Beowolf

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nutsbe felt bad in his body. Edgy, unable to settle.

All day at work, his mind churned the details from Kennedy and Finley.

The details that mentioned Olivia.

The details that focused on him.

What he was supposed to be doing was focusing on the details for the new Panther Force mission that was spooling up.

He needed his head in the game. The safety of his team and the Iniquus clients depended on his attention to details—their details.

Iniquus had parked Olivia’s car in her garage but had brought Nutsbe the keys to return to her.

Moving through the backyard, Nutsbe walked up the sidewalk and rang her bell.

The house felt empty.

Henrietta barked a warning.

Nutsbe looked down at the keyring Olivia had handed over, house and car keys, and he doubted she had another set handy.

Surely, she’d be over as soon as she got home, and he’d know she was safe.

Walking back through her yard, Nutsbe noticed that cardboard still filled the empty window in her back door. He got that Olivia was full-up and that window glass served as only the scantest protection, but still, he didn’t like that.

He’d offered to fix it. She’d said no, thank you, and—like it or not—he needed to respect those boundaries.

Still, selfishly, having a help-someone project would be good medicine. And it looked like Nutsbe saw one available to him.

Nutsbe rang his next-door neighbor’s bell, and Clive shuffled to the door.

“Checking on you and Milly. I see your grass is getting high.”

“I keep putting it off, Tad. All these motorcycles keeping Milly and me up nights. I haven’t had the energy. I’ll get to this.”

“I’m not calling you out, Clive,” Nutsbe smiled at his elderly neighbor. “I was looking for a little exercise and was wondering if you’d allow me the opportunity to push a mower around for a bit. That, and I’m making up a pot of my ziti and cheese and was hoping I could bring it over when it’s out of the oven. It’s been a while since I let you beat me at gin rummy.”

“We’d enjoy the company,” Clive said.

Nutsbe went home, dropped his things on the table, washed his hands, and put a soup pot of water on the stove. By the time he finished the lawn, it would be boiling and ready for the pasta.

And maybe Olivia would be home.

Olivia might even like to join them, get her out of her head a bit, away from the pressing challenges of the day.

But when Olivia hadn’t come over by the time Nutsbe put the mower away, showered and changed, and finished his ziti prep, Nutsbe was getting worried.

He looked out the window at the darkened sky, pulling his phone from his pocket. Just then, the motion sensor floodlights flashed on. And a moment later, his fence door was pushed wide.

Nutsbe repocketed his phone and went outside to meet Olivia on his back porch. She had Henrietta on a lead, and she’d changed her clothes to a pretty sundress and flip flops—must have gone in the back door with the cardboard.

“Hey, there. I came for my keys.” She smiled and looked around. “No Beowolf?”

“He’s at the kennel.” Nutsbe leaned his shoulder into the post.

Olivia looked down at her pup. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweet girl. Your new boyfriend isn’t here.” She turned back, and Nutsbe held out her key ring. “Were they able to find anything on my car?” She slid the keys into her dress pocket.

Nutsbe pulled out his phone and showed her the picture. “Any office supply store in the country would have these tracking pods. Iniquus forensics is checking for fingerprints. I need to head back to work tonight. I have an overseas call coming in. I’ll check then for any updates.”

“Well, that’s just unnerving as hell, isn’t it? I mean…yeah, this feels scary. I definitely want to know who thought this up.” She handed him back his phone. “Thanks for finding it. Thanks for telling me about it.” She looked down at his uniform. “Are you going in now?”

Nutsbe thumbed toward the house next door. “I’m making my neighbors Clive and Milly some of my famous ziti and cheese.” As he turned back to Olivia, Nutsbe spotted a shooting star flying across the night sky. Pointing, he said, “Make a wish.”

She closed her eyes and smiled.

He wanted to paint his finger down the soft curve of her neck. He wanted to trace kisses along her clavicle. To take her into his arms. Nutsbe took a physical step back and a mental one, too.

When she opened her eyes again, Nutsbe asked, “What did you wish for?”

