"The last time I saw him, I lied to him. He knew I wasn't telling him the truth about what was happening in my life. What I wouldn't give to hug him and tell him I'm sorry."
"You two were close?"
"As close as you can get." He smiled. "You know, finishing sentences for each other and we have...had a way of knowing what each other were thinking." He chuckled. "That freaked out quite a few people."
They sat in silence for a while before Joy spoke, "My sister, she was everything. I don't remember much about my parents. They are like this foggy background, but Tess, she tried to protect me. Hell, she made sure I had food. The man who had us, well to put it nicely, he was cruel. Food was a privilege."
"Tess was your sister's name?"
She shook her head. "No, it was the American name she took from that movie I was telling you about. Her real name was Sung-mi. But we were kids, and we played, so she took the name, Tess, because there was this song, it was beautiful and lonely, and it told about the elements like rain and fire and about the wind. Tess was the name they gave the rain in the song. She loved the rain." Joy sat quietly thinking of the music and how much they loved it. They'd sung the song over and over.
"She liked the name Tess?" He prompted her pulling her from her memories.
"Yeah, and...well, anyway as you can guess, I wasn't a very cooperative kid. So, I rarely got to eat. She'd give me her food." Joy shifted gears, avoiding the painful subject and shut the door on those memories. She’d survived, her sister hadn’t.
"You? Not cooperative? Say it isn't so." Dixon's chest vibrated against her back when he laughed softly.
Thank God he’d understood and followed her lead. "Right? Who would have thought it?" She grabbed his hands and laced their fingers together. "You asked me once what I would do if I could change anything in the world. Remember?"
"I do. In the car on the way to the restaurant." Dixon squeezed their joined hands.
She stared at the tree and then lowered her gaze to the hands that held hers. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "I wouldn't change anything tonight."
The quiet in the room reverberated so loudly she had to open her eyes. She steadily gazed at the lights flashing on and off. He finally moved and pulled her against him, kissing the top of her head. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and reveled in the warmth and security she felt sitting in the dark with Dixon.
He unlinked their hands and repositioned her like she weighed nothing. She straddled his lap, and in the light of the Christmas tree, she gazed into his beautiful blue eyes. The eyes of the man she'd let herself fall in love with.
"Neither would I." He lifted his hand and ran a finger down her jaw, stopping under her chin. "Merry Christmas, Joy."
His lips found hers, and she fell into the soft, emotion-filled kiss. The feelings between them had changed. This wasn't them fucking. His hands caressed her sides and back as his tongue danced with hers. This, what was happening tonight, was the end result of the long road to this moment. She wouldn't paint it as anything but what it was, at least on her part. Tonight, she was making love to Dixon, and for the first time, she didn't care if the man she was with knew how she felt. This man was different.
"What have you done to me?" She breathed before his lips fell on hers again. Her hands threaded through his deliciously thick strawberry-blond hair.
He lifted from the kiss when she was breathless with desire. "Nothing. It's all Christmas magic."
He lifted her off his lap and stood to extend his hand down to her. She stood and tilted her head back to look up at him. "Magic isn't real."
He wrapped his arms around her, reached down, cupped her ass and lifted her up. "What we have is."
She snaked her arms around her neck and wrapped her legs around his waist before she met his stare. "And that scares me. I mean, it's fucking terrifying."
"I'll protect you." He pecked her nose with a small kiss.
She lifted an eyebrow in a direct dare. "You know I don't need anyone to protect me."
"Then let me take care of you. I promise your heart will be safe with me." He turned around with her in his arms and headed into the bedroom.
"Don't you dare fuck this up, Simmons." She slipped from his grasp and stood by the bed with her arms trailing from his neck to his chest. "There isn't much of my heart left."
"We'll make it whole again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Quick Draw."
"I won't break your heart."
She held his gaze. No, he wouldn't break it, he'd shatter it into a billion shards of dust. His love could be the death of her.
