“Now there’s two left in the house, and Lane backs up the Humvee to pull out the kitchen window. There’s still sniper fire and I order some guys up to one of the roofs nearby to lay down suppression. Lane and Robinson pull out the last window. Ricks and Gleeson are the only ones that have to get out of there. Ricks is my sergeant that runs First Platoon. He’s been my friend for years....”
Derek stared at his empty glass and watched the ice melt. The memory was so vivid, it was like he was listening to someone else using his voice to narrate a documentary while he watched the images unfold. The acrid odor of gunfire was in his nostrils. He could hear the shouts and screams, feel the pain of the wounded.
Some amount of time must have gone by, because Manmeet had reached across the table and was holding Derek gingerly on the arm. “Did they get out?” he asked softly.
He blinked. The melancholy feelings of that day weighed heavily on Derek’s memory.
“They... yeah.”
“Oh,” Manmeet said with a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”
“Then we demolished that goddamn building with ordinance and moved on to the next one,” Derek finished curtly. “That’s combat for you.”
Silence.
Derek glanced up from the table for what seemed like the first time since he had begun thinking back to that damnable place. Four faces at the table were staring transfixed at him.
“Oh shit,” Derek said, suddenly back in the present. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a wet blanket here. I’ve brought everyone down way too many notches for a weekend—”
“It’s okay,” said Roger.
“No, you haven’t—” protested Lucy.
“It’s fine,” Dave assured him.
“I asked,” explained Manmeet.
“No, seriously, I apologize. I feel like the biggest asshole laying a story like that on you while you all are trying to have a night out.” He forced a fake, casual smile. “Probably one too many whiskeys.”
“Derek, I asked,” Manmeet said. “If there’s any fault, it’s mine. But this is what I wanted to know. Frankly, it’s more than I expected. I never knew you’d been in situations like that.”
“I know. Again—sorry. It’s baggage I have to live with.” He kept up the fake smile. “Look, I think I’ve done enough damage for one evening. I’m going to head out. I really appreciate you including me in this get together. You all enjoy the rest of the night. I’ll see you Monday morning, okay?”
He stood up, slowly, with his hand deliberately on the edge of the table to support himself.
“Derek,” Roger said, watching his unsteadiness as if with a practiced eye, “you shouldn’t be driving after all those drinks.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Why don’t you let one of us take you home?”
“No,” Derek said, “really, I’m fine.” He started fumbling through his pocket for his car keys.
Roger stood up and put his hand on Derek’s elbow. For a small man he had a strong grip. “Derek. You shouldn’t drive.”
Derek looked at Roger. Honestly, he felt the cool tingling in his face of a good alcohol buzz. He knew Roger was right, intellectually. But after dropping a story like he just did, it just felt too wrong to ask for a ride home after being such an epic buzz kill.
Lucy slid out of the booth, straightened her sweater, and grabbed her purse. “I’ll take him,” she said.
Derek thought she sounded reluctant. She looked right at him as if sensing his thoughts. “You don’t live that far away from me. It’s no trouble. Come on.”
Derek stood still, filled with hesitation.
“You can get your car tomorrow,” said Roger. “Call me and I’ll drive you back down here.”
Manmeet and Dave remained seated, both staring solemnly at him.
“I... okay, fine. Let’s go,” Derek said finally. Somehow he felt defeated rather than reassured by the people who didn’t want to see him hurt.
A couple stunted goodbyes and he was following Lucy out into the parking lot. It was still raining. Derek smiled bitterly to himself. At least the angels were crying their tears in understanding with what he had to live with.
37
Lucy drove a Porsche Boxster convertible, which meant that Derek basically had to fold himself into a yoga position to get into the passenger seat while simultaneously falling down to near street level. Rain followed him in and spread across the black leather seats. Derek noticed that the inside seemed very clean, except for himself and the water he brought in with him. A pang of guilt shot through his gut.