“Isn’t that the first rule of wish-making?” Olivia took Henrietta off her lead and laid the leash on the chair. “If you tell your wish, you’ve cancelled it out?”

He needed the bright lights of his kitchen to pull him away from the romance of this beautiful night sky.

Bad timing sucked, for sure.

“Do you believe in wishes? In fate? Like things are written in the stars?” He started through his back door with Olivia trailing behind.

She left Henrietta outside to enjoy. “The stars? I don’t know. I think it’s entertaining. I both quasi-believe and don’t believe, you know? It’s good fun. Like if my horoscope pops up in my email, I’ll read it.”

He rounded to the other side of the counter. “I was just on an assignment where I met a woman following her star chart to a specific place on a specific day.”

“Close by?” Olivia shut the door behind her, then let her gaze wander around his kitchen, taking in her surroundings.

“She lives in Virginia. She flew to Tallinn, Estonia.”

“Huh. That’s pretty far away.” Olivia pulled out a counter stool and sat down. “And was it worth it?”

“I’d say so.”

She reached down to smooth the flowered skirt of her light blue dress—pretty, fresh, feminine. “Why’s that?” Olivia asked, posting her elbows on the counter.

“Well, I’m just back from that assignment, so it’s hard to say. It looks like she’s going to marry one of the Cerberus K9 team, though. They made an intense connection fast.”

“Interesting. She was sent by her chart all the way over to Estonia to meet him?” She wrinkled her brow. “You’d think the universe could conspire better.”

Nutsbe pulled a salad bowl and one for scraps from the cupboard and set them beside his cutting board. “I think the universe did an excellent job of getting her where she needed to be when she needed to be there. Lives, many, many lives changed because she followed through. Made me a bit of a believer.” Nutsbe wanted to move off this subject. He was veering into sappy territory, and he didn’t want to share his thoughts about the why of his suddenly meeting Olivia after two years of her living directly behind him. So, as he wandered to the fridge, he went with, “Olivia, that grand jury case you have going, do you feel like it puts you in danger?”

“It’s one of the reasons why I’m so glad that I moved here.” She flicked her hand toward her house. “It would be all but impossible to trace me to that house. Anonymity gives me a layer of security. Work is pretty secure, too. Not today or yesterday, but generally.”

He pulled salad ingredients from the fridge and washed them in the sink. “Except for Mickey.” He looked up from his work to see her curl a derisive lip. “Is it out of bounds for me to ask why you’re divorcing?

“Since you have been candid with me, I will do the same with you.” She moved her hands to her lap, and her shoulders edged up toward her ears. “Usually, when people ask me that question, I shrug it off with a ‘we grew apart,’ but it’s more complicated than that. My soon-to-be ex has some monsters in his head—I think they were there from day one. When Mickey got out of the military, he joined the police and trained as a sniper. I wonder now about the why of that. He seems to relish the taste of blood, and when he’s out on patrol, he can get that legitimately. He likes the physical contact of a fight. It feels good to him. But outside of an innate brutality, he’s generally an honest man. I didn’t think he’d ever make a false report about you.”

“I think he was high,” Nutsbe observed.

“That’s a given. Lots of pills. He would have gotten away with it at the police department because he has prescriptions. If it were anything else, I’d turn him in, and he knows it. Yeah, I really don’t think it was the police department that made him who he is. I believe that being a cop gave him a path to express his nature. Turns out, he’s cruel in small ways and in big. He’s never broken the law around me, and that includes physical attacks against me. The mental and emotional ones, though, have been ramping up year after year. I’m done. My turning point wasn’t precipitated by any specific ordeal. It came uneventfully, unexpectedly. I woke up one day, and I realized I’d severed our relationship in my sleep.”

Olivia held up a finger and squeezed her eyes.

“I’m going to tell you. And like you, only one other person has heard this part of my story.”

Nutsbe stilled.

