Hutch Nightmare Men

by L. J. Vickery

  He sat straighter, a confident air dropping over him. “Not even close. I’m going to say I’m dating this amazing woman who is brilliant, hardworking, and motivated. Am I wrong?” He quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

  Her belligerent attitude disintegrated, almost as if it had never been. “Wait. Are we…dating?”

  He laughed. “I just took you for food, didn’t I? That’s dating.”

  Her lips twitched. “I’m not sure about that. I read somewhere that a movie has to be involved.”

  He nodded. “Okay. We’ll do a movie and make it official. But probably not tonight. I get the feeling you’re early to bed, early to rise. Am I right?”

  “That’s no secret. I hit my pillow at eight-ish and get up at three.”

  He groaned. “That sounds awful. I’m more of an eleven to seven kind of guy.”

  “So if I start jumping on your bed at three in the morning demanding pancakes, that’s a deal breaker?”

  His eyes grew smoky, his lids dropping to half-mast. “You jump on my bed, no matter the time, you’ll get more than pancakes.”

  She pushed, to see exactly what she could get away with. “Like what? A spanking for being bad and waking you up?”

  His face colored up. His mouth opened, his lips moved, but no sound emerged.

  Darby bit back a snort, lost it, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God. You should see your face. Don’t tell me you’ve never…”

  “Only in my fantasies,” he choked. “You have to understand. The last serious girlfriend I had was in high school, and nobody was adventurous that young. My…liaisons as an adult have been casual, short-term. What you’re, uh, talking about takes getting to know someone, fostering a good deal of trust.”

  That boded well. “So you wouldn’t be averse if—”

  “No. Not at all.” He cut her off and groaned. “Can we stop talking about this? I’m trying to drive, and I’m getting a little…uncomfortable.”

  She dared a glance at his crotch. Definitely active, and smooshed down in an awkward position. She turned to the window. “I’m not looking. You can adjust.”

  She heard rustling.

  “Geezus, Darby. Have I mentioned you’re going to kill me?”

  “Yup. This is the second time. Should I keep track?” God, he was so fun to tease.

  He looked at her, his jaw hardening. The air between them grew hot. “You do that. Because understand, five’s my limit. After that…I paddle your fine ass.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  He didn’t know where the words came from, but he’d be damned if he’d take them back. The thought of his hand anywhere on her was the stuff of dreams. Her ass? A red-hot vision.

  He noticed she didn’t turn back from her intent perusal out the window after his not-so-subtle straightening. He took that as an indication she didn’t want to talk. He’d have to be okay with that. He’d pushed her enough for one day, and mostly gotten his way. They were headed to Chicago, something he couldn’t have envisioned, even a few hours ago.

  As he drove, he noted her head drooping closer and closer to the window. He looked at his watch. Another two hours of driving. If he let her sleep, she might have the energy to stay up later, putting her schedule closer to his. Maybe they’d even be able to see a movie, proving to her he was serious about dating. Still, he longed to wake her up, prod her until she spilled her life’s story.

  He went over what he knew. Not much. Her last name, Peltor. She’d grown up in the suburbs, and her parents were dead. She’d lived in the city for five years, after selling her childhood home. That meant her parents had died between her reaching majority and her turning twenty-seven. A ten-year span she refused to talk about. No. scratch that. She refused to give any information previous to her employment at Arkie’s.

  He looked over at her chest, rising and falling, at ease in sleep. How many moments of true relaxation had she been able to enjoy since her parents passed? How many since her attack? He figured it wasn’t many, and he’d give anything if he could help with that.

  “Anything?” A voice sounded, loud and clear, from…somewhere. But he recognized it.

  Glancing over at Darby, snoring gently, he softly answered. “Beletseri?”