“You know,” he began, “I can drive. Really. I appreciate you doing this for me, but—”
“No. Shut up.”
The engine purred with a deep, throaty rumble and Lucy backed out of the parking lot. She pulled out onto the main street as Derek leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He inhaled the smell of wet leather as they drove in silence. The Porsche was very low to the ground and conveyed a great sense of movement with every adjustment of the steering wheel. Derek let the sway of the car rock him into a semiconscious state, doing his best to not fall asleep but at the same time allowing himself to let go, even for just a moment, of the mess that his life had become.
An indeterminate time went by before Lucy broke the silence and asked for directions as she neared the northern side of the city. Derek gave her the turns as they came up. Soon they were at the gate of his apartment complex and he told her the entry code. He directed her around to the left and told her the apartment number. Lucy found a parking spot nearby and pulled in. Derek started to fumble along the door for the latch to open it. When he couldn’t find it, he started running his hands back and forth along the inside of the door.
“It’s up there,” Lucy said, pointing to the upper rim.
Derek looked at her, and then back at the door. “I thought that was an air vent?” Damn German engineers.
Lucy hesitated. Then she gave a small sigh. “Here, I’ll help you,” she said, and turned the engine off.
“No, I can—” Derek started to protest, but she was already out her own door and walking around to his side.
Lucy opened his door and helped pull him out from the awkwardly low seating of the Porsche. Derek noted how steady she was—Derek was well-built and over six feet tall, but Lucy had braced herself for the weight as if it were no big deal. He got to a standing position and shuffled around in a circle to close the door behind him. Lucy quickly did it for him.
“Come on,” she said, and she took hold of his elbow as if she didn’t trust him to stay upright going up the stairs.
They walked down the breezeway toward his apartment. The stairs were more difficult than Derek had thought. Maybe he had indeed drunk a bit too much. They made it to the top and Lucy waited, holding Derek steady, while he fumbled through his pocket and got his keys out. He unlocked the door without much issue, luckily, and turned the knob. They went in together.
The door slammed shut behind them from the vacuum caused by a great breeze outside. The entryway in Derek’s apartment was covered in water from the rain. Derek threw his keys onto the rarely-used breakfast table. Lucy pulled off Derek’s windbreaker the way a mother might insist on removing a child’s wet jacket before he got more rain all over the house.
Derek stumbled further in before turning around and leaning against the back of the couch for support. He watched as Lucy shook the rain out of his windbreaker over the tiled entry. She moved over to the breakfast table and draped it over the back of one of the chairs to dry. Her figure was striking in the schoolgirl outfit. The short, pleated miniskirt showed off her legs down to where the thin white stockings ended right below her knees. Her gray sweater, buttoned below her breasts, seemed to accent rather than obscure her curves. Her sleeves were pushed up a little—exposing the tattoos that went right down to her wrists.
Lucy straightened up and turned to walk back to the kitchen, apparently going for the paper towe
ls to mop up the puddles all over the floor. Derek didn’t really think about what he was doing. The swirl of the alcohol from the pub made everything seem otherworldly. The next thing he knew, he was holding her in his arms and kissing her.
Her lips were soft and moist. She tasted like peppermint—had she been chewing gum? Or was it from whatever her choice of drink had been? Derek couldn’t remember. Lucy’s body was pressed against him. He could feel the warmth of her face through the damp cold that was still on his. Her weight felt full and solid with his arms wrapped around her. It felt wonderful.
Only when Derek opened his eyes did he come back to reality.
Lucy’s eyes were wide open, staring at his with alarm. Her body was stiff as a board. The weight he felt—well, it was from her arms up against his chest pushing away from him as hard as she could.
Oh, shit.
Derek released her instantly. Lucy scrambled back several steps and regained her balance, panicked, standing tensely between the kitchen and the front door. She looked like she might either make a break for it or kick him in the nuts, Derek wasn’t sure which. A huge wave of embarrassment crashed over him even faster than he could stammer out the beginnings of an apology.
