The Chase

by Jesse J. Thoma

  Holt pulled Superman into her arms and reached her arm back in Isabelle’s direction. Isabelle couldn’t tell if she was going for intertwined fingers, a protective hand on her back, or if it was simply an instinctive move. Regardless, Isabelle wasn’t ready for hand-holding, and she still couldn’t decide if she wanted or needed Holt’s protection, so she stepped forward, around Holt’s outstretched arm and cooed at the cute kid wiggling in her arms. For the second time in less than an hour, Holt was left with no option but the awkward pat on the shoulder.

  Although her initial intent had been to embarrass herself making silly faces at a baby, now that she was so close, Isabelle was lost in Holt, this energetic, softer, happy Holt. Her body language, bearing, and the look on her face were polar opposites to what they had been back at the bounty hunter office. Isabelle was spellbound, a feeling that quickly disappeared when the athletic looking woman leaned in and kissed Holt on the lips. She looked like she had done it a hundred times before, and Holt didn’t seem surprised by the greeting. Isabelle had only one thought as she saw the possessive way their attractive host kissed Holt: run. Her emotions were already too jumbled, her nerves too raw. She didn’t need an ungodly sexy woman screwing with her mind and her heart. She should have trusted her instincts and stayed as far away from Holt as possible.

  Holt had said she didn’t have a girlfriend, and Isabelle had stupidly believed her. No one as good-looking as Holt was single. She just couldn’t understand why she would have brought her to this party knowing her partner would be there.

  As Isabelle was plotting her exit strategy and Holt looked like she was trying to disentangle herself from squirmy Superman and affectionate friend, the woman looked at Isabelle.

  “You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone.” She slapped Holt playfully in the stomach as she took in Isabelle and Holt’s protective stance.

  “I knew you would harass her. Better to catch you by surprise and give her time to breathe.” Holt let Superman finally squirm his way to the ground.

  “How far into this date are you?” the woman asked.

  Isabelle was confused and annoyed that Holt seemed to have read her mind and was blocking her only escape route.

  “An hour,” Holt said.

  “How cute. An hour in and you’re already in over your head.” The woman held out her hand to Isabelle. “My name’s Amy.” After fifteen minutes being led from room to room by Amy, Isabelle had met everyone at the party, and the idea of Holt having a girlfriend was no longer an issue. Amy had introduced her as Holt’s guest, and to a person, the other partygoers had reacted with shock and a few gentle jokes. She also noticed a look or two of jealousy and grudging respect. Isabelle liked the feel of the group of women. She had always been a believer that the best indication of a person was who their friends were. So far, Holt’s spoke well of her.

  Eventually, Amy returned Isabelle to the company of Holt. She was in the kids’ playroom, sprawled on the floor, surrounded by hundreds of toys and six kids, ranging in age from just crawling to three or four. Superman had her pinned on her back. He was sitting on her stomach and bouncing up and down until she surged forward and tickled him. The game probably could have gone on forever except Superman was laughing so hard he fell to the floor every few tickles. Holt didn’t notice the adult presence right away, and it gave Isabelle a moment to study her without worry about getting caught staring.

  She was beautiful, in an androgynous, female Adonis kind of way. Her shaggy hair framed her face perfectly, and the crisp white T-shirt she wore had been pulled up her torso by the bouncy toddler. Underneath was a sight to behold. She was all taut muscle and smooth skin. Isabelle was reminded of what it felt like to touch her, and she was immediately on fire.

  The passion was tempered by how damned cute she looked, sprawled carelessly on the floor, surrounded by little children, all clamoring for her attention. When Holt did finally notice Isabelle, she stood up, tucked Superman under one arm, and another stray child under the other. Both were laughing hysterically, enjoying the game. The more they wiggled, the tighter Holt held them, rocking back and forth so their legs waved around behind them. She finally let them free.

  “Hi,” Holt said, looking suddenly shy. “I’m assuming Amy introduced you to everyone? She’s not my…I’m not…There’s no one. Amy’s just a lip kisser. Be prepared next time you see her, because you’ll get one too. I figured that’s what made you look like you’d changed your mind about staying before she took you away.”

