Chapter Eighteen
Rangers
My headache was gone.
And without the throbbing, a yard sale, my friends and family and with it being the next day, nothing but Sam and me, waiting around, standing in line, hanging in departure lounges (the swish ones where the rich and famous hung which was to say where Sam hung and, now, me) and sitting on planes, I was no longer confused and concerned and trying to talk myself into being fearless.
I was pissed.
This was because Sam had plenty of opportunity to bring up any of a variety of topics, first and foremost whatever he spoke with Lee and Tanner about the day before.
But he didn’t.
In fact, although still unfailingly courteous and demonstrative with affection – holding hands, sitting in the lounge with his arm slung around the back of my seat, reading his Sports Illustrated on the plane with one hand resting on my thigh – he was mostly quiet. He was doing that being aware of his surroundings thing again, this likely because he could not fly with a firearm and the bodyguard who was coming with us (the other one was driving) who, unlike us, was flying coach and couldn’t get into the rich and famous departure lounge, was also unarmed and not with us the whole time.
Though I guessed this, obviously, since Sam didn’t tell me he had any concerns.
I spent this time mostly thinking about everything that crowded my head.
Then I spent it getting pissed about it.
Firstly, it was my life in danger and I felt I should be kept apprised of that situation. Sure, I’d had a tough time with Cooter. And sure, when Sam and I met I’d had my fair share of dramas. But since Crete, I’d been me, moving onward, dealing with things, getting on with life and doing all of this totally drama free. Sam noticed everything, he had to have noticed things had evened out for me and, if I did say so myself, I was handling everything pretty freaking well.
Secondly, in the beginning I’d been clear several times when I didn’t feel like sharing. But Sam didn’t accept that. He pushed it and got what he wanted. When I pushed it, he shut me out.
Rudely and hurtfully.
And he didn’t even mention that night, turning his back on me, falling asleep at my side for the first time since we were together without me tucked close. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t explain. He just went on like it didn’t happen.
And as our plane touched down in Raleigh, I decided… no.
That was not acceptable.
I was not able to share my feelings with Sam as a captive audience in a car however. This was because Sam’s friend “Hap” was picking us up.
“Hap”, Sam had shared with me (a miracle!), was an Army buddy who was still in the Army. Hap had dropped Sam off when he went to Italy, Hap had looked after Sam’s house while he was gone and Hap was picking us up.
And Hap, I suspected (though wasn’t told) would be bringing Sam his hardware or carrying himself.
Hap’s nickname was short for Hap’s other nickname, “Happy”. Hap’s real name was George Cunningham.
And, waiting for us at baggage claim, I found Hap was a good-looking, five foot eleven, brown-crew-cut-haired, smiley-brown-eyed mass of compact but bulky muscle. So much of it, it had grown up his neck so he no longer had one.
“Dude!” he’d shouted so loud several people jumped and turned to look or, that was to say, those who weren’t already staring at Sam started staring at all of us.
Then he treated Sam to a man hug that included back pounding that was so hard I winced at the thuds. They separated and Hap stepped back a foot then faked a one-two punch combo to Sam’s body which Sam didn’t pretend to deflect, he just grinned down at his friend.
Then Sam turned and started, “Hap, this is –”
But he got no further, Hap’s dancing brown eyes came to me and he finished for Sam, “Your seriously fine piece of ass.”
I blinked.
Sam tipped his head back to study the ceiling.
Before I could recover and decide whether to be amused or offended, two iron arms closed around me, I was lifted clean off my feet and shaken about seven times.
“For fuck’s sake, Hap, put Kia down,” Sam growled.
I landed on my flip-flops with a body jarring thud but could not get away even though Hap’s arms went from around me. This was because his hands clamped on my jaw and he grinned huge in my face.
“Babe, you… are… seriously… fine. Shit!” he declared.
“Uh… thanks?” I couldn’t help it. It came out as a question.
He didn’t answer. He let me go but didn’t step back, only leaned back, doing a head-to-toe and back again then he asked curiously, “Now, who would wanna take out a fine piece of ass like this?”
As I suspected, Hap had been briefed.
“Bud, let it go once, that’s twice. There won’t be a third time.” Sam was still growling but it wasn’t a semi-amused, semi-annoyed growl. This one was full on annoyed.
Hap stepped back and tossed Sam a big smile.
Then he looked back at me and stated, “Luci says you’re not only not hard on the eyes but also you’re the freakin’ shit.”
“That’s nice since I think the same way of Luci,” I replied.
“Everyone does,” he told me. “When Gordo landed her…” he trailed off and whistled, feeling this said it all because he strangely (and crudely, I might add) went on with, “Couldn’t even jack off to pictures of her anymore. Gordo could sense that shit and he’d rip your dick off but he’d use your throat to get to it.”
I wasn’t sure but I thought my mouth had dropped open.
Hap finished with, “Sucked.”
“I, uh… bet,” I agreed.
“All right,” Sam got close and claimed me with an arm around my shoulders, curling in and tucking me to his hard side, “not sure you noticed but we’re in baggage claim, not a locker room. And even if we were in a locker room, not feelin’ happy vibes you’re not checkin’ that shit around my woman. So, I’ll say it once, be cool.”
