Out of Time (Out of Line #2) (Volume 2)

by Jen McLaughlin

  We spent the next half hour climbing higher and higher, then we practiced climbing down. She slipped and fell more times than I could count—fine, it was seven—before we finally called it quits. I let her be the one to decide when she’d had enough.

  She stood at the bottom of the wall after her last fall, snapping pictures and a few videos with her phone. Her laugh rang loud and clear as I descended to join her. She was so fucking bright and happy. She really was the sun to me.

  The only thing that brought true brightness to my world.

  I pushed back off the wall, landing nimbly on my feet, and she clapped, her phone held in her hand. “I got the perfect shot of that.” She walked over and held out her phone. “And now I have a wallpaper for my phone, too. Nice, huh?”

  It was of me in midair, about to land. It was a pretty cool shot. “Good one.”

  “Thanks. But I’m hungry now,” she said, tucking her phone away. “You ready for some burgers or something?”

  “McDonald’s or Islands?” I asked, unclicking my harness and grabbing her hand. “You can pick tonight.”

  After we cleaned up and squared off with the workers, we walked toward my bike, her under my arm. “I think I’m gonna have to go Islands.”

  I grinned. “Did I convert you?”

  “Maybe.” She pointed a finger at me and glared, but the effect was ruined by how damn happy she looked. “But I’ll forever be a McDonald’s girl, too.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever you say, Ginger. Whatever you say.”

  The next morning I woke up to Carrie climbing on top of me, kissing me until I forgot what the hell color the sky was. Her hands moved all over me, slowly waking me up, and by the time we were finished with each other, I was exhausted and naked and sweaty. I looked over at her and grinned at the smug smile on her face.

  “More distraction, I see.” I tapped her nose. “You look awfully proud of yourself.”

  “That’s probably because I’m feeling pretty darn proud of myself.”

  She rolled over on her side, folded her hands under her cheek, and smiled at me. Something in her eyes pulled at me. Told me that beneath the smile and laughter was fear. Lots of fear.

  But how could she manage to look so sad while still looking so damn happy?

  “Get over here,” I said.

  When I opened my arms, she rolled into them and closed her arms around me. I held her for a few minutes, enjoying the closeness, not needing to talk. It was nice having a person with you where you didn’t feel the need to blabber on and on just to fill the silence. As I was beginning to wonder if she fell asleep, she sighed and squirmed.

  I played with her hair. I was beginning to think I had a hair fetish when it came to her. I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. “Hey, you want to go out on a date tonight? Are you all caught up on your homework and shit?”

  She rested her chin on me. “A date? Like, dresses and suits and a fancy restaurant?”

  I hadn’t been thinking of wearing a suit, no. I’d been thinking burgers or something along those lines. But I guess that’s what a girl like Carrie expected when the word date came up. She’d grown up in the lap of luxury after all. If she wanted to wear a dress and go to some French restaurant I couldn’t even pronounce, then so be it. I could certainly afford it.

  I smiled at her. “Yeah. We can go to that French place on Pico. The one with the swans.”

  She brightened up, her smile wide. “Oh my God, yes! I’ve been wanting to go there for a while.”

  “Great,” I said, smiling, even though I didn’t feel like smiling.

  “But I have to admit, I’m surprised to hear you suggest it. You’re more of a burger-and-shake kind of guy,” she said, her voice cheerful.

  “And you’re not?”

  Her mouth twitched. “I’m not a guy.”

  “And thank fucking God for that.” I tapped her nose with my finger. “But you know what I mean.”

  “I like them both,” she said, lifting a shoulder in a tiny shrug. “A little bit of variety never hurt anyone.”

  Having her get all excited about a date in an expensive restaurant made me feel anxious and wound up. Shaking off the weird feeling creeping up my spine, I asked, “Do you still want to go surfing?”

  “I do.” She rested her chin on my chest. “It looks cloudy out, so there might be some awesome waves.”

  I tucked her red hair behind her ear and forced a smile. “All right. Want to eat before or after?”

  “After.” She got out of bed and looked over her shoulder at me. “But make sure you get some coffee in your system. I don’t want to deal with cranky Finn.”

  I laughed and rolled out of bed. “Cranky Finn?”

  “Mmhm.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her red bikini. “He’s miserable without coffee in him. A real jerk.”

  I came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. The feel of her skin on mine almost made me say the hell with surfing…but if she wanted to surf—then she’d get it. “Don’t worry. I’ll go make some now.” As I headed bare-assed naked into the kitchen, I called out, “I’m surprised you remembered your suit.”

  “I thought we might end up going.” She peeked over her shoulder at me as she stepped into the bottoms. “But we’ll need to get my board from my dorm.”

  “You can leave it here if you want,” I said, slipping a K-cup into the Keurig. “I don’t mind.”

  “Really?” She stood up straight, wearing nothing but her tiny red bikini bottoms. Fuck, if she would let me, I’d snap a picture and make that my wallpaper. “Okay, sure.”

  “You look surprised,” I said, raising a brow at her. “Why?”

