Ford
As I watch Adelaide slip the satiny sheath dress over her head, it slithers down her body like a delicious shiver. After weeks of living in dirty khakis and T-shirts, it’s fucking amazing to see her dressed like this.
Fucking is all right, but I promised her a night in town. As she reaches down to fasten her stiletto heels, I can’t take my eyes off her.
A night in town with her. A small enough thing to ask before we can come back to the hotel, and I can fuck her with those same heels digging into my back.
“Almost ready to go?” Addie asks, fluffing her hair.
She’s watching me in the mirror.
I pull on dress pants and find a nice-enough shirt in my bag. Even after steamy shower sex and round two in bed, I can feel her eyes on me appreciatively as I slip the shirt over my shoulders, my muscles bunching and releasing.
I can still feel her hands on me, and I wonder if she can still taste me in the back of her throat. I shake my head a little and take a deep breath.
Better not keep thinking that way if we’re after we get out the door.
I button my shirt, and she grins at me. “You look great.”
“You, too,” I say, rewarding her with a fleeting grin, but then I turn and grab my shoulder holster, slipping it on and adjusting the gun under my arm before putting on a jacket.
I see her frown as I grab another holster and strap it to my leg, under the pantleg. The finishing touch is a small knife, which I slip up under my sleeve.
Just another night in the town doesn’t mean I’m not going to be prepared.
“Jesus,” Addie comments. “We’re going to dinner, not raiding a secret enemy stronghold.”
“You never know,” I tell her, adjusting my clothing so there are no telltale bulges. “Can’t be too safe.”
I step closer to her, brushing my fingertips down the satin stretched over her breasts.
Her nipples strain against the fabric.
Even though I can tell she’s irritated at all the weapons, she can’t help but shiver at my touch. Dammit, she’s so hot, and I’ll bet that knowing I’m carrying so much weaponry’s actually turning her on, in a twisted kind of way she’d never admit to.
I lean in and brush my lips against her temple, saying, “Can’t have anything happening to you.”
“I’m not some precious commodity that has to be guarded,” Addie says, her voice still tinged with irritation, but I let it pass.
Stepping out into the Nairobi night, we’re suddenly awash in noise and traffic, with colorful crowds of people swirling around us.
“We’d better get a cab,” I say, taking her arm protectively.
The air is cool now that the sun’s gone down, and the warmth of her skin above her elbow feels good as my fingers cover it.
“Traffic’s brutal here.”
I walk us over to the curb where a taxi’s idling, and I help her in.
The lights flash by as we travel into the CBD, where most of the largest companies are headquartered and the best restaurants are found. By unspoken agreement, we head for an expensive restaurant with European food.
I need a change from African food. Give me red meat, a nice juicy steak, and French fries.
After stuffing ourselves, I lean back with a sigh.
“I needed that,” I say, scraping the last bit of cheesecake off my plate. “Ready to go back to the hotel?” I swirl the dregs of my drink before draining it.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Adelaide says, playfully shaking her finger in my face.
Do women attend some sort of class to learn all those corny little flirtatious moves?
“One of the other doctors recommended a great nightclub. I want to dance.”
I groan. “You didn’t say anything about dancing,” I mutter.
“And just what do you think it means to go out in the town?” she says, putting down her credit card for the waiter. “It’s barely ten p.m. The night is young.”
“I can think of other ways to dance,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively, which only makes her giggle.
“Plenty of time for that,” she replies lightly, running one finger down the exposed square of chest at my neck until I inhale sharply.
Jesus.
The club’s bright with flashing neon, and the thump of hard rock music assails us as soon as we get out of the taxi.
I tighten my fingers on her elbow again while my eyes dart back and forth from habit, evaluating every shadowy corner and dark figure for potential threats. Once inside the club, we find a table near the dance floor.
I can see Adelaide’s toes already starting to tap to the beat as I order drinks.
“Let’s dance!” she yells impatiently above the din of the music.
I’m still scoping out the club, which isn’t easy given how dark it is, except for the spotlights on the stage where a band’s making over amplified noise that vaguely sounds like music. I glance over at the bar, and suddenly, I feel my face tighten with anger.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Addie abruptly, threading my way through the tables.
I approach a guy standing at the bar, one foot casually propped on the foot rail.
Demetri in the flesh.
He has some sort of tattoo snaking up his arm and a piercing glints in his ear. All new since the last time we crossed paths.
Now he really looks like the kind of guy you’d hate to meet in a dark alley…or a bright street, for that matter. As I move closer, Demetri sneers, and I position my right hand nearer the hidden gun under my arm.
“Demetri,” I say, voice oozing with poison. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I glance at Addie, who has gotten up and is making her way over to us.
Fuck, why can’t she just stay put?
She should be able to tell that this guy looks like serious trouble, but then again, I’ve got other cronies who don’t look any different but are actually pretty good guys.
As she approaches, I hiss at Demetri, “I thought you were gone for good.”
“Just looking for my next job,” Demetri answers easily, not seeming to be bothered by my attitude.
As Adelaide joins us, he eyes her up and down and says, “And who might this be?”
His gaze sweeps across her breasts, and my hands clench into fists as I struggle not to hit him.
“None of your business,” I growl, putting an arm around Addie’s shoulders.
There’s a sudden gleam of interest in Demetri’s eyes as he’s clearly intrigued by my possessive gesture.
Damn it.
I suddenly drop my arm from her back, knowing I’ve just given something away to this guy.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Oh, so that’s the way it is?” Demetri drawls.
He holds his hand out to Adelaide.
“Demetri Bordeaux,” he says.
Adelaide takes his hand reluctantly, with just the barest touch of her fingers on his.
“Dr. Adelaide Johansen,” she says crisply.
“Doctor, huh?” Tim smirks. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good situation this time, Armstrong.”
“We work together,” Adelaide says coolly. “I’m with Doctors Without Borders.”
“A do-gooder,” Bordeaux comments, picking up a shot of amber liquid from the bar and tossing it back. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Johansen.”
I can practically feel the force of my anger growing, coming off me in almost visible waves.
“Well, it was nice to meet you,” Addie says dismissively, and I can tell she wants to get me away from Bordeaux as quickly as possible.
Thank God for those polite, icy mannerisms that her mother taught her so well.
“Shall we return to our table, Mr. Armstrong?”
She turns, not waiting for an answer, and makes her way back across the floor, through the humid murk of the club.
“Yes, Mr. Armstrong,” Demetri says to me with sneering sarcasm. “Must do what the good doctor orders.”
I snarl at him, wishing I could tear his throat out, and then follow her. I throw myself into the chair at our table, threatening to flatten it.
“Friend of yours?” Addie says after a moment, and I glare at her.
She holds my gaze for a moment, stubbornly, and finally I relent.
“That was a mistake,” I admit. “I shouldn’t have put you on his radar. He’s rotten through and through.”
She puts her hand over mine, her fingers running across my knuckles. “I can take care of myself.”
“With Bordeaux? Not bloody likely,” I say, my mouth set in a grim line.
“Well,” she replies teasingly, taking a healthy gulp of her drink. “Tonight, I’ve got my protector here. Now let’s try to have a good time.”
She pulls me up and leads me to the small dance floor, where she fits herself against me, drawing me closer as she puts her arms around me.
I feel her wiggle a little, fitting herself against me more tightly, hip to hip, crushing her tits against my chest.
“Just a reminder,” she whispers in my ear.
But I can’t help but glare, still scanning the room over her shoulder to find Bordeaux, who’s now chatting up some woman at the bar.
Adelaide’s going to have to work harder if she thinks she can distract me from him.