When we’re both relaxed, I hold her a moment, trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. What is this woman doing to me? I don’t know my answer. And right now, I’m not going to try to figure it out. I roll her to her side, clean us up, and I’m aware that this is when I’d normally leave but I don’t. I’m just not ready. I lie down on the couch, and take her with me, folding her close. Her head rests on my shoulder and her fingers tease the dark hair on my chest.
My lashes lower and I don’t overthink this. I just hold her. That is until she whispers, without looking at me, “I defended the wrong people, bad people. So I really am bad, too.” She hesitates and adds, “And I don’t like that about me.”
She’s not bad, not even close, but this new confession, spoken thoughtfully and honestly, in an unsolicited and vulnerable moment, tells me just how deep her demons run, just how much guilt she feels. And no one can relate more than I relate, so I say the only thing I can say. “I understand the feeling, sweetheart.”
She doesn’t reply and I say no more, either. I mean, no one wipes away our pain by telling us it isn’t real. Instead, I lay there and listen to her breathing grow steady and slow. She fades into sleep, and by doing so right after that confession, she tells me another truth. I was right. She trusts me. And I decide right then that I can’t change what I’ve done in the past, but beyond that, I will deserve her trust.
And yet, the demons in my own past promise me that won’t be good enough.
Chapter Twenty-One
ADRIAN
I fall asleep on my back with Pri naked and snuggled to my side, and wake to my pre-set alarm on my phone, the dim light of the lamp on the table above my head. Pri, all warm and sweet, is still pressed close, sound asleep. I shift us and grab my phone, turning off the alarm, and still, she sleeps, which tells me two things: her fear over Waters has affected her sleep and with me here, she feels safe. That’s trust, which blows me away considering hours ago she was holding a gun on me and asking me if I planned to kill her mid-orgasm. I shift slightly and manage to stand, while she snuggles deeper into the couch, facing the cushions, the blanket I pulled over us hours ago, all that covers her naked body when I’d prefer it be me.
There is no logical answer for that and I force myself to turn away from her and hunt down my clothes. When I’m fully dressed, I return to Pri’s side, and her breathing is deep, her sleep complete. I stand over her and stare down at her, long dark hair draped over the couch pillow, her skin pale and perfect. I know in my logical mind that I’ve seen many a beautiful woman, and fucked my share for that matter, but none of them affected me like Pri, none made me linger and hesitate to leave. None of them made me want to get to know them.
I glance at my watch, time ticking by far too quickly, and what I want doesn’t matter right now. Watchful eyes do, and they see more during daylight hours. Pressed now, I consider leaving Pri a note, but that doesn’t sit well with me and I don’t believe it will with her either. I can’t just leave. I sit down on the edge of the couch, my hand settling on her shoulder as I lean in near her ear, and damn, she still smells all floral and wonderful.
“Pri,” I whisper.
She moans all soft and sweet and rolls to her back, blinking up at me, and says, “Adrian?”
Adrian, not Rafael. I don’t know why her easy, groggy distinction means so much to me, but it does.
Her eyes roam over me and widen suddenly. “You’re leaving?” Realization seems to hit her—disappointment I like a little too much, furrowing her brow. She scoots up to rest on the arm of the couch, oblivious to her naked breasts, as the blanket falls away, while I am not.
“Not because I want to,” I say, pulling the blanket over her. “And not if you stay naked. It’s just before sunrise and I need to get out of here under the cover of darkness.”
She catches the blanket to her breasts. “We slept all night on the couch?”
“We did.”
“You, too?”
“Yes. Me, too. I meant for us to talk strategy and plans last night but obviously, that didn’t happen. I know that would have made you feel more in control and secure, but I promise you, we’ll talk today.”
She captures my hand. “You’re not going to disappear, right?”
“Who’s asking?” I find myself saying. “The woman or the prosecutor?”
“In all honesty? Both. Is that a problem?”
In all honesty.
Words I value.
Words I despise because I can never give her the same.
“No,” I say. “That’s not a problem. I’m not going to disappear. And now you know where to find me anyway. New York, working for Walker Security.”
“Unless they send you to another country. We both know that’s how you hid from Waters.”
Obviously, she’s been paying attention during our talks. “I’m here until this is over. For now, be you. Take your run. Go to work. We’ll keep you safe. If you need me, call me or text me. If you feel even a little bit uneasy, or if you think you’re in danger, call me.”
“Are you sure it’s safe for me to run?”
“We’re here. You’re safe. And the more normal you act, the better.”
“In case someone is watching me?”
“I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Pri. It’s Waters we’re dealing with. You think you know how bad he is? You don’t. Don’t put anything past him.”
“In that case, should I call you at all? Could the call be traced back to you?”
She’s sharp. I like that, but she won’t like my answer. “I’m protected,” I say simply.
She draws a deep breath and exhales. “It’s not your real number.”
“I’m not going to disappear.”
“That’s a yes,” she says tightly. “It’s not your real number.”
“Don’t do that. I’m here. I’d stay here right now if it were possible. I’ll see you soon.”
“I guess I just have to trust you.”