  She picked up the bikini top and turned almost as red as it was. “I always thought guys were weird with girls leaving their stuff at their places. They get all paranoid she’s trying to stake a claim or something.”

  “Maybe some guys are, but I’m not one of those guys.” I pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and headed back into the bedroom portion of my apartment. The light blue comforter was halfway off the bed, thanks to our morning sex. I straightened it, then pulled it up over our pillows. “Besides, the guys who don’t want their girls’ stuff at their places are the ones with something to hide. I don’t have any more secrets.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip as she did up her bikini top, tying it in front of her breasts before sliding it up over her neck. “I know that. But you had a pretty big secret before that.”

  “You mean the fact that I was your father’s secret bodyguard sent to watch over you?” I snorted. “That’s nothing. What you really should know about me is this: I snore when I’m drunk.”

  She smacked me playfully. “Don’t make me hurt you…and in that case? Maybe I’ll need to leave some earplugs here.”

  “You can leave them right next to the bed.” I hauled her into my arms, liking the idea of her leaving her shit here more and more. “You can leave some shirts and stuff, too, if you want. In case you ever need a quick change. Maybe a few of those books with abs on it that you like to read when you’re not busy reading for school.”

  She blinked up at me. “Okay.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that again?” I flexed my fingers on her hips, not sure what the confused stare she wore meant. Did she not like the idea of leaving stuff here? Maybe I was moving too fast for her. Shit if I knew. “It’s just clothes, Ginger. It’s not a big deal. You have tons of them—just leave a few here instead of leaving them in a box that says ‘free: take one’ on the front.”

  She laughed and pushed out of my arms. “I know. Now shut up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I tied my swim trunks and headed back toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. “Let me text your dad real quick. I’ve probably got like twenty texts from him already.”

>   She rolled her eyes. “Remind me to tell you about Italy.”

  “Oh, that sounds…” I picked up my phone and swiped my finger across it. There wasn’t a single message from him. Not a single one. That never happened. “What the fuck?”

  She came up behind me and rested her hands on my shoulders, peeking around me to check my phone. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “He didn’t text me.” I opened his messages, scanning the time of the last text I’d gotten. “Shit. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday.”

  “Is that different than usual?”

  “Fuck yeah, it is.” I swiped my finger up, showing her how many times he usually texted me. “He texts me like ten times a day, Ginger. But I’ve got nothing. Nothing.”

  She kissed my shoulder. “It’s probably nothing to worry about. He’s just busy, I bet. He called me yesterday at lunch and sounded fine. He wanted to let me know he might be a little bit quiet because of his schedule.”

  I relaxed a little bit, but it didn’t feel right. Something was off, and I’d learned long ago to listen to my gut. If it said something was wrong, something was fucking wrong. “Yeah. Sure.”

  She let go of me. “Now go get ready. I want to get out in the ocean.”

  I headed for the bathroom, my phone still in my hand. As I brushed my teeth, I jotted off a quick text to Senator Wallington. Carrie’s okay. All is well.

  Within a minute I had a reply. Thank you.

  That was it. A thank you. There was nothing wrong with the text, per se. But it wasn’t right, damn it. I shook off the feeling that was bugging the fuck out of me, and focused on the date I’d promised Carrie. She had enough to stress about, what with that weird phone call I’d gotten that neither of us could make any sense out of, so I didn’t need to go obsessing about the tone of a text message like some pansy-assed little girl.

  I leaned against the door, my eyes on my reflection. The nagging sensation that something was wrong wouldn’t let go. On top of that, I figured out what was bugging me from when we’d talked about our date.

  I stared at myself, all tattoos, dog tags, muscles, swim trunks and five-o-clock shadow—it hit me. The problem with her wanting a fancy date with flowers and dresses and jewelry and valet parking was I wasn’t fancy.

  I could put on an expensive suit and pretend.

  I could afford to be that guy, money-wise.

  But underneath the suit and the charming smile, I was the tatted-up Marine that had no place dating the daughter of a prospective President of the United States of America. She was supposed to be with a trust fund baby. One who had money and wealth and recognition.

  Me? I so wasn’t that guy.

  I never would be.

  The waves were strong, but not so much that I had to worry about being taken under. Thank God. I’d already been there once before, right after I found out Finn was working for my father, and I had no desire to be there again.

  I looked over at him, and he was watching me, his warm blue eyes shining. His light brown hair looked almost blond in the sunlight, and his wetsuit clung to his muscles like a second skin. And I knew under that suit was a perfect body with an even more perfect heart underneath of it. He smiled at me, but I could tell it was strained.

  He was upset about Dad not texting him, and I was, too. Even though I played it off like it was no big deal, it did sound bad. I called him while Finn was in the bathroom, and he hadn’t answered. That freaked me out.

  Almost as much as the call Finn had gotten from his commanding officer.

  And it was killing me to act like it wasn’t killing me.

  “Hey, back at my place you told me to remind you about a story,” he said, his tone light and teasing. It didn’t fool me, though. He was stressed—and so was I. “What happened in Italy?”

