17. Am I a switch?
Chapter 17
Am I a switch?
TOMER
I stand at the edge of my living room, feeling like a guest in my own home.
Freya arrived about fifteen minutes ago to join the girls. She, Stella, and Lettie are spread out around the living room like it’s a slumber party.
At least, I assume that’s what a slumber party would look like. Never been to one. And I’d wager females would have a very different experience than males, even if I did have a baseline to compare it to.
Kri taps me on the back of my arm. “You owe me for this.” She grimaces as her eyes scan the room. “I should have brought Val. She loves this shit.”
Beside her, Marley, another female Redleg guard, chuckles into her hand. “It’s gonna be so fun, Kri. You’ll see. Girl time is the best time.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Kri feign a gag.
“I just threw up in my mouth,” she mutters, drawing an honest-to-goodness laugh from me.
Lettie hears it and whips her head around to find me, her lips rising at the corners. There’s a hint of mischievousness in her eyes I didn’t think I’d see for a long time.
Bringing Stella here was a good fucking idea. I’ll let myself be proud of that for a minute.
Not only is she happier, she feels safe enough to let me slip out for an hour or two. Shep is outside waiting for me. Josh and Henderson are on perimeter duty, while Kri and Marley will be inside with the ladies.
Although Kri isn’t back at full strength yet, she’ll help keep Lettie comfortable. With the other three guards here, I have no concerns about Lettie’s safety.
She’s in good hands.
So why is it so damn hard to leave?
Buying myself a bit more time, I ask, “Who is watching Val tonight, Kri?”
“Junior, Aaron, and Jonesy.”
My head kicks back. “A bit of overkill, isn’t it?”
She gives me a glare sharp enough to cut metal. “When I want parenting advice, I’ll ask.”
Annnd ... that’s enough people for me for tonight.
“I’m gonna bug out. Call me if there’s any problems or if she seems like she’s getting upset. Okay? Don’t let her be alone. Not even in a room by herself. If she needs to go to the bathroom, just wait outside the door. Don’t make her feel bad about it. It’s not her fault she’s jumpy.”
Kri crosses her arms at her chest and purses her lips. “You told me already. I might still be recovering from a TBI, but I’m not in a coma anymore.”
“Oh, stop that, grouchy face,” Marley chides her.
“Shut up, Black Widow,” Kri quips back at Marley, who is decked out in head-to-toe black leather.
Marley brushes against Kri’s shoulder and snort-laughs. She gives me a run for my money in the weird department.
Shaking them off, I march over to the back of the couch, hovering above Lettie. After kissing her on the head, I whisper, “Call me if you need anything, sugar bear. I won’t be gone long.”
“Hold on a second.” She sets her water down on the coffee table. “Excuse me, girls. I’ll be right back. Don’t fall in love with each other until I return. I want to witness the magic for myself. I’ve been fantasizing about this moment for far too long.” Lettie rises and shuffles around the couch.
“She’s hot and all, Lettie, but I’m not gay,” Freya quips, then glances at me. “And you better not say shit otherwise.”
Palms out, I back away from that conversation. Literally. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Not touching that with rubber gloves and a fifty-foot pole. What happens at Bask, stays at Bask.
Like that time she and Jesse had a pussy eating competition in the main room. His pride still hasn’t recovered. I’ll never go head to head with her.
Don’t read into the unintentional pun. It’s not like I’ve suddenly developed a personality.
Lettie grabs my hand and leads me toward the kitchen. Once we’re out of earshot and view from the rest of the group, she backs me up toward the refrigerator and cages me in.
She . Cages. Me . In.
“You are not allowed to get yourself in trouble tonight, ya hear me? No killin’. No shootin’. None of that mess. Got it?” Her southern twang is rich with velvet authority.
I’m too shocked to speak, so I simply nod.
While she can be bratty and stubborn, she’s never domineering. And this move screams she’s in control . Not gonna lie, it’s more arousing than I would have guessed it would be.
Didn’t think I could ever be a switch but...
Nah. I’m not.
It’s just Lettie.
My hands settle around her waist, pulling her to me. Slowly, I lower my face to hers like an offering. She responds immediately, rising to her toes and capturing my mouth.
When our lips touch, she moans faintly. The enticing sound goes straight to my rapidly hardening dick.
As our tongues twirl and tease, she clamps her hands over my shoulders to hold me in place. My need to take charge returns with a vengeance as I get wrapped up in my Lettie. Taking the reins, I cup her cheeks and angle her head to deepen the kiss. My heart rate picks up, and my cock pulses with need.
I ache for more of these simple moments. Each time we’re able to brush aside the trauma for a precious minute, it’s as if another bandage is applied to my battle-weary soul, helping the wounds heal. More than anything, I hope it does the same for her.
She must notice my growing erection because she begins grinding against it, causing more blood to surge south. Withdrawing from the kiss, she catches my lower lip with her teeth, tugging it slightly before releasing it. Little vixen.
Her eyes flutter open, trapping me under her spell.
I’d do anything for this woman.
“No killin’,” she states again, raising her brows and waiting for me to agree.
“Just intel gathering, baby. That’s all. I promise.”
Fuck . I just lied to her.
Quickly, I amend, “That is... unless we need to do more. But I’m not leaving with the intention of killing anyone tonight.”
And that’s the truth. It’s not my primary objective.
Tonight.
But I do plan to fuck some shit up.
She narrows her sapphire eyes at me, looking as cute as a button. “And keep your friend out there with you. No lone dog thing.”
“Lone wolf?” I ask.
“Whatever you call it. I’ll have none of it.”
I give her a peck on the lips. Then another.
“I promise. No killing or shooting. And I’ll keep Shep with me.”
