Up in Smoke

by Tessa Bailey

  She slid down his back. He groaned at the feel of her breasts dragging over his muscle, needing to breathe deeply and get a handle on his desire before facing her again.

  But when he turned around, she was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  The first time Erin was in Dade Correctional, one of the guards had taken a shine to her. If groping her every time he did a bed check counted as “a shine.” Greasy Gunther, the other inmates used to call him. It would have eventually gone further if she hadn’t blown that Popsicle stand when she did. Gunther had even warned her he would find a way to get her alone. That warning had been an impetus for her to plot escape. She hadn’t known how she would react if a man forced himself on her. Would she freeze up at the sensation of hands on her body? Would her fight-or-flight instinct kick in? The unknown wasn’t good enough, so she’d gotten out of Gunther’s reach before he could extend it.

  Even the other guards had been aware of his fascination with her. They would rib him every time she passed by in the yard, elbowing him and reminding him he was married while he ogled her, adjusted himself in his trousers. One afternoon in the cafeteria, Gunther had gotten bold and pinched her ass while she stood in line for food. His guard buddy had come up behind them and muttered, “Man, you’ve always had a thing for crazy pussy, haven’t you? It’s going to get you into trouble someday.”

  She hadn’t been offended, mainly because she’d erected a shield that caused everything the guards said to bounce off. But she’d never forgotten that statement. She’d let it settle in her mind and she’d played with it, wondering if it were true. If her personality, which seemed to send most men packing with a quickness, could attract a different type at the same time. If a certain amount of them sensed something inside her and were attracted by it, rather than repelled. When she’d experimented with sex before…before she’d been cast into the darkness…she’d learned the answer quickly enough. Three men had approached her at a bar, one asking if he could buy her a drink. Her reply had been, “Sure. Petrol, please. Unleaded.”

  Two had walked away laughing and shaking their heads. The third had stepped closer.

  She was still waiting for her Nobel Peace Prize to show up in the mail.

  The handful of men she’d tested herself with hadn’t been turned off by her strict instructions not to touch her during sex; they’d been turned on. There wasn’t anything too odd for these guys. They soaked up crazy like a sponge.

  There had been a brief moment when she met Connor where she wondered if he was one of those men. The kind who seemed to get off on the experience of a girl who could either blow your mind or blow you away, depending on her mood. She hadn’t wondered for a second since. Connor didn’t look at her as if she were an exhibit at the zoo. A strange and exotic bird. No, he looked as if he wanted to climb into the exhibit with her, find out how to adapt.

  Erin felt a sudden dose of yearning as she approached the entrance to Hanover’s Tavern. She wished she’d been strong enough to walk into the prison with Connor. Wished he stood beside her now, warm and steadfast. Instead she was getting ready to go another round of testing on her Crazy Pussy theory by walking into a bar and seeing what information she could glean through the prison workers she’d been told frequented the place. Being that Hanover’s was only four blocks from Cook County DOC and screamed dive with its neon beer signs and rickety awning, she knew the type who would be on the other side of the door. Greasy Gunthers aplenty.

  She took a deep breath before opening the door, focusing on the smooth feel of the switchblade in her high-top. The matches in her pocket. If she concentrated on those comforting objects, maybe she could block the foreign guilt over walking into a room very likely full of other men. Men she would flirt with to get information. Connor’s head would explode. But she couldn’t sit around and be useless to the squad. If she didn’t have the steady job and Derek to vouch for her sanity, her stepfather would pounce. What Connor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  Erin ignored the certainty that he would somehow know what she’d been up to and pushed open the door. Every head in the place turned in her direction before she’d taken two steps inside. Oh yeah, she’d come to the right place. Half of them were still in their uniforms, nightsticks and all. The other half had the tired, jaded look sported by most corrections officers. If anyone knew how Tucker May had escaped Cook County, these guys would. Secrets didn’t stay secrets over too many beers and a desire to stay away from their wives, lives, and responsibilities.

