Dixon

by Kris Michaels

  "You're whining?" That was surprising and unexpected from her.

  She put her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed. "Fuck...I am whining. Dammit. I hate people, and I hate shopping. Answer my question."

  "I'm sorry, which one?"

  "Why are we going to this thing again?"

  "Because it is expected that I am seen and that you be well turned-out." He leaned down for a kiss. She stretched up and met his lips.

  As soon as his lips left hers, she let him have it. "Fuck you very much for that. Well turned-out. Is that the same as being a fucking bimbo arm candy?" She lifted up on her toes and bit his lip before she let go of him. "Besides, they haven't given you any indication they want you to actually take that seat, have they? It's fucking taking forever." She unfastened the clip of her mink and dropped the coat revealing a dark, jade-green dress that showed her body to perfection.

  Dixon ran a hand down her side and cupped her tiny waist. "A man once told me the hardest part about fishing was the wait."

  Her eyebrow rose a split second before she laughed with an inelegant snort. "Oh my God, you sound like a freaking fortune cookie."

  "Good. You can eat me later. Right now, we need to head downtown, or we won’t get to enjoy dinner before the ballet starts. We can talk over our meal."

  "Oh, I'll devour you later." She waggled her eyebrows and laughed at the balls deep groan the thought of her mouth around his cock evoked. "Are you sure we have to do this?" Joy stood perfectly still and adopted a haughty expression before she spun on her toe, raising her hand in the air, almost tripping over the low table between the chairs in the process. Dixon snaked out a hand to steady her. She grabbed onto his outstretched arm and used him as a prop to hold herself steady as she lifted her heel and adjusted the back strap. "Shit...seriously, ballet like totally sucks. Dude, you realize I'm going to be snoring about ten minutes after the lights go out, right?"

  "Think of it as a job. Imagine you have to watch the prima ballerina because she's your target for later tonight." Dixon steadied her until she put her foot down and reached for her coat. "By the way, you look amazing tonight."

  "What? You mean I don't look amazing every night?" She swatted him with her purse after she grabbed it off the chair. The damn thing was heavy, which told him she probably had a gun in it. He glanced at her dress and wondered where she'd put her knife because it was almost a guarantee that she had it on her. Although with the way that dress fit, perhaps the gun was her only weapon tonight.

  "You point out this prima chick, okay? That's a sneaky-ass suggestion by the way, but a great idea to keep me interested." She fanned her hand out and put it on her chest as she blinked her long lashes at him. "It’s as if you know me." She threw back her head and laughed.

  Dixon grabbed his cashmere overcoat and followed her into the hall before he locked up the house and engaged the new security system he'd had installed. Smith could turn it off and on, but Dixon would know when he entered or left just in case the man decided he needed to do some snooping around on his own. The thing fed directly to Dixon's cell phone. It wasn't a perfect system, but it would let him know if someone tried to tamper with anything in the house.

  He helped her into the waiting limo after waving the driver back into the cab of the vehicle. He waited until the car pulled away from the curb before he glanced over at her. "You know I don't know you. Not in any way that matters."

  “Sex doesn’t matter?”

  “Other than sex,” he conceded. "You said before, in the office, it was as if I knew you. I don't. Not really."

  She turned in her seat. The familiar brow furrow was directed his way again "Ah...well in my line of business..." Her words trailed off before she shrugged her shoulder. "Ask me."

  "Ask you what?" Dixon glanced out the window when the driver slowed to stop at a light.

  "Questions, dork. Ask me questions." She reached for the seat warmer controls and cranked hers up.

  Dixon chuckled, "Who is thirteen now?"

  She flipped him off and fiddled with the sound system controls. He felt the car accelerate slowly. Ice coated the street in a thick layer with a small amount of fresh snow covering the asphalt.

  "What is your favorite color?"

  "Ummm...black."

  "That's not a color. That is the absence of color." It was an automatic reply.