“Good boy,” she teases with a flirty wink and pats my cock over my pants.
Damn. Stella’s only here for a few hours, and it’s already bringing out a whole new side of my girl.
“With the gals and guards hangin’ around, I don’t reckon I’ll be fallin’ asleep. That being said...”
“Reckon?” I tease.
She wrinkles her nose. “Stella brings it out in me.”
“I love it.”
I love you.
“Anyway, if I’m passed out on the couch when you get home, please wake me up and bring me to bed.”
A morose thought fills me. From what she told the detectives this morning, they weren’t subtle about how they woke her at that fucking house. I’d hate to trigger her into a panic attack.
“How do you want me to wake you up, sugar bear?”
Her mouth rounds with a tiny gasp, and a lascivious expression dances up her face. “You mean like with your tongue or your fingers?” She brings her face close to mine and simpers, “Or your cock?”
It takes a solid four seconds to close my jaw and force my eyes back into their sockets. “Damn, woman. That’s not what I meant at all.”
Rolling her lower lip into a pout, she huffs, “Then what did you mean?” Her face perks up. “Are you bringing home food? Late-night pig-out?”
“Your meds wore off, I think.” I chuckle. “I’ll bring you home food if you want, but that’s not what I was asking.”
“We’ll take the back side of the menu from Waffle House.”
“Horrifying, but okay. I’ll do that for you.”
If she doesn’t already know I love her, then certainly going into a Waffle House should prove it, right?
She scoots her body in tight again, pressing against me from head to toe. “What did you mean about waking me up?”
As I look at her face, serene with well-earned happiness, I decide to let it be for now.
“Nothing, sweetness. Go have fun with your friends. You’re in safe hands. See you in a few hours.”
“With the?—”
I nod animatedly and finish her sentence. “With the back side of the Awful House menu. Got it.”
“Awful House. Ha. I like that.”
Before I rush out of her arms, I kiss her again, letting her warmth fill me. I hope it can drive away the icy claws of vengeance a bit longer.
Because I don’t want to lie to her ever again.
And I fiercely want to be the man she thinks I am.
“Now, get going, but be careful,” she warns, easing out of our embrace. “Come back to me the same man I fell in love with.”
In a million years, I’ll never comprehend how a woman like her could ever love a man like me.
On the way out the door, I wave Kri over to the front porch and instruct her to do her best to keep Lettie awake so I don’t have to move her when I get home.
When I start to explain, she cuts me off with a crisp slash of her hand through the air. “Say no more, buddy. It’s no fun to wake someone with PTSD.”
I tip my head in a grateful gesture, then double-time it to the car, hopping into the front seat.
Shep looks over at me, one brow arched. “You good?”
“Nope. We’re going anyway.”
“Rock and roll.”
I anticipated it would be the B-team bodyguard Scotty Winters who would need convincing to let us through the door to interrogate Savin. I had a speech prepared for when he called Boss and handed his phone to me. Hell, it was another possibility that Savin would be resistant to talking to Shep and me or might not let us in the hotel room where they’re hiding out.
What I didn’t expect was Savin’s girlfriend to be the roadblock.
She juts her chin and stands firm, arms crossed at her chest. “We already give a talk to your boss and the large lion man. Why you come back?”
“Tasha,” Savin chides, tugging her elbow gently to move her out of the doorway where she’s physically impeding our entrance.
When she cricks her neck to give him a side-long glare, I note the bruises along the underside of her chin and neck. She was there. In that disgusting house with my Lettie.
It’s the visual reminder I need to resist removing her by force.
She grumbles under her breath in Russian, her eyes darting between Savin, Shep, and me. After a tense few seconds, she finally lets us enter. But she’s not happy about it, and I have no doubt that she won’t hesitate to throw us out at the first sign of trouble.
If this wasn’t a fucked-up situation, it would be comical how this waif of a woman—battered, bruised, and gaunt from her prolonged time in that house—is the one calling the shots here.
When Savin kisses her forehead and whispers his thanks in her ear, it all makes sense. He’s as broken up about what was done to her as I am about the horrors that Lettie lived through. And he’ll let her process it in any way she needs to.
Lettie’s response would be a bit different. In this situation, she’d be huddled in the corner, desperate to get away from the strange men at the door. But Tasha is angry, dripping with defensiveness, and dead set on protecting the man she loves. Recalling what Mia and Klein told me about Savin being forced into his role in the trafficking ring by unsavory methods of coercion, it stands to reason that he’s suffered too. And Tasha is focusing on him rather than herself.
If not for all those articles on trauma responses I’ve read this week, I never would have seen it this clearly. Having that background should make it easier for me to accomplish my goals with Savin tonight. Hopefully, without upsetting them any further. Fuck knows they’ve already suffered enough.
The magnitude of that realization detonates, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
Before Lettie, I’d never have cared about that. Not to this extreme.
It wouldn’t have dawned on me to consider their perspective through anything other than the lens of logic. These two individuals would have been tools. Sure, I would have felt a measure of sympathy for what they’ve endured, but it wouldn’t likely have changed my approach with them.
My tunnel vision on a mission has always served to remove emotions from operations like this. After all, getting swept up in feelings muddies the water and distracts us from our objective. Or so I thought. It always made more sense to set them aside—just as I’ve done since I was a boy—and focus on what mattered. Getting the job done.
Only it’s not that simple.
You can’t take away the human from human interactions without losing your humanity.
As I take a seat on the edge of one of the double beds with Shep on my left, preparing to interrogate this man about his role in unimaginable horrors committed against countless women, a single thought flashes across my mind in blinding neon.
Violet Holt has not only taught me to love, she’s taught me empathy.