by T Gephart
And despite all those blemishes—all of which I’m sure he’d earned doing horrible things—with the light behind him, he looked beautiful.
His dark eyes caught mine, their glare lacking any warmth. “I told you to keep away from the windows.”
“I don’t do what I’m told.” I didn’t move from my place at the window and he sure as hell he wasn’t getting an apology. “Call it my character flaw.”
I didn’t expect the smile. The edges of his lips curled with a genuine amusement, his teeth startling white. And like his body, it too was beautiful. “You’re just full of surprises.” His arms lowered, his hands anchoring on his hips. “The sarcasm is still intact, even though you’ve been up here for hours.” His eyes darted around the room. “No holes in the walls either. I’m impressed you’re not rocking in a corner or begging to get out.”
It was easier to ignore that, as he stood before me missing most of his clothes and usual hard expression, he seemed less vicious. Not quite kind, but . . . human. Who knew what brought the change? His moods were so unpredictable. And as much as he probably thought I was a pain in his ass—no doubt hating my endless questions—he seemed intrigued by me.
“I’ll never beg, not you or anyone else.”
“Pity.” His head shook as his eyebrow rose. “I’m sure you would look good on your knees.”
“If that’s what you’ve come in for, you might as well forget it.” My hands flew to my hips, my stance mirroring his.
I hadn’t forgotten the man was still mostly naked, his purpose for being in the room not yet revealed. And while I had admired his finely chiseled assets when he’d walked in, there was no way I was going to have sex with him. I hadn’t completely lost my mind.
No. Way.
“Relax, sweetheart.” He laughed. “I don’t shit where I eat.” He stalked closer to where I was by the window. “And fucking you would be too much work.”
Bastard.
It was ridiculous that it stung, but it did; his reassurances laced in another insult. No doubt designed to mess up my already scrambled head beyond repair.
“Then why are you here like that?” I gestured to the towel around his hips, the terry cloth the only thing separating him from nudity. “Hoping I’d blush nervously? You think I’ve never seen a dick?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He leaned closer and smiled. “But seeing as you picked my room when there were two others vacant, you’re going to have to deal when I want clean clothes.”
His fingers moved to the edge of the towel—the part that was keeping it together. He watched my eyes follow his hands as it dropped to the floor.
“So deal.”
Walking into the room—my room—hadn’t been premeditated.
I’d taken a shower and decided two days wearing the same shirt and jeans was enough. So if she decided to stay in the bedroom that housed my closet, she had no reason to be pissed when I lost my pants.
Her eyes did a quick redirect, snapping up toward my face trying hard to make it seem like she hadn’t just seen my dick. And great effort on her part, she spared us both by not doing the whole shielding her eyes BS. And if her cheeks pinked, she’d camo’d that too.
“Don’t mind me.” I casually walked to my closet, my ass in the breeze with no real hurry as I grabbed a clean pair of jeans and shirt. Then it was another few strides to the dresser up against the wall and grabbed a pair of boxers, turning around before pulling them on.
There was no reason for me to put on a show. Could have easily been avoided by leaving the towel where it was, getting clean clothes and pulling them on elsewhere. But we both knew I wasn’t that considerate, and part of me liked making her uncomfortable. Made the fact she was in my personal space a little easier to deal with. Oh, and I was also a bastard who didn’t give a shit about her feelings.
“You’re still suspected dead.” I shoved one leg into my jeans before following with the other. “So we might move before they issue a BOLO. No one will be looking for a corpse in traffic, but we’re going to be careful just to be sure.” My fingers yanked up my fly.
While originally I had decided to stay put, I reassessed my plan when I’d heard over the police scanner that they were almost positive she’d gone up with the house. That would change in the next few days with the absence of a body, so time was of the essence.
“Where are we going?” She stayed where she was, doing her best to keep her eyes at head level. They may have dipped once or twice but for the most part, they were rock solid.