  She turned and looked at him. "Okay, so, this is not how getting to know each other works. You ask a question; I answer it. You cannot tell me my answer is wrong. It's my answer."

  "Sorry."

  "Damn straight." She straightened in her seat. "What's yours?"

  "Favorite color?"

  "Ah...yeah?" She gave him an exasperated look.

  "Tonight, it is jade green." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  "Good recovery, but not the answer I'm looking for."

  "Blue. The shade the sky is in the summer when the sun is at its peak. I like it because it is vibrant and alive."

  "Wow...that was really...I like black because it hides me." She stroked the fur she was wearing, not looking at him.

  "You should never be hidden." Dixon reached over and took her hand in his. She glanced up and flashed him a sad smile.

  "Favorite food?" She popped the question out.

  He followed the topic change without missing a beat. "Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and corn on the cob."

  "How very southern of you."

  "Actually, midwestern." His mind flashed to the dining room in Frank and Amanda’s house, and he imagined Sunday night dinner with his family. It was the meal Miss Amanda made for him and Drake. Fuck, he missed them. The holidays were hollow without his family. He cleared his throat and smiled at her, forcing himself not to give in to that particular train of thought. "What's yours?"

  "Any kind of vegetable."

  "I've noticed you don't eat meat. Is there a reason you're a vegetarian? Or are you vegan?"

  She snorted and shook her head. "Labels are for assholes. I don't eat meat anymore because I don't want anything that bleeds on my plate. It kinda grosses me out, you know?"

  His head whipped her direction expecting her to be laughing, but she wasn't. Her gaze was focused out the side window.

  "Because blood makes you remember," he whispered.

  She turned and stared at him. "Yeah. For the most part, I can compartmentalize my life." She shrugged and cleared her throat. "Except when I see blood." She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Fucked up, huh?"

  "No. Not at all." He assured her as they passed a slower vehicle. "Favorite movie of all times?"

  She snorted and slapped her hand over her nose which made her laugh harder. "You do not want to know."

  "Sure, I do." He laughed at her. "I'll go first. My favorite movie of all times is The Hunt for Red October. Sean Connery was fucking amazing in that movie. The science and engineering wasn't right, and it wasn't as good as the book, but as far as movies go, there is just something about it that stuck with me."

  "Yeah, okay, I get that." She cleared her throat. "You have to swear not to laugh at me when I tell you what my favorite movie is."

  "I cross my heart." Dixon swiped his fingers across his chest.

  "Okay, well it was a movie I watched with my older sister when we were little. And that is why it was so special, so no laughing."

  Dixon reached out again and squeezed her hand. "I promise."

  "Paint Your Wagon."

  His mind flashed through all the films he'd ever watched, and he couldn't for the life of him come up with anything with that title. "I've never heard of it."

  She looked out the window and spoke to the darkness, "It's a comedy musical, with some crazy singing."

  "You like musicals? How did I not know that?" Dixon interjected trying for some levity.

  "Ha, yeah, well my employers weren't exactly doing a Mary Poppins imitation. I liked that movie, by the way. She was one badass nanny. Besides, it was the songs in this movie that we like
d the best."

  "You and your sister?"

  "Yeah, she was older than me by five years. She was my best friend. We didn't have anyone else."

  "Was?"

  Dixon glanced at her, and she nodded. "She died trying to protect me from the man who was supposed to be taking care of us until our parents made it to this country."

  "I'm sorry."

  Her head whipped toward him, and she stared at him with that confused look again. "For what?"

  "I'm sorry that you had to lose your sister to a monster, for what happened after she died, because I'm assuming it was horrific, and I'm sorry someone you trusted abused you." He knew only too well the scars that scenario could leave on a person.

  They sat in silence for most of the remainder of the ride. Finally, she cleared her throat. "No one has ever said that. No one."

  "Said what?"

  "That they were sorry for what happened to me. I think you're the first person." Her voice was so soft he barely heard it.

