by Brynne Asher
When he crossed the finish line, Grady looks to his watch before narrowing his eyes on the kid and lies, “Fuckin’ slow. Get water and hit the showers. You’ve got language after dinner.”
Jarvis is breathing heavy, his hands to his knees, showing his first signs of exhaustion since he started the course. But his head snapped up the second he heard the word “slow” and he shoots Grady the look-of-death we’ve gotten used to seeing on his face. It’s pretty much the only look he ever gives us.
If possible, his glare hardens further before he straightens, and just to fucking rub our noses in it, he takes off in a quick clip, faster than a jog, up the hill.
“I thought you told me we made the course hard enough,” I chide. “You must be getting soft in your retirement years.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Grady mutters.
We watch the other three cross the finish line, in a respectable amount of time for a first go. I guess this proves we’re capable of picking normal badasses, but in the process, got a freak-of-nature thrown into the mix. They’re instructed to do the same as Jarvis, but walk instead of run back to camp.
I record their times when I hear from my side, “I wasn’t kidding.”
I look at Grady. “About what?”
“I’m getting soft.”
I start to head back to camp. “You run, lift, shoot, and go to the mat with them. If you want, I’ll send you through your own course if that’ll make you feel better.”
He falls in beside me. “That’s not what I mean. I’m getting antsy.”
I stop, but it takes him a couple strides to follow suit.
When I glare at him without saying a word, he asks, “You ever get restless?”
I know where he’s going with this, but I expected it would pass. He didn’t want to quit. I had to talk him into it, but it was time. He was getting closer to the edge with each job, Asa and I both saw it. It can happen, but Grady had a close call, the edge was too fucking close. I’ve seen men go down because of it, no way was I gonna let that happen to Grady.
He’s like me, he could’ve retired and never worked another day in his life. The money was that good—we’re set and could live big if the spirit moved us. There was no way I could hang on a beach for the rest of my life without anything to focus on, and I know Grady would have a harder time than me. Plus, this arrangement was how they let us out when they did, and I took it.
I set this endeavor up for the both of us. Between training new men and making a percentage off their jobs for as long as they work, we’ll eventually make as much as we did before. Asa earned off us for ten years, it’s the cycle of the beast.
I cross my arms and glare, not liking where I think this is heading. “No,” I say firmly. “I’m not restless.”
“You wouldn’t be,” he huffs. “You’ve moved in with the beauty queen next door. Of course you’re not restless.”
I ignore his comment about Addison and feel my jaw go hard because I know it’s not about her. “What are you sayin’?”
He looks to the side and sighs for many long moments, crossing his arms. When he finally looks back, he admits, “I’ve been talking to Carson.”
I take a step closer, demanding, “About what?”
“About goin’ back. I’m not ready for this like you are. You knew it, guilted me into quitting, and I bit. It’s been months, I’m done trying to make it work.”
Not able to control my fury, I thunder, “You’re not going back.”
He knows I’m pissed and lowers his voice. “I am.”
I don’t even try to control myself, I lose it. With all my force, I put my hands to his chest and roar, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
He stumbles back a step before righting himself. “Calm down.”
“You forget what happened on your last job? Because I haven’t. I remember every fucking detail,” I yell, not able to control myself.
He takes a step closer and seethes, “I was fine—there was no need for you to step in.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” I shake my head and move to turn away from him because I’ve fucking had it.
“Crew,” he calls out for me.
Stopping, I turn and point to him angrily. “You’d better think this through, Grady. Think it through, long and hard, then do it again. You’ve got tunnel vision and I can’t do a fuckin’ thing about that. I wish you could see how your life’s been on hold for ten fuckin’ years. That’s a long time, and now you’ve been given this opportunity and shit on it? I know you’re not goin’ back for the money, so what, you miss the high? Fuck, I promise you, it’s nothing compared to what else is out there, you’ve just gotta open your fucking eyes and look for it. Don’t get sucked back in, Grady. I got you out once. They don’t let us go easy, I don’t know if I can do it again.”
“I never asked you to do shit,” he growls. “I’m lettin’ you know, when I get assigned, I’ll be gone.”
“Damn it, Grady. Think about it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for months,” he stresses.
I glare at him one more time before turning to start up the hill. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. The one thing I do know is, Grady isn’t buyin’ it by going back to that life. Not as long as I have anything to do with it. He’s had one close call—he’s not having another. I’ll do anything I can to make sure of it.
*****
Addy –
It’s been a long day. It’s Sunday, we had two small events and the tasting room was busy. It’s almost time to shut the place down, I’m helping clean and close the bar. The last customers on the terrace just left. Everyone is gone but Evan and me, and he’s in the back restocking from the cellar since we’re closed tomorrow.
I plan on going home to get some things done before Crew arrives. We don’t even talk about our arrangements anymore. He prefers my house to his, my bed to his, and my shower to his.
Me? I just prefer him, anyway I can have him.
We even tossed the condoms a few days ago when he got his clean bill of health. That’s been even better.
It’s been a month since he snuck up on me walking with my cows in my pasture. Three weeks since he took me to the White House dinner, and then later that night, saw me at my worst. During all this time, he’s proven to be exactly what I need, when I need it.
