Lone Star Burn_Watching you

by Aliyah Burke

  Bless him, Frank didn’t say another word on it, not for the remainder of the flight or the drive from the airstrip to her apartment. Her two best friends were there, waiting. Lola Francone and Mellie Charmers. Both women were in the professional field and she usually found them in business suits, but today they were both in sweats and tee shirts.

  Frank kissed her cheek. “She’s all yours, ladies. Good luck, she’s in a mood. I’ll call you tomorrow, Teena.” He waved as he jogged back to the idling SUV.

  The women escorted her into her apartment in New Orleans where she was greeted by the rich scents of Jambalaya, dirty rice, crawfish étouffée, red beans and more. Her stomach growled and the need for food which had been stifled by the accident rose up with a vengeance.

  “Oh, y’all are the best,” she said, mouth watering. “I’m so hungry. When’s it ready?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Lola said, tucking some hair behind her ear as she poured them all drinks.

  “What the hell is going on and are you okay?” Mellie demanded. She waved her hands. “Answer how you are first, then tell us what is going on, after which I want to know what Frank was talking about.”

  She gratefully accepted the sweet tea from Lola and sank into her overstuffed recliner with a groan of happiness. “I’m okay, or I will be. Got a bit beat up by the explosion but I’m fine. Concussion hasn’t had any side effects that they can tell and I didn’t have any broken bones. Refractured my ribs when I hit the wall but that’s fine, it’s mending.”

  The women shared a look, then rolled their eyes at her.

  “And Frank’s issue?” Lola posed the question.

  “He’s asking me why I pushed a guy away.”

  “This the hunk you take off and visit a few times a year?”

  Mellie’s question shocked her and she stared at her friend over the glass’ rim.

  Her friend blinked and shrugged. “What? I’m a damn detective. What did you think, we wouldn’t know?”

  “Well, kinda, yeah.”

  “We’re not that stupid. So what happened? What did you do to sabotage this one?”

  “Come on Lola, how do you know I sabotaged anything?” Teena felt defensive. Why were they picking on her? She’d just been injured, couldn’t she get a small break or anything like that?

  “Because you always sabotage relationships. There was the lawyer whose dick was too small.” Mellie’s comment came way too quickly.

  “The pharmacist who had to go because he liked the sound of his own voice too much.” Lola this time.

  “The CEO whose eyebrows did weird things and his voice was not right for a man his size.” Back to Mellie once more.

  “Oh, oh, and don’t forget the cop who by all accounts was perfect but he wanted to settle down and that wasn’t in the plan, so he had to go.” Lola rose and stirred the jambalaya.

  “There are more,” Mellie stated. “Would you like us to carry on?”

  “No. No thanks. Your pep talk was almost too much this first time.”

  “Sweetie, that wasn’t a pep talk. We don’t do those. This was a get your head out of your ass talk and fix whatever you fucked up, so we can meet this man who has rocked your world so much.”

  “Tell me how you really feel, Mellie,” Teena drolled.

  “Thought I just did, but if you need me to reiterate the finer points, I can.”

  “God no. I don’t need it at all. Look, he’s a good guy. A great guy actually. It’s me, not him.”

  Lola dropped the spoon on the counter. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him that. Hell, you may as well just reached into his pants and castrated him. Probably would have been gentler for him.”

  “I didn’t say those words.” Well, not exactly. “I didn’t say much if you want to know the truth.”

  “Why haven’t we met him?” Lola asked as she approached them and reclaimed her seat.

  “I wasn’t sure it was going to work out.”

  “Lame.” Mellie shook her head. “Are you embarrassed by him? He short? Fat? Have a lisp? What?”

  She shook her head. No, she couldn’t speak to any of that, because he certainly wasn’t. “No, he’s damn near perfect.” She dug into her pocket and drew out her phone. Bringing up the image she’d snapped of him one day while he was sleeping, she tossed the phone to Lola.

