Chapter Fifteen
Don’t Cross This Line
It was late morning and Memphis and I were in my kitchen with a roll of masking tape and a marker.
Sam was at Vanessa’s.
I was a mess.
My mess was multifaceted.
It was partially because I woke up at two o’clock in the morning, ready to face the day. I tossed, turned, Memphis yapped, I tossed more, turned more and finally decided to go and toss and turn on the couch so I didn’t toss and turn Sam awake. I’d just thrown the covers aside and lifted up when a steel band-like arm hooked around my belly and I found myself on my back in bed with a hot guy mostly on top of me.
“Jetlag?” Sam asked.
“Yep,” I answered.
Sam’s hands started traveling and his mouth went to my neck where he murmured, “Mm.”
Then his hands and mouth started traveling more, mine joined them, I got into it and returned the favor Sam gave me earlier, taking him in my mouth. Then Sam got into it and one-upped my favor by giving it to me in a variety of different but delicious positions. I had an orgasm I was pretty sure the neighbors could hear, Sam’s orgasm shortly followed and fifteen minutes after that, tucked into Sam’s side, Memphis returning and stretching out in the expanse of bed I’d left her, I crashed on the thought that jetlag wasn’t so bad, at least not when Sam shared my condition.
But when I woke up, I was no longer feeling so hot about jetlag. Groggy and out of sorts, I was also in bed alone and, weirdness of weird, I could hear a succession of yaps, they were measured, not random and I’d never heard Memphis yap like that.
I threw the covers back, lurched out of bed, grabbed my robe, shrugged it on and then I lurched down the hall tying the belt. I stopped dead when I saw Sam sweating, in workout clothes, his legs bent at the knees, ankles crossed, fingers curled around the top of the doorjamb. Memphis was on the floor in front of him yapping each time Sam did a pull up like she was counting them down.
“Mornin’, baby,” Sam said as he lowered his body.
Hair probably a rat’s nest, eyes fuzzy, head groggy, dazedly noting that Sam clearly didn’t share these symptoms with me (not that his clipped hair could form a rat’s nest), I stared at him and asked, “What are you doing?”
Sam pulled up then stayed up and grunted, “Pull ups,” over Memphis’s yap then he lowered himself down.
It was then it belatedly hit me that Sampson Cooper, not Sam, Sampson Cooper was in my little, two-bedroom, nondescript house in Heartmeadow, Indiana and I momentarily freaked out wondering what he saw and what he thought of me from what he could see.
Sam pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
Sam pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
I watched.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“Memphis is yappy,” I answered.
“Noticed, honey,” Sam muttered then pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
Sam pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
On Sam lowering down, I asked, “How many of those do you do?”
“As many as I can,” Sam answered, pulled up and Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
I continued staring.
He was concentrating on what he was doing. He didn’t give one shit about Memphis being yappy. He grew up in a barrio and two times during football games his senior year there were kids murdered, one a stabbing during a drug sale gone bad, one a shooting during a gang war.
Sure, Cooter had had half his head blown off but not in the house and Cooter’s murder was the first Heartmeadow had seen in nearly thirty years.
Sam had lived worse, he didn’t care about my house and didn’t think it said anything about me.
He pulled up, Memphis yapped, I saw his muscles in his arms bunch, exposed by the skintight, sleeveless shirt he was wearing, and I went a different kind of groggy.
He lowered down and asked, “Are you in a standing coma?”
“Your muscles in your arms look really good when you do that.”
Yes, that’s what I said.
Sam grinned.
Then he pulled up and Memphis yapped.
When he was down, I queried, “You keep doing that, won’t you pull the wood off the doorframe?”
“This house sold?” Sam queried back.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You care if I pull it off?” he went on.
“No,” I replied.
“You got a hammer?” he kept going.
“Yeah,” I told him.
“Then we’re good,” he muttered, pulled up and Memphis yapped.
I turned around and went back to the bedroom to get to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, teeth brushed, hair tamed (ish), face washed, still feeling weird, I wandered out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen. Sam was no longer doing pull ups so I had an unobstructed trek to the coffee. I made it then wandered to stand in the kitchen doorway to see Sam doing one armed pushups on the living room floor.
Memphis was bouncing around Sam’s body as he did this, alternately getting down on her front legs, thinking he was playing.
“Your back looks really good when you do those,” I generously kept the information flowing on how hot he looked when he worked out.