“Dude, calm down,” Hap, apparently and surprisingly unafraid of Sam’s tone, replied at the same time pressing his hands down. “Kia and me, we’re just gettin’ the feel of one another.”
“Since I got a choice, and I do, I’ll tell you to give Kia a different feel for you, one that doesn’t make you look like an asshole,” Sam returned.
Hap turned his unwavering grin to me. “He wants me to make a good impression so you don’t think he’s a dick because I’m a dick.”
“Yeah,” Sam concurred, “that’d be good.”
“He’s not a dick,” Hap assured me.
“I, um… kinda already noticed that,” I replied.
Hap’s grin got bigger. Sam’s arm got tighter.
“Me, the jury’s still out seein’ as I haven’t nailed down a fine piece of ass like you or Luci,” Hap shared.
“Just a bit of friendly advice, you want one, you might want to stop calling us pieces of ass,” I shared in return.
Hap smiled wide.
I couldn’t help it, this guy was so rough around the edges he was jagged. Still, I liked him.
So I smiled back.
Luckily at this juncture the baggage claim started rolling.
We got our bags, or, I should say, Sam and Hap got our bags. I didn’t even carry my carry on and this was because Hap divested me of it. Then we walked to the counter where we could claim Memphis.
They put her doggie crate on the counter and I leaned down to coo through the gate at her.
Memphis yapped, her body vibrating and her tongue trying to lick me through the metal.
There it was. Just like Memphis, her first plane ride didn’t faze her. She was clearly no worse for the wear.
On this relieved thought, I heard Hap exclaim, “Jesus, what the fuck is that?”
I straightened and looked him. “It’s my dog, Memphis.”
“That is not a dog,” Hap declared and I stared at him.
“She is. She’s a King Charles Spaniel,” I informed him.
Hap didn’t tear his eyes away from the crate when he announced scornfully through a lip curl, “She’s a big, brown and white rat with creepy eyes.”
Ohmigod!
Memphis’s eyes weren’t creepy! They were cute!
“She is not,” I returned.
Hap looked at Sam. “Are you sayin’ that thing is gonna be in my truck?”
I put my hands to my hips. “She’s not a thing, she’s a dog. My dog.”
Hap’s eyes came to me. “Babe, you got bad guys after you. A rat won’t do shit to a bad guy unless it’s got fleas or is carrying the plague. You need a dog with balls. A German Shepherd. A Doberman. A Rottie.”
Memphis yapped though I couldn’t read if her yap was agreeing with Hap or if she was offended.
As for me, I decided I was pissed again, this time at Hap.
Before I could give Hap indication of my mood, Sam stepped in.
“First, yeah, Hap, Memphis is gonna be in your truck. Second, we got folks bearin’ down on us and I’m not in the mood to sign autographs. I’m in the mood to sit on my deck and drink a beer. And last, we got a dog who’s been cooped up for awhile so we need to get her some time with some grass.”
I glanced around and saw two huddles of people eyeing us. One had decided on an approach and had instigated it, one was still considering it.
I turned from them and gave Hap a glare. Hap gave me a grin. I ignored it, grabbed the handle to Memphis’s crate and stomped with Hap and Sam to the parking garage.
We luckily escaped the approach of the autograph seekers and made it to the garage unmolested. Sam and Hap loaded our bags in the back of Hap’s SUV. I loaded Memphis and I in the backseat. Sam climbed in front, Hap behind the wheel and away we went.
It was, unfortunately, over a two hour drive from Raleigh to Sam’s place at Kingston Beach which was outside Wilmington. After his time being stationed in Georgia, Sam had been, and Hap still was, stationed at Fort Bragg in Fayetteville where Hap lived. Sam had a place there when he was active duty but also had his place at the beach. Since Sam was discharged, he’d sold his place close to the base and now just had the house in Kingston.
As soon as he could, Hap stopped so we could let Memphis have a wander and take care of business. And, since I’d never been to North Carolina, the first half hour of the trip was interesting. This was not only taking in the passing landscape but also listening to Hap gab nonstop to Sam, filling him in on stuff that had happened with mutual friends while Sam had been gone, hearing names I’d heard in passing from Sam.
Then, when Hap ran out of news and both men in the front fell silent, as I was prone to do on car rides, I got bored.
Memphis did not. She stood back paws to my thigh, front paws to the window ledge on the door, nose to the crack in the window, drinking in North Carolina with her doggie senses. I knew she liked it because she licked her chops often and wagged her tail even more.
Finally, we hit Kingston and I instantly fell in love. It was not a mix of old and new, it was just old. The main street consisted of two sides of two-story, sturdy, red brick buildings decorated with American flags and pots of flowers. There were some graceful white-columned structures with rolling lawns on big lots that were stereotypical of the South. There were also some houses built close together and painted in bright pastels that were really cool. And last, you could smell the sea air and hear the cry of the gulls. It was just busy enough to seem populated and friendly but not overwhelming.
I could totally see why Sam picked this place. It was awesome.
Hap took us slightly out of the town and turned onto a narrow road that managed somehow to be attractive while at the same time not inviting strangers. This was because of the big sign that said, “Private Road. Private Beach. Homeowners Only.”