  “The one and only. And I couldn’t help but listen in on your thoughts. Highly commendable, except I know you have the hots for our girl, so maybe it’s self-serving. Still…”

  He steeled himself. “You’ve got that wrong. Even if Darby walks away from me after we’re done with Cy, I want her to have peace.” His eyes narrowed. “And you knew about Cy, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but there’s only so much I can do to intervene. Like in your earth’s Wizard of Oz. You have to figure some things out on your own.”

  “Yeah? I always thought that was awful. Making Dorothy go through all that when she could have zipped home with a click of her heels.”

  “Then she wouldn’t—”

  “I know. I know. As a therapist and an adult, I understand the journey had to be taken to overcome the problem. Still…” he sighed, and poked. “Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?”

  She laughed, a pleasant throaty sound. “Funny. I’m not a witch at all. But speaking of problems… As I see it, you have two. I have every confidence you’ll prevail over the first, bringing the asshole, Cy, to justice. The second, getting your girl to open up so you can have your happily ever after, will be more difficult, but I’m willing to help out…at a price.”

  “Do I get to hear the cost, or is this one of those ‘agree, then find out you’ve sold your soul’ kind of deals?”

  She scoffed. “You’ve been watching too much TV. Hell doesn’t work that way. Only demons deal like that, and mostly we’re able to keep them away from humans. But I digress. Do you want to hear my terms, or not?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. As you know, Paxton and Gunni are languishing in—and I really like the term Darby coined—the Land of Nod.”

  He grunted. “Paxton hasn’t been sent to someone’s nightmares yet?”

  She harrumphed. “I’m having trouble with his girl. She refuses to sleep more than a couple hours at a time, so she’s not going deep enough to send him in. It’s just a matter of wearing her down, though.”

  “I can imagine. She can’t run on fumes forever.”

  “Correct. But back to my request. I foresee my pet projects needing a shoulder to lean on, and educated ear, if you will.”

  “Meaning me,” he stated unequivocally.

  “Meaning you. I’d like your help in purgatory. But before you agree, yes, you can have time to work things out with Darby before you begin. And, full disclosure, you won’t be attending just Paxton and Gunni. I have a much longer list. One that includes a few…unrepentant types.”

  “And by unrepentant you mean…?”

  “Uh, a son of Satan.”

  “What?!” He’d forgotten to keep his voice low, and Darby stirred, turning toward him in slumber. He held his breath until she settled back down, his head spinning. “What do you mean, son of Satan,” he hissed.

  “Don’t get all twisted up,” she admonished. “He’s actually a god now, having been cast out by dear old dad, and he’s gained a lot of redeeming qualities. If you agree to do this, I’ll put you in touch with a group from the Blue Hills of Massachusetts who know him well. They’ll be happy to help with his…rehabilitation.”

  “He’s not going to incinerate me or anything, is he?”

  “Pftt. He has no power in The Land of Nod. You’ll be perfectly safe. So what do you say?”

  “Continue with terms. How often will my presence be required?”

  “You’re smart. It took you four nights to figure things out with Darby. I’m guessing for those untrained in psychoanalysis, a week maybe two might be more likely, and who knows how long with Galla.”

  “Galla’s the god?”

  “Yup. So based on those figures, I think a trip to the fire once a week should do it. Does t
hat sound fair?”

  He pondered the offer. It wouldn’t be tough to arrange his clients, schedule a day off from his practice. And it would keep him sharp. His presence for those hapless souls would mean the difference between ending up in Hell, or in… Wait. Would every one of her nightmare men end up in love?

  “Do you expect relationships to form from each of these pairings?” he asked.

  “See how astute you are?” He heard the smile in her voice. “The short answer is yes. That’s the plan.”

  Someone nice for Paxton, even for Gunni. He liked it. The possible outcome tipped his hand. “I have to clear it with Darby, first. She has to know, if she sticks with me, that I’ll be…what? Comatose in a chair every fifth day?”

  “That’s what you’ll look like, yes. She’ll have to act as your gate-keeper, not letting those well-meaning but nosy parents of yours in while you’re indisposed.”