  Isabelle had seen Holt trying to follow her after Amy had led her away, but another party guest had shooed her away.

  Isabelle stepped forward, feeling a calm, steady attraction. Her face must have shown what she was feeling, because the usually unflappable Holt looked decidedly, well, flapped. Isabelle could understand how her change in attitude could be surprising.

  “I know. I’m sorry I doubted you,” Isabelle said softly, touching her index finger to Holt’s lower lip. She laughed as Superman tried to climb up Holt’s leg.

  Holt scooped him up again, this time throwing him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Looking pensive and altogether too serious for the situation she replied, “I would never lie to you, especially not about something like that.”

  The moment of solitude from prying adult eyes was interrupted when half the party trekked into the playroom a moment later. The noise level picked up, and it was hard to tell who was more giggly and loud, the children or their moms.

  Isabelle noticed almost all the women greeted Holt in the same manner as Amy had. Not everyone kissed her on the lips, but everyone was physically affectionate, a stark contrast to Holt’s solid boundaries and powerful presence when she was working. The women were also staring surreptitiously at her, a fact that made her want to squirm as much as Superman.

  “Come on. Let’s leave the monsters to their parents for a few minutes. They usually lock me back here with them so they can all gossip about each other without worrying what their kids are eating behind the couch. Better grab some food while we can.”

  “Lead the way.” When they were out of earshot of the other women, Isabelle put voice to the question that had been nagging at her since they arrived. “Why is everyone staring at me? Are they like this with all your dates?”

  “All my dates?” Holt looked shocked.

  “Come on, a girl like you? That looks like you? Those tattoos and blue eyes, the shaggy hair. You must have a new one every month.”

  Holt still looked like she wasn’t comprehending.

  “Every week?” Isabelle asked.

  “I’ve never…I don’t,” Holt was stammering. “I’m surprised the whole party didn’t tell you. I never bring anyone here.”

  “Why did you bring me?” Isabelle asked.

  “I don’t know,” Holt said. “It’s nice having you here though, very nice.”

  Isabelle felt the same but was prevented from sharing that thought by a banging on the front door.

  “Uh oh, this is definitely not going to go well,” Holt said, moving quickly and intercepting the angry woman stomping into the hallway.

  “She’s not here,” Holt said forcefully. Isabelle recognized Holt the bounty hunter.

  “The fuck she’s not. I saw that stupid bitch’s car out front. Thinks she can just waltz in and steal my girl,” the stocky, angry invader said, trying to push her way past Holt.

  “You’re talking about a friend of mine, so you best be watching your language,” Holt said, her voice even but her tone deadly serious. She had stepped a bit closer as well, appearing in the small hallway to be much larger than she actually was. Isabelle was torn between rushing to Holt’s defense and watching the scene unfold. It seemed like something from a movie. She half expected the front door to transform into swinging saloon doors with both women itching to pull their six shooters. If someone had described this exact scenario to her three days ago, she would have held it as a shining example of why she and Holt would never wor
k.

  She had lived this scenario as a child, her father storming in, angry and accusatory, but she wasn’t feeling what she felt then. Although her anxiety level was high, the adrenaline making her right leg shake uncontrollably, she didn’t feel nervous in the way she would have imagined. Holt was solid and comforting and seemed so damned capable of handling anything this woman threw her way. Maybe it was the conversation with Max, knowing that Holt wasn’t the loose cannon she had initially thought, but it was hot watching the knight defending the honor of her friend.

  Despite Holt’s efforts at calming the intruder, it didn’t take long for the shouting to reach the living room, and more women began cramming the narrow hallway. One of them shoved her way through the crowd and stood just behind Holt.

  “You can’t come in here shouting like this,” the woman said, obviously upset.

  “You think you can just walk out on me and end up with that stupid bitch?”

  “Hey!” Holt yelled into the invader’s face, catching her off guard. “There are children here, and like I told you before, you’re talking about one of my friends. Ashley is free to date whoever she wants. As are you. Now go home.” Holt stepped closer, forcing her opponent to take a step back.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, H? I don’t care if either one of them are your friends.”

