The driver drew a gun from under his seat and set it on his lap.
Shit.
“Keisha!” a male voice shouted from just up the sidewalk.
I risked a look, ready to run if I needed to, but I was too late. A red tricycle smashed into my leg. Mad giggles erupted out of the drunk driver, a little black girl.
“Keisha, you should be in bed. Momma’s gonna kill you.” A boy, maybe fourteen, rolled the tricycle backward enough so he could pick it and the girl up. “I’m so sorry, mister.”
“Get out of here,” I hissed, then looked in the opposite direction.
They needed to leave here and fast. Kids like them had no business being out this late when the wicked came out to play.
When their footsteps faded, the driver put his gun back under the seat and sighed.
“I lost count again,” Irish said and started counting all over.
I wanted to fucking punch him in the throat. Instead, I glanced up the sidewalk to make sure the kids were a safe distance away. The girl struggled in the boy’s arms. The toes of her shoes dragged behind him next to the tricycle’s back wheels. They turned at a sidewalk that led to a small house. When they made it inside, it was a little easier to breathe.
“Okay,” Irish finally said. “It’s all here.”
Without another word, they drove away, leaving me alone at the corner of 131st and Chestnut with the mosquitoes and a pink tiara donut.
I guessed that was it, then, so I dropped the donut in the trash on the way to my car. One of Hill’s minions didn’t deserve a crown anyway.
9
Sam
A FEW HOURS LATER, I stood exactly where I wanted to, in the kitchen over a plate of freshly sizzled bacon. A bucket of coffee sat next to it because I hadn’t slept. After I tried to shower the sweat, mosquito guts, my stained conscience clean, there hadn’t been time. And I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.
A frantic Paige hurried into the kitchen, but stopped as she took in the toast, bacon, and eggs breakfast spread laid out on the island. “Oh, God. I was afraid I wasn’t going to have time to eat.”
Splotches of red brightened her cheeks. She kept fidgeting with the buttons on her flowered top and tugging at the hem of her black skirt. Her hair was done up in a fancy twist at the back of her head, and she wore a little makeup on her eyes and lips. Dressed as a sexy librarian, every inch of her begged to be licked. Somehow I didn’t think she’d appreciate that on the first day of her internship, though.
“Relax.” I placed a full mug of coffee and a full plate in front of her. “And dig in.”
“Did you do this for me?” she asked as she sat.
“For me too.” I shrugged like it was no big deal, even though I could feel her probing gaze. She was probably thinking about masturbating to me last night. Or maybe wondering if that crash she might’ve heard in the hallway while she was finishing herself off was me.
“Thank you, Sam.” She smiled and took a large bite of bacon. “That’s really sweet.”
I plucked some bacon from my plate. “I aim to please.”
She choked on a swallow and took a swig of coffee, her face reddening even more. Her mind was even naughtier than I thought since I hadn’t even meant that to be sexual. Mostly.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked once she could breathe again.
“Uh, yeah. Eventually.”
I nodded and tried to hide my grin behind the brim of my coffee cup. “So, I finished your book last night. Do you want me to tell you what happens?”
“Noooo,” she said and shot me a warning look.
“Everyone dies,” I said and scratched at one of the thousands of mosquito bites on my neck. “None of the characters had a zombie apocalypse plan. When the outbreak spread, things got ugly real quick.”
Her dark eyes sparkled as she chewed thoughtfully. “That’s a real bummer, especially since there’s supposed to be another book with the same characters out in September.”
I held my hands out in mock apology. “They’re all zombies.”
“Funny how the blurb for the new book didn’t say anything about zombies.”
“Time-traveling zombies. Time-traveling, bank-robbing, crime-solving zombies,” I said with a wink and a tap to my temple like it was the greatest idea ever. Which it was. I should be a writer. “That author knows what she’s doing.”
She snorted and tossed a strip of bacon at me, which I caught in my mouth because I’m a badass.
