She nodded, pulling back the covers on the bed.
“You want the ice packs? Or…” She shook her head no, climbing in, already looking moments away from sleep. I grabbed her dirty clothes and left the room before I could talk myself into staying right there by her side.
“You got a washer?” I asked Zeke, holding up the bundle of blood-stained clothes.
He walked me to it and waited until we were back in the kitchen and I had that beer I’d wanted before he asked, “What’s up?”
I drank half the bottle in one swig, and then gave him the high-level version, how I’d gotten to know Sky at the place where Ace lived, how her husband was a bastard.
“And what’s gone down between the two of you?” he pressed.
I groaned and twisted off the cap on a second beer. “Not nearly what I wanted to. But enough.”
“So this Skull she’s married to, who is he?”
All through my story, I’d avoided naming Griller. I knew Zeke would take it and run with it. Griller had been on his hit list for a long time now. But that was a decision Sky needed to make. She should think it through and fully understand the ramifications of sharing that information. And of not sharing it.
“I’m going to get back to you on that one.” I tapped his beer bottle with mine, letting him know I meant it. “Tomorrow. I need to talk to Sky about it first, and before that she’s got to get some rest.”
Zeke looked me over, assessing the situation. With someone he knew less well—hell, maybe with anyone else—he might call bullshit. But with me, he gave me time.
“Tomorrow, you tell me,” he agreed. “Anyone else besides Skulls looking for her?”
“Nope.” There was a lot to that information, and both he and I knew it. Sky didn’t have anyone on her side. She had no well-connected father marshaling the police force. She had no concerned mother calling her every five minutes wanting to know her whereabouts. I was sure she had some friends, but maybe not anyone close. Knowing the hell she’d been living in, I bet she hadn’t been able to let anyone get close.
“Fuck.” I exhaled, rubbing my forehead.
“We’ll figure it out.” Zeke was a good guy, telling me what I needed to hear. But he didn’t have a magic wand.
“I never should have walked away, left her alone with him. He could have killed her.” There in the kitchen, with Sky hopefully passed out asleep a few doors down, I let myself say it, expressing the anger and self-reproach that seethed within me.
“Maybe now we’ll kill him.” Zeke had just enough psycho in him that he gave me a grin after he said it.
Sky and I had a lot to talk about tomorrow. I didn’t know if she grasped the full nature of her situation, but I’d make sure she did. Griller would kill her if he got the chance. She could file a report with the police, but they wouldn’t be able to protect her. Griller and his brothers had each other’s backs. They’d keep searching for her, with a hell of a lot more zeal, influence and connections than the police. Once they found her, they’d make her disappear without a trace.
Zeke and I stayed up for another hour or so, until a couple girls came over for a late night party. “They’ve got friends a call away,” he offered.
“I’m good.” I made my way down the hallway, preparing for a long night on the couch. It would probably do me good to blow off steam with someone else, but I couldn’t do it. Now that I had Sky nearby after so long without her, I wanted to be as close as possible. Especially if she woke up and needed me.
That happened, around four a.m. Still in my clothes, I’d tossed and turned on the lumpy couch, trying not to be distracted by the smell of Sky or the sounds she occasionally made in her sleep, shifting and sighing. After punching the cushions a few times, I’d finally drifted off around three. But then, I heard Sky cry out.
On my feet in a second, I scanned the room, looking for the source of danger. I saw nothing. Then she moaned, “No!”, pushing at something invisible before her. She was having a nightmare.
At her side, I smoothed my hand along her forehead, speaking to her in low tones. “Sky, it’s all right. Everything’s all right.” She reached for me, pulling me to her side. I lay down next to her in the dark. She balled my shirt into her fist as I wrapped my arm under her shoulders, cradling her against me. I rubbed her back, feeling her breathing slow into an easy rhythm, the weight of her body settled against mine. She’d never completely woken up.
Tomorrow morning, she might not be thrilled to open her eyes and find me in bed with her. That might raise a few questions. Gingerly, lightly, I picked up her arm and lifted it, trying to ease away off the bed and back to the couch.
