Chapter Four #4
“Impressive,” she whispered, not looking amused.
Looking into him and wanting to be kissed.
He pushed forward and touched his lips to hers.
She followed him a little when he pulled away, then quirked
her lips in surrender when she realized that was all she was going to get.
For now.
“So what do you know that brought you to that warehouse?” he
asked.
It was then she realized they were out of the flirty banter
and into the heavy, so she sighed, but didn’t hesitate sharing, “I have other
sources. Kids, or not-so-much kids anymore, that I met from past stories. When
Jackson, the DPD guy, held out on me, I moved down the list to them and told
them what I wanted. They were good kids who got disenfranchised, they liked me,
thought I was cool, and fortunately as time passed, they didn’t quit doing
that. So they poked around a bit and gave me some leads. The other stuff I
checked out and it led to dead ends. I’m assuming, since you were there, that
what I was about to look into tonight wasn’t a dead end.”
“Full disclosure, I was into you when your sister texted me
your picture, and stayed into you even when you got off the plane in a bad
mood—”
“You’re being generous now, honey,” she whispered. “It
wasn’t just a bad mood. I was awful to you.”
He kept going like she didn’t talk and like hearing her call
him “honey” in that sweet voice of hers didn’t hit him warm in the gut.
“So tonight was part about me making a fucked-up assumption
and part that Vance had just warned me that if I got caught close to that
warehouse, I’d disappear. So it was also part me pissed as shit you were
bumbling around in a dangerous sitch that might get
you hurt, or worse.”
She pushed up and asked, “Bumbling?”
He pushed up too and asked in return, “Did you know you were
onto something that might get you disappeared?”
She didn’t answer, though she did, since she took an annoyed
sip of her beer.
“Right,” he muttered.
She rolled her eyes.
That meant it was his turn to grin.
“I want in on your talk with the cops tomorrow,” she
declared.
He was about to slug back more beer, but that stopped him.
“Georgie, you’re out. I got this.”
There was a serious chill on her, “I’m sorry?”
Fuck.
“This shit is dangerous and there’s a dead man to prove it,”
he pointed out.
“Well, I’m not asking to be a part of the takedown team when
the cops go in and bust this black-market ring. I’m just saying I want to be
there when you talk to the cops. And I want to keep on what I’m doing. Because
I have things to contribute and most of it might come to nothing. But some of
it might help Carlyle find some closure, if not peace.”
Goddamn it, he couldn’t argue that.
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine,” she snapped.
“I’m in on your shit too.”
Her expression softened in order to soften her words.
“Dutch, you can’t come on my date-not-date with me. That’d definitely make
Jackson clam up.”
“I get that, baby, but the other shit. The street kids.
Whatever.”
She seemed to be contemplating this. “Work as a team?”
“Why not?”
She smiled at him. “Cool.”
Yeah, it was.
“It might be fun,” she said.
Yeah, it would.
He grinned at her and took another sip.
Then, regrettably, he had to get into more heavy.
So he leaned back into his elbows, and he saw her mentally
brace, which meant she read him, as he meant her to, before she leaned into
hers.
He tried to cushion his words as best as he could when he
gave it to her.
“You know I’m gonna have to tell
my brother about Carolyn.”
She dropped her head and stared down at her beer.
He lifted a hand and curved it around her jaw, so she looked
at him again.
“I can give you two days to prepare her. In that time, she
can come clean. She can do whatever. But after those two days are up, Georgie,
I gotta give Jag what he needs to have, and I’m gonna warn you, he’s gonna lose
it and scrape her off.”
“Yeah,” she said sadly.
“He won’t hurt her, at least not—”
“I know.”
“He’s also not gonna get shitty
about getting his money back. But she’ll be dead to him.”
“I know,” she repeated.
“It’s not all about the money. Drugs are a no-go with us,
baby.”
“Me too,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do about her.
She’s a hot mess, and not only in this way, which is saying something.”
And more of her bad mood at the airport was explained, and
this shit was even bigger.
