by Finn, Emilia
“If you don’t want this, please just say so.” She brings a hand up and angrily swipes her dry cheek. “I won’t be weird about it. I won’t come by your home and pretend I was in the neighborhood. I’ll walk away, I promise. But I need you to say you want me to go.”
“I don’t want you to go.” I turn toward her, pulling my chest out from beneath her face, and moving lower in the bed so we lay on the same pillow and our noses almost touch. “Listen to me, okay?” I press a hand to her hip and hold her down. “I’m not trying to escape. I’m not trying to run away. Work is work, and this is the first time I’ve ever not jumped out of bed and run to where I have to go. You make me wanna stay, Abigail. But I can’t. Any other time, any other mission, I could say I had to stay here with you. But Kane is with Jess, and Eric is with Kat, and their kid is going back into the hospital for a bit. It wouldn’t be fair to not step up. These guys are my brothers. They’re family. So if I can protect them, if I can step in front of them, then that’s what I’ll do. Telling them I wanna stay home with my girl and explore this new thing we have just isn’t reason enough to risk their lives.” I take her chin in my hand and draw her eyes up. “But I really don’t want you to fall in love with some other prick while I’m gone. I won’t be okay with that.”
“I’m not gonna fall in love with someone else.” Her eyes continue to sparkle with uncertainty, but her smile slowly begins to creep up. “I won’t get mad if you change your mind. If you go away and remember you don’t like clingers or whatever, you just have to say so.”
I pull her toward me so fast that she slides along the sheets and squeals as her legs tangle with mine. She wears panties and one of my tanks. Her hair is a bird nest mess, her lips swollen, and her eyes continue to sparkle.
“You love me?” I ask. “The for real love, where you’d be sad if I never came home?”
And there’s that tear. It breaks through her lashes and falls when she gives a single nod.
I lean in and collect the moisture with my lips. “I don’t know the type of love you need, Abigail. I don’t know if I was built for that sort of life. I don’t know if I can be what you need in a man for the long haul. I can fuck you until you’re raw and make you feel all sorts of good shit in bed, but outside of it, I’m a… well…” I nervously chuckle. “I’m a virgin. So be gentle with me. Be patient. Guide me.”
I slide the tip of my finger over her hipbone and lean in for a much better, slower, deeper kiss than the fast smacks we’ve shared since she woke.
“I can teach you things about your body. And in exchange, you can teach me things about love. It’s something I’d like to do… with you.”
Her lips quiver. “Really?”
“Really. Don’t change, Abigail. Never ever change. If you feel what I feel, then I hope you’ll wait for me to come back. I’m not going for months at a time. This is a war, but I’m not being deployed anywhere, and I’m going because I want to. Because for as long as I can stand, I will run to the front line and protect my family. For as long as I can help, that’s what I’ll be doing.”
She hesitates, nibbling on her bottom lip in thought. “How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. Could be a day. Could be a week. But we can stay in contact the whole time. I’ll have my cell every minute of the day. We can email, and text, and call and shit. I’ll teach you how to get yourself off with your fingers.”
“Spencer!” Just as predicted, she hides her face as heat floods her cheeks.
“Miss Priss.” Laughing, I take her hands and pry them away from her burning face. “I’ll teach you. We’ll video call, so I can watch and make sure I’m tutoring you right.”
“I won’t do it.” She shakes her head and fights me when I drag her closer… closer… and when it’s not enough, I pull her onto my hips and over my hardened cock.
Her breath stops.
“You will do it, because I told you to. Because I said the first time is free, but after that, I’m in charge.”
When she drags her abused bottom lip between her teeth, I squeeze her hips and grin when her breath comes faster.
“You’ll do it because you’ll want to please me.” I sit up and nibble on her delicate collarbone. “You’ll do it because you love me.”
* * *
I get three hours with Abigail, three hours to take care of her, shower with her, remind her that I’m not running away, and to promise I’ll be just a phone call away, available any time she wants to talk to me. Then two hours with Kane and the guys at the house, time to discuss our plans and talk Kane down from his pending panic.
He loves his wife and daughters more than he loves anything else in the world. There’s nothing he won’t do for them, but watching his baby brother walk out his front door and toward certain danger nearly killed him. He wants to stuff Jay in the closet and keep him safe.
Jay was believed dead once, and Kane mourned him while trying to navigate life with his girl. Having his brother back was a blessing he thought he’d never get, which means watching him walk out again warred with his every instinct.
He had to choose between Jess and Jay. His wife and his brother.
Jess won, and now Jay is with me and Soph while we fight this invisible enemy that has set their sights on the Bishop brothers. We have to do it fast, and we have to do it far away from town and keep the war off of our doorstep.
After we left Kane’s home with instructions for him to let Eric and Cruz take care of work while he took care of his family, we drove through the night, and took shifts so two out of three of us could sleep while the other did their shift and kept us safe, though Jay’s shift was longer than mine or Soph’s, since he rarely ever sleeps. And now, as a new day begins and the cool winter breeze beats at the windows outside, Soph has me pull into an old roadside motel in the middle of nowhere. A dozen rooms stand side by side, and on the far left, an office with a faded OPEN sign hangs in the window.
