.”
Andi’s grin is wide, and with a sinister snarl, she says, “And so are you.”
Hm, well, yes, I am, but in a totally different way. And I obviously can’t show Jett that side of me because he’d fucking arrest me. There are reasons why I have rules, and the number one rule is don’t get caught. And I’m pretty definite that getting cozy with a police officer would eventually lead to the exposure of my favorite hobby. This is also why we only have one night a weekend, whether it be a Friday or Saturday night, that we have our fun. The more often we take a life, the higher risk we take that, one—we’ll make a mistake, and two—will be noticed. I have a key set up on how I go about stalking my prey—no, no, boy toy—and how long I do my research to ensure that he is who I believe he is. And when it comes down to the actual day that I plan on taking his beating heart from his chest, every single thought and detail have been meticulously planned in order to guarantee that there will be no fuck-ups. So far, my system has never failed me, nor have I failed it. I will not let the spark that’s igniting something deep in my soul to cloud my judgment or fuck up my routine. I need order...if you haven’t figured that out yet.
I barely make it through my meal with Andi and Jaz’s hundred questions about Mr. Roman. I’m borderline drunk, which is the closest I’ve ever been to being fully drunk. I know I still have to drive, so I refrain from ordering anymore alcohol that could completely inhibit my ability to drive home, which means that my buzz is wearing off and these two goons won’t let up about my aching lady parts that want to be ravaged by a cop’s cock. This is pure torture, and I’m beginning to wonder why I called these two knuckleheads out for di
nner.
“I swear, I can’t take any more of your questions, comments, sexual innuendos. You two are driving me bonkers. This will be the one and only time we meet during the week. We’ll save our powwows for the weekend.” I pout.
“Oh, get over yourself, brat.” Jaz chuckles. “You don’t need to make everything so melodramatic.”
My brow raises and I smirk. “Says the girl with the gay husband.” I roll my eyes.
Andi’s head snaps to the side, her mouth wide. She bursts into laughter, unable to control her hysterics at the table. “Are you fuckin’ serious?” she roars.
Jaz grimaces and nods her head while I lean back in my seat with a winning smile. Finally, someone else to take some heat at this table.
“Say Bible,” Andi coerces.
“Fucking Bible!” Jaz glares at me with a shake of her head. “You’re such a whore.”
I shrug my shoulders, feeling triumphant that I succeeded in diverting the attention off of me for a while and onto Jaz, who, let’s face it, has much more exciting things going on. I’m quite enjoying listening to her tell Andi about her front row seat to her husband’s fag show with his two fairies. I can’t help but giggle every time Andi slams her palm down on the table with a snort and a mimicking hyena laugh. It’s all in good fun. That is until Jaz has enough of explaining herself and her husband’s newfound love for cock. When she raises her hand to call the waitress over for the bill, I know she’s pissed, and I’m the one to blame. I did kind of throw her under the bus, but hey, that’s how our friendship works. We go round and round in circles making fun of each other. It’s what we do. Besides, she can’t dish it out to me and expect that I won’t toss it back at her like a speeding curve ball.
I wave a goodbye to Andi and Jaz as I get into my car, but the only thing I get back is Jaz’s middle finger and a loud, “Fuck you, bitch!” Of course, she gives me her prize smile and I know all is right in the world. That’s how you know you have the bestest friends ever...when you can talk shit, call each other ruthless names, and do it all with all the love in the world. It’s the only love I have ever known, so if getting the middle finger and a fuck you is what love is, it’s better than the needles and pimps I saw when I was younger. At the end of the day, the love I have for Jaz and Andi is real. I’d do anything for them, and I know they would do the same for me and without a moment’s hesitation. We’re there for each other—no matter what. We’re sisters of the strongest kind. And without them, I’d be lost forever in this place we call home.
What Lies Beneath The Flowerbed Page 6