Although it was a private road that led to houses on a private beach, the homes were surprisingly mostly older and small-ish, not the grand manses I would have suspected a rich, famous hot guy to live in. They were also built relatively close together. Every once in awhile you could see someone bought a couple of lots, scraped the old houses and put up modern, starkly designed (but cool) beach houses. But mostly the houses seemed vintage and established.
As we closed on the dead end, Hap lifted a hand and nabbed a remote from his sun visor. He hit the button then tossed it to Sam who caught it. Then he slowed and turned.
It was then I realized that regardless of my mood, I was excited to see where Sam lived. He called it his house. He talked about his deck. But he had not described it. I knew he had a place in Indy when he was playing for the Colts but sold it when he quit. I knew he had a place in LA while he was playing for the Colts where he lived outside football season and he sold that too. Ditto with his place by the base. This was now his only property.
And I suspected it would be everything, as the tall, black, attractive but not entirely imposing gate swung open and Hap drove through, I saw that it was not.
It was not a huge, modern, starkly designed (but cool) beach house on a triple lot.
It was a small, established, charming beach house on a single lot with a similarly small, established beach house close to it on one side, nothing but sand dunes and grass on the other.
There was a short, curving, black asphalt drive that grew wide and led to a two car garage. The drive also swung along and up the side of the house. I could see the dune that the house was built into jutting out from the house on either side. And all the green space around the drive was set with cool, tall, what I would guess were native grasses in bunches. The house was wide, squat and had two stories. And there was a white-painted, narrow walkway that wrapped around the house.
Hap drove up the side of the drive and we unloaded. As the men got the bags, I stood carrying Memphis’s crate with a Memphis I’d reloaded in it. Then Sam led us toward the front of the house facing the ocean.
I followed, Hap followed me. We trundled up a white-painted plank ramp and there it was.
The beach.
The ocean.
Beautiful.
Sam didn’t slow to drink in the view and around he went to a long deck that had two tall flagpoles at each end. One flew an American flag and under it was a black flag and on that there was what looked like a yellow diamond from which two wings jutted out the sides. On the other pole was a black flag with a gray skull wearing a forest green beret with an insignia on it, neon green fire shooting out the sides and crossed rifles at the skull’s jaw.
I stopped and stared at it as Sam went on and Hap came up behind me.
“Rangers,” Hap said and my eyes moved from the flag to him.
“Sorry?”
He extended his head to the flag. “Rangers. Army Rangers,” he stated then his head jerked to the other flagpole. “Airborne.” Then he grinned. “Figure you know the one with the stars and stripes.”
I stared at him a second then I looked at the flags.
Rangers?
I could not say I was hip on all the elite training a man in the Army could do.
What I could say was that I knew what a Ranger was. Everyone did.
They were the baddest of the badasses in the world.
And I’d read the book about Sam and it said not one thing about Rangers.
I looked back at Hap, my brows knit. “Was Sam a Ranger?”
His face changed. The grin stayed in place and he was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t see if it still lit his eyes but I could tell he was no longer committed to it.
“Maybe I should let Sam tell you about that,” he muttered over the waves crashing against the sand.
Right. Like that would happen.
Woodenly, I turned toward the house, taking it in. It was shingle-sided, the shingles painted gray with gray-ish brown shingles on the roof. The woodwork was white. The deck had a plethora of white Adirondack chairs with curved footstools that, pushed together, made the chairs more like lounges. There were also a couple squat round tables. It led to a deck-long screened porch that, when I walked through, I saw had a rough wood picnic table with two benches on one side of the porch and wide wraparound bench on the other side covered in dark gray cushions strewn with huge, fluffy light gray and bright yellow pillows.
Through the double front doors I was in the house.
I wanted to take it in but I also needed to let Memphis free so I got out of Hap’s way, shoved my sunglasses back on my head, set down her crate, crouched by it and turned her loose. She burst out, emitted a couple of yaps then put her nose to the floor and commenced her voyage of discovery.
I straightened and did the same but with my eyes as Hap moved up the stairs that were in the middle of the space.
To my right, a big seating area. Lots of windows. To my left, another big seating area that included a big flat screen TV. More windows. To the right back, over a bar with stools, a huge, modern, clean kitchen with white cupboards, a big island and lots of gray, dark gray and black speckled, shining granite countertops. Then there was a wall on the other side up which were the stairs with a white wooden railing on their open side and dark wood steps (the same wood as the floors underfoot) leading up to the second floor. On the other side of the stairs was the dining room that had a long, rectangular dining room table, more windows and a low chest.
I was surprised to see it didn’t look expensive, posh or like it had been crafted by a designer’s hand. It looked comfortable, welcoming and very, very masculine. There was a lot of space and there was also a lot of furniture. Then again, there was so much space there could be a lot of furniture and it still seemed airy and roomy and not cluttered. Blacks and grays abounded. Some hints of yellow, army green and red. The furniture was fluffy, wide-seated and invited you to hang out. Any tables were attractive but utilitarian, they were meant to catch keys, mail, books, beverages or a consumed plate of nachos. Decorative touches were minimal.