“We’re stopping here.” Soph’s eyes remain locked on her laptop. “Romeo’s on stand-by. He’s been watching this place since we left home, he confirmed it’s safe.” She lifts her chin and nods to our right. “Three o’clock, up on that hill.”
I turn with narrowed eyes. “He’s watching?”
She taps at her laptop and nods. “Yeah, he’s watching. But he’s one of us, so stop freaking out.”
“Dude’s got me in his scope, ballerina. I’m not freaking out, but I sure as shit ain’t comfortable, either.”
“He’s one of the best shots I know. I trust him enough that I’m in his scope right now too. He won’t mess it up.”
She takes a small earpiece from a black case in the glove compartment and presses it into her ear. Her brows knit in concentration, concentration, concentration, and then she grins.
“You gonna shoot me, Romeo?” She turns to me with that smile. “He said no.”
“Motherfucker. Who is he?” Sitting forward in the back seat, Jay pokes his head between us and snatches at the earpiece. “Name?”
Soph doesn’t stop him from taking the small device, or from shoving it in his ear, despite it not being fitted for him.
“State your name, rank, and mother’s maiden name, Soldier.”
“He won’t tell you,” Soph murmurs. “We agreed no names. He has a family to protect.”
“Yeah? My family is in his fucking scope right now. Name!”
Soph rolls her eyes and leans closer to me. “I’d marry him for saying that alone,” she whispers, “but he’s so dumb, he hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“He still wooing you?”
“Trying,” she snickers. Then to her man, “Okay, give me the earpiece back. We’ll meet up with Romeo later today, and you can ask him in person. Then he can tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”
“He’s not even talking,” Jay snaps. “He’s not there.”
“He’s there.” She accepts the earpiece back and presses it to her ear. “You there?” She laughs and looks to u
s. “He’s there. He doesn’t like my ‘big-ass motherfucker friend’.”
“Me?” I look back toward the hill and try to find him. I look for a body, for a rustling breeze. I look for a damn bird flying in the sky. But he’s invisible. “What’s his beef with me?”
She shrugs and snaps her laptop closed. “He has height issues. He doesn’t like when they’re extra tall.”
“Little man syndrome,” Jay guesses. “You got an itty-bitty, five-foot fucker on the payroll, Soph?”
“Something like that. Come on.”
“You know his name, right?” Jay pushes out of the car when she does, and follows her toward reception. I follow behind, dig my hands into my pockets and find myself staring into the room windows in hopes the reflection might show me a five-foot-tall soldier moving on the hill. “You’re not working blind, are you?”
“Of course I know his name, but it’s classified. He chooses to be known as Romeo, so that’s what we call him. He wants to remain anonymous, so he stays anonymous. I would do the same for either of you if you needed me to. Knowing his name doesn’t change our mission, so we respect his privacy and move on.” She pushes through the glass reception door, making the bell above ring and reminding me of Abigail.
I haven’t seen her in a day, and it makes me feel all kinds of fucked up I never thought I would feel.
I’ve been arrogant all these years, truly believing that there was no way a woman could control a man the way I’ve seen my friends fall over time. Hard-ass criminals, soldiers, snipers who can and have killed men, falling for these women seemed so ludicrous to me. Like maybe it was an act, because the pussy was magical or some shit.
I wasn’t going to call them on it, because who am I to step in and block a man from magical pussy? But maybe it was never an act. Maybe it’s not magical pussy, either. Maybe some women really do command men, maybe they really do inspire loyalty and control.
Maybe Abigail controls me too, and though I’m certain I should be grieving this new revelation, I can’t move past grieving for her. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and I’m officially her slave. I’m her army, her protector, her hopeless addict, and ten minutes from now when I’m in my room and have privacy so the rest of the world isn’t witness to my emasculation, I’m going to call her and beg for a hit only she can give me.
An older male sits behind the tall counter in a flannel shirt and light blue jeans. He wears reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, and has a spot of thinning hair on the top of his head. He tries to hide it with a comb over, but he’s not fooling anyone as he reads a frayed paperback book, an old fantasy-type story with dog-eared corners and a cracked spine.
“Hello.” Soph stops at the front counter and drops her wallet down with a loud clunk. “We’re checking in for the week.”
“The week?” Shocked, I turn to Jay. “The week?”
Soph grins and hands over a credit card. “Four rooms please. Side by side.”
The man watches us with wary eyes. He knows we’re not regular folks, and he’s somewhat concerned about the little dancer turning up with big-ass dudes on her flanks, but he also doesn’t want to deny a week’s worth of income when he catches sight of Soph’s shiny card.
“Sure thing, Mrs…?”
“Macy Jean Philips. This is my husband, Donald Philips, and the taller one is his much, much older brother Gerald. We’re all Philipses. But we don’t call them Don or Gerry. Their momma will beat us with a switch if we ruin the perfectly good name God graced them with.”
“Oh… kay. Mrs. Philips.”
