by Anne Conley
Slade didn’t call her until the next day, even though he watched her every chance he got. She was watching him, too, and something about that made him sad, but he couldn’t say exactly why.
At times, he’d look over to see her on her patio, drinking a beer and looking at his apartment. Others, she’d be talking to Zack, who was constantly there, but she’d been glancing over toward him. Slade wondered if she’d gotten threats or something, if that was why Zack was over there. Did the blind guy know something Slade didn’t?
To his credit, Zack didn’t seem to have any romantic interest in Deena Rae; he was mostly on his laptop with earbuds in when Slade glanced over there. But why was he even there?
That was his excuse to call, to ask if she was still in danger, but he really just wanted to hear her voice wash over him like a soothing balm.
When she answered her phone, he got right to it. “Why is Zack staying with you?” He cringed at the abruptness of the question, the possessiveness of it, as if he had a right to know.
A tortured sigh escaped Deena Rae. “The boss man seems to think danger still lurks about,” she answered, using an overly-dramatic voice that cracked a smile on Slade’s face, even as it confirmed his barely restrained panic. “They arrested Cecil and his cronies after we were nearly sautéed in our own juices, but they got out on bail. Their defense attorney claimed lack of evidence to keep them in, and Pierce Securities has apparently pissed this particular judge off in the past. He called me a cowboy, whatever the fuck that means.”
Slade ruminated on that. So it was an unspoken threat? “Nothing was actually said, that you’re definitely in danger? He’s just going on a hunch?”
Deena Rae’s husky voice sounded over the phone lines, and Slade propped his head on his elbow to see if he could see her. Sure enough, she was propped up on pillows in her bed, watching his window, where he was in bed, watching hers.
It lent an intimacy to the conversation he didn’t deserve. But he would take it. He couldn’t tell exactly what she was wearing, and somehow it didn’t really matter. He hadn’t talked to another human being besides the lady at the hospital’s billing office since Deena Rae had been over yesterday. Except Zack, and that hadn’t been the black-slapping, bro-hugging reunion he’d hoped for. Or whatever.
“Nothing. He’s just being a protective ass. I’m not even allowed to go back into work yet. It’s making me fucking nuts, but he’s the boss.” He saw her shrug from across the courtyard, noticing she wore something strappy. Probably a tank top. “What are you going to do now?”
Great question. “I don’t really know. I thought about going back to school for something, but I have no idea what. I can’t bounce the rest of my life, and at this point, I don’t really want to. In fact, if I never see the inside of a club, I could die a happy man.” That was an exaggeration, of course, but he wasn’t going to get into his feelings of loneliness with Deena Rae, his inadequacies, all that bullshit.
“Well, you have some time to think about it. You shouldn’t have to decide right away.”
“Yeah. I can go to school and get my basics out of the way while I decide, right? I’d be the oldest guy in my freshman math class,” he joked.
He’d have to go into the UT financial aid office. When he’d graduated high school, fifteen years ago, he’d gotten a scholarship based on his SAT scores alone. He was sure there was a statute of limitations on that shit, but surely he could somehow get help. Without having to support his mom’s hair-brained schemes to trap a man, he was already in better shape. Although, he’d rather have his mom.
That thought brought back everything from the night with Cecil, of course. He probably wouldn’t ever be able to think about his mom without remembering that. And remembering that night only reminded him of everything he’d lost.
“What changed?” he finally asked after a ridiculously long silence, where they just stared at each other through two panes of glass and a courtyard full of night.
“What do you mean?” Her breathless whisper made him think of sweaty skin, sliding across each other in a miasma of pleasure.
“Why aren’t you furious with me?” He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, unable to watch her anymore. The wary thing they had going on right now was too much. Not a relationship, yet more of a relationship than he’d ever thought he would have again.
“Look at me.” Her voice was sharp, and he rolled over automatically. When Deena Rae spoke again, her voice had softened. “I forgave you. That’s what changed. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing to have my parents back.”