For the past two weeks, he’s been coming to me late since he’s busy with his killers in training. He quickly eats dinner and we go to bed.
There, he has his way with me, but in a way I know it’s all for me. Each touch, taste, caress—every moment we’re together, he makes this clear as crystal. After we’re done but before sleep, words are exchanged in quiet hushes, small laughs, and sometimes in my case, silent tears. These are the moments, and sometimes even hours, where he gifts me with everything about him. And during these stretches of time in my darkened room, he’s asked everything he wants to know of me.
Everything he doesn’t already know on paper from reading my background, that is.
During these times, Crew reminds me I’m his reward for doing what he thought was his duty for ten years. Doing what he believed was right, but after so many years of doing it, knew he needed out. Now he says he knows why he left when he did. Even though he teases me that I was waiting on him and needed a ride to the White House, he’s serious as it gets when he says he needs me like his next breath.
I’m not sure about all that.
I do know I’ve never had a lover like Crew. Someone who’s completely focused on my mind and heart, as well as my body. Even though I trained myself years ago to manage my panic attacks, it’s hard to describe how I feel now. The fear isn’t in my forethoughts any longer. Sometimes I find an entire day has rushed by and I haven’t thought about it once.
It’s strange, especially since I’ve lived with it simmering under my skin for as long as I can remember.
It’s strange, yet freeing.
Completely, and unequivocally, fr
eeing.
By this time of the day I begin to get anxious. I miss him and can’t wait to have time with him again.
I look up when I hear the door creak and see Mary walk in, starting her way through the empty tasting room. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Oh.” She seems surprised to see me and her step stutters. “Um…I just came by to say hi.”
I give her a smile mixed with a curious frown. “Well, hi yourself. Have a glass and tell me your troubles. You look pretty by the way. You going somewhere?”
She does look pretty. Her loose curls are perfect like normal and her makeup is leaning toward smokey. She’s dressed as edgy as ever, but today her edge is sporting a side of sexy, suiting her well.
She inhales deeply before sighing dramatically. “I guess.”
I frown for real this time, wondering what’s wrong with her.
“What are you thirsty for?” I ask.
Pausing to think, she finally slaps her hand on the bar, deciding vehemently. “Tequila.”
“Ah…hello? You’re at a winery, not a distillery,” I offer sarcastically. “You want to tie one on, I’ll take you home where I have tequila.”
“Holy shit, I don’t care. Just give me something that’s already open.” She’s agitated and ill-tempered, definitely not herself.
I let my eyes go big and hold out my arms. “Again—a tasting room. Everything is open, you pick.”
“Tie me up and whip me with some silly string, Addy Wentworth. Are you trying to torture me?” She leans forward and demands, “Give me something. Something strong and something red.”
I step back, wondering if she’s been possessed. As quick as I can reach to my right, I grab the first red I see and set it on the bar. It’s a Meritage from four years back, maybe if it’s dry it’ll be strong enough. Since it seems we have a wine emergency here, I quickly turn and reach for a large rounded glass.
When I look back to her, I’m stopped in my tracks and yell, “What the hell, Mary?”
She’s drinking straight from the bottle that was at least half full.
“What’s wrong with you?” I keep yelling.
She takes three more gigantic gulps before slamming the bottle to the bar. Through a small wince, she utters, “I have a date.”
I’m confused. Mary is practically perfect. She’s outgoing, with just the right amount of boisterous to not be annoying, not to mention self-assured. Since I’ve known her, she’s dated her fair share, but I’ve never seen her like this.
“Why are you so worked up?” I ask.
She gives me a good glare and defends herself before picking up the bottle. “I’m not worked up.”
I lean into the bar on my elbows, trying to hide my smile as I watch her gulp down a forty-five-dollar bottle of wine that won awards at the State Fair. If Evan saw this, he’d have a fit. “Yeah, whatever. How are you going to get to your date if you’re downing half a bottle of wine in record time?”
She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, smudging her lipstick. “He’s picking me up here. I really don’t know why I agreed to this. I didn’t even want to go, but he talked me into it. Seriously, I should escape now. I should go home, give myself a conditioning treatment, and apply a mask.”
“No, your hair looks great. Better than normal,” I offer, trying to make her feel better.
“It does, doesn’t it?” She fingers a lock of her turquoise hair and exhales, her whole body slumping on her stool as she throws out a hand to me. “You need a Keratin treatment, by the way. You’re starting to frizz.”
Running my hand through my hair, I silently agree. “I’ve been busy. I’ll get in soon. Tell me about your date and why is he picking you up here?”
She ignores my question and mumbles with the bottle to her lips before taking another gulp, “I can fit you in next week. You can’t walk around frizzing, it’ll make me look bad.”
I ignore her and demand, “You’re not usually a wuss. Tell me about this guy.”
I barely get the last word out of my mouth when I hear from in back of me, “You’re early.”
My eyes widen as I turn slowly, thinking it can’t be.