“Good to know,” Sam pushed out through a hissed breath as he pushed up.
“I mean, it looks good all the time but it looks really good when you do those,” I shared.
Sam lowered down then pushed up but didn’t reply.
Memphis ran under his body.
I thought that was hilarious so I giggled.
Sam lowered down then pushed up, grunting, “You know what’s most important during a workout?”
I had no clue.
“Nope,” I replied as Sam lowered down.
“Focus,” Sam told me and Memphis jumped over his ankles.
I burst out laughing.
“Jesus,” Sam muttered as he went belly to the floor, his arm shooting out, he tagged Memphis and rolled to his back, Memphis in his arms and she was wiggling, panting and licking Sam’s sweaty neck. He did an ab curl to sitting with cocked knees, Memphis still in his arms now licking his jaw, his eyes locked on mine and he announced, “I need a gym.”
I grinned. “I’m seeing that.”
“This ‘burg have one?”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
He smiled at me.
Then he declared, “I get showered, I go get my brief from Oswald then talk to that bitch, after, we find food, hit the grocery store and find a gym.”
All humor fled at the idea of Sam talking to Vanessa.
“Baby,” Sam called softly.
“What?”
“Talk to me. What’s on your face?”
“I don’t like the idea of her sharing your air.”
“I don’t either but got no choice.”
“I don’t like that either.”
Sam put Memphis down, pushed himself to his feet and came to me. Memphis, seeing his direction, remembered she had a Momma and bounced over. I crouched, picked her up and was straightened, giving her distracted cuddles by the time Sam made it to me.
He curled a hand around my neck and dipped his chin to look down at me.
“We got a plan, information, yard sale, as many viewings as you can fit in then we’re gone. A week, at most two, then my place, beach, Skippy’s and a king-size bed.”
I nodded.
Then I asked, “Will your badass bodyguard battalion be joining us in North Carolina?”
“Undecided,” Sam answered. “This could be done and at my house we don’t need them at night. My security system is tight, impenetrable, put in by the best in the business. Man lives not too far from here actually, name’s Callahan. But I want you safe and I want extra eyes on you during the day so, yeah, a smaller crew but this business isn’t sorted before we go to North Carolina, we’ll be bringing a few of them with us.”
“It’s nice of them to do this,” I remarked and Sam’s brows drew slightly together.
“Nice?”
“Yeah, to do you a favor like this.”
“Kia, honey, one the boys who’s huntin’ this guy, he’s a buddy. I pulled in a marker with him. The boys who’re watchin’ you and the other hunter, I’m payin’.”
I blinked and my lips parted.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“Private detective, lives in the same town as Callahan, name’s Tanner Layne. Callahan suggested him. He’s on payroll. He’s workin’ with a buddy of mine I met in the Army, Lee Nightingale. Lee’s doin’ me a favor. Lee and Tanner suggested locals they know to look out for you. They’re all on payroll.”
“You’re paying them?”
“Yeah.”
“Paying?”
“Uh… yeah,” Sam replied. “This shit is time consuming, has no end date and could get dangerous. Lee owes me for something big. But with an open-ended situation like this, the skills I needed, the peace of mind I expect them to give, they gotta issue invoices. Why the surprise?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Is it expensive?”
His face went guarded and he answered carefully, “The best is never cheap.”
“I’ll pay you back,” I said instantly and his fingers flexed in my neck.
“No, sweetheart, you won’t.”
Uh-oh.
He was calling me sweetheart.
“Sam –” I started.
“This isn’t a discussion.”
“Sam!”
His fingers dug deeper, his face suddenly dipped close and Memphis yapped but we both ignored her.
“Right, you need to get this, it’s important, so I’ll lay it out as best I can but you don’t cross this line, Kia. Ever.”
Now I was confused.
“What line?”
“I’m a man.”
Well, I knew that.
“That isn’t news, Sam.”
“And you’re my woman.”
I sucked in breath.
Oh God.
I was thinking this was big.
No, this was huge.
“She gets me,” he muttered.
“Sam,” I whispered.
“I gotta do this and you gotta let me.”
“But, it’s expensive.”
“I got money.”
“So do I, Sam.”
“Kia,” he said warningly, his face getting closer. “Don’t cross this line. I protect myself. I protect my home. I protect my family. And I protect my woman. I do it how I need to do it. No discussion. Are you with me?”
