Chapter 7
BONER
I respect a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it. Even when it takes me by surprise. Which Harlow did when she told me to carry Carl into the back of her restaurant.
I asked no questions. Laid the guy down and went back to deal with his associate.
The associate who rudely didn't show up. Shame, I had energy to burn after spending time with her.
On the upside, I knew where to find her late Saturday night. Just as she was locking up her restaurant.
I waited until her staff left and leaned against the alley wall, where she wouldn't fail to see me.
"You need to stop showing up like this," she said, stopping in front of me, out of reach.
"Do I, love?" I asked easily. I crossed my ankles and cocked my head at her.
"Yes, you do," she said. "Wouldn't want to have any…accidents."
I grinned slowly. "Sweetheart, if you stabbed me, it would be on purpose."
She raised a single eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I should?"
That made me tip back my head and laugh. "Absolutely not. If anyone's doing any stabbing around here, it'll be me, with my cock."
"I told you that was one time." She started to walk past me.
My gaze lingered on her ass before I hurried to follow. "And I'm prepared to respect that."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Are you? First you appear on the fire escape—"
I held out my hands. "Total coincidence."
She continued as if I hadn't spoken. "Then you turn up outside my restaurant."
"Because you intrigue me," I said. "And I'm curious what happened to our…mutual friend."
Now she stopped walking and glanced around, making sure no one could hear. "What do you think happened?"
"Pizza topping? Baked Alaska? Wait." I pointed a finger gun at her. "Tiramisu?"
"Do you even know what those things are?" she asked, giving me a funny look.
Ouch.
I lowered my hand. "I know what pizza toppings are. Ground beef, ham, bacon. I'm a meat lovers pizza kind of guy."
"I'll bear that in mind the next time you eat at my restaurant on pizza night," she said dryly.
"On second thoughts, maybe vegetarian pizza," I hedged. Ridding the world of people like Carl was one thing, digesting him was another.
Harlow snorted. "Unless you have a better method of…disposal. This leaves less evidence behind."
"What do you do with the—" I stopped, aware I was speaking a little too loud. In a whisper I added, "Bones."
She winced. "This isn't the place to talk about it."
I grinned again. "I completely agree with you. How far to your place?"
"You're not coming to my place," she said, looking like she was over this whole conversation. "I have to go. I need to be up early."
"You can come to my place then," I offered. Because I'm nothing if not generous. "I'll make sure you get some sleep."
Eventually. Like I said, generous.
"Boner," she said with a sigh.
"Harlow." I mimicked her tone. "We had a good time the other night, didn't we? And by that, I mean both other nights. I like you, you like me."
"Who says I like you?" She cocked her head at me again.
"Why wouldn't you, I'm very likable." I smiled pleasantly. "Also, we have things in common. Things we can't talk about with other people. I bet there's plenty you want to get off your chest." For once, I wasn't thinking about her breasts, or even looking at them.
Mostly.
Let's be real, though. People whose hobbies included casual homicide also needed a shoulder to cry on. Why shouldn't she cry on mine?
Judging by the expression on her face, I hit my target right in the centre. There was no one she could talk to about the things she was doing. No one she could confide in who wouldn't run off to the cops in a heartbeat.
"You don't have to do this alone," I said softly. "We have the same goals. We want the same thing. Saving the world, one asshole at a time."
"Why?" she asked, her chin raised, eyes glittering in the light of streetlights and passing cars.
Why?" I frowned.
"Why do you do it?" She seemed to be caught right in the middle of backing away and giving in to her need to open up to someone. I couldn't tell which way she was leaning. I didn't think she knew either.
"Come to my place and I'll make you a coffee," I said, all sincerity now. "I'll tell you my story and you can decide if you want to tell me yours. If nothing else, you'll get a good cup of coffee. What do you say, love?"
She closed her eyes for a moment or two and exhaled slowly. "Fine. But only because I'm curious about you."
"Funny, I'm curious about you too," I said. And a lot of other things as well. This was about more than listening to her come, although that was a part of it. I'm only human after all.
"I'm sure you are," she said, her tone dry again. "Let's go then."
"Has anyone told you you're romantic?" I said, trying to keep a rein on my sarcasm.
"What could be more romantic than suggesting you try my pizza with special toppings on it?" she asked. "I wouldn't make that offer for anyone else."
"Does the aforementioned 'anyone else' know what they're eating?" I couldn't help asking.
She cast me a sidelong look that clearly said no, they didn't. "Shouldn't you be repulsed?"
"When you think about it, you're doing a service for the world," I said. "Save a pig, eat an asshole. And by asshole I mean…actually, both kinds." I slid a glance back her way.
