by Marika Ray
"Okay, cut the cloak and dagger routine, Bailey. How exactly do you plan to help Hessa?" Kai jumped into the conversation, killing my impersonation of Liam Neeson in Taken.
I went for it and deepened my voice. "I will find you. And I will kill you."
They looked at me with wide eyes and dumbfounded expressions.
"Seriously? No one's seen that movie?" I sighed heavily, seeing my jokes were wasted on this crowd. I jumped up and explained clearly (and super boringly I might add) what I could do to help. "I am a damn good computer hacker. I can tunnel in and find out who this guy is. Give me the go-ahead and I'll send you what I find."
They finally got me, giving me consent to move forward, and letting me take pictures of the pages Jack had left. I cleared out, going home to start my hacking. It was exciting to be hacking for someone else for once. Maybe I could make a side business out of it. I'd need a kickass name though. Like Hacker Extraordinaire or Mistress of Hacking or Hacking for Good or...well, those all sucked. Hmm...I'd have to think on it.
I arrived back home and got in my pajamas to settle in for the night. Now that I had my own place, I could get back to wearing minimal clothing without fear of Ivan seeing me half naked. I had on a sheer, baby pink camisole with matching boy cut shorts that mostly hid my goods. Keyword: mostly.
I sat on the couch and started breaking through various firewalls on my laptop, knowing this search would take time, but no time like the present to get started. It was like a secret little thrill every time I got through another firewall. Like hitting the next level in Mario Kart when I was a kid. Addicting.
I startled, nearly upsetting my computer from my lap, when the doorbell rang. I closed the computer lid, covering any criminal activity and wracked my brain for who it could be. I hadn't invited anyone over, but I knew it could be one of my Beach Squad girls. We didn't bother texting to let one of us know you were coming over. Prior notice is for acquaintances, and with all the topics we'd covered in detail over glasses of wine, we were way past acquaintances in the Squad.
I walked to the door and peered through the peep hole.
I jumped back, my heart racing from just one quick, fish hole view of Jack standing on my doorstep.
"I can hear you in there, Bailey. Open up," Jack demanded through the door.
Damn! Karma worked quick these days.
My hand fluttered to my chest like some kind of Victorian schoolmarm, irritating me on principal alone. I didn't let anyone scare me.
"Sorry, Jack. I can't let you in. Maybe call me tomorrow so we can set up a better time instead of just stopping by uninvited." I was proud of the strength in my voice, knowing just what to say to piss him off.
"Bailey, I swear to God, open this damn door right now." He wasn't even shouting, yet the command in his voice was admirable. Few men could cause me to shake doing nothing more than deepening their voice.
I looked down at my outfit, realizing I wasn't fit for company in more ways than one.
"I really can't, Jack..." I sing-songed.
"Bailey. Do not make me break this door down." His voice sounded like his head was leaning against the door, just inches from me.
An insane giggle almost escaped as I readied myself to obey his command. This aughtta be good.
I whipped the door open, my other hand on my hip, giving him a full head-to-toe view of my body, barely covered in lingerie.
Listen, I'm not conceited. However, I do have a healthy self-confidence. I knew I was beautiful in a traditional sense. Years of people asking me why I didn't model helped clue me in to that fact. I just wasn't interested in that line of work. I preferred to show off my body in more intimate settings. Like this one.
I so wished I had a camera, but as it was, I'll never forget the look on Jack's face as it transformed from angry to astonished to highly aroused to desperate, and then back to angry. Like a full circle trip.
Jack
I'd seen Bailey's face before she ducked down in her car on Hessa's street. I don't know who she thought she was fooling. I knew her car and her beautiful face. What I wanted to know was why she was hiding from me and what she was doing at Hessa's house.
I admit that I was highly sensitive to everything Bailey did, but something was off. I was a detective for God's sake. I knew when someone was hiding something. And Bailey was definitely hiding something.
So I drove to her place and waited down the street for her to come home. She wasn't at Hessa's long enough for it to have been a social call. She was there with a purpose and I would find out what that was.
When she wouldn't open the door, I was irate. The woman was infuriating. She was sassy beyond all reason. It's like she purposely said and did things to make me angry. And like an idiot, I took the bait every time. I couldn't seem to help it.
And then she finally opened the door.
Words can't possibly describe all that went through my head at the vision before me. Bailey was gorgeous on any given day, but standing silhouetted in her doorway with one hand propped up on the door and the other on her hip, dressed in clothes that were more see-through than actual clothes, was a sight I'll never forget.
My gaze dropped to her toes and traveled all the way back up her body, memorizing every curve to keep me warm for the rest of my years. Unfortunately, my gaze snagged on her breasts, where her nipples were rock hard and showing through her tank top. It was like everything I'd pictured for months was now revealed and it far surpassed anything my imagination could have come up with.
I tried to be a gentleman and not look my fill, but shit. I was a living, breathing male presented with female perfection. I had to look.
And then I got angry again. What the hell was she doing opening the door wearing that? I don't care who was on the other side, or what I might have said, a woman should not be opening her door wearing that.
