Chapter 11
Peyton
Mom?
Pushing away from March, I smoothed my clothes and hair just before she rounded the corner.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” March said, grabbing my hand.
“Why would I have to ring the bell to visit my baby boy? Don’t be silly,” his mother replied. “Something smells good.”
“We have pizza,” I offered. “If you’d like to join us.”
She strode forward with a slight limp. “Love to. You must be the new girlfriend.”
I recoiled. “I’m not. It’s not like—”
“Peyton, this is my mother, Karla. Mom, Peyton Smith. She works with a woman we’re protecting.”
She rushed me before I could respond. “Karla with a K,” she said brightly. Instead of a handshake, she pulled me into a very tight hug. “Ruppie needs a nice girl like you.” When she backed away, her hands stayed firmly on my hips.
Trapped, I shot a helpless look at March. “Ruppie?”
March pulled me free from her grasp. “Ruppert. It’s my middle name.”
“She’s a keeper,” Karla announced, stepping back. Her eyes swept up and down, giving me a thorough onceover. “Good birthing hips.”
I choked. Birthing hips? Am I livestock?
Karla glanced at the table. “That must be what I smelled.”
March’s mouth hung open.
I wasn’t sure which of us was more embarrassed—me or him.
She plopped into the seat I’d been in.
March pulled out another chair for me. “I was born Zane Ruppert March.”
“But we changed it legally to Ruppert Zane March,” Karla added, grabbing a slice. “For Grandpappy.”
“Without asking me,” Zane muttered as he sat.
“You were two,” she mumbled while chewing. “Your grandpappy threatened to cut us out of the will if we didn’t name a baby after him. And your father got cancer of the you-know-whats.” She gestured downward. “So we weren’t getting any more chances.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, blinking. Cancer was never fair, and testicular cancer was no joyride. I assumed that’s what she meant.
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Zane said.
Karla shrugged. “How were we supposed to know the old coot, may he rest in peace, was going to leave it all to that hussy?” She turned to me. “Had a heart attack in bed two months after his wedding, and the fourth wife got it all.”
“Grandpappy married a Vegas showgirl,” Zane explained.
“The doctor said it was the sex that killed him,” Karla added through a mouthful of pizza. “I think that was her plan all along. You should’ve seen how she set up his basement.” She wiped a stringy piece of cheese from her chin. “Like something out of that book—what was it called?”
“Fifty Shades,” March said flatly.
“That’s the one. Hey before I forget, can you sign this birthday card for Nana? I’m asking again if I can come up.” She pulled a card from her purse.
“Sure,” March replied. “Do you think it’ll change anything?”
“I have to try.” Karla shrugged and looked my way. “Except for going to the zoo, my mother is a recluse who won’t talk to anyone.”
“I’m sorry.” I wished I had family. She took a deep breath. “You got any wine?”
March stood. “Sure.” He headed to the kitchen.
Karla leaned in. “So, how long have you two been together, Mayten? I didn’t even know he had a new girl.”
“I heard that,” March called.
“We’re not,” I said quickly. “And it’s Peyton.”
She eyed me skeptically. “There’s a suitcase by the door. Do you always bring luggage on your dinner dates?”
“It’s not a date,” March said from the kitchen.
“Quiet, Ruppie,” she snapped. “I’m talking to your girl.”
“I’m not his girl,” I confirmed. “My condo was burglarized today. The door’s broken. He insisted I come here tonight. It wouldn’t be safe at my building without a working lock.”
Karla nodded. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember it next time I sneak off to a man’s place.”
“She’s here…” March’s voice was tight. “…because she got a concussion, and the doctor told me to keep an eye on her for two days.”
Karla squinted at me. “A concussion?”
“I was mugged. Your son saved me.”
“Good for you, Ruppert.” She turned back to me. “Wait—you got mugged and robbed? Same day? You’ve got odd luck. I predict twins for you. I’m never wrong. Tell me your birthday isn’t February twenty-ninth.”
“It’s not,” March said.
He knew my birthday?
“Then no triplets,” Karla mused. “I’m not always right.” She patted my arm. “Don’t you fret. Twins are easier to pop out, but I hear the strollers are hell in airports.”
Birth easier, airport harder? I was losing the thread with this woman.
Karla tapped my arm again. “Where are you from, Peyton?”