  Lights, camera, crazy. She giggled and ducked her head, beelining for the bar. The bartender froze in the act of changing the channel on the ancient television over his head and looked her over with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She hooked her foot in the rung of a stool and leaned over the bar, knowing every set of male eyes was trained on her ass. “Hey, mister.” A Southern twang, huh? Why not? “I got separated from my tour group. Would you let me use your phone? I left my purse on the bus. As far as tourists go, I’m hopeless.”

  His mustache twitched. “You got ID?”

  “No, sir, I don’t.” She bit her bottom lip and tilted her head. “Wouldn’t help much if I did. I’m not old enough to drink just yet. Two more years.”

  Two low curses behind her. A few chairs scraped back, probably to get a better look. God, how predictable. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and give them the double middle finger, but she had a job to do. Phase one of which was to convince the bartender to let her stay. Obviously he was the type who ran when he saw her kind approaching.

  Smart man.

  He sighed and reached behind the cash register, closing his hands around a black cordless phone. “Make your call. You want a soda or something?”

  She scrunched up her shoulders like she couldn’t believe she was getting a drink in such a fine establishment. “A Shirley Temple, maybe?” She tossed her hair and sent the four men behind her a conspiratorial look. “Something with a cherry.”

  With that blatant innuendo, she thinned the herd by half, several men suddenly enthralled by their pints of beer. Weird. Usually more men folded under the pressure of a virgin, worried about the cling factor. Must be the tight jeans.

  Time to up the ante. She dialed seven numbers on the phone, making sure the last button she hit was “clear.” No reason to traumatize some stranger who had the misfortune of answering this call. She reached into her pocket to pay the bartender for the Shirley Temple he’d just set down in front of her, but he waved her off, indicating a burly man who’d just sidled up to the bar a few seats down. Burly Dude winked to let her know he’d bought the drink. What a high roller. Erin smiled back at him, drumming her fingernails on the bar as she waited for her imaginary call to connect.

  “Henry, is that you?” She said into the phone. “I can’t believe you ditched me again. Don’t tell me it’s an accident. It’s the third time this week you’ve gone off without me. With her.”

  Burlykins moved a little closer, inching his rocks glass full of amber liquid across the bar. He feigned interest in the baseball game playing on the television, but she could tell he was listening to her conversation. Hanging on to what probably used to be a decently handsome face, she put him in his late forties. A white tan line on his ring finger indicated he was recently divorced or removed it with the sole intent of approaching her. Fucking with him ought to be fun.

  “This is because I won’t put out, isn’t it?” Erin whispered furiously into the phone. “She’s easy, isn’t she? Are you back at the hotel right now getting ready to—” She wiped at her eyes. “Fine. Maybe I’ll give it up to someone else… Yeah, today is a good a day as any. Maybe even the next man I see. Think about that while you’re with her. I hope it was worth it.”

  She ended the phony call with a flourish and sipped at her Shirley Temple. Under her breath, she recited back both ends of the conversation to herself, complete with hand gestures.

  “Boyfriend trouble?”

  Ahhh, right o
n cue, douche bag. “Yeah,” she answered sullenly. “Actually, I doubt he’s my boyfriend anymore. Think maybe he’s found someone else.”

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “He must be blind.”

  She pressed a hand to her cheek as if to hide a blush. “Or just stupid.”

  They shared a laugh and he moved closer, right to the point she could handle. Any farther and she’d have to make an excuse to distance herself. The switchblade felt heavy against her ankle. His gaze lingered on her exposed belly as he sipped his drink. “You want to talk about it?”

  “Oh, you know.” She fished the cherry out of her drink. “He thinks because he’s loaded and lives off campus that every girl should fall at his feet. Give it up on the first date. I told him he had to work a little harder for it.” Slowly and deliberately, she bit into the cherry. “I guess I’m kind of a tease.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “That so?”