  He reached out and took her hand. "I had a similar experience growing up. That bastard did things to me that I will never speak of...to anyone. I was young and vulnerable, and he abused the trust a father is supposed to hold sacred. My twin brother went through hell, too...but our mother was the one that abused him. We struck out in the moral character gene pool." He exhaled a lungful of air because he needed to breathe, not because it was funny. "I was fucked up for a long time. My brother pulled me out of that hell. I know what I went through made me what I am today, and I'm not really sure if that's a good thing."

  She swiped her fingers under her eye, catching a stray tear, and nodded. "I swore if I got away from him, I'd spend my life making bastards like him pay." She looked up at him and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not a bad person."

  "Oh, fuck..." Dixon pulled her onto his lap. She came willingly and snuggled into him, which was so out of character for the woman that he realized she had exposed a very raw part of herself to him.

  He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes as he spoke the truth he'd discovered through his own journey. "Sometimes because of circumstances beyond their control, people are forced to become someone or something they'd never otherwise become. Sometimes those circumstances lead to a desire for justice, or the need to avenge a wrong. For some of us, doing the unthinkable to protect the innocent is the only option, and each time we chose to defend, we build another barrier. It is like we each live in a cage of our own making. The bars are built and strengthened with each act and decision we make."

  "A cage. God, I get that," she sighed the words into his chest.

  "Hmmm... thing I learned is that the bars on our cage don't block us from escaping. They are simply devices we use to make us think we can't change our lives. Every time you make a decision that is different from the past, those bars weaken. You let me in and gave me a glimpse of your life. That bar on your cage is gone. You told me about your past, that bar no longer constrains you. With each decision, we can strengthen grip our pasts have on us, or we can weaken the power we've given it."

  Her eyes glittered like diamonds as she stared at him. He had no idea what she'd do with the information, but he could see her desire to believe what he'd just told her. Whether or not she did depended on her. There was no way he could reconcile her past for her. Hell, he was having a hard time doing that with his own baggage, but he prayed for her sake that she'd believe him and start letting herself out of the cage she'd locked herself in. He dropped a soft kiss to her upturned mouth.

  She dipped her head, breaking contact. "Have you removed the bars from your cage?"

  "I guess you could say that is a work in progress." He ran his thumb across her cheek. "It's a slow process, but I'm making them weaker one decision at a time." He lifted her chin and slanted his mouth over hers.

  She sighed and relaxed into his kiss, but he kept it light and comforting. When he broke their contact, she reached up and ran a finger along his jaw. "A fortune cookie philosopher. What other talents do you have, Mr. Simmons?"

  He chuckled softly. "So many. Did you know I'm a pilot?"

  She pushed away from him. "Really?"

  "Yup."

  "Take me flying?"

  "I can do that."

  "Excellent." She arched her back and did an almost graceful slide back to her side of the car. She braced her feet on the floorboards and her shoulders against the back of the seat to shimmy her dress back down into position. Dixon got an eyeful of leg and a glimpse of her pert little ass. "What other talents do you have?” She relaxed back into her seat. Apparently, she was done talking about herself.

  "I'm a mechanical engineer. I've got a really awkward obsession with explosives. For most of my life I've been a serial womanizer..."

  "Wait, what's that?"

  "A mechanical engineer?" He got a punch on his arm for teasing her. "Oh, you mean a serial womanizer?"

  She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "Yeah, that one."

  He shrugged. "I guess it means that I don't usually date. I fuck, and I move on."

  "Huh, so that would make me a serial...manizer?" She screwed up her face for second before she lifted her hand..."No, a serial man-eater!"

  He groaned at her wicked comment. "Why do I not want to hear that?"

  "Oh, dude, don't feel bad. You're the only man I'm interested in eating, at the moment." She reached over and cupped her hand over his cock. Damned if he didn't push up into her grip and cover her hand with his.

  "Exclusively mine. Remember?" He linked his fingers with hers and lifted them to his lips, depriving his cock of the stimulation that would lead to an embarrassing exit from the car in about three blocks.

