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“Shut up. She was just grateful.” Blake took the laptop from Sparks and shut it with a snap.
“So, what, you’re watching her news clip for an ego boost?” Best had finished the taco and was currently licking his fingers, so he missed Blake’s murderous look.
“Dude, I didn’t come over here to cluck like a bunch of hens,” Vincent said gruffly. He set a bowl of salsa and chips on the table and sat in the chair, his dark eyes shooting about the room. “So either shut up and play or I’m going to help Kline kick your candy asses out.”
The whole room was shocked as hell, if their silence was any indication. Including Blake. He hadn’t worked with Vincent very long, only a couple of months, and most of what he knew about the guy came from Megan gushing over him. It was the most the burly black man had ever said at once.
“Easy, brother, we were just fucking with him.” Dalton sat next to Vincent and cracked his neck. “I’m ready to take all your asses to the cleaners anyway.”
Loud protests and shit talk erupted around the table as they sat down, and Kline glanced at Vincent, giving him a nod of thanks. Vincent returned the gesture and then took the beer Best handed him.
As the night wore on, Blake started to relax and just enjoy the time with his friends, guilt over Jenny and worry over Hannah pushed to the back of his mind as they played.
But when they all filed out near midnight, Blake looked around his empty apartment. The silence was deafening. Grabbing one more glass of whiskey and his laptop, he went to his bedroom. He already had a pretty good buzz from the two glasses earlier and several beers, but he wanted to fall asleep fast.
He got undressed and crawled under the sheets, trying to relax as he took a drink. He opened his laptop and tapped on the video.
“What about Sergeant Kline? What can you tell us about him?”
Blake studied Hannah’s face; the way her eyes lit up and her full lips parted into a sweet smile.
“Blake is amazing. He moved so fast. I never knew anyone could move like that, except for maybe Jet Li.”
He chuckled and caught himself.
“Do you know him personally? Is he a friend?”
“Yes, he’s my friend.” He saw something flash across her face, but it was gone too fast to identify. “But Blake is the type of guy who would risk his life for a stranger. He is just a good man. A hero.”
Blake shut off the video as the reporter started talking again and closed his laptop. Once he turned off his bedside lamp, he lay in the dark, his eyes closed. Hannah’s rich, husky voice played through his head, and he found himself reaching for his cock, stroking it.
Oh, Blake.
Hannah’s mouth, her eyes, and the mass of hair he wanted to stroke teased him as he got close.
Then, it was a different face. Jenny’s. Her wide blue eyes filled with terror and her mouth open, calling to him.
Blake threw off the covers and sat on the side of the bed, his head in his hands. He was breathing so hard he was trembling, tears sliding from between his closed eyelids.
God, what the fuck? He could watch porn or think about bendy Eliza Dushku in the shower, but one mild fantasy about Hannah, and Jenny crops up.
Blake finished off his whiskey and crawled back into bed, determined not to think of Hannah or Jenny anymore.
But just as he slipped off to sleep, he replayed the last part of the interview in his mind.
“He is just a good guy. A hero.”
God, he wanted that to be true.
Chapter Eight
TWO DAYS LATER, Hannah was doing her grocery shopping while trying to carry on a phone conversation with her mom. As she reached out to grab a bag for her lettuce, a woman next to her gave her a foul look, as if being on the phone was somehow disturbing her.
“No, Mom, I don’t think Good Day Sacramento is going to want to interview me.”
“And why not? You went through a traumatic experience, and I bet they would want to hear all about it.”
Hannah groaned aloud. Ever since she’d seen Blake being interviewed, her mom had gotten a burr up her butt about Hannah telling her story in detail.