His kiss morphed, one turning into the next. Their clothes were disposed of before he laid her back onto the bed. He knelt between her legs and stared at her. "You are so fucking beautiful."
His fingers trailed over the healing wound where just seven short days ago, broken glass had slashed her thigh. He glanced down at his hand and moved slowly to kiss the raised skin. His lips continued down the outside of her leg to her ankle. He lifted her foot, giving his wide shoulders room, as he trailed kisses up the inside of both legs. Her hands clenched at the bedspread, his hair, his shoulder–whatever she could reach. His slow, tortuous worship of her body bypassed any of the parts that fucking needed him to touch them.
Finally, she groaned, "Simmons, if you don't put that fucking cannon in me soon, I'm going to reconsider not killing you."
He laughed and made a point of looking at the clock. It read 12:01. "Now it is official. Merry Christmas.” He stopped and poured attention on her nipples. She arched up into his mouth, longing for the bite of his teeth. A quick flash of delicious pain coruscated through her, pooling between her legs. His muscles bunched under her hands. She scratched his back with her nails. "My little tigress." He chuckled the words against her throat.
"Want me to prove it?" She wasn't above threatening violence; her body was on the edge of an explosive orgasm, and she desperately wanted to feel him filling her before that happened. The thought of his hard, hot cock sent her hands lower. She cupped his balls with one hand and stroked his thick, long shaft with the other. The feel of that soft skin over the hard core of his cock was thrilling. Fuck, he was magnificent.
Dixon nudged her thigh with his knee and waited for her to lift her legs and release him before he dropped to his elbows, positioning himself over her. His hands tangled in her hair as he stared at her. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas." She whispered as she pulled him down and kissed him while his cock entered her. She arched her back into the bed and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. When he lifted away from their kiss, she bit at his bottom lip. He stared at her. The look between them was naked and bare of all pretense but overflowing with their truth. It was too much for her. Her feelings were too much, and mixed with his tenderness, the moment was overwhelming. She felt him lower his head to the crook of her neck while he made love to her. She stroked and touched the muscles of his back and arms, his neck, his hair, anywhere she could reach. Tears fell from her eyes, but she didn't care. Not now. Not tonight. Dixon Simmons was a present she never expected to receive and, for tonight, he was hers. Tomorrow and the dictates of her mission be damned. Her orgasm shattered her thoughts, sending them into the universe.
Dixon lifted off the bed. Joy roused enough to turn her head. "Where you going?" She muttered and blinked up at him.
"Bathroom." He watched her flop back down onto the pillow with a groan. He smiled at the sight of her black hair spreading like a halo across the pillow.
He used the facilities and pulled on a pair of sweatpants he'd snagged as he left the bedroom. Joy's steady even breathing gave him the leeway to do something he probably shouldn't. He grabbed the new laptop that he'd purchased after the explosion and sat down in the recliner. The lights on the tree twinkled as his computer went through the boot-up process. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and dropped his chin into his hand. The Governor's announcement
that he was being appointed to Senator Waxman's vacant seat was happening on the 27th. The mechanical voice hadn't contacted him again. He was flying in uncharted territory and damn him if he didn't feel like he was careening out of a cloud bank into the side of a mountain. His gut told him to tread carefully, but he had no idea where the threat lurked.
He had an overall plan that he'd been tweaking, and he'd set the bait for Stratus. They wanted Guardian. They'd proved that by going after Drake and the others. Holding the bait out, a chance to gut Guardian, should solidify his usefulness and his appointment. After that, well, that was where things were going to get dicey. Dixon smiled. Then the fuckers would know what it was like to feel the wrath of Guardian. Fuck with one of his Guardian brethren, and you sentenced yourself to hell on earth. Fuck with his family, and he'd personally deliver hell to your doorstep, wrapped in a fucking bow.
The distinct sound of a small snore wandered from his room, and he smiled. Joy had been burning the candle at both ends this past week. She was flying high cover as he and Smith worked through the needs of the day. He had no idea what she was doing until the early morning when she'd drag herself into bed for a couple hours sleep, but he knew it was for him. He was paying her far more than the dollar retainer for which they'd started the relationship.
