by Brynne Asher
I still at her words before asking, “What?”
“I like you and I like you here. My house has been quiet and lonely for so long. Thank you for being here and taking care of me,” she says honestly, her eyes still closed.
“It’s okay, sugar,” I whisper into the back of her head. Pulling her thick hair out of her face, I settle in behind her and pull her close. “I like being here with you.”
“I can’t believe you’re thirty-three. You look thirty,” she mutters, all of the sudden getting talkative.
“Good to know,” I say dryly.
“And everyone’s right, you’re way hotter than James,” she goes on.
“That’s good to know, too.”
“But you’re also sweeter and you were happy that I had fun with my friends. And then you came and got us, and then you were nice to my friends, and you let me pick the music in the car,” she mumbles on and on. “You’re way better than James and I’ve only known you…well, I don’t know what day it is, but not for very long.”
“It’s Wednesday.”
“Huh…then I’ve known you for…five whole days and it’s been way better than the one year and three months I was with James.”
I squeeze her, kiss the back of her head and whisper, “It’s been a good five days, babe.”
“Wait,” she says tightening her grip on my arm but not moving otherwise. “Where are you from? Are you from here?”
“No. Colorado. Denver.”
“Denver?” she asks and I confirm on another squeeze. “Oh, I get it. Broncos.”
“Go to sleep, Gabby,” I whisper.
Gabby snuggles in closer, pulls my arm up her chest to her neck and mutters, “You’re so bossy.”
Smiling to myself, I settle in until I finally feel her weight fall back against me. I detangle from her, head out into the house to let the dog out for the last time, check the doors and arm her security system. I head to the guest bath to get ready for the night.
But I don’t go to the sofa. I walk right back to Gabby, in her pink room with her stuffed animals, and bad boy band posters. Stripping down to my boxers, I climb in, flip the covers over us and pull her back into my chest like she was earlier. In her sleep she leans against me and tangles her long legs with mine. This time her dog jumps up and cuddles into the front of her. I bury my face into the back of her head, smelling her hair and feeling it against my face. Searching for sleep, I can’t help but think about how I thought tonight was going to end differently. But lying in her tiny bed, in her pink room with her fucking dog, and Gabby tucked close against me, I wouldn’t have it another way.
For tonight anyway.
Chapter Eight
Free Fall
I’m hot. And my pillow is super hard. What is up with my pillow? I try to push back, find some cool air but I’m immediately pulled back into a vice grip. My eyes fly open. All I see is sculpted abs and lots of skin. When my eyes move up, I see Jude’s kickass tattoo again.
Holy shit.
I jerk, surprised by my current surroundings when I hear Jude boss me in a delicious, sleepy rasp, “Be still, sugar, it’s early.”
“Oh my.”
I still my body, telling myself it isn’t because Jude told me to, but rather because I’m freaked way the hell out.
Again.
Trying my best to take stock of my current situation, I still have on my panties and a top. My leg is hitched, tucked over Jude’s thick muscular thigh as I’m pressed to his side, and I’m pretty sure I can feel material there, so I don’t think he’s naked, either. Not that I haven’t thought about being naked with Jude Ortiz, especially since the other night when we were almost half naked, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. I haven’t even known him a week.
James was my first and only, plus we were together a while before I gave it up. James said it felt like forever, which clearly it was not, but still. Even though I’ve had lots of thoughts about being naked with Jude, I didn’t want it to be last night and I especially don’t want to be drunk for the experience. As I’m making a mental list of pros and cons in my head, I’m putting it in my pros column that at least we are still dressed, although the clothing is minimal, it’s still a pro.
I also, surprisingly enough, don’t have a headache. Definitely one for the pros column.
I see a little light coming through the drapes, it can’t be that early. Peeking over Jude to look at the clock on the nightstand, its seven forty-five. I don’t know why Jude said it’s early, he’s been leaving here in the mornings no later than seven-thirty.
I decide to break into the silence. “Jude, it’s seven forty-five, don’t you need to go?”