“So where does that leave us?” It sounded needy, but dammit, he was feeling needy. It was either that or he’d destroy his entire apartment trying to release these demons trapped inside him. His eyes drifted over to Deena Rae’s living room, where Zack slept on the sofa.
“We’re friends, at the least, Slade. I think we could be more, but I can’t just jump into a relationship with you. I forgive you, but I can’t forget yet. I may have done the same, but it’s still really fucking hard knowing you’re the one who did it to me.”
“Yeah. I get it.” Slade was a pathetic fuck who had no business with this woman. He’d want her until the day he died, though. There was no doubt about that. He loved her. But he wouldn’t say it. Not now. It would be like a guilt trip, a power play to get her to come back to him.
And he wouldn’t be that guy.
“Talk to you later.” He almost ended with the word friend but knew that would be a low blow. He wasn’t in the mood for games anymore. Not with Deena Rae.
Chapter Thirty-one
Deena Rae had just woken up and was making herself and Zack something to eat. She’d discovered pretty early on that he just ate cereal, and that was fine, but she was in the mood for biscuits and gravy, carbs be damned, and that wasn’t something you just made for one person. It would be rude.
But Zack had other plans. He was sitting on the sofa, putting on his shoes.
“Hey, Deena Rae? I’ve got to go to my mom’s today. I’m really sorry. I already called Simon and he’s sending over Andrew or Evan to watch you while I’m helping her out.”
She groaned, taking four of the biscuits and putting them back in the freezer. “I can stay by myself, you know. I’m not a fucking child.”
“I know that, but Simon’s pretty insistent someone stay with you.” Deena Rae’s eyes flicked over the window across the courtyard and saw Slade sipping coffee on his couch, watching their interaction. She waved.
“I’m not really alone, you know. Slade watches me.”
A soft chuckle came from Zack. “Well, then, he can watch until someone else gets here. He’s who I’m talking to Mom about, anyway.” Zack stood to go, and she walked over to hug the man. “Did you know?” he asked into her hair, before he let go.
“Yes.” Zack’s head dropped. “It was something I figured out, though. He didn’t tell me or anything.” He nodded and turned to go. “Go easy on your mama. She may not know. You want me to make her a casserole or some shit?”
“Naw. She’s got a whole church full of ladies desperate to make stuff. She’s currently got the best chicken salad in the world coming out of her ears.” Zack kissed her cheek and left.
Deena promptly stripped to her underwear and finished her breakfast, just because she could. She was sick to death of not being alone in her own home. Now that she was there by herself, she turned up the music and danced around her kitchen.
If Slade were still watching, he’d get a show. And she didn’t mind a bit. She didn’t want to think too hard about that.
Slade was watching all right. He lounged on his sofa, trying to get up the guts to head over to UT’s offices to see what was required for enrollment. But the distraction across the way had him postponing his plans.
Jesus. Deena Rae had no fucking clue how goddamned beautiful she was. Her hips moved her, in all things. They led the way when she walked. When she stood still, there wa
s always one hip jutted out, begging for attention. He wasn’t even going to think about what they did when sex was involved. But when she danced? Fu-uck. Her hips swayed back and forth, almost at the peril of all else.
Never mind the tendrils of guilt that swirled around in his gut at the bandages on her back. His girl had found it in herself to dance again.
Slade was mesmerized, watching her hips and ass in nothing but the tiniest pair of lacey panties as she sashayed around her kitchen—pouring orange juice, stirring something on the stove, taking biscuits out of the oven.
That had to be why he didn’t notice Cecil entering her apartment until it was too late. He must have spoken because Deena Rae froze, spinning around, whisk held high. Slade’s heart was in his throat, and he held his breath as he stood. Suddenly, the two panes of glass and courtyard that separated him from Deena Rae were practically a moat.
Cecil held a gun out, pointed at Deena Rae, but she didn’t look afraid. A surge of pride welled up inside him as she squared her shoulders, her perfect tits jutting out as she puffed up her chest.