There were some framed photos and two framed flags that were much like the flags outside. One black with the word “Ranger” in yellow in a banner partially covering a star and under it was a gray skull over wings coming from a sword with blue curved embellishments all in a gray circle. The other was white with a black badge that had the profile of a white eagle’s head in it over a banner that stated “Airborne” in yellow.
And that was pretty much it. No Colts or Bruins jerseys pinned on mats and framed. No shrines to Sam’s life in football, trophies, plaques, team pictures or shots of fabulous plays to be remembered. And no shrines to Sam’s life in the Army, pictures with buds wearing fatigues and casually handling massive, scary automatic weapons or frames displaying patches or medals.
I thought this was interesting but I didn’t know why.
Memphis wandered into the kitchen.
I wandered to the table by the door.
In a frame sitting on the table was a younger Sam wearing a suit, smiling his blinding, trademark gorgeous smile. He had his arm around a handsome man nearly as tall as Sam wearing an Army uniform. The man was also smiling a blinding smile much like Sam’s. His brother Ben. On Ben’s other side was an attractive, older woman with a proud smile and clear Hispanic ancestry, her arm also around Ben but her body was turned to him, tucked close to his side with his arm around her. Sam’s mother, Marisela.
My body jumped and I turned when I heard Sam’s voice saying, “Baby, gonna hit the store.” I watched his long legs then the rest of his body coming down the stairs as he continued, “Hap’s gonna stick around. I’ll get enough to cover us and we’ll go back out tomorrow.” He made it to me and wrapped his arms loosely around me, his chin tipping down to hold my eyes. “I’ll get some beer, coffee, milk and dog food. We’ll get takeout tonight. Hap’s gotta get back to the base so he’ll leave after dinner. You need me to get anything else?”
“Breakfast?” I suggested.
“Got oatmeal. Got granola. I’ll get some fruit and yogurt. Anything else?”
I shook my head.
Sam dropped his and kissed my nose.
He pulled back an inch and I saw the warmth in his eyes when he whispered, “Make yourself at home.”
Make myself at home.
That was nice, so nice.
Boy, I wished I wasn’t pissed at him.
I nodded again.
He gave me a grin.
Then he let me go, walked into the kitchen and disappeared behind the stairs. Thirty seconds later, I heard a garage door go up then the growl of what had to be a truck or SUV (a big one) then a few seconds later a garage door going down.
It hit me then I didn’t even know what kind of vehicle Sam drove.
Then it hit me that everything that was hitting me about Sam was a surprise.
Then it hit me even more than it had been hitting me that I didn’t know anything about my boyfriend.
“Yo!” Hap called, my body jolted again and I saw he too was downstairs and grinning at me. “You’re in a different time zone, babe, but you didn’t fly to China. You okay?”
No.
I wasn’t.
My boyfriend was a Ranger and I didn’t know.
My life was in danger and I had no clue what was going on with that.
My mother was closing on my house in four days and, after that, I’d be homeless.
I had no job and I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
And I’d just flown to North Carolina with my boyfriend who I knew was a gentleman, he had a great sense of humor, my family and friends liked him, he was loyal to his friends and family, he was phenomenal in bed, he liked me and he also liked my dog.
But other than that, although I’d spent a month with the man nearly nonstop, I really didn’t know a thing about him. Or, I should say, nowhere near what I should know, nowhere near what he knew about me and not enough of what I knew was important.
So no.
I wasn’t okay.
“Great!” I chirped my lie then asked, “After I get Memphis a drink, can we take a walk on the beach?”
Hap approached, still grinning and answered, “Yeah, but only if I go with you. It’ll be a hit to my street cred, takin’ that rat for a walk on the beach but I’ll get in a bar fight or something this week, make up for it.”
I smiled at him.
Yes. Hap was carrying. I didn’t know where considering his dark gray t-shirt was skintight but he was wearing black cargo pants and they had a bunch of pockets so maybe he had his weapon skillfully hidden somewhere there.
Whatever.
That was his gig. My gig was getting my dog some agua, finding her leash and clearing my thoughts by walking the beach.
“Cool,” I grinned back. “Let’s go.”
* * * * *
“Drive safe,” Sam murmured, shaking Hap’s hand. “Owe you,” he finished.
“You bought dinner and beer and think you still got markers, dude,” Hap returned intriguingly, grinning up at Sam then he turned to me and engulfed me in a bear hug.
I hugged him back saying, “Text Sam when you get home.”
He pulled slightly away, didn’t drop his arms but did give me a big smile. “Babe, I don’t check in.”
“Practice,” I replied. “You ever land a fine piece of ass, she’ll expect that.”
His smile got bigger. “Killer. I get how to take care of a hot chick lessons from Sam’s new pe… I mean, woman. I like it.”
“Maybe you should take notes,” I suggested on a head tilt and a grin.
His smile didn’t waver, his arms gave me a squeeze then he let me go, turned away and flicked out two fingers as he moved to his SUV.
Sam moved to me, sliding an arm around my shoulders then curling me so my front was in his side.
Hap swung in, fired up his truck, backed out of the drive and through this, Sam and I didn’t move. Sam also didn’t wave but I did. Then when Hap was out the gate and on his way, Sam’s arm came up, he pressed the button on the remote he was carrying and the gate started to swing closed.