She was doing a lot better than I’d expected, which was probably why part of me paid her more respect than I usually would. It wasn’t because she was a woman; I mistrusted everyone. But I’ll admit, her being cool up to this point was making me less hostile.
“I have another place further out of the city.” I pulled the shirt over my head, ignoring I hadn’t properly dried off and the cotton was sticking to my damp skin. “In an industrial estate near the airport. Not so many eyes out there and a lot easier to see if anything’s coming at you. Keeps us off the grid.”
“And then what?”
Surprise, surprise. She had questions.
“We wait.”
Truth was, I had no fucking idea what we were going to do. My job had been to get her and keep her safe. There hadn’t been any talk of relocating or an extraction. I was just supposed to babysit until Jimmy worked out how he was going to handle it.
Not sure how anyone could handle it. The people who wanted her head on a plate weren’t going to suddenly wake up a few days from now and forget. No, these fuckers had long memories and even longer reach, so short of shipping his kid out of the country, she wasn’t going to have any chance of regular life again. I assumed that was his plan, get his ducks in a row and get her out. At the very least out of Illinois, maybe send her to fucking Utah or something.
“Good thing you didn’t unpack.” My head nodded to her duffle on the floor and the overnight bag beside the bed, all her shit still zipped up inside.
“That’s the first time you’ve spoken to me like a person instead of a prisoner, thank you.” Her voice was softer than it usually was, a nod of appreciation shot in my general direction.
“Don’t get all Oprah on me.” I hoped like hell she wasn’t going to pick now to start with the tears. She was right. My mood had definitely thawed and I’d told her a lot more than I usually allowed. But I didn’t like that shit pointed out. Or worse, let her believe I was nice.
“As you said, you haven’t tried to get away and other than being a fucking pain in my ass and running that mouth of yours, you have done what I’ve asked. But make no mistake,” I warned, wanting her to know we weren’t going to be suddenly holding hands and splitting an order of fucking fries. “This isn’t about me trusting you, or us being friends. It’s about hoping you’ll be less of a fucking pill.”
“You could have just nodded and left.” Her fists at her side tightened, the edge her voice that had been missing was no longer MIA. “You don’t have to be an asshole every time you open your mouth to remind me how much we’re not friends. I didn’t develop amnesia. I can recall that all by myself.”
“I am an asshole, Sofia. It’s the only way I know how to be.” I moved closer, my feet closing the distance between us. The clarification for her to understand exactly what kind of man I was and remind myself in the same breath. “It’s kept me alive, and if you’re lucky, it will do the same for you.” I leaned forward, enjoying the fact that if she took another step her back was going to be up against the wall with no way out. “So don’t think my attitude is for your benefit. You would be wrongly assuming I care about your feelings, in any way.”
“When do we leave?” she asked, and to her credit, she held her ground. The only hint that she was uncomfortable was the way her hand reached up and fingered the cross that hung around her neck.
Great, she probably believed there was a hipster who wore a sheet and sat up in the clouds passing out fr
ee wishes if you said enough Hail Mary’s. Because that makes any kind of sense; that an unknown entity had any power over anything other than scratching his own ass.
Religion.
It killed more men than drugs and was a hell of a lot more dangerous. At least when you injected heroin into your arm you knew what you were getting. Planting your knees on the floor did nothing but prove you believed in fairytales.
“I said, when do—”
“I heard you the first time.” I cut her off not needing the replay. “I was just hoping you were smarter than the herd.” My head nodded to her hand still up around her throat.
“There is nothing wrong with having faith.” She lowered her hand like she had suddenly become aware of it. “Everyone will face judgment. If not in this world, then the next.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it. My body convulsed even more when I saw how serious she was. I thought she had more sense than that, and the hatred I had for those assholes and everything they stood for ran deep. Because blindly believing in something was more dangerous than anything in the world. Giving people false hope that shit would get better. Made you wonder what the fuck you did wrong when that miracle didn’t come. There was no one up in the clouds listening, no one who cared and no one who was ever going to give you a free pass. They were thugs, just as much as the next guy. Playing on people’s fears to get them to conform. And I would never be intimidated by an institution that didn’t care about anyone but themselves.