“And I have to trust you, Pri.” I lean in and kiss her neck. “I trust very few people, but I choose to trust you.”
With that, I force myself to stand up and walk away, heading to the back door, where I exit the house and reset her alarm. Any other time with any other woman, I’d say I didn’t look back, but I do. I look back and the minute I’m in the Walker rental, I’m at the monitors where Savage is on duty, watching Pri’s house.
“Any trouble?” I ask.
“All is quiet now. What happened with the dickwad of an ex?”
“He’s representing the guy Waters wants to give up to catch a deal.”
“And he thinks she’s going to make a deal?”
“He thinks the DA might, is my take. He wants her off the case.” Even as I make that statement, something is bothering me and I don’t know what.
“I’ve got Blake on chat,” Savage says. “I’ll fill him and Lucifer in on the scoop.” He glances up at me. “I’d make some crack about you getting to know Priscilla Miller in the deepest of ways, but I’m thinking you won’t like that. She gets to you, aye?”
“This would be the time when I’d tell you you don’t have the equipment to go deep, but you didn’t go there, so I’m not going to.” He chuckles and I start walking.
“Because she gets to you,” Savage calls out. “And we can’t save you. No one can. That’s how this love shit works.”
Love? What the fuck is he even talking about? I don’t bother to turn around. I just call out, “I just met her Savage.”
“That’s what every lovesick pup says when he’s denying he’s capable of being a lovesick puppy. I know, man. I’m that puppy.”
I wave him off and head down the hallway to my room, change into my running gear, and then end up in the small weight room that’s set-up to work out before my jog. I’ve been at it for about fifteen minutes, and am presently curling a couple of dumbbells when Adam, ready for the day in jeans and a T-shirt, appear
s in the doorway. “Savage just gave me the rundown on Logan.”
I set the weights down, my hands going to my hips. “Piece of shit tried to convince her to drop off the case to ensure Waters doesn’t have the chance to hand his client over to the DA.”
“Waters could still make the deal if she’s off the case.”
I draw in a shallow breath as a realization hits me. “Unless there is no real deal. Waters and Logan’s client must be connected. This is one of Waters’ plays. He just wants the case to get delayed until after the election. If Ed isn’t re-elected, the new DA may not have the balls to pursue.”
“That’s where my head is at,” Adam says. “And that’s what I told Blake.”
“And he said?”
“What better way to ensure Ed isn’t re-elected but to kill him?”
“And what better way to ensure the next DA won’t repeat the same mistake that got Ed killed,” I follow. I pull my phone from my pocket. “I’ll give Jacob a heads up.” I punch in the text and my phone rings with Pri’s number in my hand. “Pri,” I say, glancing at Adam. “Make sure there’s nothing on the security feed.”
Adam nods and disappears and I answer the call. “See?” I ask. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That is good to know, but I wasn’t testing you. I just wanted to say, I’m not going to run. I skip a day here or there. It shouldn’t seem off.”
“You’re safe,” I say, sitting on the weight bench when Adam re-appears in the doorway and offers me a thumbs-up on her safety.
“That’s not it.”
“Then why?” I press.
“Four reasons. Three of which are the champagne, pizza, and morning after sex effect. The fourth, I have work on my mind. I’m going to head to the coffee shop in about half an hour and get some work done. Something is bugging me about that entire Logan exchange. I need to figure out what.”
My lips press together. I could tell her what’s bugging her, and I will, but not on the phone and not when she’s on her way out into the world, where she’ll feel more exposed and vulnerable. Tonight. When we can talk it out. “I can’t come. I’ve risked being out in public with you too much.”
“I know,” she says. “Besides, it’s Rafael I have my coffee dates with. See you soon.” She hangs up and I stand, glancing at Adam, who’s holding the doorway up with his shoulder. “Coffee shop in half an hour. I need a fast shower.” I close the space between me and him and he doesn’t move.
“You can’t go.” He crosses his arms, stubbornly holding his position in the doorway. “You just told her that and you were right. As it is, you pushed your luck going to that party the night you met her. You could have been recognized.”
“I knew who was there and I didn’t stay long.”
“You’ve been seen with her too often.”
“Not by the wrong people,” I argue, but I don’t push. “I’ll cover the outside. You go inside. I want you to stay close to her if I can’t be.”
“That,” he says, “I’ll agree to. You’ll stay outside. Say it.”
“I’ll stay outside, asshole, now move.” He backs away.
I pass him and call over my shoulder. “Unless you’re getting your ass kicked.”
Or, I add silently, since I seem to have staked an obvious claim on Pri, anyone comes at Pri the wrong way. For instance, her ex, Logan. That one I do believe I’d enjoy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
PRI
I choose a pink dress with a snug thick belt, fitted bodice, and flared skirt. I do so in an effort to appear to have a narrow waist, big breasts, and long legs. No. I do it to look good for Adrian. As my mother would say, I’m smitten. Ridiculously so. And I’m headed toward heartache if I’m not careful. But as I said last night, I’m practically on death row. I’m going to live while I can.