Jude, lying on his back, his arm around me in a vice grip starts to roll to face me. His hand comes to my waist, slowly slides down over my ass to my leg and catches the back of my knee, yanking it over his hip. As he hitches his thigh tight between my legs at my core, his mouth goes straight to my ear where he rasps, “No.”
Okay. As much as I don’t want to admit it, this new position is really nice. So nice, it’s going into the pros column. Still, my mouth feels like cotton and if it smells as bad as it tastes, I don’t need to be anywhere near Jude’s face, hence, one for the cons column.
“I need to get up, brush my teeth. I never go to bed without brushing my teeth. Can we get up?”
“No,” he repeats, giving me a squeeze as his mouth dips under my ear and I feel his lips working their way down my neck. He makes his way down to the dip in my collar bone and I lift my head because it feels really great with the added bonus of getting my mouth far away from his face.
Licking my dry lips and trying to swallow away my bad breath, I plead, “Please, Jude. I need to brush my teeth.”
With one arm angled up my back and his other hand on my ass, he says firmly into my neck, “Babe, I don’t care about your teeth. Now that I’ve got you here, if you think I’m gonna let you go just to brush your teeth, you’re fuckin crazy.”
He gives my ass a squeeze as he leans up and I look into his amazing face with those melty eyes, my hands plunging into his sleepy hair. His eyes flare as he rolls me to my back, his hips falling between my legs and his mouth slams down on mine. Still worried about my breath, I refuse to open my mouth.
Finally wearing me down, he nips my lower lip and I give him the opening he wants as he dips his tongue in, clearly not caring what my mouth smells or tastes like. Again, I’m liking our new position so I pull my legs up to wrap one around his waist and the other around his big strong thigh. He presses into the core of me and his weight feels better than it did the other night.
He slows his kiss when his head comes up, rasping his words, “Baby, you fit perfect.”
Wow.
Forgetting about my breath, all I can think about is fitting perfectly. I lift my hips and dig my feet in to get even closer to him. His mouth slams down on mine again when a ringing comes from the floor.
He stops mid kiss but doesn’t move his head. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“That’s not my phone.” I defend myself from our latest interruption. He grins against my mouth as the ringing keeps on.
“I’m sorry. That’s work, I’ve gotta get it.”
“Okay,” I breathe, as he pushes up and I lose his heat and weight. When he stands, I get a look at his back side in boxers as he bends to dig his phone out of his jeans.
Standing, he turns to me and puts the phone to his ear and spits, “Yeah?”
I sit up on the side of the bed and grab my skirt. Looking up to him, I appreciate the view of Jude in nothing but chambray blue boxers. The evidence is standing erect, it’s plain to see why he’s so upset by our latest interruption. I can’t help but smile at the sight of him in my pink childhood room. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. I stand to slip my skirt up and feeling brave, move to put my hands on his abs fitting myself to him. Reaching up on my tip toes, I kiss the underside of his jaw.
With heated
eyes on me, he says into the phone through gritted teeth, “Fine, I’ll be there in an hour after I swing by the office. Have you checked the transcripts from last night?” I come back down to my feet and turn to the door but he grabs my hand pulling me back him. “Gotcha. See you in an hour.” He hangs up and tosses his phone to the bed.
“I told you we needed to get up,” I say, but he wasn’t done, he pulls me into him and his mouth hits mine. With his hand in my hair and the other at my back, he kisses me deep and long, pressing his erection into my tummy, showing me how much he didn’t want to be interrupted.
He finally breaks his kiss. “I’m sorry Gabby, I gotta get to work. We thought we had a line on Harper last night, but it went cold. Mac has an informant that gave him some new intel this morning and we gotta chase it.”
“It’s okay.”
“What do you have going today? I still want you texting me.”
“I have to work here at my office for a few hours and this afternoon I have some shopping to do.”
“Shopping?” he asks, like this is some foreign notion, only performed in faraway lands.
“Yes. Shopping,” I answer, speaking slowly.
“For what?” he presses.
