CHAPTER 6
G ILLIAN made a neat little pile of her clothes, folding each piece and placing it on a chair. When she stood in only her skirt and a pale, lacy bra, Drew couldn’t help but stare. The bra, despite the underwire, didn’t seem adequate to hold her bountiful breasts.
Gillian didn’t mind.
Smiling, she reached up under her skirt and rolled down the panty hose. Thick shadows enhanced everything.
Outside, the storm raged, with rain battering the windows and the wind howling in fury. Every few seconds, lightning flashed with a blinding, strobe effect.
Knowing that he watched her every move with rapt attention, Gillian shimmied out of the skirt with a provocative lack of haste. His hands curled into fists, his cock strained behind his fly.
Gillian’s panties were made of the same lace and matched her bra. She looked so incredible, Drew knew he wouldn’t last.
“Come here.” He sounded harsher than he meant to, but never had he wanted a woman like this.
He took two steps to meet her halfway and, with his hands moving everywhere at once, ravaged her tender mouth. Her skin was damp from the rain, warm and soft. When he slid his hands into her panties, palming her cheeks, squeezing, Gillian bit his bottom lip.
“You have some catching up to do.”
He felt her busy fingers at his waistband and groaned. Pushing her hands aside, he shed the rest of his clothes in record time. Gillian tried to touch him, but Drew wanted her naked, too. Right now. He cupped her breasts once, just because he had to, and then unhooked the front clasp between the cups. The bra opened and Gillian shrugged the straps off her shoulders until they dropped down her arms.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Drew again slid his hands into her panties, this time to push them down her thighs. When they fell to her feet, she stepped free—and finally they were both naked.
His hands shook as he covered her breasts, felt her stiffened nipples and her galloping heartbeat. It thrilled him that she was every bit as carried away as him.
“So fucking sexy . . .” Bending, he took one nipple into his mouth.
On a sharp inhalation, she dug her fingertips into his shoulders. Hefting her in his palms, Drew used his teeth to nip her carefully and felt her tremble. He circled with his tongue, flicked, and when she pressed him closer, he sucked at her like a starving man.
Her long, shuddering groan rewarded him, tightening everything inside him, making him throb.
With his other hand he smoothed along her waist, over her hip, and then to her belly.
“Drew . . .” She said his name as a soft moan of eagerness.
He switched to her other breast, and just as he sucked that nipple into the heat of his mouth, he palmed her sex.
Her fingers contracted on his shoulders, digging hard into his muscles.
Slowly, so slowly that it tormented them both, he used his fingertips to explore her, open her. Hot. Damp. He teased along her inner lips until they parted—and pushed one finger in deep.
Crying out, Gillian arched into him.
Damn, but he could feel her pulsing around his finger, feel her wetness, the slick heat.
He withdrew enough to work in a second finger and taunted her nipple again with his teeth.
Clenching around his fingers, she stiffened and trembled. Drew straightened to look at her face. “You’re already close, aren’t you?”
She nuzzled his jaw, moved against him. “Yes.”
Pleased with her, he lightly kissed her parted lips. “I want to see this.” He brought his thumb up to touch her clitoris.
Her eyes closed and her head fell back. Holding on to him, she moved with him as he worked his fingers in and out of her, teased her clit, and palmed her ass.
Her stiffened nipples rubbed against his chest, abraded by his chest hair. He’d somehow known she’d be hot, but he hadn’t expected this.
Panting, she said, “Drew . . . I need the bed.”
God, she was amazing. “No,” he whispered. “Not yet.”
“But . . .” Heat poured off her. Between her legs, her slick flesh swelled. “Drew . . .”
He kept up the steady rhythm, pushing her, and as her orgasm overtook her and her legs went weak, she held on to him.
Drew watched her face, how her expression tightened, twisted. Beautiful and real. Gillian wasn’t a screamer, but her low throaty moans and gasping breaths were a huge turn-on, as much so as her voluptuous, sexy body.
Spent, she went limp in his arms.
“Now the bed,” he decided. If he didn’t get in her soon, he’d embarrass himself.
Gillian let him settle her to the mattress, but she wasn’t quite aligned with the bed. Instead, she lay crossways. From the knees down, her legs hung over the side. Raising her arms above her head, she smiled, and it affected him like a well-placed lick.
“God, the things you do to me . . .” Drew said, but she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care.
Even as he got a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on, Drew wondered what it was about Gillian that had him fumbling in such a rush.