“You’re so full of it,” she said, laughing. “Do you have a zombie apocalypse plan?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Well, we need to take care of that. What if it happens today? What if killer librarians come after you?”
“I’ll throw bookshelves at them,” she said with a shrug. “I refuse to throw books, though.”
“Yeah,” I said. “We need to get you a real plan.”
“All right. After my internship today, we’ll make a zombie plan for me.”
She gazed at me then, every bit of her lighting up. I had to wonder if she was actually looking forward to spending time with me. Me, who had zero direction in life except to pay off 1.1 million dollars to Hill so Rose could start her life again. Yet there Paige sat in my kitchen, so much better than I could ever be, grinning and crunching on bacon. It was probably the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. Being in her company almost made me forget about everything else.
She walked her empty cup and plate to the sink then leaned against the counter, studying me. “Sam?”
I studied her right back, from the cleft of her toes hidden by her shoes, up her curvy legs to her hips, and over the swell of her chest to her long neck and her full, pouty lips. Perfect.
“Were you going to kiss me at the library?”
That was what she wanted to know? It seemed like our public library time had happened a lifetime ago, but the memory of her pressed against me stirred my dick awake when the rest of me wanted to crash.
“Why go in like that instead of just telling me who you were?” she pressed.
A drop of coffee landed on my lip with my next drink. I licked it off while my gaze dragged up and down her body once again. Every time she stood in the same room as me, the need to touch her, taste her, take her, expanded painfully in my chest. And in my pants. If I could affect her with my presence just a fraction of how much she affected me, maybe she’d be mine. And maybe I was starting to affect her if last night’s jill-off proved anything. If pretending to be a good guy and feeding her bacon in the morning made her want me, I’d do it for an eternity. Then, at least in her eyes, I would be good enough.
I took another long drink of coffee while she waited for an answer. “You know why you keep bringing up the library?”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowed. “Are you about to enlighten me about myself again?”
“Because you liked it,” I said and stalked toward her slowly. “A stranger, at least you thought it was at the time, in a public place, pressed up against you. You liked it. You liked it so much, it scared you.”
She let out a shaky breath. Her lips parted as I drew closer. “Really. That’s what you think?”
I stopped just inches away from her, breathing in her spicy candy smell, and leaned in close enough so my lips brushed her ear. “That’s what I think.”
Her eyes sank closed as a shudder went through her, and the corner of my smile touched her cheek. Whether I was a good guy or not, Paige had an obvious naughty streak inside her, too. To a lesser degree than I did, but still. I had to wonder how deep it went, how many sweet layers I would need to peel away until she admitted exactly what she wanted. We could meet each other halfway on the wicked/virtuous scales, which were kind of like the hanging ones in grocery stores, but more judgmental.
Fuck being good enough. I would elect myself to sainthood if she joined me on the bad list for a day. An hour. Fifteen minutes? I could be o
pen to negotiation, especially if Paige was doing the negotiating. A little corruption never hurt anyone. Just ask the rest of my family.
But one step at a time.
I stepped away and asked, “Do you need a ride?”
“No.” She gave me a shy smile that left me light-headed, then picked up her purse from the barstool. “I...I need to calm my nerves and focus so I don’t trip over flat surfaces or something equally horrendous on my first day. I’ll just take the metro.”
I nodded and shoved my hands in my jeans pockets so I wouldn’t scratch the hundreds of mosquito bites.
“Wish me luck today, okay?” she said over her shoulder on the way out of the kitchen.
“Yeah. Good luck.” I stared at the spot where she’d vanished next to the trash can and the empty fruit basket inside.
Speaking of sweet layers, I wondered again who the basket might be from and why Paige had said it was a mistake after she’d crumpled up the card.
One step at a time.
10
Paige
SINCE LAST NIGHT, THE world’s missing bee population somersaulted in my gut. I had been waiting for this day most of my life, and now that it was finally here, it didn’t seem like it was really happening. My body felt separated from my mind somehow, as if I were living inside a happy dream.
