Chapter 9
Holy fuck.
Earthquakes jolted from the epicenter of his groin and racked his body. He came, and came, and came. An endless, wrenching explosion.
Some instinct of self-preservation had prompted him to clap his hand over her mouth. Damn good thing, too. She was a screamer.
She was still whimpering and moaning, wiggling deliciously. Everything about her was so soft, so lush, so strong.
That orgasm had detonated from some place so deep, it blew him apart. He should be in a state of bliss. Relaxed, goofy, floating.
He wasn’t. He felt awful. He was thinking now, and it wasn’t pretty. He’d rather be lost, in the slick pounding magic of mindless fucking. Nothing happening in his head but instinct, impulse.
Too bad. The thoughts came, like hammer blows. Liv didn’t want him to throw himself at her feet and offer to serve her for all eternity. She didn’t want confessions or justifications or excuses. She wanted a well-hung stud to lick her until she was juicy and hot, and put it to her deep and hard. His dream scenario. White hot, guilt-free sex with no strings. Every man’s secret fantasy, whether he admitted it or not.
So why did he feel like ten different kinds of shit?
He pressed his face against her cool, fragrant hair, still damp and deliciously humid. He didn’t dare look her in the face.
He felt abashed. He’d never been that rough with anyone, not even when begged to be so. It was like his body had been possessed.
He took a deep breath, raised his head. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy lidded. Unfathomable gray, ringed with indigo, lit with irregular splotches of gold. Curling black lashes. But she wasn’t looking at him.
She was miles away. Light years. It made him ache.
He forced himself to lift his weight off, shoving his trembling limbs up so he was on his knees. “Who’d have thought you were a screamer?” He scooped up a handful of her damp hair. It glided through his fingers, cool and slippery as night dark satin.
She licked those red lips until they gleamed, and dug sharp little claws into his arms, rubbing the soft cushion of her mound against his pubic bone. He angled himself to oblige her, instinctively.
“Didn’t even hear myself,” she whispered shakily.
“I hope nobody else did, either,” he said.
She glanced down at the thick, broad stalk sliding slowly out of her. “But you still didn’t come.”
“Sure, I did,” he said. “I came with you. Didn’t you feel it?”
“I thought I did,” she said. “But you’re still—”
“Hard,” he agreed. “Very. Yeah, you inspire me, beautiful.”
She wrapped her legs around him. He sucked in a deep breath and fought for control. “If you want me to fuck you again, I need a fresh condom. This one won’t stay on. I must’ve shot a quart of come into it.”
She shivered with startled laughter. “Oh, dear. Please don’t use euphemisms, Sean. Tell it exactly like it is, by all means.”
“Oh, I will.” He slid out of her, holding the condom so that the tight cling of her body could not dislodge it. The sight was straight out of his own personal erotic fantasy world. Liv, splayed out on the floor, her soft white thighs spread. The long slit of her pussy was shockingly pink against her dark pubic hair, the puffy, gleaming lips pouting out of it a darker crimson, like some exotic flower. It was making him crazy.
“So? Shall we go at it again? Do you want more?” he demanded.
She rolled onto her side, closing her thighs and wrapping her arms around her knees. “I think more might kill me.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But damn, what a way to go.”
She closed her eyes, shaking with a soft, whispery giggle.
He stared at her body, hypnotized by every angle. He wanted to draw her, to touch her, to mold her. Hold her. He loved that shadowy cleft. That hot, rich woman smell. The sweet taste, the slick texture. The amazing smoothness of her female flesh. His cock pulsed, impatient.
Keep it together. He slid the condom off, knotted it. “You got someplace I can put this?”
Liv tugged her robe around herself and shuffled on her knees over to the suitcase, rummaging until she found a plastic pharmacy bag.
She presented it to him. He dropped it in the bag with a nod of thanks, knotted the bag, dropped it in the wicker trash basket she held out to him. So polite. If you please. Thanks so much. They could be at a barbecue. She might be offering him a place to deposit his paper plate.
