Resurrection

by Karina Bliss

  She sleepwalked into the garage, opened the car door, and sank onto a male lap.

  “Wrong side,” said Moss helpfully.

  “I’m used to driving English cars.” She hauled herself out again, her heavy bag slowing her progress.

  “Should I be worried that you want to drive on the left?”

  “Gimme a minute.” Slapping her cheek, she stared at the bright bulb in the garage, trying to con her brain into wakefulness. “I’m usually a morning person.” In bed by ten, out cold until 5.30 a.m. when she sprang, full of enthusiasm, into her day. Something else she’d tried to change when she’d dated Zander.

  Dumping her bag onto the back seat, she arranged the blanket and throw pillow, then climbed into the driver’s seat and glanced at Moss, recently showered and looking as fresh as a daisy, if daisies scowled. Deep-set eyes aglow, close-shaved stubble, dark gypsy hair tucked behind his ears. Damp, it was almost straight except for the ends, which were kicking up as it dried, almost as though they were skittish about touching those big shoulders.

  “Say it,” she invited.

  His shirt was so fine she could see the suggestion of tanned skin under it, his dark jeans softy molding to muscular thighs. “I hate your car.”

  Returning a beatific smile, she hovered her finger over the touchscreen of the navigation system. “Where to?”

  “Forget the GPS. I know the way.” He named a club she knew of, but had rarely visited because it was loud, rough, and known for patrons looking for kink.

  “Sure.” Her expression carefully neutral, she started the engine. How did someone set on debauchery manage to smell so fresh and wholesome?

  “We’ll take the inland route,” he added as she reversed out of the garage.

  “Isn’t that longer?”

  “I like the desert at night.”

  “You’re the boss.” She kept the headlights dimmed until they’d cleared the house to avoid disturbing Dimity and Seth. The tires crunched along the gravel driveway.

  Moss took out his cell and looked for a USB plug-in on the dash. “What the fuck?”

  “Apparently I have to add an FM transmitter.” She gave him a big smile. “Next payday.”

  “Now I really hate your fucking car.”

  “I have earphones. In my bag…back seat.”

  He unclipped his seatbelt and twisted to lean over the passenger seat and rifle through her bag. “What is all this stuff anyway?”

  “Entertainment options, while I’m parked.”

  “You won’t need them. Drive home and I’ll text when I want a pick-up.”

  “I don’t see any point driving forty-five minutes, only to double-back an hour later to pick you up. Not to mention a waste of gas. I heard you liked to get around.”

  “Heard from who?”

  She didn’t answer.

  His tone was deadly serious. “Are we going to require a confidentiality agreement?”

  “I asked Dimity because I wanted to know what to expect.” Nannying had taught her the benefits of forward planning.

  “So ask me.”

  “Do you like to get around?” It was very, very hard to avoid a sexual inference but she managed it.

  “Yes.” His distracted tone made her glance over. He was looking out the windshield, frowning, though all that could be seen on a starless night was the cheerful beam of the headlights on the unlit back roads. “The areas I go to are dangerous.”

  I heard that too. “No problem, I’ll find a parking garage. I downloaded a few apps earlier today.” This job might not be her choice but she was going to do it well.

  “That won’t necessarily make it safer.”

  “So I’ll choose a lot where there’s an attendant keeping an eye on things.”

  He was still frowning. “Leaving a woman sitting in a car alone for a few hours…I hadn’t thought this through.”

  The last thing she needed was Moss getting cold feet. “If I’m worried, I’ll drive to a safer neighborhood to park, or you can walk me to an all-night diner.” She yawned at the thought. “There will be some adjustment on both sides, it’s true, but I’ll make it work.” She had to. This was the only world that would have her. “And it’s not as if anyone will try to steal the car.”

  “You could always come inside to wait.”

  “Not my scene, I hate clubs.”

  “You went to dozens with Zander.”

  “Exactly.”

  His brow cleared. “I could catch a cab home.”