  The goddess had his parents down to a T.

  “And if I fail at my mission? What is my jeopardy? I’ll have a hard time not feeling responsible for anyone relegated to your realm if I’ve screwed up.”

  “There’ll be no punishment, because the outcome is not your concern. I know you won’t shirk your duties, and ultimate salvation is not up to you, but to each individual.”

  That might be a lot to swallow, but being honest, he played the same odds with his clients on earth. Still, he had another important question. “If I feel overwhelmed by the task, eventually need to stop my involvement but have somehow managed to get Darby to stay with me, will she be taken away?”

  “Of course not, you two will have forged a relationship. With my help.” She clearly preened. “And you’re looking at this all wrong. Think of it as a job, like any other. You will get paid. You’ll have time off, and if you need to quit, you give notice so I can find someone else.”

  It sounded like a pretty sweet deal, but this was a goddess from Hell with whom he was dealing. “Back to TV rules again. I know in contracts with the devil, or whoever you represent, there’s always fine print that ends up biting you in the backside. I’m leery of that outcome.”

  “Oh, dearie, just an FYI, I don’t work for the devil, I work for Ereshkigal and Nergal, the king and queen of the Underworld. And seriously? What is it with you humans and your television shows? You know they’re not real, right?”

  “You mean like Hell isn’t real?” he countered.

  “Touché,” she snickered. “Fine. How about this. I’ll write up a contract, everything we’ve talked about, and we both sign it. In front of witnesses so no sneaky codicils get added.” She cleared her throat. “I might have been guilty of slipping something in once or twice in the past.”

  Hutch shook his head. “Witnesses? I’ll have to think about that. My friends might have me committed if I put this in front of them.”

  “Which is why I suggest the group I mentioned before, living in the Blue Hills. They’re a bunch you’ll trust the minute you meet them. Marduk, the…man…okay, god in charge, will represent you.”

  Hutch groaned. “More gods?”

  “You have a problem with that? After all, you’re about to become head Nightmare Man. An auspicious title, so no throwing stones. And believe me, these gods are a good group. They’ve all married humans, and other than the fact they’re irreverent jokers, you won’t find a more upstanding faction anywhere on earth. So? What do you say?”

  He hesitated a second too long.

  Darby’s eyes blinked open. “He’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “You know ‘relationship’ is a relative term.”

  Hutch snorted. “A woman from Hell was speaking to me, and that’s what you latch onto?”

  Darby shrugged, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Well, yeah. She said ‘you two will forge a relationship’. I just thought I’d point out that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re together forever, hearts and flowers. It could mean the five-day bang-athon I’m anticipating.”

  He grew angry, a new look for him. “Why do you do that?” he growled. “Become flippant? Are you set on scuttling something between us before we can even explore it?”

  She hissed back. “We don’t always get what we want out of life, so back off.”

  His face softened, his ire dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. “So you want me,” he aimed the upward turn of his lips toward her.

  “Well, duh. Didn’t I climb you like a tree when you showed up at Arkie’s?”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Yes, we have some off-the-charts, physical attraction going on, that’s a no-brainer. I’m talking about wanting me. As in thinking I’m cool and enjoying my company and—”

  He’d given her something she could work with. “Seriously?” she scoffed. “Suit wearing, no swearing, bill paying, door opening gentleman? Hutch, you are so, not cool. Sweet, definitely. But on a scale of one to super-nerd, you, my friend, peg the scale at ten.”

  He huffed. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. And don’t think you get off that easily. I’m onto you, trying to change the subject.” He drew a hand down his face and sighed. “I swore I wasn’t going to broach this too quickly, but… Ah, heck. Darby? Do you, or do you not want to explore a long-term relationship with me?”