I quickly took two steps in and slammed the door shut behind me, afraid half her neighborhood could see her in all her glory.
She smiled at me and shrugged. "You said I had to open the door."
I clenched my jaw, trying to calm myself before I spoke. I took another step toward her, now just inches from touching all that perfect skin on display.
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. I stepped forward, she stepped back again.
We continued this dance until we were in her living room. I finally spoke, hoping she understood the level of restraint that I was showing.
"Put on some clothes."
She grimaced and cocked her head to the side, hand back on her hip. "Excuse me? You come to my home uninvited, demanding I open my door, and then you think you can tell me what to do?"
I sighed and dropped my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. She had a point. "Bailey. Would you please go put some clothes on so I can concentrate enough to have a conversation with you?" I didn't bother looking up, knowing if I saw her in that get-up for one more second, I'd be throwing her down on her couch and ripping that pathetic material off her body.
She huffed loudly, then conceded. "Since you asked nicely..."
From my position, I saw her feet move toward a doorway, presumably to get clothes. I allowed myself to peek, instantly regretting it when I saw the backside of those shorts. They were even more sheer in the back, giving me an eyeful of exactly what junk she had in her trunk, as the young kids would say.
My fingers literally itched, wanting to reach out and squeeze her flesh. After adjusting the front of my jeans, I made a fist to keep my hands occupied. I needed a distraction, or she'd know exactly how much I wanted her. I looked around her living room, deciding to spy to pass the time before she came back in the room. As a detective that was how I spent my idle time: observing.
My eyes focused on her laptop, placed on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was closed, blocking any information I could have gained from it. The rest of the room was tidy, with little furniture. Two boxes were in the corner which made sense as I knew she'd only moved in about a month ag
o.
Two identical jackets were stacked on top of the boxes. I wandered over to them, curious as to why she had two of them, brand new and exactly alike.
"Do you mind, Detective?"
I spun around slowly, seeing Bailey back in the doorway with that black and red silk robe on. That was hardly better than what she was wearing before but at least I couldn't trace the outline of her nipples this time or see the small scar high on her left thigh.
"You know you can just wash these when they get dirty and not have to buy two of them." I hitched a thumb over my shoulder to the jackets behind me.
She quirked an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her face. "Thank you for the laundry advice. I really appreciate it."
I walked over to her, watching her intently, getting a thrill out of how fearless she was. So much attitude; in the way she walked, the way she held her body, even in the expressions on her gorgeous face. I knew I could be intimidating, and she held her own around me, no problem.
"Your mouth will get you in trouble one of these days, Bailey," I murmured to her when I was right in front of her, leaning toward her, our bodies only a few short inches apart.
Her wicked smile nearly brought me to my knees. "I'm hoping so."
Fuck this.
I was done ignoring her. I just needed to taste her. Wipe that damn grin off her face. Remind her who held the power here.
I reached out and slammed her against me in one rough yank. Before she could open that mouth and protest, I leaned down and claimed it with my lips.
6
Bailey
Yeah, I knew I was pushing him. No full-blooded male could watch a woman prance around practically naked and not be affected by it.
I couldn't help myself though. He was such an ass. Throwing out demands and expecting me to just fall in line. Hell no. I didn't put up with that shit. I pushed back. And I threw out sass left and right. If he didn't like it, he shouldn't have provoked me.
When I came back in the room with my robe on, I was already pissed that I'd acquiesced to his demand and covered up. The anger turned to panic when I saw him looking at two of the jackets I'd bought the other day. I didn't like him snooping around in any of the shadier things I was involved in, nor did I want to tell him about my charity work. It was none of his damn business.
So I did what I always do when pushed in a corner: I got cheeky and I got flirty. Hey, I'm a lover and a fighter.
When he stalked across the room, his face a solid wall of granite, I admit to a slight fluttering inside, whether from fear or anticipation, I wasn't sure. I knew that walk was sexy as hell though. His body was like a panther, smooth at all times, while radiating this masculine power and danger that had a direct line to my girlie parts.
Next thing I knew he'd pulled me up against that hard body, laying those plump lips on mine, plucking at them like he was going to take his time devouring me. Hands slid over my silk covered body, grabbing my ass and pulling my hips into a hard length that had magical powers to clear my brain of everything but sex. Like zero to sixty. I wanted him in every position I'd ever tried or imagined.
The kiss exploded as tongues clashed, tasted and licked. My back hit the wall, and I vaguely realized he'd turned me, taking away any retreat. Normally I'd protest, but I had absolutely no problem being pressed up against him if he continued that thing with his lips. And the thumb stroking across my nipple, shooting electric jolts to every part of my body. He was lighting me up like a Christmas tree and I was still fully clothed.
I made sure to indulge in my recurring fantasy by sucking on that lower lip of his, tucking away the experience in my brain to relive over and over in privacy. The hand on my ass traveled lower, ducking under the robe and sending chills down my leg. Rough, calloused fingers slowly traced up my thigh, heading to the junction between my legs.