Once I’ve packed my trusty handgun and have my purse and briefcase over my shoulder, I secure the house and step outside, having already decided to walk to the coffee shop. I can’t function in a bubble of fear, nor, as Adrian pointed out, does it send the intended message that all is normal with me. If I’m being watched by someone other than Adrian’s people, they’re at least still present. I’m safe.
The morning is nice, on the cooler side today, if that’s what you call the seventies, though who knows if that will last. It’s Texas. We celebrate when our legs don’t burn on the car seat.
Once I’m at the coffee shop, I order a butterscotch latte with skim milk and settle into a chair at a corner table. Heavy on my mind is the deal Waters wants to make to hand over Whitaker in exchange for a lesser sentence, namely Logan’s unexpected involvement. I don’t have a history with Whitaker at my father’s firm, and didn’t know him to be a client, but it’s a large firm. What I do have is a list of all the firm’s clients at the time I left. I pull up my old computer folder, sipping my coffee while scanning the list and I find that I’m right. Whitaker was not a client. And why would he be? He’s an attorney. He has his own firm. The whole situation feels off.
I decide that the places my mind is taking me right now lead to my father, and I don’t want to believe that. In other words, I have to call him, which means I deserve a slice of chocolate bread first, which is a specialty here and quite wonderful. I push to my feet and slide my purse over my shoulder when normally I would not, but the gun inside feels rather special right now. Hurrying to the register while no one is in line, I place my order and move to the end of the counter. With my bag of warm, chocolate-iced bread in hand, I am on my way back to my table when a tall, burly man in jeans and a leather jacket steps in front of me. He’s forty-something, with brown spiky hair, tattoos all over his body, and sharp, jagged features.
He’s also familiar.
My lips part in shock with the realization that Joe “Rocketman” Mason, one of my ex-clients at my father’s firm is right here, right now. The nickname is appropriate since he’s no friend of the ATF, considering he runs an underground weapons operation I assume includes rockets, despite his denial, of course. I never liked him. I never willingly represented him, but my father forced my hand, which is another story altogether. Rocketman is not someone who’d be in this coffee shop at this time of the morning. He’s more of a vodka and moves around during hell’s nighttime hours kind of guy. “Joe,” I say, my heart thundering in my chest. “How are you?”
“You tell me,” he snaps.
“I—don’t know,” I say cautiously. “Am I supposed to know?”
“I hear Waters wants to start making deals.”
I blanch, not shocked really since it’s clear someone is leaking information, but unsettled. I also don’t assume he knows this at all because what I do know is Rocketman. He’s a bluffer. What concerns me at this point, is just how many people with criminal tendencies have skin in this game. “I can’t talk about my case with you,” I say, keeping my cool and giving him nothing
“You gonna make the deal?”
“I assume you have an opinion on me making the deal?”
“My opinion is my attorney should not be fighting Waters. Get off the case.”
“I’m not your attorney,” I say, and the timing of this, right after Logan’s visit, is glaringly obvious since my father’s firm still represents him. Obviously Rocketman has a connection to Waters, or maybe even Whitaker. “I am curious, though. What are you afraid of?” I decide to dig for his motivation. “Waters giving you up or you losing some sort of money train he somehow feeds?”
He gives me a deadpan look and then says again, “Get off the case.”
“Just as I wouldn’t desert you mid-case, which I didn’t, I can’t jump off this one. I have a duty now to the DA’s office.”
He shocks me by stepping closer, so close I can feel his hot breath on my face. Unsurprisingly, he smells like booze, though I can’t say specifically vodka. “You won’t be anybody’s attorney if you stay on this case,” he states.
Suddenly, Adam is
there by my side, big and broad, his presence a crackle of power. “Introduce me to your friend, honey,” he says as if we’re dating.
Rocketman smirks and eyes me. “You really want your new man in on this?”
“She might not,” Adam says, “but I do.” Adam doesn’t look at me, but he says, “Bathroom, Pri. Now.” He nudges me to the left and claims the spot in front of Rocketman.
I don’t wait around to find out what’s happening. I take off for the bathroom, walking as calmly as my quick pace allows. Once I’m down the short hallway, I find the door in question, open it and rush into the large one-stall bathroom to find that I’m not alone. Adrian is waiting on me, shutting the door behind and locking it. He drags me to him, his hard body a welcome landing spot, one of his hands on my hip, the other on my face, his mouth closing down on mine, in a fast, hot, and wildly erotic yet somehow calming kiss. “Are you okay?” he asks, inching back to study me, real worry in his brown eyes. How did I think I needed to hold a gun on Adrian last night?
“Yes,” I say. “I know him. He was my client at my father’s firm. Embarrassingly, I represented an arms dealer. He goes by Rocketman. He wouldn’t hurt me, at least not in public.”
“An arms dealer,” he repeats, his tone flat, his expression unreadable.
“Yes,” I say tightly. “It was my job. The one I left for a reason.”
“I know that,” he says. “But because of that job, you should know that you never underestimate a criminal.” His hands come down on my shoulders. “You hear me? Never.”
When He's Dirty (Walker Security: Adrian’s Trilogy Book 1) Page 11