Like they hadn’t been writhing and thrashing around on the floor, fucking desperately only minutes before.
She stared at his body, and reached out with a timid fingertip to trace the lumps of one of his scars. “Where did you get that?”
He was perversely irritated by the question. “Uh, that was an unfortunate misunderstanding with an arms dealer in Somalia.”
She blinked. “My goodness. You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I kid? I wouldn’t make up nasty awful stuff like that. I wish to God it hadn’t happened. Hurt like hell. Nicked some internal organs, too. Real gross-out. Took for-fucking-ever to heal up properly.”
“God, Sean,” she said. “What on earth have you been doing?”
Something tightened up in his mind as he gazed at her. He imagining cuddling with her, gabbing for hours. Telling stories about his crazy adventures. Fifteen years was a long time to catch up on.
But her curiosity meant no more than it did from his average fuckbunny bimbo. Where did you get those scars? Girls always asked that, the clear subtext being Ooh, excite me with violent stories about what a dangerous animal you are before you bang me again.
He didn’t have the stomach for it. “Never mind the scars, OK?”
She shrank back at his tone. “Excuse me for being curious,” she said coolly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“I’m not offended. It’s just that gunshot wounds are a big turn-off. Not what I choose to think about when I have a massive hard-on.”
Her eyes dropped to his erection. He yanked on it with a rough, careless hand, squeezing until his cock head protruded, smooth and tight and purple with desperate hopefulness. Weeping out the slit.
Her face flushed, and an answering throb of blood surged through his own body. He grabbed her, and pushed her facedown against the antique four-poster, heaped with pink and white lace-trimmed pillows.
“I could do this all night, Liv. I am not speaking figuratively,” he said. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. But tell me quick.”
She shook her head, her hair making a soft shushing sound against the padded satin. “This is nuts,” she whispered. “I don’t know anything. I’m flying blind. I don’t know you.”
“You will,” he promised her hoarsely. “You will.” He slid down to his knees behind the bed, tugging her hips out so she was bent at a ninety degree angle. He flipped up the silk of her robe, baring her ass.
She squeaked in protest, flailing against his grip, but he held her fast. “No, no. Shhh,” he crooned. “Let me. I’ve already licked it, I’ve already sucked it, I’ve already fucked it. Can’t I just look at it?”
She laughed, jerkily. “You won’t stop at just looking.”
“Why should I? You don’t want me to.” He gripped her hips, so round, velvety hot, flower petal smooth, and smelling of hot woman.
“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered thickly.
“Oh, give me a break. My oversized butt is far from perfect.”
He blinked, taken aback. She had to know how excellent her ass was. Surely she’d noticed the guys sprawled out on the ground who’d tripped over their own tongues when she walked by.
“This is the most gorgeous ass I’ve ever seen,” he said. “Smooth white skin, and amazing curves, and those cute dimples.” He ran his finger down the tender slit. “And your pussy is world class.”
“I guess you would know,” she said, acidly.
He carefully ignored that comment, it being a train of thought that would take them nowhere good. Distraction, diversion. He teased two fingers between her labia, and thrust them slowly inside her.
She moaned. So did he. So sexy, fever hot and slick and yielding, but snug, too. All puffy upholstery in there, super-deluxe satin slick cushions, creating tight friction. His cock throbbed with eagerness to take the plunge. Her cunt muscles clenched helplessly around him, and she clutched handfuls of the coverlet, burying her face in the cushions.
“I do know you, Liv,” he said. “I know a lot about you. Secret things. Sexy things. Things you probably didn’t know yourself.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” she said breathlessly. “Oh…oh.”
“That’s the weird thing about sex,” Sean said reflectively, circling her clit with his thumb. “You learn things that are so intimate. Buried so deep, they don’t even have names. But hot sex like this lays it all naked. You want me to put names to all your nameless secrets?”
“I’d put names to yours, too, you know,” she said, her voice jerky with excitement. “It cuts both ways.”