“Are you saying you’re with me?” I asked cautiously.
“I’m saying I want you breathing for long enough to figure that out.”
I wanted that too so that was a good answer… kind of.
“So you’re not with me?” I whispered.
“Kia –”
“Sam.”
He held my eyes.
Then his other hand came up to my neck and he stated, “I feel somethin’ for you, it already runs deep. We may as well get this straight, I don’t know where this is goin’ but I like where it is, I like how it feels and while we figure it out, it’s exclusive. That means you’re mine. I protect what’s mine. That’s where I am, that’s where you are. Now are you with me?”
I wanted to be. Boy did I want to be.
But I wasn’t.
So that was why I said, “If this doesn’t work, it ends and we’re over, I don’t want you to find another woman you like being with and me being on the list of how women have screwed you over. This isn’t your problem, it’s mine. I have the money and I want to pay.”
His fingers gave me a squeeze and his face got even closer when he whispered, “That, baby, that right there says you will never be on that list. I can tell you not a single woman I’ve been with even offered to pay for a drink. You are not them, I knew it before but I know it even more now.”
I lifted one of my hands to rest on his chest and whispered back, “Okay, I appreciate that, but I still want to pay.”
“You’re crossing that line, Kia,” he stated, his voice getting an edge.
“Sam, I have to,” I pushed.
“No,” he returned, his voice now hard, so hard I blinked. “Right now, this is what we are. Right now, this is working. Right now, there’s no chance this is gonna end and we’re gonna be over. So right now and for the foreseeable future, you… are… mine.”
His hands swayed me (and Memphis) gently with each of the last three words and my eyes were riveted to the intensity in his. He could be intense but this was something different, deeper, starker, profound.
He kept talking.
“And you’re under threat. I lived from the minute I could make a memory to the minute I tossed that asshole outta my mother’s house not able to eliminate the threat that was livin’ in my own goddamned home, my mother in danger, my brother in danger, my family, including me, ruled by an iron fist, a fist that lashed out randomly and brutally. That is not happening again, sweetheart. Danger darkens my door and threatens what’s mine, I’ll handle it. This is me and you gotta know this about me. If you can’t see it my way, you gotta beat it back, keep your mouth shut and let me do this because we’re not having this conversation again, not after this shit is over for you and, if we go the distance, not in our future. I protect what’s mine how I gotta do it and with no discussion. Now, Kia, whether you’re with me or you’re not, right now, you say you’re with me.”
I stared up at him thinking, sometimes, what Sam said went too.
Therefore I did the only thing I could do, I whispered, “I’m with you.”
Sam held my eyes, body unmoving, the intensity didn’t shift from his gaze and I knew something had a hold on him and I suspected it didn’t all have to do with me.
Then he sucked breath into his nose, muttered, “Right,” pulled me up to him as his head tipped to me and he kissed my nose. His hands left my neck, he rubbed Memphis’s head and continued on another mutter, “Shower then I get this shit done.”
Then he turned and started down the hall.
“I’m not your mother.”
Yes. That was me.
I didn’t know where it came from but it came from somewhere and then it came right out.
Sam’s body locked for a half a second then, stiffly, he turned and looked at me.
“Come again?” he asked quietly.
I held his eyes then I pulled in a breath, bent slightly, dropped Memphis to her feet, straightened and looked at him again.
And when I did, I knew where it came from.
So I told Sam.
“What just happened there,” I said carefully, “was not about me. You don’t talk about you very much but I think you’re reliving what happened to you when you were a kid. I’m not your mother. I don’t know what happened with that but what happened to me is my responsibility, not my Dad’s, my Mom’s, Ozzie’s or anybody’s. And now I’m in this mess and that’s my responsibility too.” He opened his mouth but I lifted a hand quickly and whispered, “I said I was with you, I’m with you, I promise, honey. I’m not crossing that line. It means something to you so I won’t.”
He closed his mouth.
I kept going.
“But this is still my responsibility. I was young and stupid but I made the decision I made and it happened. Now it’s clean up time and this is different. This isn’t your Mom and your brother. I’m not alone. I never have been. If you’re sorting through past demons while going through this with me, you need to face that and I think we both need to know that isn’t clouding how you feel about what’s happening here.”
“Clouding how I feel about what’s happening here?” Sam repeated, his brows drawing together a little scarily.
