by Freya Barker
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into the South Avenue Shelter, heading straight for Willa’s office.
“She’s not in there.”
I swing my head around to find Rosie behind the desk in her office, with the door open. She’s grinning at me.
“Where is she?”
“She’s got a group session. Just started ten minutes ago, she’ll be at least an hour, if not more.” She points a finger at the bags in my hand. “What’s that?”
“Lunch.” When I see her eyes light up I quickly add, “Willa’s.”
“You can put it on her desk. I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“I don’t trust you, Rosie,” I tease her. “I’ve heard stories from Jake. Pregnancy has turned you into a food thief.”
“I am not.” To my horror she looks like she’s about to cry.
“I’m just kidding, Rosie, I’ve got two sandwiches. Here, let me put hers on her desk and you and I can share mine.”
I walk into the empty office and set the bag on Willa’s desk. Then I grab a Post-it note and a pen and jot down a quick line, sticking it to the bag before I return to Rosie’s side of the hallway.
“This is good,” she says with a mouthful of Malibu chicken a few minutes later.
“Mmm. It is.”
“But didn’t you wanna wait for Willa?”
“I can’t. I have an appointment in half an hour,” I explain, before taking another big bite of my sandwich.
“She’ll be disappointed she missed you.”
I almost choke. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.”
Willa
That was a good session.
Small, with only four of the residents attending, but it turned out to be the right mix.
It started when one of the guys asked if I knew how Brad was doing. Unfortunately I didn’t have a good answer for that, but it launched a discussion on the fear of being confined to a small space. Two out of the four guys admitted to panicking when they’re closed in a small room or elevator. That led to a good discussion about triggers and responses, and how different they could be from person-to-person.
With conversation flowing so freely, I could’ve gone on forever, but the last ten minutes my stomach started complaining loudly.
I clean up the discarded cups, toss them in the garbage, and close the door behind me. Passing Rosie’s office, I see she has the door open.
“Hey, I’m heading out to grab something for lunch, want me to bring you something?”
“Already had lunch,” she says with a grin. “And you don’t have to go out. Lunch is on your desk.”
I swing around and see the bag sitting on my desk.
“Sweet. Thanks, Rosie.”
As I head into my office I swear I hear her mutter, “Don’t thank me.”
I notice a Post-it note stuck to the bag, pluck it off and sit down in my chair, reading it.
Sorry I missed you. See you tonight.
xo D.
Tonight?
No wonder Rosie had that smug look on her face. When I was on my way to the group room, she’d called me into her office, asking me when I was going to stop making Dimas pay for the sins of others.
Making him pay wasn’t the reason why I asked for some time, but I did want to make a point. To myself. It would’ve been easy to give in a few days ago, when he showed up at my door with explanations. To just let him kiss me and take me to bed, forget how upset I’d been the twenty-four hours prior.
That hadn’t been his fault, it had been my own, because I jumped to conclusions when just calling to ask for clarification after that last text message, or taking his calls, or listening to his messages, could’ve saved me a sleepless night and a miserable day.
Asking for time was so I could get my own head straight, because one thing I’ve learned in this profession, if you expect the worst of people, eventually they’ll live up to those expectations.
I open the bag, and fish out the sandwich, when I notice there’s something else at the bottom. I pull out what looks like a gift-wrapped book, an envelope taped to it. Inside the envelope is a card that has me burst out laughing so hard, Rosie comes running.
“What?”
I hold up the plan white card so she can read what it says:
YOU SUCK LESS THAN MOST PEOPLE.
Dimas added a written message.
I’ll bring dinner. Do. Not. Cook.
xo D.
“Looks like he’s got your number,” she says, grinning. “Told you he’s a good guy.”
“Yes, you did.”
“What’s that?” She points at the package.
“Not sure.”
I tear off the wrapper to uncover a very pretty ring-bound planner. I flip it open and notice he’s written something on the inside of the cover.
Pencil me in. Please.
xo D.
I get home a little after five thirty to find him already waiting on my front step.
Grabbing my things, I get out, hit the locks, and walk straight up to him. I lift up on my toes and press my lips to his mouth.
“Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you and I loved it, but it wasn’t necessary.”
His arm snakes around the small of my back and he tugs me closer.
“Maybe not, but if it gets me invited inside, it was well worth it.”
I smile up at him. “I would’ve invited you in regardless.”
He leans down and brushes my lips with his.
“Good to know.” Then he lets me go and holds up a bag from one of my favorite Chinese restaurants. “Dinner’s getting cold.”
Over dinner we chat easily about odds and ends, until Dimas suddenly puts his chopsticks down.
“I never asked you what you wanted to talk to me about. The text you sent?” he clarifies.
Part of me wants to tell him about what Brad told me and what I’ve discovered since, but then I’d also have to confess I took a peek at something that wasn’t meant for my eyes. I feel guilty and not just a little ashamed, but would likely do it again. Brad has been locked up for five days, and I can’t imagine—given what I know about him—that he’s doing well. I also don’t trust those cops.