“Oh... oh, jeez. I’m sorry. I—I... don’t...”
Derek’s face must have indicated that he hadn’t meant any harm, even if he couldn’t get the words out. Lucy seemed to relax—a little. At least, she didn’t look like she was going to karate his ass in self-defense anymore. Derek felt the red gushing up into his cheeks. What the hell had he done? Groping her like that—what the fuck?
Oh, shit, shit, shit.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’m really, really, sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean...”
She managed to arch an eyebrow at him.
Derek took a deep breath and tried to collect himself. Fuck. Just... fuck. His hands went up in a subconscious attempt to shield himself from the embarrassment and humiliation. Or maybe to hold his head together from the whiskey.
Had he really just sexually harassed not just an employee, but the one who probably was doing more than anyone else to hold their company together against a bunch of hackers and extortionists? Could the situation get any worse?
Doomsday scenarios flashed through his head. Getting sued. Going to jail. Losing visitation rights for his son. What in the hell had he just done? It was all over. His career, his family, any sense of normalcy that he had hoped to accomplish. He had just thrown it out the window like a giant spit wad of leftover convenience store trash. How could he have let that happen? Lucy. He barely remembered even reaching out to her, grabbing her. It was just fueled by a need to not be alone. Was that so wrong? Jules was leaving him and, like anyone else, he didn’t want to be abandoned. It was so hard to be alone. Derek thought back to the night he had gotten the extortion email and had called Lucy. It was late and he had gotten her voicemail. Despite the time, she had called back. She had been there for him. She was hardly what one would call a close friend but had still been there for him. Even tonight she had driven him home when he had drunk too much. Derek realized he was projecting all sorts of attachment on to this woman who, at best, was a tenuous ally. They were competitors, even rivals somehow. How in the hell could he have put himself in this position?
The stillness in his apartment was clawing its way into him with cold, awkward talons.
“Lucy,” Derek said, trying to produce an explanation. “Look. I’m sorry. You know, you’re really attractive, and... I’ve been drinking, which is why you drove me home, and... I really appreciate you taking care of me like that, and I’m terribly embarrassed. I... really, really didn’t mean to scare you. Or offend you, or disrespect you in any way just now. I’ve got a bunch of drinks in me and I’m just not myself lately. Please don’t be angry. I don’t have very many friends right now. I need to keep the few I have.”
Lucy made no reply. Lord, this was hard. Derek shut his eyes and bowed his head. He really had no idea where to go with this. He was totally fucked. How was he going to repair the mess he had just made? He was now the archetypal boss who had fondled a female employee. What the hell, why not add a lawsuit to the death threat and the divorce and the looming bankruptcy of his employer? Might as well make it fun.
He was dying inside. What could he possibly say?
“You know, there’s got to be—”
A set of fingertips pushed softly against his lips.
Derek opened his eyes. Lucy was standing in front of him. Very close. She was studying him. She didn’t look angry or panicked anymore. Maybe... sympathetic? Derek couldn’t tell what she looked like. Other than beautiful. With her blonde hair, damp from the rain, framing her face with her brilliant eyes outlined in black mascara, she looked like the most beautiful person in the world.
Slowly, Lucy removed her fingers from his mouth. She started to lean forward. God, she was so very close now. Derek could feel her exhale against his face. Then her nose was brushing against his and he couldn’t focus on her features clearly. She moved forward even more and their lips met. It was a tender, shallow kiss that let him drink in the warmth from this other human being. It had been so long since Derek had kissed a woman. He dared not touch her for fear of dispelling whatever sort of dream this surely was.
What the hell was happening?
It seemed like forever, and then it was suddenly and tragically over. Derek felt her drawing away—but only a little. He opened his eyes. She seemed like she was trying to figure out if she liked the taste of some dessert she had just tried. Lucy looked back at him with narrowed eyes and they stared at each other in silence. Derek’s mind floated in a haze, not sure what to do or say, not even sure what was really going on.