“Your story about your grandmother … The night I severed my relationship with Mickey, I dreamed of my mom. She’s still alive—this isn’t like your experience.” Olivia looked down to her lap, where she played with the ring on her finger. “Yeah, I dreamed about my mom and how much love she poured into me as a child. In my dream, she was lying on the bathroom floor, hugging a towel and sobbing because the person who had promised to gently care for me all the days of my life was tearing me down.” Olivia opened her mouth, pulled in a breath, and blew it out. “I remember this dream very vividly. I remember saying, ‘Mama, please, stop crying. It’s over.’ My best friend, Jaylen, says it was my subconscious talking to me, but I know for sure it was my mom. I could smell her—roses.” She lifted her prayer hands to her face, spread them just wide enough to cover her nose and mouth, and audibly inhaled as if reenacting the dream. “She uses argan oil infused with roses on her face. And where I wiped her tears in my dreams, my hands smelled of roses when I woke up.” She smiled over at Nutsbe. “To be clear, she shed dream tears, not real-life tears. But when I was awake, my hands smelled of roses for no explicable reason.”

His lips drew tight, and they looked at each other for a long moment across the counter.

She blinked, lowered her gaze to her hands, and rubbed them as if they were sore.

“Do you think those motorcycles are associated with Mickey?” he asked softly.

“Could be.” She looked up and tilted her head. “It’s crossed my mind.”

Nutsbe glanced out his kitchen window. “What kind of security have you got on that house?”

“It’s a rental property, so none. Well, I have floodlights now.” She smiled. “What were you doing when I came over?”

“Making ziti and cheese for Hank and Milly next door. I like to keep an eye out for them. They’re having some health issues, and their kids live in other states. Hey, why don’t you have dinner with us so you don’t have to call for delivery?”

“Thank you, but I’ll eat at my desk. I’m behind on some things that need my attention.”

Nutsbe was chopping celery and, without looking up, said, “I bet you’re an only child.”

“How would you come to that conclusion?” Olivia asked.

“Isolation in your own space is a balm.” He let her have privacy to hear him say that by not glancing over to catch her gaze as he slid the vegetables into the bowl.

“What else do you think you’ve figured out about me?” She reached out a hand and gathered some of the celery, popping a piece into her mouth.

“Was I right?” He picked up the tomato.

“Well, yes. So far.” She smiled. “What else have you deduced?”

Again, he looked away as he sliced into the fruit. “You”ve got a toe on the ADHD spectrum.”

“Wait, how?” She sat up straight.

“Just say I recognize it from other relationships. For example, you were very focused today.” He sent her a smile.

“Of course.”

He lifted his brows in a question. “Did you eat?” He handed her a slice of tomato.

Accepting it, she drew her lips in and looked at the ground as if looking for the answer.

“I’m going to guess, no. Did you drink anything beyond your first cup of coffee?” he asked, pulling a glass from the cupboard, filling it with filtered water, and setting it near her elbow.

Olivia focused on it, “Thank you,” then lifted it to drink. “I left my coffee on my table this morning, so I don’t even think I got that.” She set the glass back on the counter.

“See? Very focused, and that”s exhausting because you don’t have the calories or the water to fuel you.” He smiled and popped a bite of carrot in his mouth, then held out a piece to her, which she accepted.

“Knowing that about me,” She crunched into the stick, “then you know why I don’t cook. My mind is on a million things, and I lose track of time, which leads to kitchen disasters. Less smoke and fire alarms if I order in.”

“So beyond your liking space without anyone”s energy in it, you would also need space to just sit and do something mindless. What works for you? Doomscrolling in a hot bath? Cooking shows?” He peeled a cucumber into the scrap bowl.

“Not a complete mind reader. It’s violence,” Olivia said.

“How”s that?”

“Violence where the good guy wins, and the bad guy gets destroyed. I”m not the chick you used to date who likes baking shows.” There was the tiniest bit of scolding in her voice.

“That”s not some chick. That”s my mom and all three of my sisters. The only child part is from my observations in the military.”

“Oh, okay, spot on then with your observations. I get that. It’s your job to ensure your team is ready for the fight. Make sure you pay attention to even the smallest detail. You’re like a safety overlord, then?”

“It’s an aspect of my job, yes. The smallest factor is what makes or breaks a mission. As a company, that’s a philosophy.”

