by Clara Stone
“Take care, Jessica,” Tom calls, and the guys echo him.
“See ya later, guys.”
I step out of the barn and glance at my phone, realizing just how late I am. Cat’s probably been waiting for at least fifteen minutes, which is kind of odd given that she’s always stomped her way into the barn to drag me out of here when I’m running late.
I scan the parking lot, looking for her car, and when my gaze lands on a very not-Cat looking person, it suddenly all makes sense.
My worries forgotten, I pick up my pace and head over to where Harrington stands, leaning back against his silver Mitsubishi Evo. His grin brightens when he sees me approaching.
“You’re not Cat.” I point out the obvious, a little out of breath as I come to a stop before him.
He runs a hand over the back of his neck, looking unsure. “Are you not happy to see me?”
“God yes. I’m just surprised is all,” I say, grinning wide.
“Good.” He chuckles in that low, deep way I love as he pushes off the car. He reaches for me, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. I suddenly forget where we are as everything in me zones in on him. His eyes. His hands. His mouth. His lips are so close to mine, and I will him to kiss me.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice gruff, like he’s just woken up or something.
My eyes dart to his eyes, then back to his mouth. “Hi.”
Then his mouth covers mine and I’m lost. So, so lost in a sea of hormones and feelings and naughty thoughts. He pulls back, but keeps his face close to mine, not touching me. His arms wrap around me even more tightly than before.
“Why did we wait so long to make this happen?” he breathes.
I shrug, because he knows the reason as well as I do. My fears, and his secrets.
“Let’s make a pact, yeah?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Let’s make a pact to never hide things from each other again.”
It’s innocent and sweet, and the boyish way he’s looking at me nearly wipes out the fact that it’s also impractical and maybe even a little naive. “What about your job? What if you get sent undercover again? I’m pretty sure the FBI wouldn’t like you sharing confidential secrets with me.”
“Hmm . . .” he says, his eyebrows crinkling. “That’s a good point. In that case, I’ll say it’s FBI related and you’ll just have to trust me.”
“What if it’s something embarrassing?”
He laughs. “Are you serious? I told you that I lost my virginity to a senior when I was thirteen—”
“Yeah, that just makes you a sex-crazed man.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Fair enough. Then how ‘bout I tell you about the time I shit my pants during recess because I couldn’t get my zipper down in time. I used to go commando back then, and the zipper got caught, if you know what I mean.”
“No!” My eyes bulge as I start giggling.
“Yup. And to add to the insult, one of my female classmates found me with my pants down. She swore to everyone who would listen that I was showing her my pee-pee—which, by the way, I still find insulting. I mean, pee-pee? Seriously? I was maybe eight or nine at the time. So anyway, I get dragged through the middle of the school to the nurses’ station just as the bell rings, the teacher yelling at me about my behavior while she plugs her nose from the stink. I didn’t live that down until I got to high school and my genes kicked up my hot factor to rockstar.”
“Ohmigod.” I laugh hard while he holds me tight. “That is super embarrassing.”
“Yup. It is. So see . . . there’s nothing you need to worry about telling me. If you’re worried, just tell me and I’ll share another embarrassing fact about myself. Hell, I have enough to last every day for the next three years.”
I’m laughing so hard I snort, and I realize it’s because he’s making me laugh. And in the process, he managed to alleviate all my reservations.
“So, you ready to get out of here?”
I nod, still giggling. “Yes. I’m starved.”
Harrington opens the passenger door for me. But before I can I slide in, I see Jarod running toward us. I pause with one foot in the car, my hand on the door as I give Harrington a confused glance. Jarod slows to a walk as he draws close. He looks from me to Harrington, and I’m honestly not sure what to make of his expression. Confusion? Concern? Anger? Some odd mix of all three?
“This isn’t Cat,” he states.
“No, he’s most definitely not,” I mumble. I look to Harrington, who’s frozen by my side and shooting daggers at Jarod. If looks could kill.
Jarod extends his hand to Harrington and Harrington takes it. “Jarod. Lead singer of The Torque.”
“Killshot. I punch throats for a living.”
I grimace slightly, not liking the reminder of Harrington’s less savory side, nor the obvious pissing contest that’s happening.
Harrington wraps his arm around my waist as I step out from the car and pulls me in next to him. I see the moment Jarod puts two and two together. His eyes go from happy to narrowed within seconds.
Slowly, he backs away, keeping his gaze locked solely on me. “I just wanted to make sure everything was cool, so if you’re good, then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Jess.”
“Yeah, tomorrow.” I grind my teeth in annoyance. I know it’s useless to try and get him to stop calling me that, especially since he so clearly isn’t getting the hint, but I still don’t like it. It’s like he thinks he’s entitled to it, like we’re somehow more familiar than we are. It rubs me the wrong way.
As soon as he’s out of hearing range, Harrington swiftly turns around and curtly gestures to the open door behind me. His jaw is set tight and a deep V forms between his eyebrows. I don’t know what to make of his anger. Does he think I’m leading Jarod on or something?