She launched herself at Cecil, and Slade finally found the will to move. She was going to get herself killed. He rushed around his apartment, going first for his gun in the nightstand, checking it to make sure it was loaded. He wasn’t really one much for guns, but he kept one.
His brain whirled as he went back to his living room and grabbed a sofa cushion off the arm of his couch. If he knew Cecil, he wouldn’t be alone. There would be someone guarding the door. Slade risked a glance back at her apartment and cursed loudly.
Cecil had her over his shoulder and was taking her to the bedroom.
He called 911 and reported a home invasion in progress, gave them all the details, and hung up, even after the operator told him to please stay on the line. Then he made his way to Deena Rae’s.
Sure enough, Austin was standing in front of Deena Rae’s door, guarding the entrance, or looking out for the cops or whatever. Slade simply held the cushion in front of his gun and fired into Austin’s leg. He wasn’t down for killing the guy, just wanted him immobilized.
Austin grabbed his leg with a yell, spinning around.
“Jesus Christ! You fucking shot me!”
Moving past him, Slade said, “Just hope it didn’t hit any major arteries, asshole.” He tried the door, finding it unlocked, and let himself in.
He ignored the scent of Deena Rae that enveloped him as soon as he walked in. The cool interior was marred by the voices coming from the bedroom. Slade made a beeline for the source.
“You’ll fucking regret this. Now your fingerprints are all over my apartment, and the D.A. will have all the evidence he needs besides some bullshit your attorney can give about hearsay. You’re going down, motherfucker.” Deena Rae was livid, cursing up a blue streak after her tirade, and pride welled up, even as Slade stood there, angry as fuck.
Slade could see one of her cheeks was red, her lip was split, and both her eyes were swelling shut. Cecil had used her face for a punching bag between her launching herself at him and Slade making it to her. Without a word, he raised his gun to the back of Cecil’s head and ratcheted back the slide, the mechanical noise echoing loudly in the apartment as the mechanism dropped the bullet into place.
“You hurt her, asshole,” Slade gritted out between clenched teeth as he tamped down the red rage rising up inside him.
Slowly, Cecil began to turn.
Slade pressed the gun into his head. “No. Put your fucking hands in the air.” Cecil complied, and Deena Rae’s face shone with a mischievous smile as she popped the fake handcuffs lock and freed herself. She sauntered over to Cecil and took his gun from his limp hand, pointing it at him so he had a barrel from both sides. “Turn around!” Slade yelled, his voice the outlet for his anger. He was so angry, he could twitch wrong and then go down for murder.
Cecil turned, keeping his movements slow and precise. Deena Rae pressed her gun to the back of Cecil’s head and Slade took a step back, just out of Cecil’s reach.
Cecil, to his credit, looked scared. His face was ashen, his hands in the air trembled, and the noise from his thick swallow was an audible click. A sense of satisfaction stole across Slade.
“You hurt her.” Slade wasn’t going to look at Deena Rae’s face again. She was bloody and bruised, yet still smiling.
Slade’s hand shook. He was seething. He’d never felt anything akin to this level of fury in his life. He saw he had the chance now to redeem himself, at least in his eyes. He’d never be in Deena Rae’s good graces again, but he could make himself feel better.
Cecil had killed his mother in front of him. Cecil had kidnapped his girl and almost killed them both. Then he’d come back for her.
“I should fucking kill you right now.”
“Go ahead,” Cecil said, almost affably. He spread his hands in a gesture of supplication, bowing his head. But he was smiling. Still shaking, though, which told Slade he was faking the bravado.
Slade didn’t see the smile, only red. He took a step closer, his gun pressed against the crown of Cecil’s bald head.
“Slade,” Deena Rae warned, her soft voice washing sense into him.
He looked up to see her standing there, still covering Cecil from behind, but pleading to Slade with her enormous hazel eyes.
