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Heat creeps up my neck, into my ears and up onto my cheeks. Thinking back, I don’t recall us ever being this close. She’s never let me actually touch her, let alone hug her.
“It’s alright, baby girl,” I mutter, playing with the ends of her hair. She nods, silence enveloping us both. Her arms slowly wrap around my torso, clasping at my back as we start to sway.
It’s going to sound fucking wimpy, but I could probably hold her here forever. Though I do have a craving for a wanton woman, preferably the auburn-haired, hazel-eyed girl I’m holding.
Another kicker is the sudden slamming of feelings I have had over the last couple weeks. While I have watched her from afar, there was never an opportunity to venture closer to her. She’s closed off, like one of those old leather journals that are bound closed with a cord. The only way to get them open would be to cut the string and tear the pages open. I want her and that’s not something I will ever doubt again.
“You’re going to put me to sleep,” she murmurs, her voice muffled by my shirt. I hum, not wanting to ruin the soothing moment between us.
It just feels…right. I can’t help but notice how well she fits with me. How well her personality meshes with mine. There’s no denying the connection.
It’s a matter of getting her to acknowledge it.
Chapter Eleven
Leather
“Ithink we caught a lead in Vancouver,” a prospect says, standing from his chair. “We were scouring sightings and followed a few bikers through traffic cams. We lost them once they entered the city. The last known address was a parking garage.”
Staring at a spot on the table, I let the conversation move around me. We need to put an end to the Big D Raiders. One of their own took everything from me. It may not be anything physical, but mentally…
I swallow thickly at the thought of him being back.
“They probably did a swap,” Knuckles mutters, pointing at the prospect. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Uhm, I don’t have one yet.” He looks around nervously, his buddies anxiously waiting to rib him.
“That sucks, what about something technical?”
“Uhm,” he mumbles, looking around at everyone else around him. “Sure?” Unsure of himself, we continue to just stare at him. Prospects are usually far too easy to tease.
“I’m thinking Technocrat,” Phiser pipes up, a teasing smirk on his face. “Or maybe Technophile?” The prospect pales a little bit, obviously not catching that we’re just fucking with him.
“Oh, what about Techno-Wizard?” I ask, barely containing my laugh. We bounce back names, before I crack, laughing loudly at the horror on his face.
“You should see yourself,” Knuckles cackles, pointing to the poor kid. After a few moments, he settles down. “Who all was on the task force to run down Big D? Maybe we can get a name together from them?” Knuckles leans his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. He would look posh if he wasn’t wearing his jean cut that looks as if it was run over by a semi-truck in the mud.
“There were about ten of them,” Phisher notes, looking back to his laptop. “They are all around here somewhere.”
“Shit, I can’t think of that many names right now,” I huffs, sitting back in my chair. “You got a name in mind?”
“No, ma’am.” The prospect wrings his fingers, nervousness pouring out the poor kid.
“First of all, never call me ma’am again, that makes me feel fucking old. Second of all, you have to have something? Haven’t you been dreaming about getting your own name?”
“I-I-I mean, yeah, but like, it’s. Well, I just…”
“Today kid,” I jump in, circling my pointer fingers to try and get him to move along.
“I didn’t think about it,” he finally admits. Nodding, we all decide to just give the kid a break.
“We’ll think about it. Sit down.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Knuckles wave his hand, dismissing the kid.
We’ve been on the hunt for more Big D’s in the area. Unfortunately, I think they may have taken my threats a bit too seriously. If they are near me, that means he is near me. Even still, I can’t handle the thought of him being so close yet kept so far away. I need him gone. Out of my life. Permanently.
“We’ll continue to run surveillance and check vehicles coming out,” I mumble, picking at a piece of stubborn tape on the table. A knee nudges me from under it, and I glance to the left as Knuckles watches me closely. His eyes bore into me, and I swear I could get swallowed into them.
“We can run point,” Phisher announces, giving our main executioner his full attention. A major sign of respect.