  “Which defeats the purpose of having a driver. I have drink, food, study materials, laptop, blanket, pillow, and a superpower you’re grossly underestimating.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Common sense.” He looked unconvinced and she lost patience. “Look, I’m not dumb. I know pity motivated your offer, but I accepted it because you’re the one person who doesn’t treat me as fragile. So go be the rock star and I’ll be your driver and we both get to keep our independence. Now listen to your music so I can concentrate on staying on the right side of the road.”

  Without a word, he plugged into his cell, only removing one earbud to give her occasional directions. As she pulled up outside their destination, he stowed the earphones in the glove compartment. “I’ll be anytime from half an hour to three depending on what’s playing and who I run into.”

  Lily relaxed tense shoulders. She’d thought he might be mustering more arguments. “If you hook up with someone, I can drive you both home—”

  “Hookups don’t find out where I live.”

  “—or I’ll drive you to her place. If she has a vehicle, text her address when you’re ready for a pick-up.”

  “You’re making me feel like a kid being dropped off for an X-rated playdate,” he complained. “It’s taking all the fun out of it.”

  “In my bag, you’ll find extra—”

  “If you say condoms, I’m firing you.”

  She bit on a smile. “Breath mints.”

  Not fooled at all, his eyes narrowed. “I’ll be breathing down your neck if you don’t quit with the mommy stuff. I’m not one of your kids.”

  She saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  “Better.” He started getting out of the Honda and she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Listen, while we’re talking kids, my English family are leaving tomorrow morning—early—and…” I’m desperate to see them one last time. “I want to say goodbye.”

  “I’m not planning an all-nighter.”

  “Thanks.”

  About to shut the door, he hesitated. “Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t give you the job out of pity, at least not the way you’re talking about.” For once those green eyes were free of cynicism. “I did it because people like us need more than one break.”

  He shut the door before she could answer, without realizing she was too stunned to.

  Chapter Nine

  Moss realized he was drunker than he thought when he stumbled over the step leaving the second club and Rhonda laughed and hooked her arm through his to steady him. “You’re a lightweight, McFadden.”

  For the past hour, they’d been drinking Blanton’s bourbon straight and playing pool, and she’d made sure he noticed the way her black leather jeans tightened over her ass whenever she bent over the table to line up her shot. She’d reminded him that she liked sex that way too and invited him home. It was only when she put two fingers in her mouth to whistle up a cab that he remembered he had wheels again.

  “I have a driver,” he said. “She’ll drop us off.” Catching her hand, he pulled her in the direction of Lily’s car.

  “That sounds very rock star,” Rhonda teased.

  He snorted. “Hold that thought.”

  He’d always been ambivalent about the fame that came with rock ‘n’ roll glory. On the one hand, it attracted seriously hot women, and casual hook-ups suited his loner personality. You can have me, but you won’t know me. Moss was the first to admit that his relationship with intim
acy was seriously fucked up.

  On the other hand, sometimes he felt like a sex toy. Women either had zero interest in anything he had to say—he might not want intimacy, but frank conversations with strangers he’d never see again was a pretty good substitute—or they had a preconceived notion of how a rock star should act.

  Sometimes he could see the disappointment when he broke bad-boy mode and talked about something other than sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. Sometimes he got tired of being able to talk shit and still have a woman stare at him as if he was Einstein. Sometimes his vetting process for the crazies failed and he had to tiptoe out of their life on eggshells, trying to do no harm.

  With Rhonda, he didn’t have to worry about any of that. She was a wild woman who didn’t give a damn about rock stars and they’d been fuck buddies before Moss joined Rage.

  He pointed out the Honda, square and sturdy in the moonlight, and grinned at the disbelief on her face. “No way that’s your car.”

  “You got that right. But wait, there’s more.”

  He tapped on the back window and a tangled ponytail rose from a blanket. Lily fumbled for her glasses, checking it was him before reaching for the central locking. Good, she was being careful.

  “Gimme a sec,” she called.

