Nine #2
“C’mon, Jory, just say it. It was a long time ago.”
I let out a deep breath. “Okay. He was just trying to make me feel like shit, and I knew that at the time, but…he suggested I give the guy a blow job to get some more blankets. It was about him trying to screw with my head, nothing else.”
Sam nodded and wiped his hands on the dish towel before he walked out of the kitchen.
“This is why you never talk about this kinda crap,” I said to myself, folding the towel and laying it over the edge of the sink before I went to look for Sam. I found him stretched out on my bed, hands folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t protect you from any of that. If I was smart, I would have taken you with me to see Maggie and he never would have gotten his hands on you.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” I assured him, and he rolled his head to look at me. “One way or another, Dominic was gonna get me. If it hadn’t been that night, it would’ve been the next or the one after that. It was inevitable.”
“So you’re saying, what? I won’t be able to protect you from this psychopath that’s after you now? You think it’s inevitable that he gets you too?”
“No,” I said, leaning on the doorframe. “That’s not what I said. I said Dominic getting me was inevitable. He was too close to you, Sam. He knew you too well, knew how you would react, exactly what you would do… There’s no way he wouldn’t have been able to get me. It was just a matter of time.”
He rolled his head back so he was again staring at the ceiling.
“Listen, I want some pie. How ’bout you?”
“No, I don’t want any fuckin’ pie.”
“You owe a quarter.”
“What?” He was irritated; it was clear in his voice as he looked back at me.
“I put a jar on the counter, and you owe a quarter from now on every time you swear. It’s out of hand and needs to be stopped.”
“Oh fuck you, J. I ain’t gonna—”
“That’s fifty cents. Pay up or sleep on the couch. Your call.”
“Fine, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Maybe you should go sleep at your place.”
“Don’t push me.”
“Or what?”
“Or maybe I will.”
“Fine.” I shrugged, turning to walk away. “I’m going for pie. I’ll see ya later.” When I got to the front door and opened it, his voice reached me.
“If you set one foot out of this apartment, I will beat your ass!”
“Fine!” I yelled back and stalked over to the couch so he could hear me stomping and the floorboards creak before I tiptoed backward to the door, reversing my steps, went through, then closed it silently behind me.
I didn’t make a sound when I locked it. I was outside on the curb when he yelled down at me from the living room window he’d opened.
“Goddamnit, Jory, you better get your ass back in—”
I waved at him and cackled as I did it.
He leaned farther out the window. “I am so not playing with you.” His voice was cold even from that far up and really should have scared me.
“You can kiss my ass, buddy.” I slapped it for him just in case he missed it. The window was slammed shut, and I ran.
In jeans and sneakers I could move pretty fast. I wondered, though, if he’d get in his oversized SUV or run after me.
I just wanted some pie. I was worried that if I ran too fast, he’d miss me, so I jogged to the end of the street and crossed, then crossed again, and slowed down until I could see the diner I was headed for.
I heard the squealing tires behind me and knew the answer to the question. He had brought the monster car.
The motor was loud, and when he came up beside me, he revved it until it was deafening. I turned and looked, and he had the passenger window rolled down.
“Get in the car!”
I shook my head, pointed down the street. “I’m getting pie.”
“You better—”
“If you stop the car, I’ll run.” I grinned at him. “And I’ll make it before you can get out, so why don’t you just be a good boy and meet me at the diner.”
“If you set one foot in that diner, I will drag your ass out, throw you in the car, and—”
“And what? Beat me?” I gave him an exaggerated shiver. “Oooh, baby, you know what I like.”
He growled his frustration.
“You don’t own me, Sam.” I smiled over at him.
“We’re partners, and if you’re feeling like shit, you don’t just close up and go into your cave and sulk or whatever, you talk to me.
That’s how a partnership works. I share, you share, we share.
That’s it. Because if all you want is to be alone…
I’ll leave you alone,” I finished, arching a brow for him.
He stopped the car, and I stopped walking.
“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
I shrugged. “Well, then.”
He motioned me to the SUV.
“I want pie.”
“Baby…I will take you for pie.”
I smiled wide, zipping my hoodie farther up my chest, and walked quickly to the car. He opened the door for me, and as soon as I was in the seat, his hand was on the back of my neck.
“What?”
He pulled me close and stared down into my eyes. “Don’t leave the house without me. You could get hurt. All right?”
I still wasn’t sold on the idea that someone wanted me dead.
Did I think someone was killing blond men?
Sadly, it sounded that way. And the wallet thing, my old one being on the last victim, was odd.
But for all I knew, the teacher had found it years ago and loved it.
Truth was always stranger than fiction, so there might have been a very simple explanation for all of it.
None of that, however, was on my mind at the moment. Only Sam.
I climbed over the emergency brake and into his lap, straddling his hips, grinding my groin into his stomach. “You gonna hurt me, Sam? Because I would seriously love that.”
His hands went to my face, and I realized how cool it was that we were behind all the tinted glass so we could fool around in the SUV next to the curb.
“What’s got into you?” he asked, staring at my mouth.
“I want pie, and then I want you to take me home to bed.”
He half grunted, half growled before pulling me close for a kiss.
My throaty moan made his body tremble beneath me, and he grabbed hold of my ass and squeezed tight. No doubt in my mind that he wanted me. After the scorching kisses that were shared, I told him to just forget the pie and take me home.
“After all that?” He glared at me. “I don’t think so.”
He drove to the diner, hopped out of the car, ran in, and was back in minutes with two slices of key lime to go.
Even as I was carried into my apartment, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hand patting my ass, I noticed the two quarters in the jar on the counter. I put my hand on his cheek and smiled at him.
“What?” he asked as he put the bag with the pie in it down on the counter. “I don’t wanna sleep on the couch.”
I shook my head as the tears welled up in my eyes.
“Oh, for crissakes,” he grumbled, leaning in to kiss me. “Like I ever wanna sleep without you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed tight, my mouth ravenous on his. His deep rumbling laughter, sounding so content, was not lost on me.