Sure, she was hot. No two ways about that. And he’d just discovered that she was uninhibited and sexual, too.
She had a full-figured, killer body that only an idiot wouldn’t appreciate.
Classy, smart, witty, motivated . . . okay, what was there about her not to enjoy?
“Drew, don’t take this the wrong way.”
Forcing his gaze from her soft belly and damp pubic hair to her face, Drew lifted a brow. “What?”
“I’m flattered that you appear to enjoy looking at me. And you’re not exactly hard on the eyes, either.” As she said that, her gaze dipped over him, stalling on his erection. She squirmed on the sheets, shifting in urgency. “Very impressive, in fact. But I’m a more tactile person, I guess. I’d really like to feel you, not just look at you, you know?”
Closing his eyes against her stimulating words, Drew struggled for control.
Gillian didn’t let up.
“Seriously, Drew, if you think you could bring yourself down here to me . . . well, that would be very nice.”
“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Lost, Drew caught her legs in the crook of his elbows and moved over her. As he spread her supple thighs wide, he wedged his hips in. The flesh of her silky inner thighs against his waist sent blood rushing to his head. The sensation of dominating her turned him on even more.
This, he thought, is how a woman should feel, giving and sexy and soft .
Her legs pressed back, exposing her more, making his heartbeat thunder in his ears. He could see all of her. Even in the dim light, he was able to watch as his cock pressed into her, as her sleek, pink lips opened around him.
Rather than protest, Gillian put her head back in a sign of submission. She loved it, too, and knowing that was enough to destroy his control.
Immersing himself in the sounds of her heavy breathing, the heat of her, and the intoxicating scent of her arousal, Drew entered her.
And found her wet, but so damn snug.
He hadn’t expected that and he closed his eyes for only a moment, struggling with himself. When he opened them again, he sank in a little more and locked his teeth at how she squeezed him so tightly. “How long has it been for you?”
Lifting her head, Gillian stared at him in lust-dazed disbelief. “My God, Drew, do you really want to have this conversation now?”
Hear about Gillian with other men? Was he an idiot? No. He shook his head. “Probably not.”
She dropped back again. “I didn’t think so.”
Jaw clenched, testicles tight, Drew kept up the slow pressure until she held every inch of him. Liking that a lot, he leaned down onto her, pressing her legs back even more, relishing every sensation.
The muscles in her legs tensed; she knotted her hands in the bedsheets and groaned. In this position, he was impossibly deep—and still he leaned down more until he could suck on her jutting nipples.
As soon as he did that, Gillian moaned, arched her back up to accommodate him, and grabbed for his biceps as if she needed an anchor.
Pushed to the limit, Drew pulled back and thrust in again. He felt her womb, felt the clenching of her body, almost as if in pain.
They both gasped.
Holding himself still, Drew asked, “Are you okay?”
She swallowed twice, nodded, and whispered, “Don’t you dare stop.”
“No, no, I won’t.” Done with holding back, Drew rode her hard, withdrawing and driving in again, over and over, harder each time. Positioned as they were, every thrust slid his length along her clitoris. She went wild.
Whatever finesse he’d hoped to employ would have to come after he took the edge off, Drew decided. But it didn’t matter right now anyway, because Gillian was with him, moving her hips as much as she could in his restrained hold.
She spurred him on with soft moans and harsh groans and the continuous gripping of her body as she neared her release.
Before he’d even realized she was ready, she cried out, her back bowing hard and her inner muscles clamping down.
“Gillian.” He said her name just to hear it, just to reaffirm the reality of her here with him, taking him and giving to him and enjoying every second.
It went on and on, pushing Drew over the edge. He needed her mouth, so he kissed her, and he kept on kissing her until he sank down onto her with his own numbing release.
Moments later, depleted, he carefully released her legs and moved to her side. The storm still battered his house, almost matching his heartbeat.
Languidly, Gillian reached over and put a hand on his sweaty abdomen. He covered it with his own.
“You’re right, Drew.”
He couldn’t even breathe yet, and she wanted to talk? Taking a deep breath to help catch his wind, he tried to man up. “About?”
She turned to her side to face him and slipped one leg over his.
That felt nice. Really nice. Curling up with Gillian after incredible sex—yeah, he liked that.
She snuggled into him. “I’m in no hurry to run off.”
He didn’t quite have the energy to laugh, but he at least managed a smile.