The week had sucked in more ways than one. The high profile of his father had brought every agency known to man out of the woodwork. They'd answered questions for hours on end, and that is when Dixon confirmed Smithson Young was more than the knuckle-dragging thug he'd pretended to be. Over the last week, cracks had formed in that façade and had made it perfectly clear that Smith was something other than a hired killer. In fact, Dixon was reluctant to believe Smith would kill for money. Maybe if he was forced, but what would force him to follow his father's commands? Again, another unanswered question. He was getting sick and fucking tired of that particular brand of inquiry.
He pulled up the fantasy football site and logged in. There were three games on Christmas Day, checking his lineup was perfectly logical. He clicked on the message boards and typed. Merry Christmas.
Are you all right? The line disappeared as soon as it was typed.
He deleted his original message and responded. Missing family. He held down the backspace key.
He wants to come to you. The words were quickly eaten by the cursor.
Stop him. It isn't time. He cleared his words and sent a quick glance toward the bedroom where Joy slept.
Trying.
Need a favor. Smithson Young. He tapped out the words and waited two seconds before he deleted the message.
Dropbox when done. Will take a while unless you need me to let others in. The words appeared and disappeared as quickly.
Whenever is fine. He tapped out the words and hit the backspace just as quickly.
Another message flashed across the board before being sent into nothingness.
Be careful. <3
Dixon watched the words disappear. He closed the message board and tweaked his team before he shut the computer off. He missed his entire family, and those emotions were exposed to daylight because of the woman sleeping in his bed. What he felt for her was out of the boundaries of this assignment. Hell, they were as mismatched as two people could be other than sexually.
Joy’d never fit into his world. The idea of her living in his world was comical...unless he could convince her to stop the murder for hire gig. And that wouldn't happen. She did what she did because of what happened to her sister. He got that, and he'd never presume he'd have any sway over her actions. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw as he considered how okay he was with that idea. Part of the initial attraction he felt for her was her strength and independence. Who the fuck was he kidding? Ninety percent of that first night's desire was driven by the fact that she could fight like a hellcat and was a stone-cold killer. The fact she was deadly, dangerous, and sexy as fuck was a major turn on. That was something that surprised him. He'd never imagined deadly would be something that would crank his shaft, but damn, seeing her in action really did it for him.
Dixon leaned back in his chair and smiled. Maybe it wasn't so surprising. Jade in full kick-ass mode was impressive, but he and Drake considered her a sister. A no-go zone if you will, and even though there could have been an attraction to the woman, he and Drake would never hit on one of the Skipper's sisters. Besides, the woman found her soul mate in Nic DeMarco. So, actually, no it wasn't a surprise that Joy turned him the fuck on. The woman was impressive. What he also needed to remember was she was a hired killer. The finite portion of his brain that reminded him of what she did for a living was never too far away. No, he'd never underestimate her.
Drake's voice piped through his mind “But you might overestimate her.” Dixon clenched his jaw. The feelings he had for Joy had flown past lust and left desire in the dust. It would rip his fucking heart out of his chest if he’d misjudged her. The woman had become important. No, that wasn't the word. Essential. She was essential to his sanity, and as she’d admitted tonight, that scared her. Hell, the emotion behind that thought scared the fuck out of him, too.
Dixon's eyes followed the blinking lights on the tree as he allowed that thought to settle deep inside his bones. Whatever they had going on was deeper than either one of them ever meant it to become. He could now imagine a future with Joy.
A sudden, almost silent chuckle escaped him when an image of her and Frank meeting flashed across his mind's eye. Holy hell, that shit was funny. The woman was a live wire, arching and snapping with energy. Frank was a grounding force. He wondered if either would ever be the same after meeting, but that was a pipe dream. The chances of him finishing this mission, getting Guardian the inside track needed against Stratus, and convincing Joy to come back to the middle of fucking nowhere with him? Well, he figured those odds were less than five percent, and if there was one thing he knew, it was math. He could do the calculations in his head, and his brain told him what he didn't want to hear. Even if he survived this mission, his heart wouldn't.