By the time I arrived at the Library of Congress, the pinks and oranges stitched into the sky by the rising sun had faded into a clear blue. Only a few cars specked the otherwise empty parking lot by the rear staff entrance.
While I waited for someone to let me inside the locked library, I sat on the steps and checked my phone. A message from Kay read:
How’s Riley? I’m hoping to live vicariously through you, hint, hint. Good luck today, sugar plum!
Not much to tell in the Riley department. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since Saturday when I’d arrived. His political consulting duties must really be crazy if they dragged him away for that long, but if I was being totally honest with myself, I didn’t mind.
I started to text Kay back and tell her about Sam, but I wasn’t sure what to say. That he’d hung out with me all weekend, mostly shirtless? That he’d made breakfast for me? That I’d fantasized about him with Slave last night?
While my explosive orgasm had pulsed through my body in blissful waves, something had crashed across the hall. Maybe Sam hadn’t been downstairs reading, and that possibility had stormed hot, naughty dreams through my head the rest of the night. Could he have heard me?
The way he sometimes looked at me, steady and intense and with open admiration, like when he stood in my doorway last night while I sorted my books... Well, no one had ever looked at me that way before. Not with a need so penetrating, the force of it squeezed my thighs together with an equivalent yearning. And that grin that lit up his entire face capitalized the P in Pantydropper.
He wanted me, and I wanted him right back, but I couldn’t get myself mixed up in that kind of distraction. My internship letter had stated that there would be an opportunity for the best interns to be offered actual paid positions at the end of the six weeks. A paid position at the Library of Congress. Hell, I’d pay them if it meant I could be employed there.
When Dad had learned about this possibility, he’d looked at me for a split second—the first time in what felt like years—and said, “Don’t blow it.” Thanks, Dad, for believing in me with such enthusiasm. But those words had struck a chord. Since graduating high school a whole year early and with top honors hadn’t made him forget the past or made him proud, maybe this could.
Besides, my past experiments with men left me feeling more alone than when I was actually alone. So no, I refused to wilt underneath Sam’s beautiful blue eyes or drool over his immaculately carved chest even if he served a platter of chocolate chunk cookies for breakfast. I wasn’t about to throw my career chances away for a fling with Riley’s bad boy younger brother.
Lifelong dream came first. Redeeming myself in the eyes of my parents came second. Libido came third or fourth, depending on my battery supply, and a complicated relationship was so far down my list, I couldn’t even see it.
A beat-up Cadillac pulled into the parking lot and into a spot near the back. Another car followed.
My palms grew too slick to hold my phone, so I dropped it into my purse without replying to Kay and stood.
A curvy young redhead climbed out of the Cadillac and stepped carefully through the parking lot in sensible flats. She smoothed her navy skirt, her hair, the strap of her giant tie-dyed parachute of a purse. Another intern? She looked just as nervous as I felt.
I thrust a hand toward her in an attempt to be friendly as she neared the steps. “You must be intern. An intern. Me too. I’m Paige.” My face flushed, and the bees inside me took a dive toward my knees. Just call me Paige Awkward Sullivan.
But she took my hand anyway and shook it with a firm grip and a small smile. “Paige? Really?” she asked, glancing at the nametag pinned to my top.
“My parents were psychic,” I said with a shrug.
“Nicole.” She dropped her hand, and we both wiped our sweaty palms on our skirts. “Is your last name Frostbourne? Do you have knives hidden up the inside of your legs?”
I laughed, which helped calm my nerves a little, and her face blossomed into a stunning grin. She was referring to a paranormal historical series of books by Lisa Montgomery, and that was when I decided we would be BFF’s—bookish friends forever. Yes, not only am I awkward when I’m nervous, but apparently I also think like I’m twelve.
“I can’t find my nametag,” Nicole said and shoved a hand into her enormous purse.