That was when Sam turned us and headed us to the walkway. He kept his arm around my shoulders and we walked side by side.
We made it to the deck and Sam muttered, “Gonna drop this inside and get another beer. Want one?”
I looked up at Sam and shook my head. Sam tipped up his chin slightly and let me go. He headed inside. I headed to the railing of the deck.
The sun was beginning to set, it was late. Sam had come back from the grocery store before we got back from our walk on the beach. This was because Memphis loved the beach so I let her have a lot of time there. This was also because I needed that time to clear my head. I knew this because, even with that amount of time, I still hadn’t cleared my head. Hap had walked with Memphis and me but he did this mostly silent. I didn’t know what to make of this, whether he was sensing my mood or whether he was trying to take a read on me.
We arrived back and beers were opened. Hap partook but sipped since he was going to be getting in a vehicle. We sat on the deck and chatted or, I should say, Hap and I chatted and at this juncture it was clear Hap was trying to get a read on me mostly because our chatting consisted of Hap asking jovial, amusing questions that were jovial and amusing to disguise that they were nosy as all get out.
I didn’t have anything to hide so I answered them.
This was clearly satisfactory to both Hap and Sam and I knew I’d earned Hap’s approval when the guard he actually did disguise came crashing down and Hap, who seemingly was as happy as his nickname, became seriously freaking happy.
We ordered takeout. Sam went to go get it. We ate it with more beers and then Hap declared he had to go home.
Which brought me to now.
I heard the screen door bang shut then I heard Memphis’s claws clicking on the wood of the deck and I turned to see Memphis and Sam approaching, Memphis a lot quicker.
I bent and she jumped into my arms.
As I straightened, I told Sam, “I don’t want her out off her lead. Not until she gets used to her new space. Your deck is open. She could take off and not know how to get home.”
“She’s fine,” Sam replied, leaning into the railing and giving Memphis’s head a rub before dropping his hand, lifting his other and taking a drag off his beer.
Memphis began to struggle to get down and really, she’d been there all of a few hours. I didn’t want her out without a lead until she knew the lay of the land.
I started to the house. “I’m gonna take her back in.”
Sam’s fingers curled around my arm, halting my progress. “Baby, like I said, she’s fine.”
“She doesn’t know the lay of the land.”
“She knows your call, she knows mine. She’s fine.”
“She’s my dog, Sam!”
Yes, that was what I said. And yes, it came out with a lot more heat and volume than befitted our current conversation. And I knew it surprised Sam because he let me go and his chin jerked back.
I decided to go with it. Fuck it. I wasn’t pissed about my dog but I was still pissed and so what? I had a hot guy boyfriend. So he was rich. So he was great in bed. So he was famous. So he was a lot nicer than my husband. That last, frankly, was not hard to do.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t get pissed and act like a bitch even when the situation at hand didn’t warrant it. I was a woman. Women, as far as I could tell from my girlfriends’ conversations, did that all the time.
And anyway, the situation not at hand definitely warranted it.
Therefore I turned and marched to the door to the porch, through that and into the house where I let Memphis down. She yapped then her head tilted to the side. She’d read my tone and was doggie confused.
I didn’t think I could explain it to her in a way she’d understand so I didn’t.
“You got a problem?” I heard Sam ask and I turned to see he’d followed me.
He looked displeased, not exactly angry but definitely not ready to break out into a smile.
I was suddenly uncertain of my commitment to my tantrum. This was because Sam being displeased bothered me. Sam was not moody. Sam was pretty laidback. This wasn’t to say he didn’t have emotions or hesitate to show them but mostly he was mellow.
And tonight, he’d been mellower than I’d ever seen him.
Clearly, for Sam, it was good to be home, down his private, homeowners only drive, behind his gate, in his house with its kickass security system and spending time with his friend. He had been relaxed to the point it could even be completely relaxed, though I couldn’t know that but that was how it seemed.
Now, I’d shattered that.
Shit.
“Kia, I asked you a question,” Sam prompted when I stared at him and didn’t answer.
“She’s my dog, Sam,” I repeated.
“No argument from me on that, sweetheart,” Sam returned.
Great. He was calling me sweetheart.
Yes, displeased.
He went on, “But she’s also smart and she’s a people dog. She’s with you or me constantly when we’re in the house. She didn’t wander all day yesterday when she was out in your front yard during the sale. And she’s smart enough not to wander now, especially not knowin’ the lay of the land.”
“You’re probably right but I’d rather not take any chances. She was a puppy when we got her, except for staying at Dad and Mom’s house she’s never been anywhere else so I don’t know how she’ll behave in a new environment,” I replied.
“All right then why the fuck didn’t you say that instead of biting my head off?” Sam asked.
“Because you stated in your ‘Sam Way’,” I gave the last two words verbal quotation marks, “that she was fine. In other words, she was fine, I should shut up and do as you say.”
Uh-oh.
His brows drew together over narrowed eyes and he asked, “My Sam Way?”
“You can be bossy,” I informed him.
He took in a breath and studied me. Then he crossed his arms on his chest.
Then he invited, “Right, Kia, tell me what’s really up your ass.”
Uh-oh again.
And not uh-oh that Sam was getting more pissed.