With regret, he took his hand from her and said, “We can
talk about that tomorrow night after you get here from your date-not-date. Now,
’cause I wanna kiss you
again to take your mind off shit things, and if I do, that’ll take us where we
shouldn’t go until we get to know each other a little better, I gotta get you home.”
“Back to my car, you mean.”
“Then I’ll follow you home.”
“I can drive myself home, Dutch.”
“I know that, Georgiana. But you’ll be driving away from a
warehouse full of black market shit, and the bad guys who deal it, where I do
not know if we wandered into their camera range and they saw me drag you out of
there. So they might be even more vigilant. So I want to make sure you’re not
followed. With me?”
She nodded.
“Quick kiss, then finish your beer, then we’re out of here.”
She gave him that got-your-cock look again which caught the
attention of his cock, as it was meant to do, and said, “You so want
in my pants.”
He arched a brow. “And you don’t want in mine?”
She inched forward a little. “I oh-so want in your
pants.”
He chuckled.
She leaned into him and gave him a quick, hard kiss, before
she pushed back to straight and he watched, unmoving from his lean into the
counter, as she tipped her head back and downed more than half a beer in one
go.
“Talk about impressive,” he teased on a smile when she
finished.
“I’m this close to jumping your bones because you’re being
so cute, so you best get me home, bad boy.”
“I’m not cute.”
“Whatever.”
Someone was going to get their bones jumped, and in order
not to jump that gun, because they started out way wrong, and he was going to
lead them forward all right, he pushed up, socked back another slug, but didn’t
down the whole thing. He set his beer aside, rounded the bar, caught her hand,
and led her to her jacket on his couch.
As she pulled it on, she said, “It’s super cool you’re
letting me give Carolyn a heads-up that you’re gonna
tell Jagger.”
“If you don’t want to be thrown under that bus that Jag
knows because I know because you told me, then we can do it whatever way is
your way, but it’s gotta get done, and sooner not
later.”
She nodded. “Can I tell you at our cop talk tomorrow?”
He returned her nod.
He also took her hand again to lead her out to his truck.
But she tugged on his and he stopped moving.
“When is that?” she
asked.
“Lunch. Noon. Eddie Chavez and Hank Nightingale.”
She nodded.
“I’ll pick you up at eleven-thirty,” he told her.
She nodded again and said, “I’ll need your cell number.”
“You can program it in, in the truck.”
Another nod then, “Dutch.”
“Right here,” he stated when she didn’t say anything else.
She looked weird for a beat before she blurted, “I like
you.”
He felt his lips twitch as he shifted, getting closer, and
his voice was low when he said, “I hope so.”
“I just…well, it…” She cleared her throat. “Carolyn played
Jagger and—”
He interrupted her.
“We’re here, finally.”
“Uh…sorry?”
“We’re at the good part to being in the biker world.”
“What’s that?” she whispered, staring up at him.
He got even closer, dipped his head to hers, and with their
mouths close, and eyes locked, he answered, “Live and let live, Georgie.”
“So you’re saying, if we…you know, if something comes of
us—”
“You’re you, she’s Carolyn, and Jag will know the
difference. And no offense to your sister, but he’s not that into her, so it
might sting, that’ll mostly be to his pride, but he’ll get over it, though
he’ll get over her faster.”
“Okay,” she said breathily.
He liked the way she said that.
He liked the way she was staring up at him, like she could
stand there for a year and do it and be totally down with that.
So he changed his mind.
“I think we need to kiss again,” he told her.
“And I think you’re absolutely right,” she replied.
She pushed up on her toes.
He bent down.
They both wound their arms around each other.
And they went at it.
He managed (mostly) not letting his dick get (too) hard.
But it wasn’t easy.
Then he ended it, walked her to his truck, took her to her
car, followed her home and waited outside until he saw the light go on in the
unit she told him was hers and she texted, All good.
He waited some more and got, Murtagh is looking forward
to his adventure.
He waited even longer and got, Murtagh is my
cat-not-my-cat. FYI.
Only then did he reply, Go to bed, baby.
And on his way home, he got, Cute.