Chapter 17
"If you don't need me anymore, I'll head out." Smith stood in the doorway of the new offices Dixon had rented just off Park Avenue on East 48th Street. The corner office went for a premium price, but since his appointment was announced, he needed a place where the press and his constituents could contact him.
Over the last three weeks, Smith had hired a receptionist and secretary for the office and Dixon had been interviewing the displaced staff of Senator Waxman–either in person or over the phone. He'd hired Waxman's Chief of Staff, Constituent Services Representative, Chief Counsel, State Scheduler and Legislative Director. Smith was his acting Executive Assistant, although that wasn't made public. All the other positions needed such as Administrative Director, Scheduler, and Systems Administrator were being farmed out between the staff he had on hand. Using Waxman's staff had saved Dixon a metric shit-ton of ass pain.
This afternoon he'd made his way back from D.C. where he'd voted on the first bill the newly convened Senate had in front of them. It was one Stratus had demanded he vote for. Dixon had voted against it.
He'd voted against Stratus and against the legislation. In doing so, he'd declared war. It was time. He was in position, and he was done. Done waiting.
Dixon leaned back in his chair and regarded the man for a moment before he nodded. "I think I have all I need." He glanced at the clock. It was earlier than usual for Smith to knock off. Hell, it was only four in the afternoon "Do you have a date?" Dixon smiled as he asked.
Smith's eyes dropped to the floor. "No, sir."
"Are you all right?" There was something off about the man. More so than normal.
"Yes, sir." Smith lifted his gaze, but he focused beyond Dixon to the cityscape behind him.
Dixon wished like hell he'd been able to access his dead drop and read any information Jewell had been able to dig up about Smithson Young, but with the nomination came more work than he'd been able to keep up with, a
long with zero privacy.
"Alright. Have a good night." He watched as Smith turned and walked quietly out of the offices. The sound of low voices and phones ringing faded into the background. He pulled his phone, not his work phone, but his personal one, from his pocket and tapped out a text.
>Track Smith
>>Boring.
>He just left for the day.
>>??? That's new.
>As I was saying...
>>Can't tonight. I have this Senator who pissed off the world today
>He can manage to stay out of trouble for one night :)
>> Have you met him?
> Yes, and you work for him
>>Point taken. It's a good thing I only do spur of the moment surveillance
> I'll make it worth your while
>> You always do
Dixon chuckled to himself and pocketed his phone.
"Sir, the Senate Majority Leader is on line one. You have a meeting with Lester in twenty minutes. He has the brief on the next bill that is up for vote," Avery Robin, his newly minted secretary, spoke as she walked into his office. "I need to see you for about thirty minutes before business hours are up. There are several conflicting meetings on your agenda." She lifted an eyebrow at him. The State Scheduler he'd hired from Waxman's staff was on Avery's shit list. The man felt he had veto power over appointments she'd set up and Dixon had blessed.
"I'll talk to him again, and we can firm up the schedule after I meet with Lester." His legislative director was a mouse of a man but could abridge the entirety of a bill in five hundred words or less. He was very careful to ensure the party lines were represented, but not overpowering when the briefs were given.
Dixon hated to tell the man that he didn't give a rat's ass about the benefits of the legislation. If Stratus wanted it, he was going to vote against it. End. Of. Story.
He reached for the phone when Avery turned on her heel and headed out of the office. The call from the Majority Leader was probably a 'welcome to the fold' call. He'd voted against his party in order to vote against the legislation. The Minority Leader had caught up with him while he was in D.C. That was a 'get your ass in line' ass chewing. Dixon listened, thanked the woman and walked away. That was a ballsy move by him, but it was calculated to stir the waters.
Dixon Page 18