That was when I gave it all to him.
“I’m not your mother, Sam, and if you’re attracted to me because you had to live under that threat without having any power to do anything about it and you want to relive that and make it come out a different way then… then…” I faltered and finished, “then we have more to talk about.”
I shut up and when I did I realized my heart was beating hard.
Sam stared at me.
Memphis yapped.
We both ignored her.
“I…” I began when he said not a word then ended simply with a prompt of, “Sam?”
“Remember Luci’s party?” he asked.
Like I’d ever forget.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Remember when I told you he took something precious from you?”
I nodded.
“I know, Kia, and I’ve known since the beginning, even before I knew he took his hands to you, that he’d broken something in you that, if I took the shot, I’d have to fix. And, baby, you sittin’ across from me, shy and cute and open and funny, I did not give one shit that he’d broken you. I knew the minute I saw you laugh, no…” he shook his head once, “before, that I wanted in there and I’d do anything to get what I wanted.”
I felt my lips part but just like Sam, he was not done but this time he was far from done.
“That didn’t have fuck all to do with my mother, my father and what happened to me as a kid. And you might not like hearin’ this but what it had to do with was watchin’ you walk across that dining room in those sexy as hell shoes and that hot, little dress with your long legs and your great tits and all that fantastic fuckin’ hair and mostly a face I knew I wanted to see starin’ up at me when my cock was buried inside you. Straight up, you are one fine piece of tail but now you’re my piece of tail. When you sat across from me and ignored me and I saw that shit you carry in your eyes even when your mind is consumed with something else then you sat with me and I watched you laugh, I knew that shit would not deter me, no matter how deep it ran. And I can promise you that has not one thing to do with my mother. The precious thing he took from you is that you have no fuckin’ clue that it wasn’t only me in that room who watched you walk across it wishin’ he was a man who could be buried inside you. And that precious thing also includes the fact that you think for one second this bullshit is your responsibility. He saddled you with that too, Kia. This mess is his making, not yours. I don’t know how to get that outta your head. The only thing I know is it’s gonna be me who cleans up that mess and, like it or not, it partly has to do with you turning out in reality to be one seriously fine piece of ass. But also it has to do with you not likin’ euro-trash cars, not rappin’ with your posse about what I do for you in bed, you demonstrating you have my back and you bein’ able to make me laugh when I’m mildly pissed at you.”
He stopped speaking and I stared at him.
He had noticed me walk across that dining room.
He wanted me when I walked across that dining room.
Ohmigod!
Sam interrupted my mental freak out with, “Now, we past this?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He studied me.
Then he stated, “Look of you, honey, you’re gonna search for some other fucked up reason I’m with you and I gotta say now, I don’t know how much more straight I can be about that.”
I didn’t either.
“Uh… yeah. You were pretty straight,” I agreed quietly.
“Did what I say penetrate?”
“I might, uh… need coffee and to get over jetlag and then, um… maybe it’ll sink in,” I told him honestly.
His lips twitched.
Then he muttered, “I’ll be here when it does.”
Then he turned around and disappeared in my bedroom.
Memphis yapped then bounced down the hall and disappeared after him.
Sam was going to have company in the bathroom while he showered. This was Memphis’s way.
I kept still and staring.
I’ll be here when it does.
Okay. All right.
Wow.
Wow.
I forced myself to turn and lurch to the coffee discovering Mom or Paula had made sure we had fresh milk for which I decided to buy them both a yacht that was how grateful I was.
I was leaning with my hips to the counter when Sam came in wearing another long-sleeves rolled up near to his elbow, button up the front shirt (this one chambray), jeans and boots. He was followed by Memphis who I was getting thought Sam was the shit even more than she thought everyone was the shit. She didn’t even follow Cooter around with that kind of devotion. Then again, Cooter didn’t do pull ups and pushups that she could misconstrue as playing with her.
He came right to me, touched his mouth to mine and I smelled his aftershave. Then I decided that he smelled so good, the second Vanessa smelled him she’d spill all of her secrets. Then he told me he’d be back as soon as he could and he left.
The second the door closed behind him, his words repeated in my brain.
I’ll be here when it does.
He watched me walk through that dining room and he wanted me.
Thomas had said, I’ll remind you of this moment, when the beautiful Kia doubted her power over a powerful man…
That intensity Sam had was partly about his history but it was mostly about me.
