by RJ Blain
“Sorry I delayed your shower.”
“I knocked about five minutes after the tub stopped filling. You didn’t answer, so I checked in. When I saw you were down and out for the count, I invited myself in and showered. Since you slept through my shower concerto, I decided to enjoy myself in the tub. Then you slept through that, so I got out and fetched my phone. The bed’s more comfortable.”
I draped my arm over my eyes. “Is there any reason you’re naked?”
“Ex sex. I’ve been told it’s spectacular, so I want to find out. We’ve had a bad day. Let’s end it on a completely inappropriate but nice note. No one said we couldn’t.” Kennedy strutted to the door, hips swaying every step of the way. “No one said we could, either. Actually, I’m pretty sure one of those doctors, during a mandatory therapy session, said it’d probably be an exceptionally bad idea. Actually, without me even asking, he told me I shouldn’t even think about it. Something about inducing a panic attack. Are you going to have a panic attack sleeping with me? That would be a bit problematic.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No. I just haven’t gotten any in a while, I’ve had a bad day, and the worst you can do is say no. I don’t have a whole lot to lose.”
“You really want ex sex. With me.”
“I don’t have any other exes, so yes. With you. We’re not counting one-night stands as exes, are we?”
“I suppose not.”
“Just don’t get the sheets wet coming to bed, Reed.”
I had no idea what was going on or why. I wasn’t really sure I cared, either. “Let me get this straight. You want me to get out of this nice warm water, get dried off, and then join you in bed, where we won’t actually get any sleep because we’re going to take a complete leave of our senses and have ex sex all night long.”
“That sounds about right. Are you coming?”
Why not? What was the worst that could happen?
I knew the answer; it’d been staring me in the face all day long and well into the evening, when I was a man enough to admit it. When I slipped and forgot about what had broken us apart in the first place, when I forgot I wasn’t supposed to be in love with her anymore, I remembered.
Love and hate were the opposite sides of the same coin, and no matter how many times I flipped it, I never could get it to land on hate. Falling in lust with the woman was one lethal step away from falling in love with her all over again.
“Reed?”
My name on her lips did terrible yet wonderful things to me, and before the night was over, I meant to hear it again. I drained the tub and went to work drying off so I wouldn’t get the sheets wet. “I’m just saying goodbye to my common sense, so why don’t you make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Kennedy giggled.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, she had snuggled under the comforter, her red hair fanned out on the pillow. She had her hands over her head, a tie wrapped around one wrist while the rest of it dangled. A second tie covered her eyes, and my brows rose. “Well, well, well.”
“Ex sex with a twist.”
“And a Windsor knot, apparently.”
“I read somewhere ex sex was better blindfolded.”
“And your little bracelet?”
“I got bored while waiting.” She wiggled under the blanket. “I saved one for you to wear tomorrow.”
“You’re assuming you’re going to be in any condition to go anywhere at all tomorrow. When I’m finished with you, you’re going to be having a difficult time walking in a straight line,” I promised. That, at least, I could do well. She’d enjoy it, I’d make certain of that. Best of all, I wouldn’t have to worry about my cursed sight, either.
I just hoped I wouldn’t regret it when morning came.
Chapter Eleven
At eleven sharp with less than two hours of actual sleep, Kennedy checked us out of the hotel room, herded me to a black SUV, and slid behind the wheel with no evidence of having stayed up most the night. She talked to a pair of FBI agents who’d delivered the vehicle while I grumbled complaints and buckled into the passenger seat.
How the hell could she be so awake? My pride stung; despite being tired and bruised, I’d pulled out all the stops, even going as far as getting creative with every tie in the hotel room. I’d managed to even ruin two of them, but I’d salvaged the third with a little help from the iron and ten minutes.
Somehow, her contacts had procured a suit for me that almost fit. Someone with a sharp eye would notice the slacks were a tad too short or that my cuffs didn’t align just right with my sleeves, but I’d pass muster with most. I adjusted my tie again while waiting for Kennedy to finish exchanging pleasantries with the pair of agents.
The older one, a man who could’ve been her father, kept staring at her chest. I wanted to gouge his eyes out for his inability to keep his gaze from wandering. The extra ten minutes lost to the man’s inability to shut up while drooling all over my ex tested my patience so much I had to bite my tongue to keep from flinging a few curses in his direction.
Kennedy rolled up her window, started the engine, and snickered. “You’re so grumpy. Do you need some coffee?”
“He kept staring at your breasts. Of course I’m grumpy.”
“Territorial, too.”
I scowled, plunked my elbow on the arm rest, and stared out the window. “He could’ve at least tried to hide that he was looking at your breasts. I have nothing against men looking at breasts, but couldn’t he at least attempt to be dignified while doing it? That made all men look like we’re incapable of restraint.”
“If I wasted my time punching every man who couldn’t keep their eyes above my shoulders, I’d never have time to get anything else done. I do have an advantage over them. When they’re busy drooling over my chest, they often forget how to think, so it’s easier to get the information I want out of them.” With a soft chuckle, Kennedy hit the road, and I appreciated the quiet. Unlike a lot of people, who instantly turned on the radio or music, she just drove.