  Rhonda’s eyes widened. “This is a joke, right?”

  “Nope.” His mouth twitched as he watched Lily neatly fold her blanket, drop the cushion on top, and place them on the front passenger seat.

  Ponytail askew, she climbed out of the car and he smothered a grin. “G’day, I’m Lily,” she held out her hand to Rhonda with the grace of a queen, “and I’ll be your droi-ver tonight.”

  Her mangled New Zealand accent was the last straw. A snort of laughter escaped him.

  Her expression still dazed, his date shook his driver’s hand. “Um…hi. I’m Rhonda.”

  “Let me get the door for you, Rhonda.” Lily shoved him aside.

  “Um…gee…thanks.”

  “All part of the service.” Ignoring him, Lily left the back door open and returned to the driver’s seat, that crazy crooked ponytail bobbing.

  Grinning widely, Moss climbed into the back and shut the door. He shouldn’t have drunk so much but it had stopped him rushing outside every five minutes to check on Lily. Of course she was okay—she was tough, she was smart. Smart enough to see through him anyway.

  “Where are we heading, Rhonda?”

  Holy crap, that accent. He tried to keep it together by thinking of something tragic, like kittens running into the path of a Smart For Two, but couldn’t stop another snort escaping. A pair of pissed blue eyes met his in the rearview mirror.

  Rhonda supplied her address and Lily keyed it into the navigation system.

  “Hello,” it said in a strangely familiar female voice. “I’m an Artificial Intelligence Megasystem Engine but you can call me AIM-E.”

  Moss slung an arm over his date’s shoulder. “Oh, this gets better and better.”

  “I have been programmed to scan the most secure route to your destination and in so doing bypass those who would seek to destroy you.”

  He started laughing and Lily twisted to look at him. “What is this?”

  “Whoever installed the GPS was an AIM-E fan. It’s a nineties show. The car was AI—artificially intelligent, armed to the teeth and a real badass.” He started to laugh. “And in this car.”

  “I used to watch the reruns, growing up,” Rhonda said. “Who was the crime-solving guy driving her again? They used to flirt up a storm.”

  Moss grinned at Lily. “Buck Buckley.”

  “Make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened,” said AIM-E. “We’re in for one helluva ride. At the end of the road turn left and drive 300 meters to the freeway.”

  Frowning, Lily started punching buttons. “How do I get a normal voice?”

  “Read the manual?” he suggested helpfully.

  “The dealer didn’t offer one.”

  “You’re kidding. Maybe you should return the car.”

  “Nice try.” Giving up on changing the GPS, she pulled into traffic. “I’ll find the manual online later.”

  “Engaging super scanners now,” said AIM-E. “Rocket boosters on standby.”

  Moss cracked up.

  “I’m glad you find this so amusing, boss.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up outside Rhonda’s building and AIM-E purred, “I knew we’d make a great team, sugar.”

  “Thank you, sugar,” said Moss, trying to remember when he’d had this much fun.

  “We AIM-E to please,” said Lily cheerfully as she switched off the GPS. She turned to smile at his date. “Speaking of, how long do you figure this will take, Rhonda? I’m thinking max five minutes.”

  It was Rhonda’s turn to get the giggles.

  “An hour,” Moss said sternly. “At least. Go home, I’ll catch an Ub—”

  “Nah, mate. Text when you’re ready for a pick-up, I’m sure I can find a diner around here that serves hot tea.”

  Rhonda gave her directions to one, pausing to look after the Honda as Lily drive away. “What a character.”

  “She’s a smartass.” He’d never been remotely self-conscious about having sex and he wasn’t going to start now. He grinned. He’d probably deserved that.

  “Where’d you find her?”

  “A relative of Seth’s. Kiwis have this migration thing to Europe when they’re young and they stay with every relative on the flight path.” She’d driven away without a backward glance, completely and utterly disinterested in him. Jesus, why would she be? He was drunk or he’d never have let that thought come to consciousness.