“Explains a lot.” She slid from the stool and walked around to where the dishcloth fell on the floor. She picked it up and laid it on the sink. “Okay, thank you for inviting me to join you. Another day that would be cool.”

“If you want to hang out while the ziti cooks, I can send a plate home with you to have while you work.” The stove beeped to let him know it had preheated. He set the timer for forty minutes, then slid his green casserole dish in to bake.

Olivia reached out and pulled his cookbook over. She looked at the picture, “That’s the same-colored casserole dish you used. And the plate has the same pattern as your bowl.” Then she noticed his name. “You wrote this recipe?”

“I did.” He tapped the book. “Wedding gift for dear friends. The wedding coordinator made copies for us. It’s one of my favorite possessions.”

“Amazing. This is amazing.” Olivia flips through. “I love this idea.” She leaned back against the counter while reading the printed letter he had written to go with his dish. “This is nice. It sounds like you. Nutsbe Crushed.” She paused, staring at the name. “That’s the first time I’m putting it together. Nutsbe is like a military name?”

“Call sign.”

“Huh.” She mouthed the names together and blushed bright pink, looking like she was trying hard to avert her eyes from his crotch.

And was unsuccessful.

“I lost my legs from the IED,” Nutsbe said. “Everything above my knees is fine.”

She lifted a single arched brow. “Fine?”

He offered her a slow, sexy grin. “Excellent if I’m not being modest.” She could take that as she liked. It gave her a chance to move into his arms or farther out of them. He tried not to hold his breath. Tried to keep any tension out of his face and his body.

She changed the subject. “I was telling my friend Jaylen about your military nickname, Nutsbe.”

“Call sign,” he offered. “Yeah?”

“I wonder what they’d call me. Something like Olive Oil, I’d imagine.”

“I’d probably go with something like Martini,” he offered.

“That flowed right out, and I guess it makes sense—olives.”

“Usually, it’s more than that. In your case, I was putting your name together with some adjectives: classy, sophisticated, subtle cunning. I was thinking more about Bond and less about olives. I could see you perched on a bar stool in a cocktail dress, surveying the landscape and plotting the destruction of the bad guys.”

“I sound a bit nefarious.”

“You’d only use your powers to captivate for the greater good.” He came around to her side of the counter. “I hope.”

“Let’s do that.” She stood.

“What?”

“Cocktails. Let’s dress up and go somewhere for cocktails sometime after Tuesday.” She took a step forward, and he caught her under her elbows.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she pressed up on her toes and kissed him. It was different this time – deeper. This was less exploration of the possibility and more about need.

Nutsbe was not down with this.

He moved his hands to her hips to hold her in place and took a step back. “Olivia, you set boundaries.” He reminded her.

She was breathing heavily through pursed lips, and his cock stood at attention, “Ready for duty, ma’am.”

Olivia rested her hips against his table, reaching to either side of her, gripping the edge.

“You can’t have it both ways.” His voice was gruff. “I’m not a faucet that can get turned from hot to cold. You’re playing with me.”

“I’m sorry.” She put a hand over her lips and held his gaze without blinking.

“Did you want to reconsider?” he asked gently with a questioning tip of his head.

“Yes,” she whispered.

A slow smile slid into place. As Nutsbe stepped forward, she spread her legs so he could nestle between her thighs. He tipped her chin up with thumb and forefinger to read her eyes. “What is it you want from this?” In his imagination, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with her. “Be explicit and detailed.”

She licked her lips then leaned to the side, reading the ziti timer.

Nutsbe lifted her until she sat on the table. His body hummed with impatience.

“Right now, explicitly,” she smiled the most wanton smile, “I’d like you to find a condom, and I’d like us to use the next forty minutes until the dinner buzzer sounds, getting to know each other intimately. And explicitly, I’d like you to do whatever it was that you imagined that put the lascivious glint in your eyes.”

Nutsbe’s dick throbbed behind his zipper.

“Your bed?” Leaning back, she painted her hand up the length of his cock. “Or maybe even right here on the kitchen table?”