  She took it, whistled, and passed it along to Mellie.

  Her reaction was basically the same thing. “There is something seriously wrong with you,” Mellie stated throwing the phone to the seat beside her.

  “I know,” Teena admitted.

  “Why don’t you just come clean and tell the truth? You’re scared to lose what you have, so you keep him at a distance.”

  “I thought you were a detective, not a psychologist.”

  Mellie shrugged. “A bit of both in my line of work.” She finished her drink and rose. “I’m hungry. Lola? We ready?”

  “Let’s eat and give her a proper welcome home. We can berate her dumb ass decision again, later.”

  God, she loved her friends. Moving slow, Teena went to the small table and waited for the food. Her heart hurt, but right now, she had to just look at one thing at a time. Currently, it would be directed to food.

  αβ

  Patrick grunted and wiped the sweat from his brow prior to tossing the towel to the bench beside him. He reached for the water bottle and took a long drink from it.

  “Hey West. What are you doing here today? Thought you had some vacation time you were taking.”

  He exhaled then lifted himself up onto the bars and began doing the triceps dip. As he worked, he glanced at the man who’d approached. His boss Seamus O’Hara. “Changed my mind.”

  The man scrubbed a hand over his salt and pepper hair cut close to his skull. “I see. And are we done sulking or are we still in a sensitive area?”

  Patrick counted in his head as he rose and sank on the parallel bars. “Still in a sensitive area. I would like some cake and maybe cookies along with some girly talk to make me feel better.”

  Seamus merely laughed. “None of that from me. I have cookies in my office and you can have some if you promise not to tell my wife. I don’t do girly talk but if you’re really back, I have an assignment for you.”

  Up and down. Up and down. “Give me the deets, unless I can’t get them here.”

  “Nope, here is fine.” He waved a packet Patrick hadn’t noticed before. “I’ll just leave this here. Wheels up in sixty.” He gave a small salute then walked to the door. Before he slipped through, he turned back and added, “Thanks for not getting blown up, I appreciate that.”

  “The only reason I didn’t, boss. Didn’t want to disappoint.”

  Seamus laughed again, as he walked away.

  Patrick finished his set then hopped down. He took another drink of water, wiped more sweat, then grabbed the folder left for him and began to read.

  They were taking over custody of a prisoner from the FBI who was going to be testifying then heading into WitSec. Normally, he would consider it fairly routine but given what happened recently, he wasn’t about to lull himself into thinking that.

  He showered and changed before making his way to the Hoover building. After showing his credentials, he walked through toward his given destination. Like in his office, people milled around but managed to appear almost like they were doing something.

  “Marshal West, here to take custody of the prisoner.”

  “Hope you don’t mind foul language or smell. This one has it all.” The man who looked at his paperwork signed off on it. “I can tell you I’m so glad to get him off our hands.”

  “Anyone know he’s being moved?”

  “No, this was kept internal. They don’t want to do a large transport, thinking a smaller car will throw anyone off if they are watching.”

  “Great,” he said. “Let’s do this. I should get him out of here and back into somewhere safe.”

  “Right this way.”

  He trailed t
he man and when he paused at a guarded door, he glanced in the window and shook his head.

  Stringy hair, hawklike nose, and beady eyes that didn’t hold still but continually flickered around.

  “He on something?”

  “Nope. He’s been like that since he’s been with us and that’s been nearly forty-eight hours.”

  Patrick opened the door and immediately, his eyes burned from the strong sulfur and onion scent that smashed into his olfactory senses. Oh, hell. “Mr. Hannover. I’m Marshal West and I’m here to escort you to your hearing where you will then be put into WitSec as part of your deal.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” His words were delivered in sharp, staccato bursts.

  Patrick shook his head. If this man hadn’t had any drugs since the FBI grabbed him, there was just something entirely wrong with him on a whole new level. “It wasn’t up for argument. You gave your word, I’m going to deliver you.”