  The angry woman leaned back and did the unthinkable. She spit directly in Holt’s face. The offending projectile hit Holt square across one cheek and slid disgustingly down and landed with a plop on the floor. The room was silent as death.

  “Well, that was dumb,” someone said quietly behind Isabelle.

  Lucky for Amy, no one had bothered to close the front door during the confrontation or it would have splintered as Holt drove her shoulder into the spitter’s abdomen. She attacked with such thrust that they cleared the two steps leading to the front door and landed on the cement walkway below. Although winded, the offensive newcomer seemed to know she was done for if she didn’t put up a fight. She started flailing and managed to land one solid punch to the side of Holt’s head.

  The blow was enough to make Holt pause, and before she counterattacked, she had a boot to the gut and was flung onto the lawn. Unfortunately for the other woman, Holt’s reflexes were well honed, and she sprang to her feet before her assailant could land another blow. Once Holt was standing up, the fight was over. Holt couldn’t lose and everyone knew it. Everyone except the newcomer, who resembled a bull charging recklessly at the closest target. She should have stopped to think just who it was she was fighting. She swung wildly a few times and then took a seat as a left hook connected solidly with her temple.

  Holt didn’t say a word as she looked down at the loser sprawled in front of her on the grass. The stranger was conscious but wouldn’t be able to drive for a while. Holt’s fists were still clenched, and she didn’t relax them as she turned and walked back into the house. Someone else would have to pick up the woman stupid enough to spit in Holt’s face.

  Isabelle saw the offender’s ex-girlfriend put her hand on Holt’s shoulder and thank her as she walked by. Isabelle trailed in after Holt who stopped in Superman’s room after grabbing a towel from the bathroom and wiping off her face. Somewhere between their quest for food and the fight, the little man had gotten quite sleepy and had curled up on the floor to play with his toys, his little head resting on his arm. The other kids were similarly tuckered and asleep in portacribs, or on the floor like Superman. Holt held him tightly to her, rocking gently back and forth. He nestled happily into her neck, relaxing into her so easily it suggested he had fallen asleep this way many times before.

  “How do you know them?” Isabelle asked, noticing the easy way they moved together.

  “He’s my godson,” Holt said quietly, not turning around, continuing to rock the sleepy bundle. “I’ve known Amy since high school. She was there for me at a time when no one else was, and always has been.”

  “I can see that’s his favorite place to fall asleep,” Isabelle said, finding herself irrationally jealous of the toddler’s proximity to Holt. “Lucky bastard.”

  Superman grunted unhappily when he was shaken from sleep by Holt’s laughter. Her shoulders shook, and despite her obvious efforts not to laugh aloud, she failed. She kissed his head and laid him in his crib. He nestled into the blankets and was back asleep in a matter of seconds.

  Isabelle wasn’t prepared for the hungry look in Holt’s eyes when she turned to face her. Holt was still chuckling, but her grin was feral and looked dangerous. Dangerous in a very exciting way. Isabelle wanted to rip her clothes off and let Holt eat her alive.

  Holt moved to her, with confidence and determination, and Isabelle thought she should check her mouth for drool. Without touching her, Holt walked Isabelle backward out of the baby’s room. Their bodies were six inches apart, eyes locked, breath mingling. She didn’t say a word, but her presence was so commanding and the desire in her eyes so easy to read, that Isabelle was held captive. She found it exciting how in control Holt was and she knew she was wet from the look Holt was giving her.

  Before Isabelle could up the ante, she was jolted back to reality by a literal splash of cold water against her face. She heard Holt sputter and saw her eyes flash with anger. Holt had her back to the rest of the house and couldn’t see Amy standing behind them with an empty cup of water. The anger eased from Holt’s face when Isabelle smiled and Amy started laughing.

  “Sorry, young lady, you’ll have to forgive my friend here,” Amy said, handing a towel to Isabelle but giving Holt nothing but a stern look.