Yet, she somehow figured I was accountable to someone other than myself. And I was going to have to eventually stand in front of some fucktard with a clipboard to see if I measured up.
No wonder the human race was failing; the dipshits believed any lie they were told. Being saved, numero uno.
“You have fun with that.” I wiped the tears from my eyes, the laugh the best I’d had in a while. “We’re rolling out in two hours and we probably won’t be coming back. Make sure whatever you need is ready to go, would hate for you to have left a pack of tampons, or your judgment, behind.”
I didn’t wait for a response, walking back to my closet and grabbing out a large black duffle, pulling clothes off hangers and shoving them inside as I went.
She didn’t stay and watch, grabbing a spare clip of ammo on the nightstand and collecting her bags. Hefting the straps onto each shoulder—she didn’t ask for help and I didn’t offer—she carried her stuff out of the room and presumably downstairs. Well, at least she was efficient.
It didn’t take me long to be ready to bug out. It was a necessary skill to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. But I took a little longer than usual, making sure my head was in the game. As much as I didn’t like to admit it, she had gotten under my skin. I didn’t like that. Not even a bit. So I needed to remind myself where my focus was. She was just another job and would be gone soon.
Killing the bedroom light with one hand, the other hauling my duffle, I moved out of the doorway and back downstairs.
She was at the base of the stairs, her dark hair pulled off of her face, tapping her foot like she’d been waiting on me. The two bags she had were stacked beside her and next to that she had an old cooler that I kept down in the basement. She must have seen it when she’d spent some time down there earlier and brought it up. Though its appearance with the luggage was still a mystery.
“I packed food and some bottled water,” she answered, pulling a mind reader and answering my unasked question. “You suck at remembering the basics and I’d rather not starve or dehydrate.”
“Stay here.” I nodded, not bothering to reward her initiative, grabbing as much as I could carry and walking past her toward the back of the house.
Any internal thoughts about her or the situation were shelved as I switched gears, my focus narrowing completely on the operation.
The yard was in complete darkness with the security lighting disabled. Not that I had any reason to suspect anyone had been poking around, but I wasn’t going to shine a spotlight on my ass and help a fucker along if he was perched sniper-like in a tree.
Once in the garage, I popped the trunk and loaded my duffle and her two bags into the cavity and doubled back to the house, my head swiveling in the dark just in case.
Nothing flagged as strange. A couple of dogs barking in the distance competed with a car revving, the screech of tires and the whine of the turbo happening a few seconds later. I didn’t linger, but the hair on the back of my neck standing up for no good reason meant something was off.
A twist of my head left then right didn’t give me any answers; the gnawing in my gut not something I usually ignored. The chill crept up my back and it had nothing to do with the wind. It had been too easy—getting her out, getting her here, the leveling of her house. I didn’t believe in miracles or luck, neither did most of the men who would be after her. And yet, not even a whisper in our direction. Whatever happened from here on out, we were far from home free.
As I made my way back to the house, Sofia was doing what she was told for a change without the argument, waiting inside. Hoping she’d continue that theme, I grabbed the cooler and gave her the “let’s go,” as I eyed her hard.
She got the message loud and clear, her eyes widening, pulling out her nine as she watched me palm my forty.
It had been dumb going out there the first time without my weapon out. Complete rookie mistake. And the fact I hadn’t ended up like Swiss cheese meant that whatever was out there was either waiting for a better opportunity or they were biding their time, waiting for me to bring out their prize.
Of course, this was all speculation. I hadn’t eyeballed anything to give me that intel, but I was willing to bet my left nut that beyond the fence line there was a hunter waiting for kill shot.