The truth of her words blanked out his mind for a moment. He gathered his thoughts, and pushed on. “This scene, for instance. It turns you on that I sneaked in here and put it to you hard on the floor while your folks sip tea downstairs with their pinkies in the air.”
She made a growling sound. “You’re pissing me off, Sean.”
“Yeah, I know. Meanwhile, you’re coming around my hand.” He dragged his teeth across her back. “You love it when I talk dirty to you. We’ll find a hotel that rents by the hour. People pounding on the walls, shouting obscenities while we go at it so hard the building shakes. That would get you off, wouldn’t it? Slumming with bad-ass trash like me?”
She elbowed him, hard enough to make him gasp. “Let go of me!”
“No,” he said. “I’m a disobedient boy. This fancypants four-poster makes me want to spread-eagle you, tie you to the bedposts. Not tonight, though. You’re too noisy. You’d shout the roof down.”
“That is not my thing.” Her voice quivered. “I’m not into bondage games. That stupid kink stuff strikes me as icky, so forget it, OK?”
“Yes, that would explain why your pussy squeezed my fingers so hard when I mentioned it.” He licked her back. “Don’t bother lying to me while I’m fucking you, princess.”
“I’m serious, Sean.” She twisted around, glared at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t worry. If it’s too much, I’ll soothe you with my tongue. I’ll just lick those juicy pink lips for hours, until you’re squirming and gasping. Exhausted from coming. I go crazy for your girl juice. I’m addicted to it. I’ll lap it up until you kick me away and make me stop.”
He kept his hand inside her while he groped for his jeans, caressing all those sweet spots that made her shudder and forget to fight. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth. Rolled it on.
“I want something from you,” he said.
She stiffened, turning her head. “What?”
He laughed at her suspicious tone. “Nothing severely kinky. You said you make yourself come squeezing your legs together. The idea really turns me on. I want you to do that for me. I want to feel it.”
“Feel it?” She twisted around, gave him a puzzled frown. “How?”
He answered by nudging the blunt head of his cock into her slick opening, pushing until it fetched up against her tight resistance.
“Like this,” he whispered. “From the inside. Just squeeze.”
“Oh. Ah…” Her voice trailed off, quivering, and her white-knuckled hands clutched thick handfuls of the coverlet. “My God.”
“You’re so tight. You’ll have to spread your legs, to let me in. Then you can close them again. Squeeze as hard as you can. Let me feel it.”
She hesitated, but slowly her thighs released. He almost blew his wad then and there, it was so exciting. This angle, this view, those peachy round ass cheeks, the agonizing, delicious shove into her gleaming pink pussy from behind. He took it easy, but soon she was shoving back against him, sucking in air with each sexy lunge. All he had to do was brace himself and hang onto his self-control until he was deep inside, hugged and squeezed with every beat of her heart.
He shut her legs again, flanking hers with his own thighs.
“Do it,” he whispered. “I’m going to relax and enjoy the ride.”
It was torture, staying passive as a statue, clutched in that powerful female grip. So erotic, to sneak into her secret chamber and feel how she touched herself when she was alone, squeezing and releasing, those small, strong muscles pulsing around him. She jerked and quivered as she got closer, straining desperately. His cock could feel the quick tremolo of her fingers, working her clit. He was squeezed with every pulse of her strong thighs. His body shook with excitement.
She almost dragged him along with her when she went over the top, gasping screams muffled against the crumpled coverlet. Her thighs were still closed, but he could slide and thrust more easily inside her now, oiled by another hot gush of magic, slippery-sweet girl come.
He leaned over her, savoring every gasp, every shudder and shake of her body. Finally the orgasm subsided, and she lay panting and speechless, her face cherry red, her parted lips half hidden by hair.
It had dried into big, wavy swirls. He lifted it off her face, and she made a wordless protest and hid her damp face against the coverlet.