I lasted all of ten minutes before a mixture of curiosity and annoyance got the better of me. “How the hell are you so damned awake?”
“Magic.”
I blinked. Was she being serious or brushing me off? If I asked, would I make things worse? Could they get worse? I wanted to offer her a second chance at ex sex to redeem myself—or at least restore some of my bruised dignity. Curiosity won over annoyance and frustration, and I sighed. “Magic?”
“I’m a shocker, a low grade but rather useful talent. In short, I stole some electricity from the hotel and gave myself a boost.”
I groaned and watched her through the window’s reflection. “That was awful.”
“Awful? What are you talking about?” She shot me a glance before returning her attention to the road.
“In short? A boost?”
The silence lasted well over a minute. “I didn’t mean it!”
“Shocking.”
Kennedy flipped her middle finger at me.
“You’re saying you needed to use magic to recover.” Relief and satisfaction led to a rather inappropriate smirk.
“How the hell else was I supposed to get out of bed and drive anywhere today? I didn’t think you’d actually mean it when you said the entire night. Warn a woman next time!”
“I did!”
“Warn a woman that you actually mean it. Wait. That’s not right, either. Every man I’ve ever been with has made the same stupid claim. All night long, they promise. All the time. What do I get?”
I could make a few guesses. Some of the feistier women I’d gone home with hadn’t been shy about the expectations and usual disappointments, which made it a lot easier to give them exactly what they wanted. “Ten minutes and some frustration?”
“You’re being generous.”
“How awfully rude of them.” I clucked my tongue. “I’m pretty sure I told you I was only about a third human.”
“You look
like a man, walk like a man, and talk like a man, therefore you are a man. And your file very clearly says you’re a man.” Laughing, she shook her head. “All right, Reed. I’ll stroke your ego a bit, as you deserve it. That’s the first time I’ve ever had to give myself a boost after staying up too late on a work night having a fling.”
“So, I don’t have to beg for a redo?”
“I had to use magic to restore base functionality this morning. Actual magic. You reduced me to needing magic to crawl out of bed—and I mean crawl. I had to shower because I couldn’t get my leg over the tub’s ledge.”
Unable to resist smirking, I stretched out my legs, careful to avoid pulling my stitches any more than I already had. “Coffee would be good, and I need to see what I have to do to take my prescriptions.”
“Probably breakfast. We’re about a five hour drive from Indianapolis, so I’ll get us there, take you home, and start the real investigative work tomorrow after some sleep. The FBI is working with local law enforcement in Indiana and Mississippi to try to gather enough information to work with, but we’ll need to do an extensive questioning session to get your part of the story—and see if we can put together any solid leads.”
“I need to pick up my kitten. Luna has her.”
“We’re aware. Your kitten’s fine. We can pick her up on the way to your house.”
“You’re arranging this so you find out where I live, aren’t you?”
“In part. Until we find out why someone wanted you bad enough to crash your car and take you all the way to Mississippi just to dump you somewhere you’d be found, you’ll probably have some form of guard. For the moment, that guard is me.”
“You’re a bodyguard, too?”
“My talent makes me the equivalent of a living stun gun. Useful, especially if I want my target alive for questioning.”
“That’s a low grade talent? Seems useful to me.”
“The high grade talents can manifest lightning. I max out as a good stun gun. Perfect for my line of work, but not exactly packing the mystical punch the high grade talents can.” Kennedy sighed. “It’s definitely useful, and since it’s not classified as dangerous, it does open doors. It’s part of why I’m effective as a liaison between the FBI and the CDC. My talent works on most sentients.”
“I don’t remember you ever zapping anything.”
“Late bloomer.”
With a five year gap since I’d last spoken to her, I wondered what else had changed, although I couldn’t force myself to ask. Settling with a wild night of ex sex and going home—hopefully to get on with the rest of my life—seemed like a good way to close the book to me.
Digging into the past wasn’t much different than digging my own grave. “I just have the sight talent.”
“And it’s not one you like all that much, is it?”
“Not particularly.”
“It’s also why you haven’t looked me in the eyes once yet, is it? Or anyone, actually. You look at noses or mouths, not at eyes. If you think you’re at any risk of looking someone in the eyes, you flinch. You’re most comfortable in the dark, so your sight relies on at least some lighting, but not during thunder storms, so I suspect it only takes a moment for your sight to activate.”
Underestimating Kennedy and her powers of observation was a mistake I wouldn’t make again. “I should have known you were paying attention.”
“Investigator,” she reminded me. “It’s my job to pay attention, and I do my job best when no one thinks I’m paying attention.”
“And thus you undermine yourself by telling me that.”
“Hardly. First, I’m not investigating you. I’m investigating those who crashed your car, kidnapped you, and dumped you in Mississippi. If I really wanted to question you, you would have been the one blindfolded, but I wouldn’t have taken any chances and just tied you to the bed. I’m sure I could have gotten enough material to make some rope from your ruined suit.”
I took my time thinking that through. “I’m pretty sure I have some rope at my house.”
“I see you found the concept of ex sex enjoyable.”