It would be so easy to just pull the trigger. The world would be rid of one more bad guy. Cecil’s ex-wife wouldn’t have to worry about custody shit. There wouldn’t be the waste of tax-payers’ money for the cocksucker’s trial.
But Deena Rae still pled with her eyes.
Slade nodded to her in understanding but pressed the gun harder into Cecil’s scalp, wanting the man to piss himself in fear.
At that moment, Hollerman came into the apartment. “Deena Rae?”
“Back here.”
Slade relaxed his hold on the gun a bit, mostly with relief, as one of her co-workers came into the room with his own gun held up, covering the area as he went.
“Who the fuck shot the guy in front of your door?”
Chapter Thirty-two
After nearly twenty-four hours at the police station, Deena Rae was still buzzing with an abundance of adrenaline. Hollerman had driven her and Slade back to the apartment complex, where they stood in the courtyard like awkward teenagers.
“My apartment is still a crime scene, I think,” Deena Rae said, her voice nearly a whisper, even though she fidgeted and bounced on the balls of her feet.
“Stay with me.” Slade’s words sent a shiver of something untamed up Deena Rae’s spine. His eyes held a promise, but it wasn’t the sultry look she’d seen before. He was promising not to touch her, to keep the friendship thing working. He was almost pleading with her, actually. His eyes said it all.
She reached for his hand, feeling the roughness of it as she entwined her fingers with his, stroking his knuckle with her thumb. “Thank you.” She smiled as he led the way to his place.
In his apartment, he chucked his keys onto the side table by the door. “You can shower first. I know I need one. I’ll get you something to wear.”
Deena Rae walked through Slade’s bedroom to the bathroom, while he raided drawers, holding up shorts to see if they’d fit her. “A pair of boxers is fine. As long as they’re clean,” she offered as she shut the bathroom door. His face snapped up to hers right before she closed the door, and the look of innocent arousal as he digested the idea of her in his underwear almost made her giggle.
She ran a cold shower. Deena Rae still wasn’t up for hot showers, even warm ones, since her burn incident. The idea of heat of any kind on her flesh made her break out in a sweat. She wasn’t sure what she would do when summer came, but she’d deal with it the best she could.
She still had dressings to change on a regular basis, but it was getting better. She could only assume Slade’s injuries were the same. He wasn’t limping as badly as when he’d come home from the hospital, and she’d been watching him do his physical ther
apy.
As she washed herself under the water, filling her senses with scents of Slade’s body wash, she thought about what the future would bring. He’d risked his life to make things right with her. That spoke volumes with his intentions. She’d said friends and he’d honored that. But the friendship hurt almost as much as the nothing they’d had before she’d declared them friends.
The idea of being more again lifted her insides, made her lighter. Thinking in those terms, she realized she loved Slade.
She loved Slade. Even after all the bullshit, she couldn’t imagine her life without him. As long as she’d lived, and as little time as they’d known each other, her life before meeting him was just a preparation for a life with him.
That was heady.
She shut off the water and got out, realizing Slade had snuck in and laid a t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs on the sink for her. She dried off and changed quickly, wrapping her hair in a towel. Then, using Slade’s stuff he had out on the counter, she painstakingly dressed the burns she could reach. She’d get him to dress the burn on her back.
“Your turn,” she offered lightly when she came out to find Slade sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting.
She almost said it then—told him about her shower epiphany—but something held her back. She wanted him to have the peace of being clean at least before having to listen to her change the rules of their relationship yet again.
Meanwhile, Deena Rae towel-dried and finger-combed her hair while she listened to water fall off his body. She could imagine Slade’s hands rubbing away police department germs as sudsy water sluiced across his tanned muscles. By the time he’d shut off the water, she was a tight bundle of sexual energy. Slade came out of the bathroom, dripping wet, wearing a pair of underwear that matched hers.
“I’ll just take the couch. You can have the bed—”
“I love you, Slade.” There. She’d said it. Deena Rae had never been good with emotional stuff, and this was about as feely as she got. To his credit, Slade’s eyes widened, and he just stared at her.