Uh-oh because I was.
“What’s up my ass?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Sam answered immediately.
“Were you a Ranger?” I returned and his brows snapped together again, this time in confusion.
“Come again?”
“Were you a Ranger?” I repeated.
He looked to his right at the flag on the wall then back at me and answered, “Uh… yeah.”
“I didn’t know that,” I told him.
“So?”
“You didn’t tell me.”
He studied me again then said, “Sweetheart, you internet stalked me. How could you not know that?”
“Is it common knowledge?” I asked.
“Uh… yeah,” he said again.
Really? How on earth did I miss that?
“It is?” I queried, surprised.
“Yeah, Kia, Jesus. What’s the big fuckin’ deal?”
“It’s not in that book about you,” I stated.
“No, it isn’t. There’s shit in that book that’s true and very few people knew, until that book came out. There’s shit in that book that’s missin’. And there’s shit in that book that’s conjecture and all that isn’t true. Whoever wrote that piece of trash missed me bein’ a Ranger. Don’t know how, it’s one of the few things that isn’t a secret that they didn’t include. I also don’t care. It was a hack job. They knew just enough to get a payday and made up just enough to make that payday big.”
“What parts were missing and what parts were conjecture?” I asked.
“You don’t have the clearance to know the first and I don’t have all night to explain the last. Now, what I’d like to know is why you not knowin’ I was a Ranger made you turn bitch?”
Oh man.
I didn’t like that.
“Don’t call me a bitch, Sam,” I whispered.
“You got another way to describe how you’re actin’?” he shot back.
“I didn’t know you were a Ranger.”
“And this is my problem because…?” He let that hang.
“And it’s also over twenty-four hours since you had your powwow with Lee and Tanner and I don’t know about that either,” I retorted, finally bringing the matter in hand.
He took in another deep breath and on the exhale murmured an annoyed, “I see.”
“Are you going to tell me about that sometime in this century?” I asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, but, see, yesterday, sweetheart, you let go of the physical manifestations of your life with that piece of shit which I suspect was profound for you. It also took effort and you were busy all day. Then you got a headache likely because it took effort, you were busy all day and what you were doin’ was profound for you. Then, since I know how tight you are with your family and your posse and your stay here and away from them is indefinite, I figured you’d want to enjoy your time with them so I wanted you to have that and not burden you with outside shit.”
Damn. That made sense and it was nice.
Still.
“Well, thanks for that Sam but I did ask twice to be told and I can see you not wanting to do it through that and me having a headache but you’ve had all day today.”
“Yeah? Should we get in a discussion about people wanting to whack you when we can be overheard in a departure lounge or on a plane?”
Now he was being sarcastic.
But damn again because he was also right.
He kept talking.
“And, you think maybe you can give me a chance to relax and be home, which I haven’t been, Kia, a lot longer than you, and spend some time with a buddy of mine without that shit intruding for awhile?”
Oh man.
Now I was feeling like I was a bitch and a worse one than I thought because he had valid reasons for his decisions and I hadn’t asked nice. I’d been, well… a bitch.
“Okay, honey, maybe I was out of line –” I started.
His brows went up. “Maybe?”
Now hang on a second.
As soon as I remembered, I forgot to stop being a bitch.
“Okay, Sam, I can see you had your reasons but it’s not like I asked you to tell me when you planned to take out the trash. This shit is kind of important, it affects me and you know, my Dad knows, my brother knows but the person it affects, me, does not know. I’m sorry to cut into your relaxed vibe but someone out there might be hunting me in order to kill me. It’s kinda weighing on my mind.”
Sam’s jaw flexed.
I waited.
A muscle in Sam’s cheek jumped.
I waited.
Then I was done waiting and prompted, “Well?”
“Lee and Tanner found the broker.”
I blinked.
Then I breathed, “What?”
“They tracked down the broker. They also…” he hesitated, clearly searching for a word and then found a scary one that said it all without saying anything, “persuaded him to get a message to the man to call the hit off. Easy payday. He backs off, confirms via e-mail he got the message and is a memory. He keeps his pay, the broker keeps his commission and you breathe easy. Ozzie gets fucked in this scenario seein’ as he can’t dismantle that bit of trade but I don’t give a fuck. You’re safe and that’s all I care about.”
“I’m safe?” I whispered.
He shook his head. “We haven’t received e-mail confirmation. What we do know is that the broker has been contacted by that bitch since your dead husband died and he’s been contacted to tell him the job was still on.”
Oh my God.
“She did that?”
Sam nodded.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“Something else Tanner found out was that, in case Clementine was unable to collect your life insurance, that bitch did. Clementine named her as second beneficiary.”
God, Cooter was such slime.
“I cancelled the policy,” I told him.
“I know but wouldn’t matter if you did. Her bein’ behind your death would mean she wouldn’t collect. In fact, in one of my briefs with Oswald, he told me your insurance company came sniffing around Clementine’s death to ascertain if there was foul play that would invalidate his policy.”
My breath went out of me.
Therefore I had to force out my, “What?”
Sam shook his head. “You’re good. Murder is covered in that policy and Cloverfield was not involved in their dealings. But I don’t think she cares her actions invalidate your policy or that it’s cancelled. I think the bitch just wants you dead.”