"I figured you meant that," she said. "But you're right, I've probably saved a whole bunch of pigs."
"Do you eat…pork yourself?" Did I really want to know the answer to that?
"I'm not going to tell you all my secrets at once," she said.
"Right," I said slowly. "I'll tease them out one at a time as we go along."
We stepped out onto the street as a taxi cut off a car. When the light turned red, both drivers got out of their vehicles and started to yell at each other.
"Why don't you look where you're going?" one yelled.
"Fuck off, asshole!" the other yelled back. She dove back into her car as the light went green and drove off around the corner.
I loved this city.
"If only they knew, hmmm?" I smirked in their direction.
"They don't want to know," she said.
"That's the problem, isn't it?" I asked. "No one wants to know. Everyone is happy to look the other way when bad things happen."
"Not everyone," she said.
"No, not everyone," I agreed. "Not you and me. Not all heroes wear capes, right love?"
"I wouldn't call us heroes." She stepped over the contents of a spilled trashcan, grimacing at the contents.
"You're not squeamish, are you?" I teased.
"Of used diapers? Absolutely I am," she said. "They smell like they've been there for a week."
"Interesting," I said slowly. "Harlow St. James is squeamish."
"How do you feel about being a pizza topping?" She looked over at me.
"Negatively," I said. "As I imagine you do too. Unless you want your last act in this world to be saving another pig."
"When you put it that way, I feel selfish for declining," she said. "But I still decline. Not that I have any say in it." She stared off down the street, her expression dark.
"Is this one of those 'my days are numbered,' things?" I asked.
That was understandable. When you took the kind of risks we did, sooner or later something would go pear-shaped. Someone would fight back, or the cops would turn up at the wrong time. Or we'd lose what was left of our humanity and go on some kind of reckless spree. Something I was very mindful of.
It was another reason I wanted to be friends with her. For both of us to maintain our sanity. If we could avoid that occupational hazard, then I would. If I could help her, I'd be even happier.
"You don't feel that way?" She looked at me searchingly, like she was trying to figure me out.
Fair enough, I'd been trying to figure her out since we met.
I hadn't even scratched the surface of what made her tick.
The more I saw of her, the more I wanted to see, know and understand.
The more of myself I wanted to reveal to her in return.
"I don't think about it too much," I said honestly. "I get up in the morning, go to work, then…" I shrugged one shoulder. "Do my thing and go to bed. Then start the day over again."
"What do you do for work?" she asked. Of course she'd grab on to that. It was the most normal part of our conversation so far. Sometimes a bit of normal went a long way.
So I've heard. Don't quote me on it.
"I run an art gallery," I said. "Modern art, pottery, things like that. Sculptures made out of bones." I watched her carefully for her reaction. Someone who turned her targets into cuisine probably wasn't too worried about what happened to the bones.
She didn't flinch. "Animal bones?"
"What else?" In a public space like my gallery, human remains wouldn't go unnoticed. Shame, they'd make interesting sculptures. I could make a whole series, from Asshole Number One to Asshole Number… Whatever number I was up to.
Except, that wouldn't be terribly subtle. Did I do subtle? Not usually, but in this case I preferred to stay out of prison. I was too pretty for a place like that.
"Plaster," she said simply. "Or plastic like the skeletons you see in schools."
"I should be offended you'd suggest I'd have plastic in my gallery," I said with an exaggerated sniff. "The fact is, some of the work does contain it. But no, the bones are real. As real as I am."
"I'm not sure if that's the flex you meant it to be." For the first time tonight, she seemed to be holding back a smile.
"Touché, Miss St. James." I chuckled. "Were you an archer in a past life, or perhaps a sniper? You don't miss your target." I pressed a hand to my chest.
"I might be both of those in this life," she said cryptically.
"You just became twice as hot," I said. And my balls were now twice as heavy.
"And if I'm neither of them?" She cocked an eyebrow at me.
"I stand by what I said." I nodded. "You're twice as hot because you have a sense of humor. And if you can shoot, that's an added bonus. Especially with a bow and arrow. Think of it, we could start robbing from the rich and giving to the poor."
"That would be a twist on the Robin Hood tale," she said. "This is your building, isn't it?"
I hadn't realized we'd stopped until she said that. This woman was good at messing with my brain and I didn't mind it for a moment. Not with the memory of her pussy convulsing around my cock still fresh in my head.
Both of my heads, before you ask. One in a spin from being close to her, and the other I was struggling to keep from rising to full mast.
"Yes, yes it is." I pulled out my card and swiped it to unlock the front door and gestured her inside. None of this was as frantic as our night together, but it was early yet.
Smiling to myself, I followed her in.