It’s Evan, standing at the doorway that leads to the kitchen where he most likely just came up from the cellar. He’s got his arms crossed, but he tips his head as a slow smile spreads across his young, handsome face. “You’re early and you’re beautiful. Bonus.”
I hear a squeak and a rustle. When I swing my head back to Mary, her bottle is tipped high, almost finished.
“You two are going out?” I ask, not able to hide the excitement in my voice.
“Yeah,” Evan answers.
The only answer I get from Mary is her wine bottle being slammed to the bar.
“Really?” My voice goes higher.
“Yeah,” Evan repeats.
“Really,” Mary grumbles at the same time, but she sounds as excited as one would be about scrubbing the grout behind a toilet, and a public toilet, at that.
Looking to Evan, I have no choice but to play the responsible adult. “She’s gonna need some food. Don’t let her drive, she just downed a half bottle of the Meritage.”
“Mary,” he chides. “I’m taking you for Italian. You could’ve waited.”
“No, I needed it.” She puts the bottle to her lips again, looking for the last drop of wine.
“You love Italian,” I remind her.
She barely catches my eyes before her head falls dramatically to the bar. Resting her forehead there, I hear a muffled, “Of course he’s taking me for Italian. What the hell am I doing?”
I look back to Evan. “Where are you going?”
“Girasole’s in The Plains.”
“Niiiiccce.” I grin, letting the word drag out sing-songy, and as I do, Mary bangs her head once on the bar.
I laugh and Evan sighs as he moves out from in back of the bar. Picking up her purse, he grabs her hand in his other. He pulls her gently off the stool. “Let’s go. We have a reservation.”
“I feel like a proud mama,” I announce as they start for the door. Mary turns and gives me her big glaring eyes, but I ignore her. “Or a matchmaker. You two wouldn’t be where you are now if I didn’t have frizzy hair.”
“See ya, Addy,” Evan calls.
“You guys coming to poker tomorrow night?” I yell as they get to the door.
“Yep,” Evan answers at the same time Mary grumbles, “No.”
Evan rolls his eyes as he pushes her through the door. “We’ll be there.”
The second he does, I’m surprised to see Crew enter as they leave.
I smile, happy to see him before the sun sets. “Hey. You’re early.”
He barely gives Evan and Mary a nod, his eyes on me the whole time, and not soft eyes. Sharp, intense, and if I’m reading him correctly, a lot angry.
“What’s wrong?” I walk around the bar, moving to him.
But he’s moving faster. His intensity increasing the closer he gets, making me stop.
“Crew?” I call out, but he doesn’t answer.
When he gets close, he grabs my face, almost aggressively but not, crushing his mouth to mine. Our teeth barely scrape and I’m forced to grab his forearms to hold on.
When he finally let’s go, I’m breathless. “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t utter a word, but his deep, dark eyes sear into mine. Looking around quickly, he grabs my hand, pulling me across the tasting room. When we get to the heavy oak doors of the barrel room, he pulls me inside. The wide door creeps to a close, encasing us in the dimmed atmosphere. The oak barrels—staggered and stacked on risers four-high—surround us.
He presses me up against two barrels, one at my bottom and the other behind my head. Yanking my shift dress up to my waist, I shiver as the cool air hits my bare skin. The room is air-tight and temperature controlled at an even fifty-five degrees. When the backs of my thighs hit the cool wood of the barrel, it’s a complete contradiction to his warm hand
that dips into the front of my panties.
As much as I love this, I don’t understand it. Clutching his wrist, I ask one more time, “What’s wrong?”
He stills, his hand in my panties cupping me firmly and possessively. Looking into his eyes, he says nothing while exhaling, giving his head a frustrated, single shake.
I don’t know what’s going on with him, and I have no clue what the look is in his eyes or the energy seeping from his body means.
But I don’t like it and want to do anything and everything I can to make it go away. As much as he’s done for me, I want to do something for him.
Crossing my arms at my waist, I grab the hem of my dress that’s bunched there and pull—up and over my head it goes. I have to fight not to shiver from the cool, moist air. After I drop it to the side, I reach back and unhook my bra.
For as fast as he claimed me just minutes ago, our actions are now just as slow. Letting gravity take over, my bra leisurely falls down my arms, leaving me bare other than my panties and sandals.
His hand is still buried in my panties where he holds me firmly. I feel myself getting wet—it’s the only place on my body that’s warm. In fact, the more the heat builds between my legs, the faster I seem to chill. Goosebumps spread over my arms and my nipples harden—erect, overly-sensitive.
His dark, anguished eyes never leave mine. I kick my sandals off, at the same time hooking my thumbs into my panties and push them down.
All through this, he never lets me go, never looks away. I reach up on my toes, putting my hands to his scruffy jaw I’ve come to love, pulling him to me.
He lets me do all this. Over the past few weeks when it’s just us, he leads it. He puts me where he wants me, gives, takes what he wants, and moves us at his speed.
His hand between my legs starts to explore as I kiss him. I glide my hands up his scruffy face into his still damp hair. He smells clean, like he showered just before coming to me.
When I finally let go and come back down to flat feet, I feel small and exposed compared to him, fully dressed, and taller than normal in his big clompy boots.