I widened my stance in case she fell inside and needed to be rescued, but sooner than I could’ve imagined finding anything in there, she pulled out her nametag.
“I thought Jimmy ate it,” she said, flicking her green gaze up to mine while she attached her name to her top.
“Jimmy Hoffa?”
She snorted out a nervous laugh and pointed to her bag. “Jimmy is my pet turtle.”
“Oh.” Of course. She’d brought a turtle with her?
A young woman with exotically angled eyes and a nose ring sauntered up to us. Her glossy black hair had been shaved on one side so it flopped over the other and down one shoulder. Colorful tattoos unfurled over her golden skin and scrolled up both arms beneath the sleeves of her white T-shirt and plaid vest. She had taken the stereotypical librarian image and stomped on it with enormous combat boots that went up to her knees.
Sometimes I wished I had the courage to look like that. Other times, I preferred the subtly unconventional librarian. After all, how many others were wearing a black silk thong that read Shh! across the crotch? Probably more than I cared to know about, but still.
The woman let her gaze roam over the building like a loving caress. “I’m totally nerding out right now.”
Nicole and I grinned. Every time I met someone who shared my passion, it kind of amazed me. Before I quit high school and earned my GED, I was the freak outcast who read at the lunch table, and it wasn’t until graduate school that I finally met other like-minded people, including Kay. If only I’d met her years earlier, then maybe high school wouldn’t have been such a struggle. Doubtful, but maybe.
A number of other people, mostly females, joined us on the steps, including a boy who looked like he’d barely passed puberty.
“Ladies,” the boy said and looked at each of us, his gaze lingering several beats past uncomfortable on me.
Had I unknowingly slapped a sticky note on my forehead with the words I’ll be your cougar—Rawwwr! on my forehead that only males with fewer birthdays than me could see?
His crisp-ironed suit and Hollywood smile made me think he was destined for political office rather than librarian.
“I’m Doug,” he said with a wink.
His name even sounded political.
“Paige,” I said, just to be polite.
“Are we in the right plac
e?” a young woman clutching a tissue asked timidly, but at the same time, the wooden door behind us burst open.
A woman of about forty stood just inside dressed in a smart pant suit and high heels. At least three-inch high heels. The twinkle in her dark eyes gave no indication that she suffered in painful silence.
“You are in the right place, and on behalf of the entire staff, I’d like to welcome our Junior Fellows summer interns into the Jefferson Building of the Library of Congress,” she said.
She held the door while we filed inside with murmured thank-yous, and I breathed in one hundred seventeen years of history. The entire library housed approximately thirty-six million books. While I didn’t see any of them yet, that familiar, slightly musty paper and ink smell seeped from the grand arches and the rich, symbolic artwork decorating the walls. I held it in my lungs, treasured it, willed it to settle into my pores forever. Walking inside was similar to the first time I’d ever been here when I was seven—with complete awe and a sense of home.
Next to me in the entryway, Nicole appeared just as transfixed. A wide, dreamy grin stretched her mouth as she searched the painted ceiling of the cavernous room with teary eyes. I’d bet everything inside her parachute bag, including Jimmy the turtle, that this was her life-long ambition, too.
“I’m Janice Brown, Head of the Rare Book and Special Collections Division,” the high-heeled wonder said. “Before we get to know each other and take a tour, we’ll need to check you and your bags through security.” She gestured to a tall, uniformed man standing in front of a metal detector behind her. “This is William, a U.S. Capitol policeman, and he’ll be checking you in and out. Ready, William?”
William gave a sharp nod, his gaze skittering to Nicole before he began barking directions. “Bags on the conveyor belt. Step through the metal detector one at a time, please.”
Nicole clutched her bag while a shade of red that matched her hair bloomed all over her face.
“You okay?” I asked. “Do you know him or something?”
Wicked Me (Wicked in the Stacks Book 1) Page 8