There’s a business certificate framed and hung on the wall that reads ‘Bart and Gina Dunne’. Bart – I assume that’s this dude – takes Soph’s plastic and replaces it with a clipboard and pen.
“Please fill in your details, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
* * *
When Soph is done hamming up her role as Macy Jean Fuckwit, she collects the room keys attached to heavy doorstoppers, and we walk back outside into the sun.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I shove Soph harder than I would ever shove any other chick.
“Much, much older brother? Woman, I’m not old!”
“You’re older than me, and more mature than him.” She points a thumb at Jay, who has somehow produced a set of Steiner binoculars, and studies the hillside where Romeo is still hiding. “Take your room key and go talk to your pretty girl. We’re heading out at five, so don’t be late.”
“Where are you guys going now?”
“Up the hill,” Jay murmurs. He stole a red apple from the bowl on Bart’s desk, so now he crunches on that and studies the hillside with such distrust, it’s easy for me to laugh and walk toward my room.
“We’re not going up to the hill,” Soph snaps. “We’re going to eat, then… nothing. We’ll meet you at five.”
“Mmhm.” I push my key into the lock, and shoulder my door open. “Enjoy doing nothing. Don’t be noisy, and stay away from the connecting wall.”
“You shy, Spencer?” She turns to me and grins. “Will we make you blush?”
“No, but if you get me too excited, I might knock on the door and ask to join in.” I nod toward Jay. “We’re pals from way back, and you’re cute. I know for a fact your legs stretch above your head, so… we could make do.”
Her eyes widen. Her smartassery falters for the first time in a long time. She thinks I’m serious, so she grabs Jay’s hand and drags him through their door. “I don’t partake in your kinda activity, Spencer.”
“Don’t be shy, Sophia!”
Growling, she turns at the door and slams it in my face with a loud crack.
Chuckling, I work on my own door.
I love her for Jay. I love her personality for him, her need to be in control, and his need to be taken care of. He’s a badass motherfucker when it comes to work. He doesn’t flinch, and he never misses his shots. So when he’s able to set down his tools and take a minute to chill out and relapse into his immature self, she’s his perfect girl.
But now I want to talk to my perfect girl.
I move through my door and close it at my back. My room hasn’t been restyled since the day it was built. A box TV sits on a small cabinet, and a round table sits beside that. Wicker chairs are pushed in beneath it, and have absolutely no hope of holding my weight, so I don’t bother trying. A kettle and toaster sit on the counter beside a folded hand towel, and beside that is a tiny, two-burner grill. There’s only one other door besides the door at my back, so it must lead to the bathroom, but before that, a queen-sized bed is pushed up against the wall – not the wall that joins Soph and Jay’s room.
The bed doesn’t look long enough for me, and when I sit down, it’s confirmed; I’m going to have to sleep diagonally. I slide a hand into my pocket and pull out my phone. It has no messages from Abigail. No missed calls. Not even a social media notification.
She’s too independent for her own good.
It’s time for her to be getting ready for work, not chatting on the phone, but I hit dial anyway and sit back to rest against the wall. I slept a couple hours through the night, but not enough to be able to stop the yawn that overtakes my body. I smile while my call rings. I smile because I missed her, because I’m able to call her when I miss her.
I’m not overseas right now, not in a war-torn desert, or on a secret mission where I can’t have access to the outside world. I’m simply on a road trip with my friends, with the hopes of finding a guy and shutting him down before he does damage to my family.
“Hello?” Abigail picks up hurriedly, the noise in her background making me frown.
I expected the morning news and soft whispers. But what I hear is music, voices, perhaps a reversing truck.
“Spencer?”
“Hey, Priss.” I relax back into my bed and smile at her voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just getting a delivery of flowers… Yeah, over there. Thank you! Sorry. I’m here.”
>
“It’s okay. You busy right now?”
“Sorta.” I can almost hear her shoulder shrug. “Not really. I have flowers coming in, but we do this most days, so my delivery guy knows what to do. Nadia is out front with the customers, I’m out back. All I have to do is sign for my delivery. I missed you last night.”
“Yeah?”
Thirty-three years. That’s how long it took for me to talk to a girl on the phone and want to curl up with a pillow while I smile and whisper. Thirty-three years it took to feel something in my heart no woman has ever made me feel, except perhaps my mom.
But different. Way different.
Thirty-three years to understand what Kane sees when he looks at Jess. And what Jay thinks when we suggest he and Soph work apart for a day.
They don’t want to. They don’t need to. And my teasing over time, I see now, won’t change a damn thing.
Teasing is tolerable, separating is not.
“I missed you too. A whole lot.”
“That makes me happy,” she murmurs. “Not that you’re sad, but that you were thinking of me. I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“Do you have five minutes to hang out?” I feel like everything is changing, because this is the first time in my life I’ve called a girl while traveling. In fact, it might be the first time I’ve called a girl… ever. “I don’t have anything important to say, so if you have to wor–”
“I can talk. Mm, thank you.” A paper bag rustles on her end, then heels click on concrete floor as she moves away from the noise of a rumbling engine and too-loud music. “Okay, I’m out back where it’s much quieter. We can take as much time as you want.”