  Damn him for putting it out there so starkly. She’d known it would come to this, but did she have it in her to agree? They did have divine intervention…if you could call a match-maker from Hell, divine, but hadn’t she learned her lesson early, that people you love don’t last? She’d been scarred before, badly. Forging ahead with Hutch, eventually losing him, would ruin her for good.

  “I… I can’t. I’m not good at commitment. I’m a loner, and I like it that way.” She jutted out her chin, determined to withstand any argument.

  “Okay.” He went back to studiously regarding the road.

  She groaned. “You’re playing me, aren’t you?” She should have known he’d pull some kind of psychological bullshit on her.

  “Not at all. I’m simply letting you ponder your statement. You’re not good at commitment. How long have you been at Arkie’s?”

  “That’s not commitment.” She folded her arms across her chest and hmphed. “It’s a job.”

  He let that go. “And the pound? The dogs? I suppose there’s nothing between you and Malarkey.”

  “He’s an animal. It’s not the same as trusting a person to be—” She cut herself off. He’d done it again. Almost dragged things out of her she didn’t want to discuss, things that were simmering close to the surface.

  He responded softly. “You know I’m here to listen. Paxton was afraid of creating bonds because he didn’t have confidence in himself. You’re afraid because…”

  He trailed off, leaving it up to her to fill in the blank. He was extremely persistent, and she was tired of dancing around it.

  “Because my parents died. Okay?” She gritted her teeth, refusing to cry.

  “You mentioned that before,” he gently prodded. “Was it recent?”

  She shook her head. “No. Thirteen years ago.”

  “You were nineteen.”

  She shrugged and grunted. “That’s the math.”

  “You would have been out of high school, and…headed to college?”

  “Dammit, Hutch. Why can’t you leave this alone?” The first fissure in the damn of her emotions broke, a single tear escaping down her cheek.

  “Because it hurts you.” His fingers reached out and brushed the moisture away, his hand lingering. “And you’ve held it in so long.”

  “And you think talking about it will make it better?” Her words were clipped.

  “Talking about it, no, sharing it, understanding how you’ve coped, crying about it… I believe in the power of leaning on someone.”

  “Yeah? Well, nobody’s ever helped me but me,” she answered belligerently.

  “Will you let me try?” His hand dropped from her face to her knee, smoothing the fab
ric of her jeans with a light, persuasive touch.

  A slightly hysterical laugh burst from her mouth. “You’re asking a lot. But okay. I’ll give it a whirl. You want the abridged version, or the whole fucking sob story? Cause I’ve got to tell you, it won’t be pretty. I’m going to become a freaking mess.”

  He indicated the glove box. “Tissues in there.”

  “Of course there are,” she responded snappily, but opened it anyway and withdrew one of several small, cellophane packs, tearing it open to clutch a white square. “How much longer do we have to drive?” Putting it off a few more minutes wouldn’t help, but habits were hard to break.

  He looked at his watch. “An hour.”

  More nervous laughter bubble up. “Just like a regular therapy session. And once the chime goes off at the end of the hour, you tell me you’ll see me next week.”

  He squeezed her knee. “Take as long as you need. And if there’s still more you want to talk about when we get to my apartment, we’ll stay up all night. I promise.”

  She glanced at him with tear-filled eyes. “You think I’ll be fixed when I’ve finished?”

  He returned her gaze, steadily. “Not fixed, but relieved. Carrying a burden as heavy as yours for so long, weighs one down. Getting it out will lighten your load.”

  She dabbed at one corner of her eye. “You’re really good with the metaphors. Has anybody ever told you that?”

  He smiled. “On occasion.” He put both hands back on the wheel. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  She was glad he wasn’t looking at her, and knew he’d done it on purpose. “Where should I start?”

  “How about with the last time you were truly happy.”

  “That long ago?” she joked. “No, wait. I take that back. I’ve been happy today. You make me happy.”

  He smiled again. “Am I the only one?”

  She knew he meant in her present life. “Nooo,” she drew out. “The animals make me happy, and Mrs. Leroy at the library.”