It took a bit for me to sort out the numbers on that schedule are actually zip codes and street names, but now I have a general location and a date where I think the next fight will be. I haven’t really thought about what I can do, and I’m not stupid so I’ll keep my distance, but I can at least have a look at who shows up.
“I was worried about Brad. The police had been in to ask me questions again,” I give him a limited version of the truth. “Mainly about him, which concerned me.”
He reaches over and lightly strokes the pad of his thumb along my jaw.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”
“Water under the bridge,” I assure him with a smile. “Do you know how he’s doing, though? What’s happening?”
“I’ve been in touch with Hank. He says he’s hanging in. I don’t want you to worry about it though, Hank’s got it covered.”
Well, I’m glad Dimas seems to firmly have his trust in Hank, but I don’t really know the man so I’ll reserve judgment.
“Are you done?”
I get up from my stool to clear the dishes, but Dimas turns and pulls me between his legs, his arms banding around me.
“We’ll get those later,” he mumbles, even as his mouth descends on mine.
His kiss is thorough and overwhelming. In about one-point-two seconds my mind is drained of all coherent thought. With his hands tracing my curves and his tongue exploring my mouth, my whole body is sensitized.
“Love your taste,” he mumbles, when he drags his lips along the column of my throat.
“That’s the Szechwan pork,” I point out.
He buries his face in my neck and chuckles. The vibrations are like a high-voltage charge straight to my core. I can’t control the resulting full body shiver and Dimas lifts his head to study me.
/>
“Are you cold?”
I shake my head. “The opposite,” I confess and watch as his eyes darken.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing my plan,” he groans.
“What plan?”
“To woo you, win you over.”
I let out an inadvertent snort at his word choice.
“Woo? I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone woo me before.” I press my lips together but don’t succeed in keeping the smile off my face.
“Are you laughing at me?”
I lift my hand and show my thumb and index finger close together. He grabs the hand, gets on his feet, and pulls me behind him to the bedroom, where he unceremoniously shoves me backward onto the bed. I plant my elbows in the mattress to lift myself up so I can see him pull his shirt over his head. Next he unbuckles his belt, undoes his fly, and shoves jeans and underwear down his ass. I’m momentarily distracted by his erect cock, almost flat against his stomach, before I notice he’s struggling to get his jeans over his prosthesis.
I scramble off the bed.
“Sit down.”
He looks like he’s going to protest, but when I give him a little nudge; he turns and sits. Without a word I sink on my knees between his and quickly remove the boot and sock from his right foot. I feel his eyes on me when I turn my attention to his prosthesis, which I quickly figure out and remove before sliding his jeans off. Then I carefully roll down his prosthetic sock, revealing his stump before I look up at him.
His eyes scan my face, maybe looking for any aversion, but he won’t find any. Every part of him is beautiful. Bracing myself with my hands on his knees, I hold his gaze as I lean forward and run my tongue from his balls to the tip of his engorged cock.
There’s something about having a gorgeous, strong, and virile man shiver at your touch. I’m still fully dressed, while he is completely exposed. It takes a confident man to let himself be controlled, which is even more of a turn-on.
His head drops back and he loudly groans when my tongue traces the crown before I slide him into my mouth. His hand comes up and he twists his fingers in my hair, helping me set the pace. When I use a hand to play with his balls, he lets out a muffled curse and pulls me back.
He’s breathing hard when I look up at him. His nostrils flared and a dark flush on his cheekbones.
“Need you naked, Willa,” he says in a low voice, and I’m so turned on, I don’t hesitate.
Getting to my feet, I kick off my shoes while pulling my shirt over my head, and in seconds I’m as naked as he is.
“Condom,” he grinds out, as he pulls himself further onto the mattress until his back is against the headboard. “Right front pocket of my jeans.” I get what I need, climb on the mattress after him, and hand over the foil wrapper. “Come here,” he says when he has himself sheathed, and I swing a leg over his hips, straddling him. With both hands on my hips, he agonizingly slowly guides me down on him. “So fucking beautiful. So wet for me. So perfect.”
“Yes, God, yes,” I mutter breathlessly, as I adjust to the feeling of him so deeply seated inside me.
His thumb slides down to where we’re connected and brushes lightly over my clit. Every pass is like an electric charge.
“Fuck me, Willa. Take me there.”
Slow at first, but once I find my rhythm I ride him with full abandon, encouraged by his rumbled words of appreciation. When his hips buck up underneath me, I know he’s as close as I am and I grind myself down on him shamelessly in my quest for release.
I may have screamed as the sudden pull of his lips around my nipple tips the scale, and my whole body seems to convulse around him.
“Fffuck, yeah,” he growls, his face pressed between my breasts. “I could stay like this forever, with you filling all my senses.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dimas
I don’t particularly want to get up, but I have to get my ass to the gym for one last workout.
Not sure it will make a difference in the beating I stand to receive tomorrow night, but at least I’ll have done what I can to prepare.