“Stay behind me.” I hesitated a beat before stepping back into the yard. “I want you to take even steps, staying as close to me as you can. I’m serious, Sofia, right on my ass like a pair of fucking jeans. Watch your back, I’ve got the front but don’t run, it’ll be too easy to trip and then this will all go to shit.”
For once she shelved the who-what-where-why, instead giving me a quick nod as my boot hit the night air.
We’d barely made it outside, the sound of a single bullet sliced through the quiet as it narrowly missed my head.
“Get down and keep moving,” I hissed as my finger locked around the trigger of my forty-five. That one shot wasn’t a single; its friend was already making its way to greet us, fortunately hitting the brick instead.
Lights on either side of us lit up the exterior yards. The dumbasses who happened to be my neighbors, not recognizing that a gunshot is not something you investigated. Maybe they thought it was a car backfiring or some kid letting off a firework. Anyway, not my problem. If they caught a slug from their curiosity, that was on them; I had enough shit to deal with.
I fired a couple of rounds in the direction I assumed the bullets were coming from. I didn’t want to empty my clip when I had no real target, but I wasn’t going to sit on my hands either. My legs pumped, covering as much ground as I could while keeping my body lead-free. Sofia didn’t choke either, sticking to me as instructed; the short walk to the garage exponentially longer when you had some dick trying to give you body modification you hadn’t asked for.
It could’ve been anyone and I wasn’t about to stop to ask who. But from the erratic angles of the bullets I’d say it was some cowboy who hadn’t been smart enough to go to the Army Navy Surplus and get some night vision. Either that or he—or she, let’s face it, it was possible—was a terrible fucking shot.
“Go.” I legged it double time the second there was a break in the firing pattern, kicking open the side door, twisting my body to allow Sofia to squeeze past. My hand yanked hard, pulling the door shut behind us, giving us a momentary reprieve.
“Friends of yours, I assume,” Sofia whispered, her breaths between each word hard and uneven.
“They must be yours. I don’t hav
e any friends.” My shoulders rested against the exposed brick wall of the garage, my own breathing a little more intense than I would have liked. “But whoever they are, I doubt they are the patient type. We need to get out of here now.”
While most people would be lulled into a false sense of security the four walls gave us, I knew better. We were far from safe. Sure we had some cover, but we were also fucking blind, not able to see who or what was coming until it was too late. And I was almost positive some neighborhood watch hero wannabe had probably already dialed 9-1-1, so we’d have that mess to contend with too. I didn’t much feel like wrapping my ass like a birthday present and handing it over, which meant it was time to go.
I tossed the cooler into the backseat. The only reason the piece of shit Igloo hadn’t been dumped on my back lawn was because I’d used it as cover, keeping the K-Mart special against my chest while avoiding bullet holes. It wasn’t Kevlar, but it would be enough to slow the projectile down, hopefully knock it off target and miss any major bits.
“How good of a shot are you?” I cracked open the passenger’s side door, beyond pissed I was going to have to make this fucking call. “And I don’t want to hear women-can-do-anything-men-can-do shit. I’m talking about real shooting, moving targets.”
“I’m a cop, of course—”
“Not what I fucking asked,” I snapped back, already wasting more time than I would have liked. “I’m looking for precision and speed, not hitting cardboard targets on range.”
“Yes. I can shoot,” she said confidently, her back straightening in conviction as she moved to the open passenger’s side door and sliding into the seat.
“Don’t make me regret this.” I slammed the door behind her.
Putting her at the wheel wasn’t an option. Without recon, I had no idea what we were dealing with out there. I needed to be able to get us out of here alive and put some distance between us while keeping my head on a swivel. This was going to go beyond defensive driving. If I kept pressure on them with my gun as well, I’d guarantee you one of those areas would suffer. Too big a risk. So I was going to have to hope she could at the very least apply some heat. Returning fire, the lesser of the two evils.