He cupped her chin, tugged it around. “Don’t hide from me.” It came out like one of those caveman commands that bugged her, but she was too limp to complain. He draped himself over her, shoving the robe up so he could lick the sweat off her graceful back. A TV chattered downstairs. White noise, to screen the sounds of sex. If they were lucky.
She made a small movement, as if trying to get some more air into her lungs, and cleared her throat. “You still haven’t come.”
“Nope. I could have, but I was hoping for one more go at you.”
Her eyes flicked back to him. “God, Sean. You are insatiable.”
“Are you going to have mercy on me?” he asked. “Or are you going to send me home with blue balls as a punishment for my insolence?”
“Quit with the snide remarks. You’re tempting me to do just that. One more sarcastic crack, and I’ll…oh…my God…”
He dragged his cock slowly out of her, then bent down and slid his tongue hungrily up and down the length of her hot, juicy slit. Yum.
She gasped, stiffened. “What are you—God, Sean, stop that!”
“Don’t punish me,” he pleaded. “Cruel princess. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t leave me hanging. Your divine majesty, I beg—”
“Shut up!” She wiggled away.
He grinned at her. Her eyes were glowing, and he could tell with his goof radar that she was trying not to laugh. Always a good sign.
“So?” he asked softly.
Her eyes slid away, cheeks red. “How do you want to do it?”
“You decide. From behind, on your hands and knees. Up against the wall. Ride me like a wild bull at the rodeo. Anything. Lady’s choice.”
“I’m too wobbly kneed to do anything acrobatic,” she said shyly.
He offered her a hand. “So lie back on the bed,” he suggested.
She let him tug her to her feet. “It’s not too boring?”
He laughed at the worried tone in her voice. “I have never been so far from bored in my life,” he told her, with total sincerity.
Liv sat down on the bed, looking uncertain.
“Sit right at the edge,” he told her. “I want to stand up for this.”
She nodded, scooting closer, and he pushed her down against the mountainous heap of pillows. She hesitated for a moment. He waited for her body’s invitation. She closed her eyes, biting that soft red lower lip.
They both sighed as she gracefully opened her legs for him.
It started slow. Silent and fraught with meaning, like a ceremony. She was so beautiful, curvy and starry-eyed. Glowing like a pink South Sea pearl against the lacy pillows. He pushed her knees wider, staring at her dark ringlets, the vibrant colors of her sexy secret flesh. “Open your pussy lips.” His voice was hoarse, his mouth dry with excitement.
She put her hands to herself, and parted her labia. A helpless sound vibrated through his body as he pressed the tip of his cock to her slippery folds, nudging inside. “Are you sore?” he asked, though it would kill him if she changed her mind. “Do I have to go easy?”
“Ah…yes and no,” she said.
He froze. “Huh? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means yes, I’m sore,” she hissed. “And no. Don’t go easy.”
He took her at her word, sliding home with one deep, heavy lunge.
Ah. Yes. She took every thick inch of him, which almost never happened, and it felt so good. His whole length hugged and caressed by that snug, super-deluxe sheath, licked and squeezed and loved.
She grabbed his waist, yanked him deeper, and off he went again, like an animal in rut. No care for her pleasure, no calibrating the stroke to get at her hot spots. Just a wild, frenzied plunge and glide.
He pounded into her. The bed rattled and shook. Her soft tits jiggled with each slamming thrust. His refined sexual technique was reduced to vapor and steam. He was a fucking raw nerve.
A fist squeezed his throat, clamped his heart, but it was swelling, too big to be contained. Everything was bursting, flying apart. He saw Kev’s face as he floated back. Smiling, like something was funny.
But it fucking never was.
Liv’s arms were looped around his back. Soft hands petting him.
The princess, soothing her lusty love slave after he serviced her. An approving pat pat pat on his sweaty, heaving shoulders. Excellent fucking. Good boy. Off you go, back to the stable. Ta ta. Be good.
This could reduce him to a begging, pleading dick-for-brains who deserved no better than to get stomped to pulp beneath her feet.