  “She sounds almost American on a few words.”

  “She’s been traveling round the States for a few months.” Time to change the subject. “Are you really going to use the whole hour talking about my driver?”

  Rhonda grinned. “No.” Hooking a finger under his belt, she tugged him toward her front door.

  * * *

  A jet engine flying overhead woke Moss. He opened his eyes, blearily, to find himself with a blanket draped over him, and the car parked in a multi-story lot. Daylight slipped its evil fingers between levels to grab at his eyeballs. “Where the hell are we?”

  There was no one to answer him.

  He and Rhonda had polished off some more bourbon. Had sex. Fallen asleep. He’d woken at dawn, guilty as hell for keeping Lily awake, but she’d waved off his apology, chirpy as only a morning person could be. His only refuge was sleep. Now his neck had a crick in it, his head pounded, and his mouth was as dry as a roadie’s sense of humor.

  Reaching for the water bottle in the console between the seats, he drained it before climbing out of the car and walking to the end of the parking lot. Another jet thundered overhead, making him wince. But at least he knew where he was.

  Digging in his jacket pocket for his cell, he also found the car keys, a bottle of Advil and a ten dollar bill. WTF? Annoyed now, he texted Lily. Why are we at the airport?

  Her reply was immediate. Saying goodbye to the Spencer-Flemings. I won’t be long…twenty minutes. Use the ten dollars for coffee.

  The Spencer-whos? His brain took a few seconds to retrieve the information. The English family she nannied for.

  Cursing under his breath, he locked the car and walked into the nearest terminal, an overlit anthill of bustle, jostle, and squeaking suitcase wheels. After ordering coffee at the first kiosk he came across, he checked the board for flights to London, intending to cut the farewells short. He needed his bed and he needed it now.

  In departures, he spotted Lily almost immediately. She was with a family who looked the same as every other family here—harassed. Mom was hunting for boarding passes, while Dad, with a baby in his arms, was counting suitcases. Another kid with a pint-sized Disney backpack swung off the luggage trolley.

  Lily was crouching in front of a third child, eye to eye, having what looked to be a serious conversation. />
  Moss stalled, suddenly unwilling to interrupt. She’d already cleared it with him. It wasn’t her fault that he’d ended up tagging along. From a distance, he watched her pick up the passport someone had dropped and make a joke with Dad, who was clearly blaming Mom. Lily straightened the strap on the kid’s backpack, then casually took a tissue out of her handbag and wiped a small nose. There were hugs and kisses all around, and the parents gathered their brood. Waving and smiling, they disappeared through the departure gate.

  As she stared after them, the smile slid off Lily’s face. Until now, he hadn’t thought about how much this family meant to her. Her brave front and fighting talk had been hiding something altogether sadder. Someone nudged past her, and she turned to leave, eyes down. Shock buzzed down his spine. Crying.

  Instinctively he started forward, then stopped. She wouldn’t want him seeing her like this. Turning on his heel, he returned to the car, buying another coffee en route. When she showed up fifteen minutes later she had the pink skin of a freshly-washed face, red eyes behind her glasses, and a fake smile.

  “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Your family…they get away okay?”

  “Yep.” Accepting the coffee, she put it in the cupholder. “Thanks for this, but I’m all caffeinated out.”

  He felt a desperate need to do something nice for her. “I’m hungry…you hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  “Too bad, I’m buying you breakfast.” He gave her directions to a hip restaurant that Dimity liked, which offered beachfront balconies and fresh sea air. Having lived rough, he personally preferred the cozy indoors, but this wasn’t about him.

  Lily took one look at the upmarket decor and chic diners and hung back. “What if I’m recognized?”

  “You won’t be, you look too different.”

  “I’m not dressed for this place.” He checked her out. The dark pants were wrinkled, and there was a coffee stain in one of her blouse’s geometric diamonds. Strands of hair had escaped from her loose ponytail. She looked like a woman who’d slept in a car. Returning his inspection, she added, “Neither are you.”