Turning his head toward her, Drew found her silky black hair mussed around her face. Her eyes were heavy, her lips swollen.
So fucking sexy.
And thinking about sexy . . . he remembered the tightness of her, the fit. “So how long has it been for you?”
Incredulity fell over her face before she slanted him a look. “You already knew that my tastes were . . .” She searched for a word and settled on “. . . exacting.”
Of course she was—and it flattered him. “But I passed muster, huh?”
Smiling, she ran one finger down his chest. “You do possess a sort of raw appeal.”
He turned toward her and smoothed back her hair. It was so sleek, it felt liquid. Everything about her was ultimately feminine, and yet strong. Particularly her sexual appetite.
She pressed her cheek into his palm. It was the weirdest thing, especially since he was well sated, yet far from done.
But right now, with Gillian Noode, maybe for the first time with a woman, he felt . . . tender. Affectionate.
Drew shook his head. No way in hell was he ready to head down that road just because of awesome sex. Okay, it was more than sex, but still . . . “Clean up, food, and then back in the bed.”
“Mmmm.” She smiled again. “The upcoming order?”
“For the rest of the night.” He kissed her hard and fast and rose from the tangled sheets. “You can stay put and I’ll play the gentleman if you want.”
“Dinner in bed?”
With Gillian, he wouldn’t mind everything in bed—especially if she stayed just as she was now: smiling, sweet-tempered, responsive to him, and best of all, naked.
He looked her over and wanted her again. Already.
Shit.
Sounding a little hoarse, he said, “Yeah.” And then, before he started doing something stupid, like declaring himself to a woman he barely knew but who wanted to change him in every way imaginable, he said, “Relax. I’ll be right back.”
WITH his heart thumping and his body taut, Brett pushed back his chair and came around to Audrey’s side of the table. Startled, she stared up at him. A smile would have helped, but he couldn’t quite drum one up around the thrumming of lust. He held out a hand, and when she accepted it, he pulled her to her feet.
“Here?” she asked in a near squeak.
Brett hesitated. Did she regret taunting him? Was she having second thoughts, or did she just enjoy teasing him?
Since he was falling fast, it might be time to find out. Drawing a breath, he said, “Come on.”
Leading her back to the stairs, he walked down a few steps then turned to her. They had a few seconds of privacy here, and he hoped it would be enough.
Ah, no, she wasn’t teasing him, Brett thought. Looking at her, he saw a reflection of everything he felt. Already Audrey breathed too deep and her brown eyes were wide, darker, and glittering.
She wanted him.
But unlike him, she had reservations that he’d have to help her overcome. Once he did, he felt sure they’d both enjoy themselves for however long things lasted.
Audrey slicked her tongue over her bottom lip. “Our food should be ready soon.”
Brett wanted to groan at her uncertainty—but he had promised her. Besides, when they finally got together, he wanted her with him one hundred percent.
Flattening one hand on the wall beside her head and staring down at his feet, he worked to compose himself. When he felt in control again, he faced her. “It’s up to you, Audrey. What do you want to do?”
For an answer, she looked at his mouth, and with every second that passed, the tension ramped between them.
Suddenly she was on him again and Brett felt consumed. The sounds of the bar faded beneath the heat of her mouth, her unique scent, and her anxious participation.
The food would wait.
Leaning into her, Brett slid a hand from her waist to her hip—and urged her in for some sizzling, full-body contact. She was so small that one of his hands would cover a good deal of her cute little bottom. His palm tingled at that thought.
When the music suddenly died and the sound of the crowd grew rowdy, Brett didn’t understand.
He could hear Barber, the lead musician, making an announcement, but in the stairwell his words weren’t clear. And with Audrey clinging to him, kissing him so hotly, he didn’t really care.
Until the door to the stairs burst open.
“What the hell?”
Several people rushed through. Brett flattened himself against Audrey to protect her.
“Brett?”
“Shh. Something’s going on.”
At the top of the stairs, he saw a bouncer directing people into the stairwell, cautioning them to go slowly and in an orderly fashion.
Something had happened. What, he had no idea. Maybe a fire? But he hadn’t heard an alarm and he didn’t smell any smoke. He took Audrey’s hand and pulled her around so that she could go down the stairs in front of him.
She held back. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet. Let’s go.” He kept her to his right side, closer to the wall. People jammed into his back, knocked into his shoulder, shoved and shouted.