Once he’s in the car and starts the engine, he looks at me and says, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t like that guy at all.”
“Me either. He gives me the creeps. But why don’t you like him?” I ask.
“Because that douchebag was imagining you naked right in front of me.” A muscle pops in his jaw. “I wish I could have punched that smirk off his face when he said he’ll see you later.” His gaze is directed through the window, at the barn over my shoulder.
“You got all that from the ‘see you later’?”
He blinks, his focus back on me. “Sweetheart, as dickish as it sounds, I was that guy back in high school. The only difference is I never went after a girl who was taken.”
Well, okay then. I look away and down at my hands.
“Shit,” Harrington swears, under his breath. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean that the way it sounds. I know you’re not mine, not like that. It’s just . . .” He licks his lips. “I’m doing this all wrong. He just gives me the wrong vibe, and I can’t stand the thought of him staring at you like a piece of meat. Because you’re not. You’re so much more than just a meat-suit.”
“What can I do though? Playing drums in a band has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I can’t just up and leave because some guy is staring at me.”
“No, you can’t. And you shouldn’t. But . . .”
I look at him and he dips his head slightly, averting his eyes before he looks at me again. “What is it?”
“I have an idea. But only if you promise not to get pissed at me and think it’s about me marking my territory or some other sexist horseshit. Because it’s not. But it will more or less tell that asshole that you’re not available.”
I’m hesitant, but I nod. “I’m listening.”
“I want to come to your practices. If I stick around, he’ll back off.”
“Umm . . .” I purse my lips. “Let me get this straight. You want to come to my practices and sit there for hours on end, bored out of your mind, just so Jarod will back off?”
He nods. Slowly.
“Are you sure? It could get really, really boring. I
mean, don’t you need to practice for your next fight or something?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. That’s a tough call. Watching you in your element or getting grabby with sweaty guys. Hmm . . . decisions, decisions.”
I shove him playfully. “Okay. If you’re absolutely sure. And if this will make Jarod back off, then I’m willing to try if you are.”
He grins. “Like I said, it’s a tough call, but I’ll make sacrifices.” He winks and puts the car into drive. “I guess that means I’ll be your ride to and from practice every day.”
“I guess so.” I smile.
More time with Harrington?
Yes. Please.
TRUE TO HIS word, Harrington sticks around for all my practices, and after a few days—and the realization that he’s the same Killshot Tony’s mentioned—Jarod backs off. He hasn’t even so much as attempted to pull me into a hug or thrown his arm around me for no reason. In fact, he’s kept his distance, and I’ve been performing at my best because of it. The guys noticed, and even Tom commented on it.
He and Harrington seem to have hit it off, too, hanging out and talking during practice like they’ve been friends for years. Though I’m not sure what they talk about. I mean, their choice of careers aren’t even remotely the same. But, generally speaking, having Harrington in my world has made everything better.
And ending every practice with him kissing me as he tells me how incredible I sounded has been nothing less than awesome.
I’ve even made it a point to go to his sparring matches when I’m not working or with the band. I still flinch when I watch him and Fisher go at it like they hate each other, but I’m starting to get used to it. The blood still makes my stomach queasy, but at least I’m not running anymore. And having Cat there as moral support helps.
Before I know it, the rest of the week has flown by and I find myself at Harrington’s place after another hard Friday night at Blue Tango. Both of our shirts have found their way to the floor next to his bed, while his mouth—good God, his mouth—works blissful magic along the curve of my waist.
“This tattoo,” he says, tracing a finger along the lines etched into my skin—the outline of the pheonix tattoo I got for my twenty-first birthday. The one that represents everything I survived in my childhood and reminds to never give up, to always fight to survive.
“It’s a phoenix, yeah?” he asks.
I nod.
His hazel eyes bore into mine. “What does it mean?”
I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating what to tell him. “It means, a new beginning. That I might have been burned, but I’m not giving up. Not yet.”
“It’s beautiful.” His hands dig into my skin, and he’s doing something amazing with his tongue that makes me so completely out of touch with reality. It isn’t until he stops kissing me that I realize he was still talking.
I open my eyes and look up at him. He’s perched up on his elbow, staring down at me, a playful smile crossing his mouth.
I lick my lips. “What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” He pushes a stray piece of hair away from my face.
“I thought you said we’d sharing anything, regardless of how silly it might be?” I challenge.
He laughs, leaning down to kiss my lips, soft and tentative, like I’m a flower he doesn’t want to crush. “I was just thinking out loud about how, not two weeks ago, this . . . we didn’t exist. Hell, a few months ago, I never thought I’d be in a relationship. Period.”
I brush the back of my hand against his jaw. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either.”
“How is that you’re even more beautiful now than you were a minute ago?”
I giggle. “You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m serious, Jess. I knew you were beautiful the moment I met you, even without makeup, wearing clothes two sizes too big for you and that messy bun—which, by the way, I love.” He shakes his head, wearing a crooked half-smile as he runs his fingers through my hair. “But damn, sweetheart. You just keep getting more beautiful every fucking time I see you.”