Me.
Sam watched me walk through that dining room and he wanted me.
Thus began my multifaceted freak out because firstly, I didn’t know what to do with that intensity directed at me, my problems and Sam’s clear dedication to eradicating them which included Sam throwing serious money at accomplishing this feat. I also didn’t know what to think about the fact that Sam still wasn’t sharing. He seemed to, talking about his childhood not only to me but mentioning it to my Dad. But he didn’t share much, just nuances then he moved on. It was also dawning on me that I might be a little bit of all right which was something I hadn’t considered until Thomas said what he said and now definitely after Sam said what he said.
And lastly I was freaking out because I was falling in love with him. I knew it. And I knew from his words and deeds that he was committed to exploring what we had so maybe he was getting there with me too. But I also knew from his lack of words that he was holding back and holding back didn’t exactly say exploring what we had or falling in love because to start falling, you had to trust the person you were falling for to catch you.
I mean, I didn’t know, I was new to this, but I suspected I was right that everyone needed to trust the person they loved to catch them, even ex-commandos.
So, as I went about my morning, showering, doing the getting ready gig, unpacking, starting laundry and dealing with putting an ad in the Boothe County Gazette for my yard sale. Then I sat down and made a list of things to do. Then I unearthed some of the boxes I’d collected prior to going on vacation from the garage. Then I commenced in going through my kitchen and stuffing boxes full of all my crap, marking the box with bargain basement prices as well as tacking a piece of masking tape on furniture and repeat with the marking it gig.
And all the while I did this, my mind was consumed with all of this as well as Sam being with Vanessa which, I didn’t lie, I really did not like. Not because Sam might get creative with (and in trouble for) extracting information from her. Just because Vanessa was a bitch. She was a bitch in high school, she was a bitch after high school and she was a bitch after she got married to Milo, who was a good guy but who, even after they tied the knot, she made no bones about letting it be known to anyone who wasn’t Milo that she’d settled for him and was not pleased with the track her life had taken.
And, of course, there was the fact she put a hit on me.
It was two seconds after I realized I was seriously hungry in a hunger pains gnawing at the lining of your stomach kind of way when the front door opened and Sam walked through.
I was standing at the kitchen table now covered in filled boxes, so when my head turned that way I had a direct line and the instant I saw him, I went still.
Sam didn’t.
He stalked through my living room and into the kitchen, Memphis, who greeted him noisily at the door, yapping at his heels.
He ignored her, stopped and his enraged eyes scorched right through me.
“That bitch is a fuckin’ bitch,” he growled and I pressed my lips together.
Well, clearly Sam’s yummy aftershave didn’t work.
I forced myself out of my freeze and turned fully to him.
“What happened?” I asked carefully.
“She called the cops before I got up to her door.”
This wasn’t surprising.
“Did you get in?”
“Oh yeah,” his tone was scary, “I got in.”
Eek!
I pressed my lips together and waited.
Sam continued scowling at me.
Finally, I prompted, “Well?”
“Oswald is right now takin’ her to the Department. I wasn’t wrong. She’s got more. She’s coverin’ her ass. I know this because she was belligerent and not in wronged woman way, in a hidin’ somethin’ way. Ten minutes after I got in, the cops came. Five minutes after that, her attorney showed. He’s shut her down.”
“So you didn’t get anything?” I asked.
“Nothin’ but the fact that bitch sees, lives and breathes green. She hates you, baby, so jealous, it consumes her and me showin’ at her door only intensified that.”
I bet.
It sucked for Sam he had to share her air but I had to admit, I got more than a little kick that my protective, hot guy, awesome boyfriend showed at her door and rubbed her nose in the fact that I had a protective, hot guy, awesome boyfriend.
I did not share this.
Instead, I walked to him and wrapped my arms loosely around his waist, saying softly, “I’m sorry, Sam.”
His arms returned the favor and he replied, “I’m not.”
My head cocked to the side. “You’re not?”
“Kia, honey, she was the mastermind.”
I blinked.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“What you said, what Oswald said when he briefed me; your dead piece of shit husband was not the sharpest tack in the box. So this leads me to believe all this was her gig from start to what she still hopes will be the finish. It was her idea.”
Holy cow!
“She told you that?”