Audrey, bless her heart, did her best to keep up without a single complaint. She didn’t even seem worried.
When they reached the main floor, Brett saw Gregor Marsh. That fighter towered over others, making him easy to spot. Gregor had taken on the task of ushering folks out the front doors, keeping things orderly.
“What’s going on?” Brett asked as soon as he reached him.
Without taking his attention from directing the crowd, Gregor said, “Got a bomb threat.” He kept one fellow upright when he would have stumbled, and he stopped another from turning back to talk to a friend. In short, he added, “I’m helping Roger get everyone out.”
Bomb? Brett rocked back. Of all the things . . . well, he hadn’t expected that. Audrey said nothing.
He wanted her out of the place, and fast, so he didn’t ask any more questions.
“Got it. Thanks.” But before Brett could merge with the outgoing customers, Gregor caught his arm.
“We met the other day, right?”
Brett nodded. “Yeah.” With any luck, Gregor wouldn’t mention that they’d met in a gym.
“I sent my lady outside, kickin’ and bitchin’ and none too happy. Tall gal, sweet on the eyes. Jacki Marsh. Havoc’s little sister. Can you look after her for me until I get this place cleared?”
Understanding his worry, Brett clapped him on the shoulder. “Got it covered.”
“Thanks, dude.”
When Brett had to nudge Audrey along to get her moving again, he looked down and found her eyes as wide as saucers. But it wasn’t the mention of a bomb that had her boggled. Even as he led her away, she craned her head to stare back at Gregor.
Yeah, Gregor had that effect on lots of people, male and female alike. Even as heavyweight fighters went, Gregor was gargantuan, and solid as steel. To go with his impressive size, he had an abundance of tattoos, shaggy black hair, and ears thickened from his profession. His imposing visage didn’t quite match his congenial manner, though.
As he nudged Audrey along, he asked, “You okay?”
She nodded. “Was that guy a fighter?”
“Yeah. A good one, too.”
That made her thoughtful, and she said no more as they wended through the throng.
They got bottlenecked at the door as people insisted on wanting their jackets and wraps from the coat check. Idiots. Their jackets wouldn’t matter if they all got blown to bits. Two employees of Roger’s Rodeo continued to calmly and insistently move the patrons forward.
Finally Brett got them both through the door. Thick black clouds blocked the stars, and rain threatened. People milled about right outside the club, trying to find shelter beneath the overhang. If there was a bomb, how safe did they think they’d be standing so near the building?
For now, he left them to their own fates and started to lead Audrey across the street. Then, from behind them, he heard someone yell out her name.
For the first time, Audrey looked unsettled as she jerked around and searched the crowd. “Millie?”
She couldn’t see over the masses, but Brett spotted Millie’s red hair as she went on tiptoe, calling out to them again. Somehow she’d gotten hemmed into an alcove and the flow of human traffic wouldn’t allow her to get free.
“I heard Millie,” Audrey told him. She started to push past, to reenter the club.
“I see her,” Brett told Audrey. “She’s okay.” Now where to take Audrey? Across the street, beyond the parking lot would be his first choice. But a few unfamiliar men stood over there, and he wasn’t about to leave Audrey alone with men he didn’t know.
Brett was deciding what to do next when, beside them, a tall woman called out orders to the others. She had a fun, eclectic style that seemed at odds with her drill sergeant tone as she instructed people to clear the doorways, to distance themselves from the building, and to stop pushing and shoving.
Seeing that she held her own against the milling, panicked bystanders, Brett yelled to her, “Jacki?”
And she looked up.
Perfect. Audrey reluctantly allowed him to edge her in that direction. As soon as he reached Jacki, he said, “Gregor told me that I could count on you for some help.”
“Did he?” Jacki still looked pissed that she was outside and Gregor wasn’t. “Doing what?”
“If you and Audrey go across the street, at least to the other side of the cars parked there, then others will probably follow.”
“Brett, wait.” Audrey strained against him. “I can’t go without Millie.”
He caught her face. “I’m getting her, okay? But you need to get out of harm’s way first.”
She started to protest, and Brett’s temper kicked in.
“Damn it, Audrey, you’ll only get trampled, and I’d like to know how the hell that’s going to help Millie.”
As if they weren’t threatened by a bomb, Audrey scowled up at him. “I’m not stupid, Brett.”
“Then let me go get Millie.”
“Okay, but hurry it up. She’s uncomfortable with crowds.”