  My cheeks heated, and I looked over my shoulder. Why had I told him I’d tell him about that? Ugh. “Well, for me to explain, I have to tell another story first. You might already know it. Did you hear about what happened in Nevada when I was ten?”

  Finn’s brow creased. “No. My dad wasn’t there yet. I was still in California. My mom was still alive…” He trailed off, his eyes focused on a past I couldn’t see. “At that point in my life, I was a carefree surfer boy who thought he was invincible. My dad worked on a high-security detail for the governor, and my mom was healthy as a horse.”

  I nodded, wanting to probe more about what his life had been like before his mother died, but knowing now was not the time. He wanted his story, so I would give it to him. “There’s a reason my dad is as crazy as he is. Back then, he wasn’t so insistent we have security on us twenty-four/seven. I had freedom and there were actually times when I was on my own. We were free.”

  “You didn’t have someone on you constantly?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. In fact, Mom and I got bored while Dad was campaigning, so we decided to go shopping at the local mall to pass some time. We didn’t bring anyone with us.”

  “I think I see where this is going,” he said dryly. “You got lost and he panicked?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We got abducted.”

  “W-What?” he said, sitting up straight. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I wish.” I sighed and looked over my shoulder. I hated talking about it. It had been a nightmare. “The guy was a complete idiot, so they found us pretty quickly, but my dad got really shaken up about it. We all did. And ever since then, he’s been different. Controlling.”

  He sighed. “I almost get it now. If something happened to you on my watch, I’d probably go insane, too.”

  “Even though we were the ones who were abducted, I think he’s the one who had the major post-traumatic stress issues. Mom and me?” I shrugged and stared out at the ocean before turning to Finn. “We moved on, but with the security that Dad insists follow us everywhere. And it’s stayed that way ever since.”

  Finn nodded, his hands tight on his board. “So that’s why he makes me follow you around out here.”

  “Yeah.” I watched a fairly large wave form in the distance, rolling slowly toward us. I loved the way the waves did that—started small but slowly built up height before crashing to the sand. I could sit here all day and watch Mother Nature do her worst. “And in Italy, I escaped the watchmen.”

  Finn flinched. “Please tell me you weren’t kidnapped.”

  “I wasn’t.” I smiled at him. “But I didn’t answer my dad’s texts and he freaked the hell out. I mean, catastrophic panic.”

  Finn tapped his fingers on his board, playing a tune I didn’t recognize. “I would’ve been away then. I missed the show.”

  “You’re lucky. I hear it was quite ugly.” I sighed and tore my eyes from the water, looking back at my other favorite sight—otherwise known as Finn.

  “Where did you go? In Italy?”

  “I wanted to flirt with that guy I told you about when we first met. The Italian guy I mentioned. Remember him?”

  His brows slammed down. “I do. But do I want to hear anything else?”

  He was glowering at me now, but at least he looked more alive than he had for a while. Ever since he asked me on a date he’d been acting weird. Brooding, almost. I could tell something was bothering him, but I had no idea what it was or if it was even related to our date later tonight.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I never even got close to him. My dad’s guards found me and took care of it,” I said, lifting my hands and doing air quotes. “But for those thirty minutes when no one knew where I was? Dad texted me every single second, I kid you not. I’d ignored him because I knew he was being his normal spaztastic self, and I told him as much. But after that, he promised to only text me twenty million times if it was an emergency.”

  Finn pressed his lips together. “So you’re tellin
g me this to make sure I don’t panic like him, or what?”

  “Pretty much.” I reached out and caught his hand, squeezing it tight. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

  “I know.” He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers, making my stomach clench. “With you at my side, how could it not be?”

  My heart melted at that sentence. Combined with the way he looked at me—his eyes soft and his lips even softer—I wasn’t sure I had the muscle power to surf right now.

  “You catch the first wave,” I said, my voice practically a whisper. I cleared my throat and tipped my head toward the approaching wave. “It looks pretty big.”

  He nodded once. “And you’ll wait till I come back to catch another one.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved a hand at him impatiently. “I remember the rules, master of the sea.”

  He looked over his shoulder, more than likely calculating the time it would take for his ride to arrive. He had a few seconds at most. He shot me a look and started paddling forward, his back muscles bunching and rolling flawlessly. “You can give me all the attitude you want, but I almost lost you once—I won’t do it again.”

  “I know,” I called out, splashing water at him. The drops barely reached him. “Now go before you’re too late.”

  He grinned and flawlessly caught the wave, riding it to shore like the pro he was. He sliced in and out, doing moves I didn’t even know the names of, never once tipping off balance. He was mesmerizing and beautiful to watch out here.

  Well, anywhere. But especially on the water.

  I watched him with awe, quite certain I’d never get to that level of skill, but I was okay with that. I just liked coming out here, hanging out in the water and enjoying the time with Finn. For the most part, we were left alone. There were a few surfers out this morning, but it was much emptier than on a weekend.