  “Nope, can’t make me.”

  Patrick put his hands on the table facing the man. “Look at me.” It took him three more demands before the man listened. “You don’t want to testify? Fine. I’ll cut you loose right outside and you can fend for yourself. But when the families of those you’ve double crossed find out and you want our protection, the offer won’t be there. There will be no WitSec, there will be no get out of jail free card. You’ll be arrested and thrown in jail where you know they have connections. So the choice is yours. Do you want to come with me and we can get this done, or would you like to take a chance on your own? Make up your mind, I’m not waiting all day. So in sixty seconds, if you haven’t dragged your damn ass up out of that chair and are on your way to my side, I’ll have them cut you loose and push you out the door, dressed like this and nothing in your pockets.”

  He made a point to glance at his watch as he moved backward to the door. Fifty-five seconds and he spun on his heel and stepped out.

  “Wait, wait.” The chair scraped back as the prisoner shuffled his way over to the door. “I can’t believe you were going to leave me. You’re not supposed to do that. I thought you were supposed to protect and serve.”

  Patrick glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not local law, Mr. Hannover. I protect those in our custody. You don’t want to be in our custody and do what you promised, I let you go and the protection is also gone. Let’s go.”

  They got to the car and he headed to the courthouse. “There will be a suit in there waiting for you. Make good use of the shower.”

  Mr. Hannover didn’t speak the rest of the drive, nor did he give him any trouble. By that evening, Patrick had finished his job and was on the plane heading home. He stretched out on the jet and laced his hands behind his head.

  As was typical when he had down time, his mind drifted back to the woman who’d turned his entire world upside down. All he could see right now was her lying on that hard Texas ground, blood dripping from her body, eyes shut and unmoving. He shifted on the seat, hating that mental image. Then it shifted to the hospital bed where the bandages were slicing across her dark skin.

  The main thing that never left was how much fear had thrummed through his body when the house exploded. He’d been still checking the perimeter when it transformed from a cabin to a huge ball of fire and projectiles. Even when she’d been stabilized and in the hospital that fear hadn’t dispersed.

  He focused on other things about her. Her serene expression or passionate one after a bout of lovemaking. He’d become smitten and despite her claim of nothing between them, he knew he had to see her once more.

  Seamus met him at the airport.

  “I’m taking some more time,” he blurted out.

  “Figured as much.” He handed over a ticket. “Flight leaves in forty-five minutes.”

  Nodding his thanks, he hurried through to get him to his gate. No luggage, no carryon. Only him and a need to see his woman.

  He didn’t sleep on the flight and was one of the first passengers to disembark. Hailing a taxi, he gave the destination and arrived in NOLA as the setting sun’s glow bathed the city in gold. He’d been here once before during college to celebrate Mardi Gras. That trip had been about drinking and getting laid. Not bad things to be after, just not what he was after this time. Well, not the drinking aspect. Hopefully, this time he could indulge in the city’s history.

  Perhaps Teena would give him a tour.

  “Here you are sir.”

  Paying his fare, he climbed out, and took in the front of the building that the Marshals used for their office here in New Orleans. The architecture in this city astounded him.

  He took the steps two at a time and entered the building, glad to be in the air conditioning once more. This humidity…hell, DC had nothing on it.

  “May we help you?”

  Two men in dark suits blocked his way.

  “Marshal West.” He flashed his badge. “I’m looking for Deputy Marshal Mason.”

  “She’s in the gym.” They shared a grin. “Teaching.”

  “And how do I get there?”

  “End of the corridor, turn left. Down one flight and you can’t miss it. It’ll be on your right.”

  “Much obliged.”

  They didn’t lead him wrong and he stepped into the large gym just in time to witness Teena take the place of another on the sparring mat. He paused and stared at her. Damn it to hell, he’d missed this woman.

  “Don’t expect me to go easy on you, because you were almost blown up, Mason. Because I won’t.”