Which would have been a good reason for her not to dodge into a busy club . Brett looked at Jacki for assistance.
She rolled her eyes. “You guys are all such cavemen, I swear. But . . . I guess it is a good idea.”
Someone plowed into Jacki, almost knocking her off balance, and with a feral look she brought her elbow back, causing a guy to yelp. “Well, come on, Audrey. Let’s lead the pack.”
“Fine.” Beside Jacki, Audrey looked even more petite, but she had no problem snagging others along the way. Between the two women, they soon had a small contingent across the street.
With Audrey safe, Brett wedged back into the club, pushing against a slow-moving group of friends who’d had way too much to drink. He found Millie on the verge of tears. Stationing himself in front of her, he caused a block to the now dwindling swarm. Above the din of excited voices, he could hear Gregor issuing orders to some stragglers, and ahead of him, he saw Roger Sims, the owner of the club, double-checking down corridors and in closets.
Brett pulled Millie out in front of him. When she stumbled, he looped one arm around her and kept her on her feet. She was almost as short as Audrey, but not as slight of build. Once outside, he didn’t pause.
“Audrey’s across the street.”
Clinging to his arm, Millie nodded. “Thank you so much, Brett.”
His brain cramped at the thought of a bomb. Why? Did someone have a grudge against Roger or the patrons of the bar? “Not a problem.”
“I tried,” Millie told him, embarrassed, “but I couldn’t get out of there. What happened, anyway? Why is everyone—?”
“Bomb threat, I’m told.” Maybe Gregor had misunderstood. “But I don’t know for sure.” He got Millie over to Audrey and started back for the club.
Audrey grabbed for him. “Where are you going?”
“If Millie got stuck, maybe someone else did, too. If Roger tries to check every nook and cranny himself, he’ll never get out of there.”
Jacki called after him, saying, “It’s probably a hoax, but just in case, none of you should play hero. Tell Gregor I said to get out of there, and fast.”
Brett sent her an affirmative wave and jogged back. Inside the building, he saw Gregor scouring the rooms upstairs, Roger downstairs.
“What can I do?”
Frazzled and furious, Roger glanced at him with suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”
From upstairs, Gregor yelled, “Brett Bullman. He’s a fighter.”
Roger hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Thanks. We’re about done in here, but if you could get people to clear the front door and at least go across the street until the cops show up, that’d be great.” He started to walk away, then added, “Brett? Use force if you have to. Just get them away from here.”
“You got it.” Brett headed back out. Sirens sounded in the distance. Only about fifteen minutes had passed, but it felt like an hour. As he started people moving, he glanced across the street at Audrey. She, Millie, and Jacki were directing people, encouraging them toward less chitchat and more action.
Something close to pride unfurled inside Brett. Audrey had a good head on her shoulders, and now that she’d gotten her bearings, she reacted with cool control. Other women were huddled together, some gabbing too loudly, a few crying, one lamenting a broken heal on her sandal.
But Audrey took charge.
Roger and Gregor joined Brett on the perimeter just as the police arrived. The officer in charge instructed the others to turn off their radios because radio frequencies could be used to trigger a bomb.
Agog over that information, Gregor looked at Brett and whistled.
Uniformed cops started pushing everyone back even more while other cops shut down the street one block up both ways. The guy in charge joined them. Roger greeted him with an extended hand, introducing himself as the owner of the club.
“Officer Sparks.” He surveyed the area. “Tell me what happened.”
Gregor looked at Brett again and mouthed the name: Sparks?
Brett shrugged; that was irony for you. A guy named Sparks investigating a bomb threat. Not that there was anything remotely humorous about this situation.
Roger paid no attention to the man’s name at all. “My bartender got the call and forwarded it to me in my office. I was just about to head home—” As if struck, Roger pressed a fist to his forehead. “I have to call my wife to let her know why I’m late, damn it. She was waiting on me. If she hears about this—”
Gregor said, “I’ll call her, Rog,” and he already had his cell phone out, using his thumb to press in numbers.
“Thanks.” Roger closed his eyes a moment. “Make sure she knows everyone is fine.”
Nodding, Gregor turned his back on them to speak quietly to Roger’s wife.
Brett could only imagine what Roger felt. He’d not only had a scare, and had his business threatened, but he held responsibility for over a hundred people who’d been inside. Right now, some of the people were grumbling about a wasted meal or a drink they didn’t get to finish.
Roger would lose money on this, as well as credibility.