He forced his throat to stop shaking. Pulled out, turned away without looking at her. He could hear her rustling around as he fished the bag out of the trash and pried it open to dispose of his condom.
“Sean? Are you, ah, OK?” Her voice was whispery soft.
He shrugged. “I’m great,” he said thickly. “You’re a fabulous lay, princess.” He escaped into her bathroom, and splashed water into his hot, staring eyes until the inconvenient, embarrassing tears eased off.
He braced himself before going out into her bedroom. Pulled on his jeans, careful not to look at her. Strapped on the knife, the gun. Put on his shoes, his shirt, without a word or a glance. She stood silently, swathed tightly in her robe. “Sean?” Her voice had gotten even smaller.
He ignored her as he grabbed her cell phone off the dresser.
“What are you doing with that?” she asked.
“Programming my number into it,” he said. “If you get the whim, just text me with a time and place. I’ll be there. At the ready.”
“Why are you being so cold?” she whispered.
He glanced at her, frowning. “What, wasn’t the sex hot enough?”
“That’s not what I…oh. I see. You’re doing that metamorphosis thing again. You’re being the cruel, horrible Sean now, right?”
He shrugged. “Whichever Sean I am, my dick will always be hard for you. Look under B for boy toy in your address function.” He tossed it on the dresser, and flung open the door. To the right was the third floor stairs, the crawl space, the window, the tree. His covert entry route.
The left led to the grand staircase down to the main hall. He turned left.
Liv lunged out the door after him. “Hey! What are you doing?” she hissed. “Have you gone nuts?”
“Why not? If they killed me now, I’d die happy. And slithering on your belly is undignified. Have a nice evening, beautiful.”
As luck would have it, Amelia Endicott was at the foot of the stairs, whispering with that steaming turd, Blair Madden. Gack.
Sean’s tongue adhered to the roof of his mouth. He abruptly reconsidered the wisdom of his impulse to walk out the front door.
Slithering on his belly sounded real good right now.
Liv’s mom turned at his deliberately clumping footsteps, and let out a shrill shriek. Her hand flew to cover her thin red mouth.
Blair jumped and put himself in front of her, puffing out his chest like a toad. “How did you get in? What have you done with Liv?”
“Nothing,” Liv said softly from behind him. “I’m fine.”
So the princess had taken pity on him. He allowed himself one last look over his shoulder. She was still in her sheer, sexy robe, flushed and damp and gorgeous. Like a woman who’d just had fabulous sex.
Sean did not like for Blair Madden to see her like that.
“I was testing your security,” he said. “Needless to say, it’s inadequate.” He dug into his pocket, and pulled out a scrap of paper. “Here’s a list of the best security companies in the area. Private cell phone numbers included. You could call them right now. In my name.”
“Thanks for the unsolicited advice.” Blair yanked the door open.
Sean stared at the other man as he sauntered down the stairs. Madden inched backwards, a muscle twitching in his face.
“The police are right outside, McCloud.”
Sean turned at the gruff, loud voice. Bart Endicott stood in the door, his thick face red and mottled.
It never ceased to baffle him. How that fanged bitch and that pompous blowhard had managed between them to produce the princess would forever remain one of the great unsolved mysteries of genetics.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “I saw them when I came in. But I was just leaving. Good night, everyone.”
“You might as well wait where you are. We’ll be pressing charges for breaking and entering.” Amelia Endicott’s voice dripped acid.
“No, Mother.” Liv’s voice was soft, but resolute. “There was no breaking or entering. I invited him in. You can call off the police.”
Everyone turned horrified eyes on Liv. Sean did not envy her in that moment. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared back.
Wow. He practically blushed. He didn’t deserve that kind of support, after his raving asshole routine. That woman was pure class.
“That’s hardly appropriate for an engaged woman, dear,” Amelia said loudly. “I imagine you told Sean your happy news?”
Sean looked at her. His chest cavity had just been flash frozen.
She blinked. “But I—I’m not—”
“Come on, honey,” Blair said. “We can’t keep it a secret forever.”