Lucy slowly leaned forward and they kissed again. A little harder. This time their lips parted and Derek felt her tongue against the back of his teeth.
Derek was still wary of touching her. It was almost like any movement might cause the soap bubble he was trying to catch to just pop and be gone forever. Very tentatively, he reached up and brushed her elbows to coax her closer. Amazingly, Lucy moved into him. At first she just pressed her chest against his. Then her hips followed, and then she was straddling Derek’s right leg. Derek sensed the pressure of her thigh against him and knew that she could feel him getting hard. A twinge of shame went through him as if he were a school boy getting an erection in the gym shower. It’s okay, he told himself. It felt so good to have a woman touching him.
Slowly, Derek moved his hands up from Lucy’s elbows and touched her shoulders. Proceeding upward, he felt the bare skin of her neck with his fingers. Then her chin. He dropped his hands down her front and slipped them into her schoolgirl sweater. Her breasts were not large—Lucy had a lean, athletic figure—but they were firm and with a nice shape that felt good in Derek’s hands. He cupped them, and through the thin material of her blouse he let the warmth of her body radiate through his palms.
Lucy shifted slightly and now she was wrapped tightly around his leg. Every time she moved, her thigh rubbed intermittently against his crotch. Jesus.
Derek took his hands back and reached around to her bottom, felt underneath the edge of her miniskirt, grabbed her by her rear and pulled her into him as much as he could. Their kissing intensified, if that was possible. Lucy was cradling his head between her hands now and had her body pressed tightly against his. Derek was leaning back on the top of the couch frame, practically pulling her on top of him. He took one hand off and wrapped it around her waist, maybe in a subconscious effort to hold her even tighter, and just lost himself in the kissing and the holding. Her body felt so warm against his side; he couldn’t get over it. Derek cradled her and began to rhythmically pull her up and down against his leg, grinding against her, letting the anxiety and pressure build while he soaked up every second of it. He wanted to undress her. He wanted to see her, to feel her bare skin against him. It had been so long.
There was a tickle down Derek’s front. He realize
d Lucy’s hand was going down the inside of his pants... inside the elastic of his boxers... he found himself becoming still, eyes closed, just getting lost in the feeling of her nails and fingertips as they slid around him and started to gently squeeze and pull. He let her do it, their faces separated but still close, breathing heavily together. Derek started to worry that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
Lucy licked the insides of his lips with the tip of her tongue.
That’s it, gloves off.
Slinging his arms underneath her, he lifted Lucy and stood up from the couch. She was heavier than he was expecting—muscle from constant workouts packed into her tall frame?—and for a split-second Derek thought he might lose his balance and fall backward. A quick tap dance with his feet kept him steady though and he started shuffling his way toward the bedroom. Lucy was attached to his front now like a koala bear, arms and legs wrapped around his body, nibbling on his earlobe and sticking her tongue into it. Derek got her to the edge of his bed, pried loose her legs, and cast her off backwards onto the mattress. Lucy went down with a flop and her body turned sideways. She gazed back up at him through a cascade of blonde hair. She didn’t smile. She just looked sultry, waiting. Derek knelt down beside her and started undoing the buttons on her blouse. Even though he half expected some sort of punch or kick in protest, she let him. He got down to the bottom and pulled the flaps out, exposing what might have been the most toned and solid abs Derek had ever seen on a woman. More surprisingly, there wasn’t a single tattoo on her torso. Not what he would have expected from a girl who so obviously loved ink. He moved his hands over to her belly to feel it, gliding his palms against her skin and drinking it all in with his eyes. Then he moved his hands up to her bra and cupped her breasts again. Lucy stayed still, her chest moving with her breathing, watching him through the hair in front of her face.
Armchair Safari (A Cybercrime Technothriller) Page 36