Furious with the situation, Roger brought himself back around. “It was a man, and he said that the place was set to blow, that a bomb had been hidden here with the intent of killing Drew Black and as many fighters as possible.”
Brett went still. Oh, hell. This was about Drew?
Gregor closed his cell with a whistle.
Running a hand through his hair, Roger cursed. “I asked the bastard where the bomb was, but he told me to clear the place or a lot of people would die, then he hung up.” His hands curled into fists. “I haven’t even seen Drew here tonight. Hell, most of the fighters show up on the weekend, not during the week, so it couldn’t have been anyone real familiar with my clientele.”
Frowning in thought, Officer Sparks asked, “Was Drew Black supposed to be here? Did he have a meeting that someone knew about, and maybe he canceled?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I don’t exactly keep tabs on that stuff.” Roger shrugged his shoulders. “My wife is Dean Conor’s sister.”
“My wife, too,” Gregor said. And when Sparks looked at him in confusion, he explained, “Roger’s wife is Cam, my wife is Jacki, and Havoc is their brother.”
The cop must’ve been a fan, because he knew Dean Conor’s fighting name of Havoc.
“Was Havoc here tonight?” He looked around the milling group of people with hope.
“He’s out of town doin’ a promo gig,” Gregor said.
With sudden perception, the cop looked at him anew. “You’re Gregor Marsh, the Maniac .”
“One and only.” Gregor winked at him.
“I’ll be damned.”
Brett could almost feel Roger’s palpable frustration as he gestured in explanation. “There are a lot of fighters that hang out here. You can’t take two steps without tripping over one. Dean came to visit, then he opened a gym, more fighters came to town, and my honky-tonk turned into more of a . . .”
“Fight club,” Gregor supplied.
“But still a honky-tonk, too,” Roger insisted.
Brett wondered what the hell it mattered. He turned to the cop. “I met with Drew here at the club the other day. Like Roger said, on a weekend. But far as I know, he does a lot of his business here. If he had a meeting tonight, I don’t know about it. But it’s possible.”
The officer took that in. “Anyone got his number?”
Roger shook his head, Gregor noticed Jacki waving at him and headed that way, so Brett found Drew’s card in his wallet. He read the number to Officer Sparks.
“What now?” Roger asked.
“We’ll have to sweep the place, make sure there isn’t a bomb before we let anyone back in.”
“Not rushing you or anything, but do you know how long that will take?”
“Two to four hours, give or take.” The officer looked around at the growing mob. “After the county sheriff’s department’s bomb-sniffing K-9 team clears the site, we’ll do a visual. They should be here soon.” He turned back to Roger. “Not sure how late you’re open during the week, but it might be a good idea to call it a night.”
“I assumed as much.” Roger withdrew a stack of vouchers from his pocket. “Do you need me anymore, or can I gather up my people to hand these out?”
“Don’t leave,” the officer told him, “but feel free to handle your guests.”
“Thanks.” Roger went off to gather up his employees and explain how vouchers would be given for free drinks, and for interrupted meals and games.
Brett searched for Audrey. Now that patrons from other nearby establishments had joined them to get the scoop, there had to be a couple hundred people or more hanging out. At least with the roadblocks, there wasn’t any traffic except for those leaving the area.
He found her sitting on the curb at the corner, a safe distance from the threat and the chaos, talking quietly with Millie.
Millie saw Brett first and jumped up, surprising him with an embrace. “Thank you again, Brett. I can’t believe I got stuck like that. Everyone was just so pushy and rushed.”
He looped an arm around her shoulders. “When they get scared, people forget manners and common sense all too quick.”
Audrey said nothing, and that worried Brett.
Inhaling, Millie launched into more speech. “Not you, though. It was pretty impressive how you just stopped the flow of human traffic. I almost got flattened, but people had to go around you, you were so immovable.”
He tipped his head at Audrey, wondering why she wouldn’t look at him. “I’m a little bit bigger than you, Millie. Makes it easier for me.”
“Your friend, Gregor, was wonderful, too. Very take-charge.”
What the hell was going on? Why was Millie so chatty while Audrey sat in stern silence?
Almost in apology, Millie patted his arm, and when Brett looked at her, she whispered, “She knows.”
Brett felt his stomach knot. “Knows what?”
Still in a whisper, Millie said, “That you’re a fighter. Gregor, too. Jacki told her.” And with a wince: “I’m sorry.”