Page 94 of Kiss of Wrath

Sixteen

The Energizer Bunny had nothing on them . . .

The following day was a Sunday, so Miranda was home all day.

Despite her mortification over Mordr’s brothers and the cross-dressing neighbor seeing her post-sex, Miranda couldn’t stay mad at Mordr.

She was insatiable. Mordr was insatiable. Together they were like a pair of sex-starved rabbits. She swore she would be walking bowlegged to work the next day. Mordr swore his cock would be worn down to a nubbin.

Even with five sets of curious eyes, they managed to have sex every other hour. The key was finding a place to be alone, which they managed. Boy, did they manage! In the laundry room on top of the washing machine during the spin cycle. In her office with him on the desk chair and her kneeling on the floor. In her office with Mordr taking her on top of the desk, from behind. Near-sex in the shed when she’d gone out to search for some clay pots; Ruff had interrupted what he must have considered a game; he’d wanted to play, too. They were saving the den recliner for later.

Mordr had tried to talk the kids—okay, bribe the kids—into taking a nap to recover from their long time in the sun the previous day . . . to recharge their batteries, so to speak. They’d looked at him like he’d lost his mind. They were children. They didn’t need to recharge anything, their energy supply being endless.

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, Darla showed up late in the afternoon. To return a blouse she’d borrowed last week, she said, but really in hopes of catching a glimpse of one of the Viking studs Miranda kept telling her about. No such luck! The men were gone for now, except for Mordr.

After pouring two iced glasses of sweet tea, Miranda went out on the patio to chat with Darla.

The children were down in the basement, which Miranda used for a storage area, never having gotten around to renovating the space. Mordr had cleared one part of the large room between their bouts of sex today and somehow managed to have a Ping-Pong table delivered on a Sunday. The kids and Mordr were engaged in a tournament at the moment. He’d suggested that he and Miranda play strip Ping-Pong later. Like strip poker, but more energetic.

That energy thing again!

“So, I take it that your undercover bodyguard is doing a good job,” Darla said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Emphasis on undercover.”

No use trying to hide anything from her good friend. Darla knew her too well. “An excellent job. Above and beyond.”

“Don’t you mean above and below?”

“You are bad, Darla.”

“And he knows his way around the bedsheets?”

Miranda rolled her eyes.

“That good?”

“Oh. My. God!” That’s all she would say on the subject, but Darla got her drift.

“And he has brothers?”

“Six, but only three of them eligible.”

“Three is enough.” Darla sipped at her tea, then spoke again. “No more threats from Roger?”

“Nothing direct.” She told Darla about the neighbor who found a van parked in her driveway with the occupants watching Miranda’s house. And then, last night, Jack Trixson mentioned rumors were circulating on the Strip about some really vile character named Clarence, a new pimp on the street, who was talking about a hit he was going to perform for his good friend Roger. Miranda’s name had come up.

What kind of criminal announced his crime ahead of time? An inept one, she concluded, but even inept criminals could be dangerous.

Mordr had advised Jack to take a vacation this week, that it wasn’t safe to be in the city over the next few days. When Jack had asked him to elaborate, Mordr refused but emphasized, “Trust me.”

“If this is true, shouldn’t I be warning other people? My boss? Other members of our dance revue?”

Mordr had shaken his head. “I’m already out of line telling you of the threat.”

“Must be terrorists,” Jack had muttered, and Mordr had not bothered to correct him. In a way, they were the same thing.

Miranda felt the need to do the same favor for Darla. “I want you to take a leave from work this week, Darla. Come and stay here with me.”

“Three’s a crowd, honey.”