Reluctantly I move away from Willa’s warm, soft curves pressed against me. She moans a sleepy complaint, but then turns over and is back asleep. I hop to the bathroom, hoping she has something that doesn’t smell like flowers or cake I can wash myself with. I’m pleasantly surprised when I find the plain bar of Dial soap in her shower.
Two towels hang on the rack, one of which looks unused, so I grab that to dry myself off with. Back in the bedroom, I recover my stump sock and free my prosthesis from the tangle of my jeans and, as quietly as I can, get dressed in the dark.
I’m just tugging my shirt over my head when Willa rolls over, blinking her sleepy eyes.
“You leaving?” she whispers.
“Yeah. I have some things to take care of this morning.”
“Oh.” The single syllable is expelled on a breath and followed with a cute pout I feel compelled to kiss off her lips.
“I could be back here tonight, though.” That earns me a pleased smile. “And maybe we can sleep in a little tomorrow morning.” The smile stretches wider.
“I’d like that,” she mumbles.
“Good, because I’ll be busy tomorrow night and won’t be able to see you then.”
I’m tempted to let her know where I’ll be but I’m afraid she may put up a protest, so I keep it to myself.
“I’ve got stuff to do as well,” she mutters, her eyes already closing again.
I bend down and kiss her softly.
“I’ll be in touch later, okay?”
“Mmm.”
“Sweet dreams, Willa.”
Her response is no more than a little grunt before she snuggles under the covers. For a moment I just sit there, watching as her breathing deepens with sleep. Then I sneak out of the bedroom and out of the house.
By the time I get to the office, I’m almost dragging my knuckles on the floor. Radar had me work the bags this morning. His face looks pretty bad and we decided it would probably be best not to risk stepping in the ring. He put me through my paces, though, and my arms and shoulders feel like I’ve been quartered.
Bree comes over the moment I sit at my desk.
“How was the meeting yesterday?”
I shove the file her way.
“Only a few changes from our original plan. Shouldn’t have any impact on our timeline, though. They’ll be ready to get us in there next Monday.”
“Okay, I’ll get Lena to add it to the schedule. You and Radar on this?”
“Yeah. I just need to check materials to see if we need to order extra.”
“Just let me know.”
“Did you talk to Yanis?” I ask her.
“He called this morning. Says it looks like he’ll likely be there until at least Sunday, maybe longer.”
“That bad?”
She shrugs. “The guy they caught appears to have been only the tip of the iceberg. Yanis promised the client he would stay until this is resolved.”
“Pretty bold promise.”
“Guess that was the only way he could convince them not to pull the contract.”
“Gotta do what you gotta do.” I look around the office. “Where’s Jake?”
“Ultrasound this morning. He should be in before lunch.”
“Can fucking barely believe he’s a married man, let alone gonna be a father,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Who knows,” Bree says with a shrug, “by next year that could be you. Provided Willa puts up with you that long.”
“How’d you…? Goddammit, you guys are like a bunch of gossiping old ladies,” I grumble when she grins widely. “Jake talked.”
“No more than you did when he started hanging around with Rosie.”
I pin her with a stare.
“You know what that means, right?” I tease her with a straight face. “You’re next.”
“Never,” she states, but a blush is creeping up her cheeks. “That’ll never happen,
” she reiterates, but does it walking back to her desk.
“Never say never,” I call after her.
Jake walks in half an hour later, a ditzy smile on his face and a dazed look in his eyes.
“You okay?”
His eyes slowly focus on me as he sits down at his desk.
“It’s a girl,” he says as his smile widens. “They couldn’t say for sure last time, but she gave us a clear view today. A girl,” he repeats.
I can’t help but match his grin.
“That’s great news, brother.”
Bree walks over and gives Jake a hug before pointing out, “You know you won’t have a moment’s rest in about fifteen years or so, right?”
Suddenly shock washes over his face.
“I need more guns.”
Radar comes out of his office to see what the hilarity is all about. Not that Jake thought it was one bit funny.
With everyone in one place and the mood uplifted, I decide I may as well fill Jake and Bree in. Hank emailed me a copy of the same fight schedule Radar had found online. He got it from Brad. With him in the know as well, there really isn’t much point trying to do this quietly. The fact Hank asked me to look into it validates my involvement. Somewhat.
“I might need your help,” I start.
Jake knows Brad’s story, but Bree doesn’t, so for her benefit I give some background, his current situation, the so-called evidence law enforcement has on him, and my plans for tomorrow night.
“Does Yanis know about this?” is Bree’s expected reaction.
“No, and I’d prefer it to stay that way. At least while he’s stuck in Panama. Nothing he can do from there anyway,” I point out.
“What is it exactly you hope to accomplish tomorrow?” Jake wants to know, eyeing me sharply.
“Blend in. Get people comfortable enough to talk to me if they think I’m one of them. Someone has to know something, but I doubt they’d be eager to share. There’s a lot of money involved in these unsanctioned fights.”