“Stay,” she murmured, clutching at me.
I settled back, head onto the pillow. Stay I would, for the rest of the night. With her luscious body draped all over mine, her hair strewn across my chest, her thighs parted over my own, I stared up at the ceiling and tried to think about coral reefs or algebra. But nothing worked.
She’d permeated my senses for months without any contact. Now that I had her literally on top of me wearing very little, I didn’t stand a chance. So I tried to let it be enough, just that moment, in the darkness with my arms around her. The sound of her soft breathing, the feel of her chest rising and falling, the lilac smell of her hair splayed across my chest. I didn’t know what the next day would bring. It might be all we had. I hoped the sun took its sweet time.
The next morning, she woke up before I did. When I opened my eyes, she was still lying next to me, though less like an octopus. She’d reined in her arms and legs. But I still had my arm around her, and our sides touched, sharing body heat.
“Morning,” she whispered, looking up at me, unsure.
“You had a nightmare,” I felt the need to explain.
“I thought so.” She sat up, moving away. I pulled the sheet from down around my legs up and over my chest. My huge morning wood still bulged through. There was no way she hadn’t seen.
“I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll go wash up.” She was in the bathroom quick as a jackrabbit before I could say another word. I rubbed my face, trying to shake the sleepy arousal I’d felt with her pressed against me, so soft and curvy. I’d probably freaked her out, waking up next to my huge erection. But I guessed it was better for her to be a little scared around me. I was a lot of man and I’d have a hard time holding back with her. I’d wanted her for so long, if I ever got the chance to actually be with her it would be like a raging storm unleashed. I didn’t know if I’d let her get up out of bed for days. It would be easier if she avoided me, stayed away. It would be easier for me to remember that she was still married, plus wounded and frightened. She needed tender love and care, not the kind of sweaty fucking a beast like me couldn’t stop thinking about, her toes curling as I demanded orgasm after orgasm.
While she showered, I grabbed her laundered clothes. The stains hadn’t disappeared, but they’d faded, like her memory of the attack hopefully would. I laid them out for her and made sure I was in the kitchen when she came out. I didn’t need the image of her all wet, naked save a towel, burned into my brain. I could already picture it all too vividly in my i
magination. Once I heard the click of the spare bedroom door, I showered, too, and, no, masturbating didn’t help. I prepared myself for basically staying hard 24/7.
Back in the spare room, she was waiting for me, hair brushed and down, looking so young and pretty as she sat on the couch. Business, all business, I reminded myself. We had a psychopath and his blood brothers out looking for us.
“How’re you feeling?” I asked, taking a seat several feet away on the chair over by the door. Plenty of distance between us, I still felt our chemistry like an electric pull.
“Strangely good.” She rolled her shoulder, the one I’d seen her massaging last night. “I should probably take some more Ibuprofen, but I’m feeling a lot better.”
She looked a lot better, too, with more color in her face. The marks on her throat had faded. They wouldn’t be as dark a bruise as I’d feared. It still infuriated me that that piece of shit had put his hands on her. But that would be the last time, I swore it.
“We need to make a decision. About how far we want to get in with the Reapers.” I laid it out for her. Option A the two of us could head out that morning and drive, probably down to Mexico. I had my passport and I knew some guys who could set her up with one. “It’ll take a couple of days, but once we’re over it’ll be harder for him to find us.”
“But, what then? We hide in Mexico? Until when?”
I shrugged. “That’s an open question.”
“He knows a ton of guys down there. The Skulls do all kinds of deals with cartels and gangs. I’ve tried to stay out of it. I never wanted to know, but I still heard enough. Mexico’s a big place, but it’s not like we’d be dropping off the radar.” I knew all that, and I was glad she did, too. It made it easier to lay out option B.
“There’s another way.” I looked her in the eye, wanting her to fully comprehend all the implications. “I haven’t told Zeke who your husband is. Not yet. But I can. And they will be interested. Very interested.”
“They don’t like Mike.”
“That’s an understatement.”
She nodded, looking down at the bedspread. Her hands clasped tight on her knees.