Damn. Not a question I wanted to answer. “Out east.”
“Me too. Where exactly?”
This woman was like a lie detector in stretch pants. “Atlanta.”
March raised his eyebrows. “That’s more than you’ve ever told me.”
“I’m from Columbus, originally,” Karla said, ignoring him. “Ever been?”
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Oh, I know some Smiths around Atlanta. Do you know James Smith?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“How about David? Robert? John? Michael?”
“Nope.” I needed a distraction—fast. “What do you think of the pizza?”
She smiled. “I always like pepperoni.”
“Mom, I wasn’t expecting you,” March cut in.
“I’ve got an early flight out of LAX tomorrow, and I didn’t want to mess with traffic,” she said. “And I always love another chance to see my baby boy. It’s okay, right, Ruppie?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“Give me your hand,” she insisted, holding hers out to me.
March nodded, so I reluctantly let her take it.
She placed one hand below and one above before closing her eyes. “You have a strong life force.”
I glanced at March. Is she serious?
“You’re also a good person,” she said after a few moments, then released my hand.
“I try,” I said, pulling it back.
“I should know,” she added. “I’ve met plenty of not-nice people.” She grabbed another slice. “In my line of work.”
I sipped my wine, avoiding comment.
“So, how do you feel about children?”
I blinked. What the hell? “I like children.” Somehow, I’d been sucked into the Twilight Zone, going from the hottest kiss of my life to being sized up for a wedding dress by his unhinged mother.
“We would’ve had five, maybe six, if we could’ve,” she said. “With all these dual-income couples, there’s a population crisis now. That’s what the news says, right, Ruppie?”
“I don’t know.” March clenched his jaw again. “Her condo really was broken into.”
Karla took a long sip of wine. “Let me know if they catch the guy. I’ll make sure he has it rough.”
“We’re working on it,” March said.
She turned back to me. “I work for the county probation department. I know people.”
Perfect. Law enforcement. Just what I was trying to avoid. I pushed back from the table.
“Ruppie, I’ve had a long day. Is Peyton in the room I normally use, or in with you?”
I coughed.
“Yes,” March said. “She got here first, so she got the normal guest room.”
I shook my head. “I can—”
“No,” March said sternly. “You were here first.”
“Then could you tell me where I’m sleeping?” his mother asked.
“The other bedroom, of course.”
“Nice meeting you, Karla,” I said as I rose.
“A pleasure, Peyton. I love meeting someone from back East. Some of these Californians have had a little too much sun, if you know what I mean.”
No, I didn’t. Still, I smiled as March led me to a well-appointed guest room. “What did she mean by too much sun?” I asked.
“Not a clue,” he replied.
I dragged my bags in, venturing close enough that I caught another whiff of his dangerously appealing scent.
“Sorry about Mom. She can be a lot to deal with.”
I giggled. “She’s fine. It’s good to see that you’re human after all, Ruppie.”
He sucked in a sharp breath and stepped menacingly close. “Don’t you dare call me that around anybody else.” The smirk gave him away.
“I won’t if you can go back to not hitting on me.”
He worried his bottom lip. “Okay, for a while. Do you really find me that repugnant?”
“No, not at all.” I shook my head and backed up a step to get some distance from his pheromones or whatever it was I felt when he was too close. “Quite the opposite, and I can’t afford a relationship.”
“So, in time, I have a chance?” he asked.
It was a dangerous move, but I laid a hand against his chest. “No. I’m like a tumbleweed, always on the move, here today and gone tomorrow. I don’t want to inflict that pain on either of us.”
The sensation was almost too much when he placed a hand over mine, keeping me rooted to him. “If you trust me, I can help with that need to keep moving.”
I pulled my hand free. “You’re a good man, March. I’m a mess.”
“Why do you still refuse to use my first name?”
Because I could too easily lose myself in you if I don’t keep as much distance as possible. Nope, I wasn’t admitting that. “I like the way March sounds. It reminds me of springtime.
He appraised me skeptically.
“I’m a mistake. Find yourself a nice girl with good birthing hips and make your mother and yourself happy. Start on the five or six kids your mother still wants.”
Shaking his head, he backed out of the room. “Keep my offer in mind.” He pointed down the hall. “The bathroom is the next door down. Yell if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.” His tone had gone cold.