  She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Maybe this is a sign that my methods aren’t working.” Her lips spread into a smile. “Maybe I’ll try something else to keep a boyfriend next time. Like kidnapping or blackmail. Although I’ve tried both before. So messy.”

  Burly’s laughter was halting, as if he didn’t know whether or not she was joking. “Or you could just—”

  “Give it up?” Erin let her eyes dip below his belt, trying not to grimace when he sucked in his gut and tilted his hips up. His pants were already tented. Lovely. “You look like the kind of man I should take advice from, too. Are you an officer of the law?”

  She knew her dazzled expression had paid off when his chest puffed up. “Corrections officer. Supervisor, actually.”

  He leaned ever-so-slightly closer and she ducked back, wagging a chastising finger in front of his nose. To make up for it, she tucked a finger into her shirt collar and moved it back and forth, giving him a peek at her cleavage. “At Cook County?”

  “Huh?” He turned toward the bar a little, possibly to hide his growing erection. “Yeah.”

  “Wow.” She ran her hands up her thighs. “On my tour this morning, I heard there was a prison escape not too long ago. It must have been on someone else’s shift. Can’t imagine anyone getting by you.”

  “Damn straight it wasn’t my shift. That shit wouldn’t have happened on my watch, baby.”

  Her breath caught. “Oh, mister. Tell me all about it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Connor mentally played back the interview with May’s cell mate in his head. A distraction to keep his mind off Erin. Technically, she wasn’t even late yet, but that didn’t seem to matter. After the way they’d left things this morning, he’d needed time with her and hadn’t gotten it. He wanted it now. Layered over that pressing desire was the need to know where the hell she’d gone. Erin might hold back about her past, but she was blunt and honest in every other respect. The fact that she hadn’t told him where she was going, had actually looked prematurely guilty, cloaked him in anxiety.

  Letting her pull these disappearing acts whenever the conversation got tough was going to be goddamn difficult. She’d been right that morning. He was the type who needed organization, structure. It’s why he’d excelled with the SEALs—until he’d gone and fucked it all up. He wanted to fight off her demons while keeping his own at bay, but how could he do it when she kept running away?

  Think about the interview. She’ll be here.

  It had been like riding a bike. Even if May’s cell mate hadn’t been entirely helpful, the simple act of questioning someone was familiar. A ritual that had brought him back to his time overseas. His training. To when he’d been a valued member of a group. Until the day he’d made a massive error in judgment, he’d been on his way to a respectable career. Instead, he’d landed back in his hometown with dishonor on his back. Dishonor he’d only increased exponentially.

  Today felt like the first time he might be able to get back some of his honor. But he needed to be cautious. Needed to keep his head. For so long he’d been existing one minute to the next. Living in Brooklyn, making an illegal living so he could support his mother and her medical bills. One split-second decision—a momentary loss of control—had landed him there. He’d numbed himself as a way to cope, but as Erin’s presence thawed him, he found those skeletons wouldn’t be ignored. It had been a long time coming, but now he had to face them head-on. Find out their names and extract them, knowing he’d be stronger on the other side. Strong for her.

  He heard the jingling of bells and felt a rush of relief. It was short-lived, though, because she was running her hands up and down the sides of her jeans, murmuring under her breath as she came toward him. Her fingers were black with soot, telling him she’d been lighting matches, letting them burn. She looked jumpy, and he didn’t like it. He opened his mouth to request an explanation, but she spoke first. “I was thinking Chinese for dinner tonight. Any objections?”

  She’s trying to distract me. Why? “How’d you do?”

  “You first.”

  Irritation zigzagged through his sternum. Patience. “May’s cell mate didn’t have much to say, the bottom line being May didn’t act or do anything out of the ordinary leading up to his escape.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Something was definitely off, though. His answers felt rehearsed. I didn’t have enough time.”

  She took a step toward him, bringing their bodies close, and loosed a little sigh of pleasure. Was she cold? The idea bothered him, especially considering he couldn’t warm her in his arms. “And there wasn’t much you could do on the other side of the glass, right?”

