22. Gunner #2
“Good lord, Theo.” Despite Libby’s gaping mouth and wide eyes as she moves around my office, she remains in character. Here, my name is Theo, and there will be no exceptions. She understands this, so she does as she’s told and uses the name that surely tastes like lemon on her tongue.
She was speechless as we boarded my plane.
She was wide-eyed as my beautiful stewardess served us drinks.
But then she was terrified when the engines began and we started rolling forward.
Turns out, Lib is scared of flying, and as I held her hand and brought her body closer to mine in comfort, she forgot about the leggy stewardess she was ready to tear strips off of.
Lib is scared of flying… and she’s jealous when women fuck me with their eyes.
Olly picked us up at the airport and drove us straight here, and despite Lib’s general animosity toward the fact I called a driver rather than drive my own damn self somewhere, she’s been cool about this new world she’s found herself in.
That was until we walked into my office and stood at the massive windows.
Turns out Lib isn’t necessarily afraid of flying, but of heights.
“I don’t think this is gonna work.” She turns away from her long study of the forty or so levels of nothingness outside my windows.
“There are way too many flights to run down in an emergency. Where the hell is your brain? Why do rich folks insist on the top floor, when it’s the most dangerous? It seems so… dumb.”
With a smirk and immense pleasure in seeing her walk my office in skintight jeans, a navy-blue tank, and a light coat with a hood and sleeves with camo print, I sit at my desk and watch her move.
It’s such a simple thing – walking. It’s absolutely not something that should be seductive, but the way Libby does it…
there’s no mistaking she’s a cop. There’s not a soul on this planet I could deny it to.
She exudes the law, so much so that I question; does the blood in her veins run red, like Tate’s, or blue, because she’s more cop than she is human?
It seems to make up her very DNA, and despite my dislike for her kind, this particular cop gets my attention every time. “I guess we like to sit at the top of our kingdom, Lib. We climbed it, we risked life and limb to get here.”
“And now you risk life and limb if some dumb shit on the third floor cooks grilled cheese for lunch and forgets to turn the grill off. Are you willing to trust your life to Gerald in accounting on the third floor?”
I wave her off with a dismissive flick of my wrist and power up my computer, but my smile remains. I can’t honestly say I’ve ever worn a real smile in this office before.
And that’s kinda sad, now that I think about it.
“Sit down, Lib. I need maybe an hour, then we can hit the road.”
“Better organize that kingdom.” Instead of sitting, she walks away from the windows and peruses the massive wall of bookshelves. They’re mostly technical guides, with the odd novel thrown in when someone sends me one and wants me to read it and endorse.
I never do.
My computer powers up with an almost sizzle in the air, and when a picture of Libby pops up – a scan of a drawing of a nine-year-old girl – I smile and allow myself a minute of staring.
I knew, even back then, that she was mine. I knew it in my gut, and once we shook on it, I knew where my life was headed. I hadn’t come back for her yet only because I wasn’t ready.
Now, as I stare at the drawing of that little girl, I realize the boy in me was protecting her from the man. He knew I didn’t deserve her. Not with the hate in my heart, not with the animosity I felt, or the poison that ruled my every decision.
I couldn’t have her until I was ready to let the rest go.
“Hey, Lib?”
Caught stroking the spine of one of the few novels, she turns to me and lifts a brow. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to. She feels absolutely no pressure to indulge or impress me the way many others do. She’s still the chubby girl who spat in her hand before shaking mine.
There’s nowhere for us to go from there but up. Together.
“Do you think it would be appropriate to send Jess something for the babies?”
My heart throbs with nerves and uncertainty, but Lib doesn’t make me suffer. Dropping her hand, she lets her lips curl into a small grin as she folds her arms and saunters in my direction. “I think that’s a lovely idea. I’m kinda proud of you for considering it.”
“Do you think…” I pull in a long breath and rub my hands over my face as she stops at my desk and perches her ass on the edge. “Do you think the guys will get mad? It’s not really my place.”
“No, I think they’ll accept it for what it is.”
I reach across my desk and pick up the very same letter opener I stole more than two decades ago.
I’ve held onto it all this time. I study the Hayes inscription on the side – something I didn’t even notice that day in the club.
I didn’t notice it for days, and when I did, I tossed the damn thing far away from my bed of cardboard and vermin.
But it was my only protection, my only link to home, so I picked it up again and held it the way I imagine Libby held my sweater.