“Do you need to test me before bed?” My annoyance with his insistence at checking my balance and mental faculties had waned and become an appreciation of his concern for my well-being. And I didn’t want our final words tonight to be angry ones.
“How do you feel? Do you want to be tested?” he asked curtly. He didn’t like the way I’d shut down any more than I did.
The knot on the back of my head still hurt when I touched it. My shoulder, I could deal with on my own. “No, I feel fine.”
“Okay then. Sleep well, because you’re safe in this house. Nobody is getting to you or your things. Not with me around.” His tone had softened.
I nodded. “Thanks. Goodnight.” I almost added Zane to that, but caught myself in time.
Before bed, I went through the shoulder-stretching exercises I would have given any of my patients to perform. Would I ever get back to my professional life? It seemed so long ago now.
While I stretched, I thought about what Karla had said about children. She’d wanted five or six, but could only have March. That was a pain I hadn’t ever contemplated.
I’d never given motherhood much thought. Sure, I’d figured I’d find the right man at some point and want a family. It hurt to think that I had to wait until the Strangler was caught before I could consider motherhood at all.
What if he was never caught? That possibility turned my stomach.
After changing into my sleep shorts and top, I hurried down the hall to brush my teeth.
In the mirror, I could see it was time to renew my hair color, because my darker roots were showing.
In Atlanta, I’d chosen red. It hadn’t been easy to keep up, so when I’d needed to come to LA, I’d bleached that away and cut it to become a shoulder-length blonde. So what if no one would mistake me for a natural blonde? The LA me only had to look different from the Boston me and the Atlanta me.
Back in the bedroom, I slipped under the sheets and tried my hardest to not think of the sexy SEAL. It didn’t work, and my hand slipped down to the top of my shorts.
Would it hurt to indulge in a small fantasy?
Dammit, it would, I decided. Self-control was a necessary quality to stay alive, so I rolled over, and sleep eventually dragged me under.
Zane
Go find a woman with good birthing hips to make Mom happy? Her statement had angered me. It was the ultimate take-a-hike comment.
“She seems like a very nice girl,” Mom said when I returned to the table.
“She is,” I agreed.
“Ruppie, she’s hiding something. I can tell. Do you know what’s troubling her?” Mom’s daily work with the underbelly of society as a probation officer had given her a sixth sense about people.
“She won’t say.”
“Smith is also not her name. You can’t be a Smith and not know a James, David, Robert, John, or Michael. I know the statistics because Smith is such a common name for one of my runners to choose as an alias.”
It always amazed me what odd facts she knew as a result of her work.
“I know it’s not Peyton Smith,” I agreed. “I just don’t know who she really is yet.”
Mom patted my hand. “Well, dear, you keep an eye on her. It seems she needs your help.”
“I plan to.”
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to turn in. I’ve got an early flight.”
I gave her a hug and took in the dishes to clean up after she left the table.
Keep an eye on her. I was definitely signed up for that.
After finishing in the kitchen, I turned off all the lights and stopped outside Peyton’s room for a few seconds. If light had come from under the door, I’d planned to talk with her again this evening.
But the light in her room was off, and when I didn’t hear any noise, I moved on to my room.
This was where my battles were fought, and I hoped to avoid one tonight. My phone didn’t have any messages about the fingerprint search or Peyton’s place. It was probably too much to ask that I get a quick answer.
When I was naked and ready for bed, I stooped beside the nightstand to get my bottle and glass.
The vodka went down with only a mild burn. This had become my crutch for getting to sleep before the demons arrived to keep me awake. I knew it wasn’t ideal, but the alternative was worse. I would eliminate the crutch someday.
Mom’s description came back to me—birthing hips. Yes, those were one of Peyton’s many desirable attributes, and I looked forward to getting my hands on them, and a lot more. She was a goddess I planned to worship. All I needed was the right battle plan.
The more I thought of Peyton, the harder I got. In no time, I was on my back, jerking my cock to an imaginary goddess I knew would be one of the biggest challenges I’d ever faced.
I grabbed the corner of the pillow with my free hand and bit down to keep from crying out when I came.
After the ropes of my release had painted my stomach and I’d come down from the high, I cleaned up and climbed under the covers.
With the aid of the glass of vodka, sleep came quickly.