“But…” I paused then went on, “wouldn’t it be important for Ozzie to at least have a chat with this broker so he could tell her Vanessa is still plotting to kill me?”
“Don’t need it. She purchased an extra cell to communicate with the broker. Seein’ as she’s just a bitch and not a criminal mastermind, she didn’t get a burner. But she did get it under an alias and gave her Mom’s address to send the statements. Tanner and Lee found it, tapped into it, taped conversations, transcribed them and also got copies of the statements and printouts of the texts. Oswald has all that shit and all of it is admissible mainly because Oswald is not gonna share how he procured it and is gonna say he and his boys got it. He’s gotta call in some markers to get warrants dated appropriately but luckily he’s got those markers to call. Yesterday, they arrested her again seein’ as continuing to conspire to commit murder when you’re out on bond after being arrested for conspiracy to commit murder is a violation of bond. She’ll now most likely be held without bail until her trial where it is also very likely she’ll go down and hard.”
I was stuck on an early word so I asked, “A burner?”
“A disposable phone.”
Right.
Then the rest of it penetrated.
“So this is good news,” I pointed out, my heart beating faster but the muscles in my neck getting looser.
“Yeah it is except the part where she didn’t call off the hit, we now know a man is waiting for his moment to take you out and until we get the confirmation e-mail we have to assume he still is.”
Yeah, except that part.
It was my turn to take a deep breath and I did.
Then I said softly, “This is mostly good news, Sam. I don’t understand why you waited to tell me.”
“Because the part of it that’s not good is really not good. You’re comin’ back to you. Every day, you smile more, laugh more, more of the real you comes out or you put back in place more of her. And your friends and family are visibly relieved to have you back, you, their girl. You’re not there but you’re getting there and I suspected every step you took to release the life you led with that asshole was leading you there. I wanted you to have that. Not a reminder of just how much of an asshole that asshole was.”
This made sense too. And it was also nice.
However.
“Isn’t it up to me to make that decision?” I asked.
“No,” Sam answered instantly and I blinked.
“No?”
He shook his head.
“Sam –” I started but he interrupted me.
“We had this conversation. You agreed. And we’re not havin’ this conversation again.”
Now I was confused.
“We’ve had this conversation?”
“Are you my woman?”
I was still confused. How were we back to that?
“I don’t get it,” I told him.
“Kia, sweetheart, are you my woman?”
“Mostly,” I replied without thinking, encroaching into territory we needed to explore but I didn’t think it sensible to breach at this juncture.
I watched his brows snap together again and I also watched his entire body get tight.
“Mostly?” he asked quietly and very, very scarily.
Oh man.
“Yes,” I changed my answer hurriedly. “I’m your woman.”
“That’s a better answer,” he whispered again very, very scarily.
“Sam –”
He cut me off again.
“I protect my woman as I see fit. You agreed to that.”
“Well, yes, I did,” I concurred. “But how does this fit into that?”
“I protect my woman however she needs to be protected and whatever she needs protection from.”
Oh.
Now I got it.
“So, essentially, what you’re saying is you decide how I need to be protected, what I need to be protected from and therefore there are times when you’ll decide what I need to know and when.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No in the sense that there’s nothing ‘essentially’ about your statement.”
He couldn’t be serious.
“Sam!” I cried.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m not a little girl and that’s just… it’s just… I don’t know what it is but it isn’t right.”
“How isn’t it right?” he shot back.
I threw out an arm saying, “I don’t know, it just isn’t.”
Sam uncrossed his arms and planted his hands on his hips, leaning in and exploding, “Jesus, fuck, Kia! When this shit is over we will never be back here so when it’s done, we won’t have this problem unless, hope to God not, some other shit comes up. But this shit isn’t over. There is a woman out there who wants you dead. She’s incarcerated now but the man she hired isn’t. This is serious shit and we agreed I’ll deal with it so I’ll fuckin’ deal with it and, sweetheart, I wake up and live and breathe worry that I’ll miss somethin’ or someone will fuck up and the consequences of that is you bein’ dead and now we know that threat is real. You wake up and go on viewings with your girl and giggle yourselves sick. You sit with your Mom after eating a chicken breast stuffed with cheese and surrounded by three slices of bacon which explains why she needed a heart valve replaced though she clearly didn’t get the message and you two gossip and cackle about everyone in town. You didn’t ask to meet Lee and Tanner. You haven’t asked to meet the men who are lookin’ out for you. I assumed that meant you were puttin’ this shit in my hands where it belongs. And I was glad of it. The only thing I have to hang onto is I got control of this situation and my woman can giggle with her friend and gossip with her mother. I might worry, she keeps eatin’ her mother’s food, she’ll need a heart valve replacement in ten years but I see you emerging from the shit he left you, I’m good with that and can focus on the other shit he left you. What I’m not good with is havin’ this conversation that you promised me we would not have.”
He stopped speaking and scowled at me.
I pressed my lips together.
Then I defended myself. “Okay, I get that but I have to tell you I wasn’t aware of all the nuances of that agreement and I still might not be.”