“Ac-ces-sor-ies. Remember, I’m a dec-or-a-tor?” I reply, raising my eyebrows while pronouncing every syllable to get my point across that his questions are ridiculous.
His brows come together. “No need to be a smartass. I really don’t want you in and out of places all day, not until we get Harper. Although we didn’t get any prints off your door or deck area, it’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be him. You need to be cautious.”
I’m well aware I was being a smartass. “I won’t be a smartass when you stop being ridiculous. I told you I’d text when I come and go, and I will. I’ll do it so much you’ll get sick of hearing from me. I’ll even carry my gun and watch my surroundings. I’ll be fine.” When I give him a smug smile I feel his fingers press into my hips and shakes his head.
I realize I’ve won.
Yay!
I beat Bossy Jude.
Not wanting to be a poor sport and gloat because that’s not nice, I run my hands up his chest lightly to trace his tattoo with my index finger. “Jude, as much as I’m enjoying having this conversation with you in your boxers, I need to make us coffee and you need to go to work.”
He pulls me closer and shocks me by saying, “I brought clothes, I’m showering here.”
I hear myself pull in a lungful of air and not feeling smug at all anymore. “What?”
Proving he can still boss me around, he replies, “Make coffee, I gotta get goin’.”
With that, he leans down to kiss me quick, lets me go and heads for his jeans on the floor. Still shocked that Jude is going to be wet and naked in my house, I walk to the guest bath as I really have to go to the bathroom. Looking up into the mirror, I let out a scream.
“Gabby?” Jude calls for me.
I put my hand up to my face and wince. I wore heavier makeup last night and it’s not looking good the morning after. My Charlie’s Angels curls, which looked fantastic, are now a rat’s nest. Double con. I pull my hair away from my face, realizing Jude’s not only been looking at me like this since we woke up, but kissing me, too. “Oh shit.”
Jude walks in behind me and looks at me in the mirror. “What’s wrong?”
With one hand in my hair and one over my eye and cheek, I whisper, “I can’t believe you kissed me like this. I look awful.”
He puts his arms around my upper chest and yanks me into him again. He leans down and kisses my head and simply says, “Sugar,” and walks out in his jeans and bare chest.
I hear the security system beep off and the garage door open before slamming shut. I go to let Mia out and head to my master bath to wash my face, make some semblance of my hair, and brush my teeth. With the toothbrush in my mouth, Jude comes in with a gym bag, still wearing just his jeans with the top two buttons left undone. I spit, rinse, and turn to him.
He moves close, putting his hand on the back of my head, tipping it back and says in a low voice, “You going to join me or make coffee?”
My eyes get big, but he smiles even bigger. Finally, I manage some words. “Towels are in the drawer. I’ll make coffee.” I hear him chuckling as I skedaddle out of the bathroom.
With the coffee brewing, I hear the water go off and all my thoughts are on Jude, naked in my shower, so I’m not paying attention to anything else when I hear my purse ringing from the island where I dumped it last night in my state of drunkenness. Not thinking clearly, I dig my phone out and slide my thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
“Gabby? Why haven’t you called me?”
All of a sudden, I’m whisked back to reality by the voice on the other end.
“Megan?”
“Yes, it’s Megan. Have you forgotten who I am? That you’re my friend? You were at my house when the police barged in and you haven’t even called to check on me?”
Even this level of drama is a bit much for Megan, so I try and calm her. “I’m sorry. Tony didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to contact you—”
“You’re abandoning me? My life is upside down. They’re accusing Trevor of terrible things that aren’t true. He can’t even come home for fear of what they’ll do to him!”
“Do you know where Trevor is?”
“No. He says he can’t tell me. He’s trying to clear his name, gather evidence he needs to convince all those agents he’s not doing what they’re accusing him of doing.”
“Megan, slow down. He won’t tell you where he is? Don’t you think that’s strange?”
Her voice zips through the phone in a mixture of anger and panic. “This whole thing is crazy, Gabby. All of our funds have been frozen. Trevor’s not here and I have zero access to any money!” she screams.
“Maybe he should talk to the authorities, try and explain what he—”
Then, for the second time this week, my phone is plucked out of my hand.