  She squeezed his hand, and he glanced over at her. "Exclusively mine." She echoed. She stared at him waiting for him to acknowledge her.

  "Exclusively each other's." He winked at her after he said it, giving her a way out or to make a joke if she wanted.

  "That works for me."

  "So, tell me, Ms. Nguyen, what would you do if you could do anything in the world?"

  "Besides you?"

  Dixon laughed and nodded, "Yes, besides me."

  "Hmmm...anything?"

  "Yup. If you had a magic wand and could only use it to grant yourself one wish, what would it be?"

  She was quiet until they pulled up to the valet. Dixon exited the car quickly and trotted over to where the door had been opened for Joy. He leaned forward and extended his hand, helping her out of the vehicle.

  "Oh, this is beautiful!"

  The outdoor gardens were lush and full, a stark contrast to the gloomy winter weather outside the enclosed courtyard. There were several bars and high-top tables with seating for those who were early or waiting on their reservation time. Dixon wrapped Joy's hand through his arm and slowly led her to the hostess stand.

  "Reservation for Simmons."

  The hostess checked her computer and smiled. "Yes sir, one moment please."

  A man wearing a tux appeared beside them. "Sir, my name is Amos. If you would follow me?"

  Dixon allowed Joy to precede him while taking a moment to survey the people already seated. Several sets of appreciative eyes followed Joy's progress through the seating area. Dixon ceased his observations and made eye contact with a woman who was staring at him. She held his gaze and then let her eyes roll past him, dismissively.

  After they were seated Joy leaned over to him, "Who's the brunette?"

  Dixon picked up her hand and kissed her fingers as he spoke, "The one in the black dress at my eight o'clock?"

  "That would be the one."

  "I have no idea, why?"

  "If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under and decomposing." Joy blinked her eyelashes at him and gave him a saccharine smile.

  His gut told him there was something off about the woman too. Joy grabbed her purse and turned to him, speaking in a hushed tone, "I'm going to go to the can. If the bitch follows me, I'll find out who she is. If she comes here, you'll
have about five minutes before I come back to figure out what the fuck her problem is."

  "And if she just has a pole shoved up her ass and doesn't approach either of us?"

  "Then I'll picture her as the prima ballerina tonight." She winked at him, leaned over, brushed a kiss across his lips, and stood. Dixon stood with her and moved her chair for her before he took his seat again. He ordered a bottle of wine when the sommelier approached and pulled out his phone.

  "May I take a moment of your time?" The woman's European accent caught his ear.

  Dixon rose. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?"

  The woman looked at the chair Joy had been sitting in and then at Dixon. "Offer me a seat, Mr. Simmons."

  Dixon narrowed his eyes before he pulled the chair out for her. He slid the chair in after she sat down and took a seat. "I believe you have me at a disadvantage."

  "I believe I do, and that is the way we prefer it." The woman crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. "You will be offered the Senate seat tomorrow. You will accept it. You will vote as we require, and then and only then will we consider the information you have on Guardian. If what you say is accurate, we will proceed at our pace and with our own players. You will not be involved."

  "Thank you for your time." Dixon stood up and moved behind the woman. He leaned down and whispered in her ear as he grasped the chair. "Find another lackey to push your vote through and don't contact me again." He stood and pulled the chair out, jolting the woman into action.

  She stood and spun on her heel to stare at him. "You will regret this decision."

  "No, you tell your bosses that they just pissed away their one and only chance to put a boulder-sized hole in Guardian Security. If they decide to take me out for not agreeing to take the seat, ask yourself what I know and what have I done with that information. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe my date would like her seat." Dixon nodded toward Joy, who was approaching. "I didn't think The Fates specialized in stupidity. My mistake."

  Dixon watched unadulterated fear flash across the woman's features. Jason had cautioned him to use the name of who they believed was behind Stratus only if absolutely necessary. To him, getting this whole ordeal over as quickly as possible was absolutely necessary. He felt like he'd been dangling from a hook for far too long.