A moan came out of my mouth, my anticipation was so great. Just a millimeter before he touched me right where I wanted him. The sound seemed to break the trance he was in because in the next moment, he was backing away, his hands leaving my body. Leaving me cold and confused.
I was breathing fast, my eyes not quite focused as I stared him down. He put a foot of space between us, then two. Then he spun around and marched right out of my house, slamming the door behind him.
I was stunned.
And more than a little sexually frustrated.
What just happened? How did he learn to kiss like that? How could I get him to do it again? And why did he leave right when it was getting good?
I sank onto the couch, pulling my robe around me tighter, needing the warmth. I waited till my breathing returned to normal and then I went through each part of the evening, trying to figure out what had happened. No longer under the spell of his lips, I could see the way he looked at me when he backed off.
He'd looked stunned. As stunned as I felt when he finally gave in and put his lips on mine. He hadn't looked angry anymore, or cocky, or any of the other expressions I'd seen on him over the last few months. He'd just looked absolutely flabbergasted that we actually kissed.
I didn't know what to do with that information. Was he horrified? Did he not know if he liked me?
I sat for quite awhile going over all these questions and then it hit me like a lightning bolt.
Who the hell cares what he was thinking!
Why was I putting in all this mental drama over what I thought he might be thinking? All I should be caring about was what I thought! Did I like him? Was I horrified by the sudden change in our back-and-forth status?
I jumped up off the couch and turned off all the lights. I couldn't help the smug smile as I went off to bed. I was damn happy about the kiss. It was hands down the best one I'd ever had. And if he was lucky, I'd let him do it again. We'd have to see if his attitude changed. Maybe then I'd allow it. Ha!
In the meantime, I'd get out my old vibrating friends and relive that kiss.
A week later...
That egotistical, bat shit for brains, leave me high and dry (actually wet, if I'm being honest), fan-fucking-tastic kisser ignored me all week.
Seriously.
No calls, no texts, no visits to my house or place of work. It was like he was pretending that the best kiss in the whole wide world didn't even take place. Which was bullshit. My lips still felt buzzed from the electric current that ran between us.
To say I was pissed would be an understatement.
I'd plotted at least ten ways to kill him without detection. I'd googled dismemberment articles, before clearing my computer and hoping I wasn't on some FBI list.
Which reminds me. I found some very interesting information regarding Hessa's little problem. I turned over a name, an address, and even screenshots of online conversation showing I found the guy behind the online dares. What she did with that was out of my control.
But I hoped she'd take it to Jack and rub his gorgeous face in it. I'd found his criminal before he did. If only I could take credit for my hacking skills, just to see his face when I bested him.
So back to being pissed. I'd called Esa to meet me at this new bar at Pacific City that she said was the place to be seen. I needed to come clean and share all my flirting, fighting and fucking (I wish on the fucking part, but the alliteration sounded good) with my bestie. I wanted her to agree with me on what a dick Jack was being. Esa and I had a history of finding alternative names for asshole men and I'd decided Jack's was Dick, to which he'd be referred to from here on out. Unless he came crawling back with apologies and then he'd revert to just Jack, none the wiser.
But as luck would have it, she was meeting with her wedding planner that night to go over wedding details. I didn't feel right guilting her into cancelling something important just so I could bitch about men. So I did the next best thing and put on a tight, short, red dress paired with black stilettos, the ones with the red soles to match my dress. I took extra time with my hair and make-up and then off I went to the bar.
By myself. A single woman.
On the prowl. Eat your fucking heart out, Dick.
I made my way through the packed crowd at the front of the bar, finding a spot to wedge myself in and get the bartender's attention. The men on either side of me gave me the once-over and struck up a conversation.
"Whatcha drinkin' tonight, beautiful?" This from the man to my right, who was a little on the older side, yet quite attractive with his greying hair and stylish suit. I didn't have a problem with dating older men, but only if I was truly attracted to them. I wouldn't date a guy for his bank account or his paid off house. That just felt like one step away from a paid whore. No thanks.
"White wine, please. Pinot grigio if you have it," I spoke loudly to the bartender, then swiveled to the older man to acknowledge his attempt at starting a conversation with me, while also demonstrating that I didn't want him ordering for me or buying me a drink.
"You here with anyone else or can I try to convince you to stay here and chat with me?" He smiled, giving off a genuine air of friendliness, not creepiness.
I shook my head, matching his grin. I was ready to get my flirt on. "Let's hear your pitch."
He set down his glass on the bar and leaned in, giving me a subtle whiff of cologne, spicy and woodsy. I shifted closer, enjoying the attention from a good-looking male.
"You look like the type who can hold her own. So I won't try to entice you with paid-for drinks or sleazy one-liners. I can tell by the way you present yourself that you have an eye for details, so I'll give that in return. I'll pay attention, hear you when you speak, let you take the lead. Up to a point." He stopped there, giving me a chance to truly decide whether I cared to stay and get to know him better. The choice was nice.
I tilted my head, intrigued by a man that could read me so well, or at least make a damn good guess. Plus, having a man not order me around, but instead, listen to me? Like really listen? That sounded heavenly.