“We were thinking early fall,” Amelia said. “Of course, this awful business might force us to reconsider the timing. Such a shame.”
It took a minute for him to coordinate his vocal apparatus. “Uh, yeah.” He looked into Liv’s big, startled gray eyes. “I’m amazed you didn’t share something so important earlier in our, ah, conversation.”
“But I’m not—”
“Liv’s shy about it,” Amelia broke in. “But thank goodness we all have something to be happy about in these difficult days, hmm?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Uh, great. Be happy, then. Watch your back, princess.”
He was out the door. Walking blindly up the driveway towards the gate. He had to stop and explain himself to the cops that were parked outside, which was a challenge, since he couldn’t concentrate clearly enough to make any sense. All he could think about was Liv.
Engaged. Jesus Christ.
Madden finally came out the door, called the cops off, waved him on out. Just to get rid of his sorry ass. Smug toad.
The big wrought-iron gate ground open for him. He took off down the road towards his truck, dazed. He’d done every last damn thing Davy had advance-scolded him for. Breaking and entering, planting spywear, ill-advised sex. The Endicotts could nail his ass to the wall, if they found the beacons. Wallet, suitcase, purse, he’d even slit open the soles of Liv’s sandals. The burrs were traceable to SafeGuard, so he’d compromised Seth and Davy as well. They didn’t have much staying power, lacking an external power source. He’d risked his freedom and his brother’s professional reputation for a chance of keeping track of Liv for the next day or so.
And for the wildest, most explosive sex he’d ever had.
He stumbled in the dark. Ran his hands over the stinging marks on his shoulders and ass. Fuck-me-harder marks. Wildcat woman.
He would wear them like a badge. Be sorry when they healed.
Tomorrow, they would take Liv off to someplace where neither he nor T-Rex would ever be able to find her—and the world would go flat.
Unless she called the number he’d programmed into her cell.
He stopped in his tracks on the dark road, the huge dark pine and fir trees rustling in the cool wind and thought about that.
Screwing Blair Madden’s fiancée. That’s what he’d just done. He made himself face it. He imagined Liv, going home after she showered off the evidence. Thinking about her secret lover while she did her wifely duty in bed. His stomach lurched. He would never survive that.
She had to be doing the guy already, if they were engaged. His imagination promptly offered up fully realized 3-D images of that worthless turd Blair, having at her. And Liv, letting him. Liking it.
Bad idea. He hung over the roadside ditch and hacked up gastric juices, fists clenched, eyes watering. Oh, that was foul. He was a flexible guy, but that level of emotional gymnastics was not in his repertoire.
Hypocrite. Like he had a right to be uptight about Liv screwing whoever she pleased. He’d worked through six condoms—or was it seven?—in a tequila haze with the fuckbunny duo from the Hole.
Though to be entirely fair and accurate, he had not been engaged to be married to someone else while boinking the bunnies.
It gave him a sad ache in his chest, to think that he’d never given any woman more than what Liv had given him tonight. It hurt when the rest was declined. He’d dished out a lot of that. He wasn’t proud of it.
One of his former would-be girlfriends, Sandra, was a grad student at U of W, studying clinical psych. A chubby, fuzzy-curled blonde with intellectual horn-rimmed glasses and lovely pink-tipped tits. She’d explained the dynamic of his pathological condition to him, given him the number of a good therapist and a list of local support groups and twelve-step programs for sexual addicts.
All of this preparatory to telling him to go fuck himself.
He deserved it. Everything she said made perfect sense, but understanding it didn’t help worth a damn. It was always the same; the itch that drove him out to look for sex, the approach, the seduction. It rarely took long, once he turned on the charm. He made the sex safe, hot, and prolonged for his lady friends. That much, he could guarantee.
But his liaisons rarely lasted more than a week. Usually less.
In a way, he loved them all, even the Staceys and the Kendras. He knew they deserved better. He hated to hurt their feelings. Sometimes, he reflected wistfully how great it would be if he could just decide, by brute force of will, to make some girl’s unrealistic fantasies come true.