  Connor couldn’t deny that he’d had the same thought. His interrogation style had transformed greatly during his time in Brooklyn. While he hated the memories that fact conjured, he liked not having to pretend with her. Pretend he wasn’t a man who’d seen and done bad things. A sudden vision assailed Connor. Him. Tying Erin up and demanding she answer his questions. Her arms were suspended above her head, body stripped of clothing, writhing as she tried to get free. The blood in his head rushed south, obviously taking his ability to reason along with it. Dammit, he couldn’t play those types of games with her. She wasn’t able, and it was selfish and inexcusable of him to want them.

  He came back to himself with a jolt, realizing he’d been staring at Erin’s mouth. Unbelievably, she didn’t look unaffected, lips parted to receive her dragged-in breaths. Had she read his mind?

  A low sound tripped out of him. “What’s happening inside that head?”

  She fell back a step, giving a tiny headshake and breaking their spell. Before he could press for an answer, she skirted past him. “The bus stop is this way.”

  He ate up the sidewalk separating them in two strides to walk beside her. “My car is parked in the garage around the corner.” When her step faltered, he cursed his own lack of foresight. “Are you all right to drive inside a car?”

  “Yeah.” Soulful blue eyes flashed up at him. “No seat belt, though.” Connor didn’t like the idea of her in a moving vehicle without being strapped in. Not at all. He started to object, to say they would take the bus instead, but she cut him off. “So the cell mate’s answers sounded rehearsed. Do you think Stark got to him?”

  This constant avoidance wasn’t working for him, but he sensed if he made an issue of the small stuff, he’d never get to the bigger ones beneath the surface. With a sigh, he followed her lead and changed the subject. “The prison manifest doesn’t show any visits from Stark or any of his closest aides. If he got to May, he was careful.”

  “Or someone on the inside didn’t record the visit.” She appeared to be bracing herself. “In fact, I know Stark got an assist from someone in Cook County. The way he escaped was too convenient.”

  Connor’s blood heated. Dammit. He didn’t like where this was headed. Had sensed something coming and wasn’t sure he could handle the rest of what she had to tell him. Already, the muscles in his neck were vibrating, his senses sharpening. “You want to tell me how you kno
w that?”

  She visibly shivered, probably over his tone of voice. “I’m working up to it.”

  He jerked his chin toward a two-story parking structure, indicating that she should follow, using the time they spent ascending the two ramps to attempt to compose himself. His instincts were buzzing that he wouldn’t like the information he intended to get out of her. He kept seeing her nervous expression when she approached him, his intuition that she’d done something to make herself vulnerable. Stay calm. No matter what she says, stay calm.

  They reached the roof, which was mostly deserted except for a half dozen cars. The notorious Chicago wind picked up her hair and streamed it out behind her, making her even more achingly pretty than usual. That same wind plastered her already-tight shirt even more provocatively against her body, highlighting the perky nipples standing at attention beneath. His gaze dipped to her belly and thighs, remembering how they felt sliding over his muscles with the aid of oil.

  Connor stopped at a navy-blue SUV and waited, hands on hips.

  Erin plunked down on the bumper. “There is a bar called Hanover’s a few blocks from Cook County. I took a wild guess that there would be some CO’s inside reliving their glory days.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I went in and talked to one such working-class hero who’d had one too many whiskeys and he spilled the beans. It was actually kind of boring.”

  “You think I’m going to buy that version?” He laid a hand on the car and leaned down toward her, his mind attempting to roadblock his anger, but a need for information drowned out his voice of reason. “I might not have gotten answers today, Erin, but I’m a trained interrogator. I’ve had terrorists where you’re sitting before, so don’t insult me.”

  She frowned up at him. “Shouldn’t you care more about how May escaped?”

  “I don’t. I don’t care more.” He felt a punch of satisfaction when her blue eyes widened. “There’s your answer. Now give me mine.”