“Then let’s clear this shit up,” he offered. “You trust that I got matters in hand. You trust I’m lookin’ out for you. I pay for makin’ you safe. And you trust that the decisions I make are done for rational reasons I’ve thought through with you in mind. Does that work for you?”
“Um… yes,” I muttered.
“Fuck,” Sam muttered back.
Since we seemed to be concluding things, I thought it important to add, “I still don’t want Memphis going outside off the lead until she’s more accustomed to your house.”
Sam again scowled at me.
Then he asked, “Fuck me, how the fuck can you piss me off to an extreme and then, right after, be cute and make me want to laugh?”
I was being cute?
I thought it prudent not to ask that question and instead remain silent. So I did.
Sam didn’t.
He ordered, “Come here.”
It was then I thought it prudent to do as he ordered. So I did.
When I did, Sam’s arms folded around me and I returned the gesture.
He tipped his head down and caught my eyes. “We good?”
“I don’t like it that you live and breathe worry about me.”
“Soon, I won’t have to.”
I pressed my lips together. Then I nodded.
Then I did a face plant in his chest.
“I didn’t ask to meet the guys because, well… with everything else, it kinda slipped my mind,” I told his chest.
“You wanna meet ‘em?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll arrange that.”
I sighed. Then I whispered, “Okay.”
One of his hands slid up my back, my neck and into my hair where his fingers cupped my head. His other arm held tight.
Okay, well, there it was. We had that out.
It wasn’t everything but it was something.
I still wanted more.
But standing in Sam’s arms, in Sam’s house which underlined the fact he was definitely not a euro-trash Lamborghini man and doing it after he made logical explanations that all were embedded in looking out for me one way or another not to mention he admitted to living and breathing worry about me, I’d take this for now.
Definitely.
* * * * *
I was close. Oh God, I was close.
I was on my hands and knees in front of Sam… no, strike that. I was on one hand and my knees in front of Sam, my other hand was between my legs, my finger adding to the magic Sam’s thrusting cock was making.
It was going to happen, I knew it.
And, as ever, it was going to be fabulous.
Then, before it did, Sam pulled out. I whimpered in surprise and was about to protest when his fingers wrapped around my forearms, he yanked me up so my back was pinned to his front and my arms were pinned in front of me with his hands at my wrists.
Then his mouth came to me ear and he growled, “Are you my woman?”
I opened my mouth to speak but he kept growling.
“Or are you mostly my woman?”
Oh God.
I should have known he wasn’t going to let that slide.
“Sam,” I whispered and his hands gave my arms a gentle shake when I said no more.
“Answer me, Kia. Who am I fucking right now?”
No one since he pulled out.
I didn’t point that out.
Instead, I turned my head and pressed my temple into his neck. “Baby –”
“Answer me.”
“Are you my man?”
Yes. That’s what came out. Naked, on my knees, held captive by Sam who was the same, that was what I blurted.
He transferred my wrists into one of his hands, his other hand went away, I felt him move, adjust then I felt his cock drive up and fill me, taking my knees off the bed.
My head shot back. God, I loved being connected to him.
“What does that feel like?” he growled.
It felt unbelievably good.
“Honey,” I whispered.
He ground up as his lips went to the skin under my ear and he whispered back, “You have me, Kia.”
My body went perfectly still.
His fingers tightened on my wrists and he repeated, “You have me.”
I didn’t know what he meant.
But I hoped I did.
He kept whispering, “You just have to take me how I can give it, baby.”
I closed my eyes.
“You with me?” he asked.
No. I was not.
But I was thinking, maybe, I was closer.
“Baby,” he ground deeper and his lips moved up, his teeth nipping my earlobe and I trembled, “are you with me?”
“Yes, honey,” I lied.
He pulled out again then I was on my back, his hands were on my hips, he was sitting back on his heels, he slid me up his thighs, I pressed mine to his sides then held me steady, staring down at me in his king-size bed, his eyes intense, his face intense, as he fucked hard until I came hard and so did he.
* * * * *
It was later. After I’d cleaned up. After I’d pulled on a nightgown. After Sam had turned out the lights, tucked me into his side and Memphis had joined us to sprawl in the vast expanse left to her in Sam’s big bed.
His breaths were coming even. My eyelids were drooping.
Then his hand drifted up my back, into my hair, it fisted and twisted.
It didn’t hurt but it made my eyelids stop drooping.
“None of that ‘mostly’ shit again, Kia,” he rumbled into the dark, his voice deeper, rougher and not like velvet.
He wasn’t angry, I knew that tone. And he wasn’t annoyed, I knew that one too. He also didn’t sound tired because I knew the sound of that too.
This was something else.
Something new.
I stared at his shadowed chest knowing somewhere in my soul I’d hurt him when I said that.
I’d hurt him.
Oh God.
What was happening?
I didn’t get it but what I did get was that I was thinking Sam had told me earlier that I couldn’t ask. Instead, I had to take it as I got it.
I closed my eyes.
Then I did the only thing I could do in that moment, for him and for me.
I whispered on a squeeze of my arm around his gut, “Okay, baby.”
His hand relaxed, sifted through my hair then drifted down to become an arm wrapped around my waist.
Sam fell asleep about thirty seconds after Memphis.
It took me a lot longer.