“And what is it, Lib?” I look up to find her watching my hands.
Does she know it’s the same one? Or is she simply picturing us like this from forever ago? Somehow, we always end up like this; I’ll watch over her shoulder, and she’ll watch me.
“You say they’ll accept it for what it is.” I pause. “So what is it?”
“A peace offering, perhaps?” She pulls the inside of her cheek between her teeth as though in thought. “I think they’ll see it as you saying congratulations, and that you’re willing to play nice. You’re not a threat to them, and they’re not a threat to you.”
I frown. “But that’s not true. I am a threat to them, just as surely as they’re a threat to me. A week ago, they had no clue I existed. And now, because of you and the powers you possess simply by walking around in panties, I no longer have that layer of protection.”
She grins. “I’ll protect you.” Resting a hand on the desk, she leans forward and waits for me to accept her kiss. “I will always protect you, Gunner. I kinda love you, so…”
“Lifetime protection?”
“And a strong suggestion you relocate your office and living space to the bottom floor.”
I laugh, but stop again when my office door opens and Annaliese steps in with a shy smile. She has no reason to be shy, no reason to be unsure of her position at Griffin Industries.
We may have… spent time together in the past. But that was a long time ago, and she’s managed to remain loyal to the company and thoroughly competent. I would hate to lose one of my best staff because Libby is here.
“Oh, sorry, sir.” Her eyes go rounder as she focuses on the woman sitting on my desk.
Libby’s posture. Libby’s playful grin. They met on the way in, but it was fast and formal, and Libby wasn’t yet in a playful mood.
But now she’s on my desk, her lips were on mine only seconds ago, and now Annaliese’s fiery cheeks are turning pale.
“I just wanted to bring your messages in, but I can email them if you like.”
“No, it’s okay. Come on in.” I tap Lib’s thigh and smile when she rolls her eyes and sits up again.
I wouldn’t care if she stayed on the end of my desk, but she doesn’t.
She plops to her sneakered feet and moves back to the bookshelf, and as the women pass, Annaliese does a kind of mini-curtsy, while Lib’s brows pop high and her eyes come to mine in disbelief.
Libby doesn’t do pretense. She doesn’t do formal. Or curtsies. Or weird girl rituals.
She does palm knives when certain stewardesses unfasten too many buttons on their too-small blouses, but other than that, she’s here, she’s claimed me as hers, and in her head, that’s the end of it.
“I might just sit here.” She drops down onto a long sofa beside the bookshelf, and instead of selecting a book, she snatches up one of the dozens of Griffin tablets and swipes across the screen. “And I might see if I can order a gift for Jess.”
“Not too expensive,” I argue. Both women look at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “I just mean, don’t make it look too expensive. I don’t want the guys claiming I’m trying to flash or whatever.”
Lib rolls her eyes. “You’re overthinking this, Griffin. Stop fretting, I’ll take care of it.”
Okay. Whatever. Don’t overthink it. I pull in a long breath, and let it out again when Annaliese stops in front of my desk.
It wouldn’t be out of character for her to drop into the chair opposite mine and settle in for a minute.
But not today. She’s on her best behavior now that another woman is here.
“Sir.”
“What did I miss?”
“Rogers sends his thanks for payment on the doors.”
I chuckle. “Of course he does. Sniveling little prick. We’re not using him again. I don’t do lazy or stupid.”
Annaliese nods and makes notes on her Griffin tablet.
“With your permission, those detectives spent the last couple days combing our files. They took what they wanted, gave me a receipt, and said they’d destroy their copies when they’re done.”
“You do something illegal, Griffin?”
I take a blue and red hacky sack from my top drawer and toss it at Lib’s head without breaking composure for my astute assistant. “No. Zip it.”
Annaliese can’t handle this new atmosphere. She can’t handle such drastic change, so when Libby pegs the hacky sack right back and lands it on my solar plexus, I genuinely wonder if Annaliese might just pass out. “Um… sir, I don’t… I’m not sure…”
“It’s okay. Relax. What else?”
“Um…Olly said he’s taking off for the rest of the day, unless you need him for anything.”
“No.” Squishing the hacky sack between my hands, I shoot one last glance toward Libby as she scrolls, taps, smiles, and spends my money. “We’re heading out this afternoon too. I’ll be out of the office for the whole week.”
Dutifully, Annaliese begins taking notes.