“Megan Harper?” Jude starts. “Yeah. This is Special Agent Jude Ortiz with the FBI. That’s right. I was at your house the day the warrants were served. You are not to contact Gabrielle Carpino, do you understand? No, I don’t think you do understand. Do not to contact her again. Gabrielle has nothing to do with this and until everything is over, you will not see her or communicate with her in any way. Do I make myself clear? Good.” With that, he slams my phone down on the counter.
Yet again shocked by him taking over the situation, I find myself standing here with my mouth hanging open.
“We told you not to talk to her, Gabby,” Jude warns in a serious voice.
“I simply answered the phone, I was distracted and didn’t look at the Caller ID, sorry,” I say but don’t mean it, feeling a little petulant. “You didn’t have to be mean to her. I was just asking about Trevor and where he was for you.”
“I don’t need your help, but more importantly, I don’t want your help. I don’t want you near any of this. You need to stay out of it.”
“What’s going on, Jude? Megan said their funds are frozen and he hasn’t come home, something about him needing evidence to prove he’s not doing what you think he’s doing. I know Trevor Harper isn’t a good guy and I need protected from something. It’s time you tell me what he’s done.”
Jude doesn’t say a word. He stands there assessing me. Assessing me with his wet hair, in a clean pair of jeans that are old and faded but fit like a glove, and topped with a black ribbed V-neck t-shirt. He’s not touching me but I can smell my soap and shampoo on him. Something about him standing in my kitchen with wet hair smelling like my stuff feels more intimate than ever.
I close the step separating us and fit myself to the front of him, placing my hands flat on his chest and say quietly, “Please don’t keep this from me. I’m a bigger girl than you think I am, Jude.”
He sighs, putting his hands on his hips to look at my ceiling. I guess found the a
nswer he was looking for up there, because he looks back down and puts his hands on both sides of my neck and lays it out. “Harper is a transporter—a smuggler—and a big one. He manages it through different companies he uses for cover. His network is big and he’s tied to top level cartel members.”
“A smuggler?”
“Of guns, Gabby. Massive amounts of them,” he explains. “His network is wide and varied. He sells guns and high-powered ammo to cartel members in Mexico and Central America. Omaha is centrally located, it’s no coincidence this is his home base. He’s not from here, but he chose a wife who was as cover. He’s from Michigan. We’ve been working this case with the ATF for months now. We didn’t know he was into guns to begin with, his communication with cartels gave him away and that’s how we found out about his gun smuggling operation. Now it’s a combined operation with both agencies.”
I’m standing here shocked, not because Jude just verified that Trevor is an even bigger jackwagon than I thought, but because my friend Megan—as high drama as she is—is being used for cover. His wife who loves him and has given him three children is simply a pawn in a game of underworld gun distribution.
I look up at Jude and breathe, “Megan?”
He can tell I’m sideswiped. His face gets soft, he dips his head close and looking right into my eyes, lays it out. “You cannot talk to her right now, Gabby. It’s important for your own safety. You cannot get into the middle of this. I’ve known you for five whole days, sugar, and last night you told me that even though it’s only been five days, what’s happening here means something to you. I’m telling you it means something to me, too, so I’m trusting you with this information. I need to trust that you’ll do what I say to keep yourself safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Please help me out here and do as I say. Can you do that for me, Gabby?”
All I do is stare up at him. I mean, I was drunk last night, but not incoherent. I know I said things to Jude that I’d not otherwise have said had I not been loose lipped and drunk, but every word I let loose was true. I remember everything and meant absolutely every word. I want him, a lot. I like him here with me, in my house, and with my family. It’s only been five days—really just four and a half if you want to get technical—but everything that’s happened during that time has been weighty and meaningful. I remember not wanting him to leave me last night, I remember wanting to be close to him and him giving that to me but not taking advantage of it. But most of all, even though the last four and a half days have been crazy, emotional and tiring, I haven’t felt the loneliness I’ve been overflowing with for the past three years and eight months.