I smothered my smile. “I may have been selfish. If I were a real gentleman, I would give you a fair chance to do whatever you want. I’m trying to be considerate. I’m not sure we’ve had a sufficient exploration of the theory ex sex is actually spectacular. That is what you pitched me. Spectacular.”
“I’m thinking I may have underestimated your willingness to indulge in things we really shouldn’t be doing. I’m also thinking your doctors have no idea you’re motivated by good sex.”
“No, no. Not good sex. Spectacular sex.”
She laughed. “Point to you. I’d say your doctors would be really interested in learning about this, but let’s just keep this dirty little secret to ourselves.”
I arched a brow. “Oh? Why?”
“You’re joking, right? There’d be a line to get to you first, and you know full well how I feel about lines.”
“Avoid them whenever possible, and may some god have pity on the souls of any who make you wait more than five minutes,” I muttered.
“I see you remember.”
I’d always been told honesty was the best policy, but it never failed to leave a sour taste in my mouth whenever I thought about everything I had—and hadn’t—done. So much would have been different if I had been willing to throw a victim under the bus to save myself. I blamed the angel in me for that.
I blamed the demon in me for everything else.
Maybe if I were a bit more human, a lot would have been different. I’d seen it with my sight so many times, the twisted desires of the human heart. I guessed I understood my father a lot more than I liked.
For so long, Kennedy had been everything I had ever wanted. No matter how hard I’d tried, forgetting her just hadn’t been in the cards. Me, forget her?
Never.
No wonder I had more problems than my therapists could shake a stick at. Falling in lust really was one fatal step from falling in love, and for me, my coin just didn’t have a second side. How could I hate her?
I just couldn’t.
“Reed?”
“I’m supposed to be mad at you, you know.”
“Supposed to be? You’re not?” Kennedy made a thoughtful noise in her throat. “You should be. What I did to you was unforgivable.”
“Unforgivable? Hardly. The first piece of advice I’d give to someone on a sinking ship was to get off to avoid going down with it. That’s not unforgivable. That’s smart.”
“No, it’s unforgivable. I should have stayed. I should have visited. I should have done something more than—” Kennedy clacked her teeth together.
I didn’t need to be an investigator to figure out she’d slipped about something important. Letting the silence fall, I thought it through. Her slip implied she’d done something. The what of it eluded me. Her tone made me think she’d felt it had been important, but not enough to make up for leaving as she had.
In the years since my release, I’d learned all emotions carried weight, capable of shackling me, binding me, and crushing me beneath them if I let them. The good, the bad, it didn’t matter. Even good emotions could smother me. It wasn’t just the isolation that had gotten to me.
Alone, I felt too much.
Hating Kennedy would have been the easier thing. I’d definitely resented how she’d walked out of my life, but I couldn’t deny she’d made the right choice. Resenting her would have been easier, too. Her one act, how she’d walked away, was only one piece in a huge puzzle. How could I hate the entire picture because of one piece of it? I couldn’t.
Falling in lust had been too easy, and I was beginning to understand why.
I’d never fallen out of love with her despite everything.
That realization made the rest a lot easier to handle. Mistakes happened, be it for the right or wrong reason. I’d made them, and so had she. Maybe we’d move forward in different directions, but with a few wo
rds, I could ensure we’d have a chance to move forward without unnecessary burdens.
I couldn’t forgive myself for everything I had done, but I could forgive her. I could discard those shackles. The weight of those unspoken words wouldn’t have to burden either one of us, no matter how difficult they were to speak.
“It’s forgivable because I’ve already forgiven you, Kennedy. You were upset. You had every right to be upset, too. We had so many plans, and instead of preserving them, I’d thrown them away. If anything, you’re the one who is supposed to be forgiving me. I was the one who didn’t tell the full truth.”
It turned out I wasn’t the only one susceptible of having a panic attack, but at least Kennedy’s instinct was to slam a pedal put her foot on the brake instead of the gas. It didn’t save the SUV from a quick trip into the ditch. I hit the shifter and put the vehicle in park.
I wasn’t even sure what I’d said that’d hit her hard enough to induce a panic attack, but I understood. Sometimes, the littlest thing could trigger one for me, and no one else understood why. If she wanted to tell me, she would—when she was ready.
Then I laughed long and hard at the irony of it all while trying my best to convince my hyperventilating ex breathing was necessary and it worked a lot better when she didn’t flounder like a fish out of water.
Between her slamming the brakes, steering us into a ditch, and my haphazard shifting of gears, we had dropped the SUV’s transmission on the ground. While Kennedy remained in the vehicle trying to come to terms with the fact she’d pulled one of my stunts, I examined the damage. I crouched, drumming my fingers on my knees.
Short of a lot of tools and a lot of parts, the SUV wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry. I turned, regarding the road with a scowl. One lane each way without much of a shoulder to speak of, the road was worst sort of place for mechanical problems of any sort.
Parts littered the asphalt, and I shook my head at the metal pieces, which indicated something had broken when she’d slammed the brakes. The ditch had just finished the job.
I rose to my feet, climbed the bank, and went to get a closer look at the pieces still on the ground.