“Fuck no but I read it all over her. Her clothes, the way she wears her hair, her house, she wants more, always has, always will. She’s livin’ a dream she concocted in high school, married to the star quarterback, livin’ large, lordin’ her shit not stinkin’ all over town. She thinks you took that away from her by marrying that fuckin’ guy and she wanted it back, with your ex and the money from your life insurance policy.”
“So, you figured her out too,” I deduced.
“She’s so consumed by it, baby, she’s not even close to hiding it. And that ten minutes I had alone with her, she reeked of it so much took everything I had not to gag.”
At his words, I thought about Vanessa. I thought about the fact that Vanessa, who had mouse brown hair, bleached it blonde about a week after I started seeing Cooter. I remembered that, more than once, she’d come to school wearing the same outfit I’d worn a few days before. I thought about the fact that Milo played high school ball and looked a lot like Cooter except he stayed fit and attractive mainly because he ran every morning and only drank beer while watching sports rather than downing a six pack every night. I thought about this fact and it hit me that she didn’t even see Cooter the way he was before he got half his head blown off. She only saw what she wanted to see. And it also hit me for the first time with any clarity that the stupid idiot wanted to be me.
Then I thought that this all creeped me way the heck out.
“Okay, I was creeped out before, what with her wanting me dead, but now I’m creeped way the heck out,” I told Sam.
“That’s because this shit is creepy,” Sam told me.
“Why is Ozzie taking her in?” I asked.
“‘Cause she’s got more and he wants to give it a go getting it from her. He won’t succeed. She’ll keep her mouth shut and if she doesn’t, her attorney will do it for her.”
“What does this mean?”
“It means I’m out and Lee and Tanner are up. She’s not gonna give me shit. They’re gonna have to find ways to make her talk or dig up her dirt.”
“Right,” I whispered just as there came a knock at the door, it was loud, it was hard and Sam’s body went the latter then twisted quickly when the door flew open.
“What the fuck?” Sam growled and I peeked around him, my mouth dropping open when I watched another man in my life stalk into my living room, face like thunder.
“Jesus, fuck, Jesus!” my brother Kyle shouted, his eyes on me, his girlfriend Gitte hurrying behind him and I was having trouble deciding between shouting with glee that he was there and fleeing because he looked extremely pissed. My brother was a good guy, funny and loving but he was also tall and strong, he took care of himself and he had a temper. Therefore, with the size of his frame and volatility, when he got pissed, watch out.
He stopped in the doorway and his eyes flicked to Sam whereupon he mumbled, “Dude, cool to meet you, big fan,” then he looked back at me and exploded, “Seriously, Kiakee, what… the… fuck?”
Well, there was one good thing about being under threat of death; it took precedence over Sam’s fame.
“Uh… Kyle, Sam, Sam, Kyle, Gitte, Sam, Sam, Gitte, Kyle’s girlfriend,” I quickly introduced and, as I did, I felt the tension leave Sam’s body.
“Time for that shit is later,” Kyle announced. “Now, what the fuck?”
“Uh… I take it Dad called you,” I guessed.
“Uh…” Kyle leaned in then boomed, “Yeah! And I’m here ‘cause if I go see Ozzie I’ll wring his fuckin’ neck. What the fuck?”
I moved to stand beside Sam and asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work in Tennessee?”
“Yeah, but, see, they were pretty cool with me takin’ off to drive home seein’ as my goddamned sister has a hit put out on her!” Kyle answered.
“Kyle, honey, calm down,” I whispered.
“That doesn’t happen a lot.” He didn’t calm down, instead he kept on target.
“Kyle, sweetheart –” Gitte started, unwisely (I thought) getting close to his side.
Kyle ignored her. “And they had no problem believin’ that shit seein’ as my sister is currently flavor of the month on all the gossip sites.” He crossed his arms on his chest and added wryly, “So by the way, congratulations, Kiakee, for makin’ last week’s top ten best dressed on youwearitwell.com.”
I blinked.
Then I asked, “What?”
“Casual section,” Gitte put in with a huge grin. “You were number seven with your cute tank, metallic belt and short-shorts.”
Ohmigod!
“Seriously?” I asked Gitte.
“Yeah,” she answered. “And I think you’re number seven because you’re a newbie. When you’re more famous, you’ll totally move up the ranking. That outfit was hot.”
More famous?
Oh God. I didn’t know what to do with this.