My cheeks heat up, and I don’t know what to say. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Then he’s leaning forward and kissing me again, his body hovering over mine, giving me just enough pressure to make me want more of him.
But before we can go any further, his phone rings. He swears under his breath. “Shit. One sec.” He pushes back to his knees and puts up his finger. “Hold that thought. We’re going to continue . . .”
Then he grabs the phone from the bedside table and looks at the caller ID. “What the—” he mutters, rolling off the bed and swiping to accept the call.
“This better be one hell of a reason,” he says to whoever’s on the other side, his voice tinged with worry and annoyance. “What do you mean? Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” Harrington looks at me, then turns and starts pacing as he listens to whatever the person on the other side is saying.
I push up to a sitting position and watch him as he runs his hand through his hair, the muscles in his arm tightening with the gesture. “How long? Fuck. How—” More pacing. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll have to move the timeline up, but we can make that work. Thanks, man. And I appreciate you calling me first. Wilson won’t be happy about this. Yeah. Okay. You too.”
He throws the phone on the bed and places his hand on his hips, tilting his head back “Shit.”
I slowly get off the bed and make my way over to him. Wrapping my arms around his midsection, I place my head over his naked chest. “What’s wrong?”
His arms curl around me and he kisses the top of my head. “That was Neil, my analyst at the FBI.”
I nod.
“He has reason to believe that the suspect we were planning to bring in is about to go underground.”
I let go of him and look up, not really understanding why that’s a problem.
“He just booked a flight out of the country. It’s a one-way trip, leaving tomorrow night. And Neil can’t find any other tickets being purchased, not even under his alias. He’s going into hiding.”
I reach for his hand. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure you and Fisher will figure something out.”
He nods, but I can see the anxiety lining his face. “Yeah, we have just under thirty-four hours to stop him.”
I let go of his hand and place mine over his chest, pushing gently. “Then you should go, find Fisher and figure out what you’re going to do.”
He looks at me, his head tilted and his eyebrows raised.
“No distractions.” I smile.
He leans forward and kisses me on the mouth. “Seriously, why did we wait so fucking long to finally be together?”
I laugh. “Go, Harry.”
He lets go of me and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head as he says, “Stay, okay? I’ll try to get back as soon as I can and we can pick up where we left off.” He grabs his keys and his cell, and heads toward the door. But something stops him.
“Forget something?”
“Yeah.” He turns around and pulls me into a tight hug. He kisses me again, harder, rougher than the last. “Thank you.”
I smile at him. “You’re welcome.”
Then he’s gone. I hear the front door shut and the tell-tale sound of the deadbolt clicking into place. I fall back on the bed with a heavy sigh and realize just how tired I truly am. So I curl up and snuggle into his pillow, breathing in his scent as I fall asleep.
When I wake up a few hours later, I realize that Harrington still isn’t back. I pick up my phone and give him a quick call. His voicemail answers. I hang up without leaving a message.
And I realize then that this is what our life might be if Harrington and I are together.
Him running off in middle of the night to work his cases. Me waiting behind the scenes, worrying, hoping that he’ll come home to me safe and in one piece.
And, truth be told, I don’t know how that makes me feel.
“YOU LOOK NERVOUS,” Cat says, filling up a dr
ink for yet another customer.
I shake my head. I still haven’t seen or heard from Harrington. I waited at his place until I started to feel like a weird stalker, and then went home so I could change before work. But I don’t want Cat to know how worried I am, or how I can’t stop counting the minutes until I can check my phone and see if he’s called. Rick has a strict “no personal calls while working” policy.
“I’m just looking forward to my break.”
“I know what you mean,” she says. “It’s like all the frats decided to party at a club instead of their own place.” She grins her blazing smile at her customer and he’s immediately mesmerized by her, giving her a funny, dumbstruck look. She ignores him and turns to me. “Man, I could use another break.”
“You were just on break like thirty minutes ago.”
“I know. But these college kids are sucking the ever-loving life out of me.”
I laugh. “You’re getting old, Cat.”
“Don’t you dare call me old.” She flips her long white braid over her shoulder. “I’m forever young.”
Well, that, and she’s only twenty-eight.
“Oh, guess who happened to call me while I was on my phone browsing pics of hot guys?” She doesn’t even give me a chance to respond. “Fisher. And you know what Fisher’s words were?” She juts her hip to the side and places her hand over it. Whatever they were, she wasn’t too pleased with them.
“No?”
“He wanted to know if I was working tonight.” She scoffs. “No hello, or how’s it going. Just ‘are you working tonight?’” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Like I’m going to be his booty call whenever he’s in the mood. I mean, he’s a great lay, but not that great.”
I laugh as I finish making another drink and hand it to the waiting customer, pocketing the tip he leaves on the bar in one fluid motion. “That must be why you’ve gone back to him so many times. Just admit it, you like him.”
She glares at me. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” I tell her, popping the cap off a beer and sliding the bottle into its thirsty new owner’s hand. “I am on your side. That’s why I’m begging you to consider giving up all these ridiculous little things you keep using to break up with him and just admit that you like the guy.”