  Patrick focused briefly on the speaker and contained the growl that rose from his throat.

  “I expect you to last longer than you usually do, Clark,” she retorted to the large black man.

  Patrick swore under his breath. Teena was damn near naked. Her black sports bra and low riding gray pants left nothing to his imagination. Her feet were bare as she moved slowly across the mat.

  The man she’d referred to as Clark flipped her off.

  She smirked.

  “Not putting your hair up?” he asked.

  “Want to stop to find your dick and put on a cup?”

  Little by little, the room had fallen silent aside from wagers being made. The man she was facing didn’t like what he heard, his expression growing darker each time they bet on Teena.

  Patrick approached, holding his comments. She looked so much better. Bruising on her body had nearly vanished and her cuts had healed.

  He observed her opponent. For whatever reason, this man was trying to make some sort of point with her and he could tell she was about to make him pay for his arrogance. His posture gave it away, trying to cow her by his size. It didn’t work, not for Teena. She seemed to be unaffected. In fact, she continued to goad him, pushing up his anger, egging him on to make a mistake.

  His face—her opponent’s—taut with strain even as she continued to make her approach. “Most people think having long unbound hair is a disadvantage. And make no mistake, it can be. But there are opponents who are so focused on the fact your hair in unbound, they leave themselves open and vulnerable to an attack. Besides, male or female if you have longer hair, you deserve to have it loose, if you so desire. There are times when we’re not on the clock and someone could come after any one of us.” She halted just out of reach from Clark.

  Patrick nearly laughed at her expression, he read her like a book. She was bored with this man’s challenges.

  Clark made a show of bouncing around on the balls of his feet and cracking his neck. “You’re going down, Mason,” he announced.

  She blinked at him, then gazed to the group of people across from Patrick. “Over confidence is another thing that will get you knocked on your ass within a heartbeat. Be aware of your abilities, be confident but don’t ever assume you know more than the person you face. Even if there is a size difference as there is with myself and Marshal Leon.”

  Clark lunged for her and Teena moved. Had Patrick blinked, he would have missed it. She flipped Clark and had again,
moved out of his reach, damn near before the man hit the mat.

  Men and women laughed and Clark pushed back to his feet, face red.

  “As you can see. It’s not always the largest person who will win. Yes, it happens, a lot of the time but it’s not set in stone. Anyone else want a go?”

  “I’m not done yet,” Clark spat. He charged her again and ended up the same way. Flipped and on his back.

  “Anyone else?”

  Those watching didn’t speak up. So Patrick did, “I’ll have a go.” He stepped from behind the men who blocked her view of him. He held her gaze, watching her.

  Her large brown eyes widened slightly before she got herself under control. “Marshal West,” she said after dampening her lips with her tongue. An act which didn’t help his cock get any softer. “What brings you down here from our nation’s capital?”

  He shoved out of his shoes, removed his sidearm and badge before stepping onto the mat. “Chasing down someone I needed to locate.” His fingertips burned to have her skin beneath them.

  “I see. Everyone, this is Marshal Patrick West. He works in DC. He was out in Texas with me when the house blew.”

  Greetings came and he responded but he never looked away from the woman he’d come for. “Anytime you’re ready, Mason,” he said with a beckon of his fingers.

  A flicker of something flashed in her eyes, however it was gone before he could identify it. He approached and as it happened with Clark, he was soon on his back. But he knew his woman and swept out with his leg, being he was taller than her previous opponent and the fact—he wanted to believe—she was a bit shocked to see him, she didn’t move back far enough and he got her.

  Patrick was on her in a second, pinning her to the mat and rising above her. She lay beneath him, arms stretched above her head as he stared down at her. “Hi,” he said.

  Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Enticing. His cock swelled further and pushed against his jeans.

  “West,” she replied.

  “That’s all you have to say to me?”

  “No.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “What a shock. What else?”