  “You just can’t seem to help but get wet around me,” Isabelle said quietly, never taking her eyes off Holt’s, for the moment ignoring Amy and the other women who had gathered in the hall.

  “You have no idea,” Holt said, before turning and putting herself between Isabelle and her friends, perhaps in a futile attempt to protect her from the teasing that was sure to come.

  “You’ve never looked at me like that,” one of them complained.

  “And we know it wasn’t because you weren’t trying,” another teased the first woman.

  “Come on, Amy. What did I do to deserve that?” Holt asked, her eyebrows rising dangerously in question, although her angry glare was diminished by the fact that her hair was sopping wet and water was dripping in her eyes.

  “Uh oh,” someone muttered, although the rest of the group laughed. Isabelle liked that Holt’s threats were falling on deaf ears. It was comforting to know they all trusted the temper Isabelle had seen displayed earlier wouldn’t be directed at them.

  Isabelle wrapped her arms around Holt’s middle, thrilling at the feel of sleek muscle and power. She rested her head against Holt’s back, taking in the feel of her. Truth be told, she was glad Amy had doused them and put a stop to what she was sure she would have regretted in the morning. That being said, Holt’s body was unreal and she didn’t mind the quick moment to touch it. She pulled away quickly since she didn’t want Holt to get the wrong idea. She hoped she hadn’t already, whatever that was.

  “You ready to go?” Holt asked.

  Isabelle nodded and went to get her bag.

  As she walked away, she heard Amy say, “If you really like this girl, you shouldn’t be trying to fuck her in the hallway of my house. I thought I taught you better than that.”

  Isabelle wondered how many people could get away with talking to Holt that way. She figured probably about as many as had seen the softer side of her, or even knew one existed.

  Chapter Six

  “Since I dragged you to a kid’s party and got you all wet, I hope you’ll let me buy you dinner,” Holt said. “Have you ever had hot wieners?”

  “Is that some kind of sex thing? Can’t say I’m familiar with that one, and I’ve gotta tell you, it didn’t feel like you were equipped back at the party. And I know what we were getting geared up to do back there, but I think I need things to slow way down.”

  “No slow down n
eeded. I was picturing a hairy, sweaty Greek guy with a hot dog, not so much, well…what you might have been picturing. But I can take you home if you’re tired, or aren’t interested in the Greek guy.”

  “Would this be a date?” Isabelle asked.

  Holt wasn’t sure. “Would it change your answer if I said yes?” She wanted to keep Isabelle safe, and casually dating her had seemed like the way to do it. But now her hair was wet because she lost control of her emotions, and she wasn’t sure she should be mixing business with pleasure. Although there weren’t many better ways to ensure someone’s safety than keeping them in your bed. If it got messy, and it probably would, protecting Isabelle would be out the window.

  “I might be willing to go on a date,” Isabelle said. “But to recap, my choices are either hairy, sweaty man with meat or home alone? Is there a write-in option?”

  “Not tonight. Hot wieners is the best offer I’ve got. Still in?”

  “Are you trying to show me your softer side? That you really are a regular gal, one who likes to go on dates, take long walks on the beach, and curl up with a good book?”

  “My plan exactly. How am I doing?” Holt was glad to hear the teasing in Isabelle’s voice.

  “So far, you’re verging on decent. I think a sweaty Greek guy and a hot wiener will push you right over the edge.”

  Isabelle looked gorgeous framed against the sun setting magnificently behind Providence, and the butterflies in Holt’s stomach flew into overdrive.

  They pulled up in front of a square concrete bunker-like building with an aggressively bright 50s style drive-in food marquee. Isabelle grimaced. Holt ordered for them and handed Isabelle her favorite guilty pleasure food. “Just try it,” Holt said, “you’ll love it. Every kid in Rhode Island grew up on these things. Hasn’t killed anyone yet.”

  “That you know of.” Isabelle looked down at the hot wiener, piled high with mustard, meat sauce, onion, and celery salt, closed her eyes, and took a bite. She clearly resisted the urge to hold her nose while she did.