Just pick out some nice girl who made him laugh. Make some goddamn promises to her. Try like hell to keep them. Simple. Right?
What were all the guys around him doing but just exactly that?
No. Something always stopped him whenever he was tempted to try it. A presentiment of doom. Or maybe it was watching his brothers and their lady loves, wallowing in the big bubbly bathtub of true love.
It made his teeth hurt, sometimes, but damn, it looked like fun. They looked so relaxed. Like they didn’t have to try and fool anybody.
He wished he could convince all those girls of how beautiful they were. How much more they deserved from the worthless, doglike men in their lives, himself included. But he couldn’t argue with that sucking ache in his gut. Couldn’t control it, banish it, ignore it.
It felt like grief. And Christ, he should know.
As soon as he felt that ache, and it never took long to show up, he was history. If he forced the issue, if he tried to stick around out of guilt or stubborness or loneliness or whatever, it just got worse, and worse, until it was incapacitating. And oh, that was bad. Oh, how that sucked.
It didn’t matter worth a damn how much he liked the girl, how much fun the sex was, how much he wished that things were different.
He wondered why he felt compelled to endlessly repeat the whole depressing drama. He loved sex, but he hated slamming into that brick wall. Knowing even before he met the chick how it was going to end.
Not tonight. What happened in Liv’s bedroom was a movie he’d never seen. A pulse-pounding cliff-hanger. He saw her naked body when he closed his eyes. He could smell her scent on his hands. It was like she had a homing beacon, and he was tuned to its frequency. He didn’t even need X-Ray Specs. He could just follow his dick, like a dowser.
A strange feeling brushed over him. Ghost fingers, sending a cold, tickling shiver down his spine. He froze, listening. Slowly turned three hundred and sixty degrees, not that he could see fuck-all in this dark.
His skin crawled. His heart rate increased. On this stretch of road, he was wide open to a gunman sitting up on that bald knob of hill overlooking Endicott House. If the guy had an infrared scope, that is.
Yeah, and that was just old Crazy Eamon’s hypervigilant, paranoid jive talk, forever jabbering in the back of his head. He knew it, but even so, instinct and training together were too strong to resist.
He dove over the shoulder and down the hill, sliding in the gravel scree, choking on the dust he kicked up. He hit the scrub, arms out-spread to break his fall, and whack, scratch, slap, shit and ouch.
He was relieved when he fetched up on the washed out creek bed where he’d parked his shiny new Jeep Wrangler. Pain in the ass, having paranoid genes.
He fired up the computers and the X-Ray Specs receiver in the office as soon as he got home, and entered the beacon codes.
The map spread over the monitor screen. A cluster of icons pulsed in the location of Endicott House. His chest seized up. He had to cool it.
One, Liv was engaged to be married to a venomous snake. Two, she’d screwed him for the fun of it, because she felt like it. Three, there would be no chance to redeem the past, because she didn’t give a shit. Four, she did not want his protection or his help. Five, she was leaving.
He’d just sit and watch those flashing blips move out of range.
So there it was. No reason for him to sit here, watching his own sweaty hand tremble on top of the computer mouse.
The only way she could come back and rebuild her bookstore would be if someone flattened this piece of shit. And since he was a suspect, he’d be doing himself a favor by clearing up the matter. Which gave him a face-saving justification for sticking his nose in. Or any other protruding body part. He choked, thinking of Davy’s lecture. Sorry, bro.
He pulled up a document and started transcribing Liv’s stalker e-mails from memory. Getting to work made him feel instantly more cheerful. It would be a visceral satisfaction to bring T-Rex to the door of Endicott House. Hold the scaly bastard by the scruff of the neck while he wiggled and squawked. Drop him on the colonial style porch. Splat.
Here, folks. A small token of my esteem.
He had to laugh at himself. The faithful hound, bringing a dead rabbit to its master. Wagging, jumping, hoping for a pat on the head.
Lovesick chump.