“Uh… hel-the fuck-lo!” Kyle clipped loudly, throwing out his arms. “Can we focus?”
I focused then I moved toward him saying, “Kyle, it’s cool. I know it’s a shock but Sam has it under control.”
I stopped a foot away from him but he didn’t look at me, his eyes were on Sam.
“Yeah, Dad said. My sister lands a famous dude, lucky she lands one who’s trained in a variety of ways to kick ass. That said, I’m thinkin’ I need to be more intimately acquainted with Sam’s plans and Sam’s intentions toward my sister so I can feel all this Sam Love everyone’s suddenly got and know my baby sister is in good hands.”
“She is,” Sam’s deep voice replied at the same time I said, “I am.”
“Yeah?” Kyle asked, “How ‘bout Gitte and Kia go do some woman shit and you convince me of that?”
“Kyle,” I whispered and his eyes sliced to me and when they did the fear I saw stark in them, an emotion I’d never seen my brother experience, nearly brought me to my knees so I repeated on a whisper, “Kyle.”
“It’s good that motherfucker is dead,” he whispered back.
I moved to him and put my arms around him, whispering again, “Kyle.”
“Do my time to kill him, he wasn’t,” Kyle went on.
“Honey,” I said softly.
“It wasn’t sick as shit, I’d dig his punk ass carcass up and burn the motherfucker,” he told me, his eyes roamed my face then his arms closed around me.
I did a face plant in his chest.
His arms got tighter. So did mine.
“Can I ask, at this juncture, what ‘woman shit’ entails?” Gitte asked, I unplanted my face out of my brother’s chest, turned my head and looked at his girlfriend.
Kyle and Gitte had been together for four years. They were a matching set. He was blond, handsome, tall and built. She was blonde, gorgeous, tall and built. They were both sweet and loving but they were also both chock-full of attitude. The only difference was, Kyle was American and male and Gitte was Danish and female.
Her name meant “strength” and her personality underlined it.
As evidenced by the annoyed look on her face at being relegated to “woman shit”. They said men married their mothers and women married their fathers. This was not true with me but it was definitely true with Kyle and Gitte. Dad had taught Kyle to be a man’s man and my brother might work a desk job but he kicked ass doing it, he pulled down a huge salary and, often, he thought what he said went.
And also often, Gitte staunchly disagreed.
“Gitte –” Kyle started.
“Do I not get to understand the Sam Love?” she asked, her delicate, arched eyebrows arching further which, knowing Gitte for four years, boded bad things. “Or, perhaps, Kia and I should retire to her bedroom and give each other facials?”
Uh-oh.
I pulled out of my brother’s arms in order to steer clear. I got two steps back when Sam, clearly using his training and reading the room, tagged the back of my tank and pulled me two steps further and into his body.
“Darlin’, I think you get me,” Kyle stated though he was wrong, Gitte did not.
“I called off work too and not to drive all the way up here to give Kia a facial,” she retorted then looked to me and said, “Though, your skin is lovely, always. You don’t need one.”
Seriously, I loved Gitte and not just because she thought I had good skin. Unlike Luci, my brother didn’t make me wait to find a good one who I could love like a sister and get drunk with.
“Thanks, honey,” I whispered. “You don’t either.”
She nodded and smiled.
Sam, surprisingly silent, decided not to be silent any longer.
“Right, I’m hungry. Kia’s gotta be hungry. There are no groceries in the house and even if there were, Kia’s boxed up all her kitchen shit so we can’t fix anything. We need food. You can come with us, eat if you’re hungry, don’t if you’re not but either way, while I eat, I’ll fill you in. Both of you. ”
There you go. Sam was being decisive.
“Is Kia gonna get a hole blown in her while we visit the Pancake House?” Kyle asked Sam and instantly I decided on pecan pancakes from the Pancake House for lunch.
“No,” Sam answered Kyle but didn’t elaborate.
Kyle held Sam’s eyes.
I waited.
Gitte waited.
Sam stayed silent.
Memphis yapped.
My stomach growled audibly.
That was when Kyle said, “Let’s get pancakes,” then added, “Or do commandos eat pancakes?”
Gitte grinned.
I bit my lip through my own grin.
Memphis yapped.
Sam muttered, “Serious as Christ, I spend another day in this ‘burg, I need to find a gym.”
That was when I knew I was going to get my pecan pancakes.
And that was also when I laughed.