John Machiavelli sat behind and to the left of where Wynter sat, doing his best to be invisible. He could sense Wynter’s tension and he could see that she was staring at Remington constantly. It hadn’t been a surprise to him that she’d wanted to come to The Club. On the way in she’d been greeted by Xandy, Quinn, and a couple other members of the group. She’d made a beeline for the patio after looking around the bar, and once there she’d quickly located Remington and had made a dismissive comment about ‘a groupie.’ John wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was sure that Wynter Kincade had a thing for her bodyguard and he wasn’t sure how that was going to go.
Jet and Quinn walked out onto the patio, and Quinn walked directly over to the DJ. She smiled up at the girl, who promptly leaned down to talk to the red-haired Irishwoman. There was a quick conversation, ending with Quinn leaning up to kiss the woman on the cheek and giving her a wink. She glanced over at Jet then, nodding with a sly grin.
After the first slow song, surprisingly another played, another Adele song, “The River Lea.” Quinn walked by Remington, patting her on the back companionably as she walked back over to Jet. Remington raised her head to glance suspiciously over at Quinn and Jet. She then glanced over at the DJ and got a wink. She knew then, that Quinn had arranged for a second slow song; it was Quinn’s way of ‘helping.’ She shook her head, grinning, as she looked back down at Katrina.
“What?” Katrina asked.
“My friends are scheming,” Remington said.
“Against you?” Katrina asked, smiling.
“They’re just trying to help,” Remington responded.
“Hmm,” Katrina murmured, sliding her hand inside Remington’s jacket and caressing her neck softly.
Remington looked back at her with a soft smile. She lowered her head, putting her lips against Katrina’s temple, closing her eyes at the feel of Katrina’s hand on her neck. When the song ended, their eyes met and Remington smiled, her hazel eyes almost gold at that point.
Katrina bit her lip. “Do you think you’ll kiss me any time soon?” she asked shyly.
Remington pressed her lips together as her eyes sparkled with humor. She lowered her head and put her lips right next to Katrina’s.
“I do believe I might…” she whispered, her lips brushing against Katrina’s as she did. Then she kissed the girl softly, her lips strong but extremely gentle.
Katrina sighed against her lips, her hand at Remington’s neck brushing back and forth across Remington’s skin. When their lips parted, Remington stepped back and led her back to where they’d been sitting. She didn’t see Wynter watching her. Katrina, however, caught the narrowed look in her ice blue eyes. She blinked a couple of times, shocked by it.
In the end, Remington and Katrina stayed outside talking until the bar closed. Remington offered to drive Katrina home and she accepted happily. She’d come with friends who’d long since left the bar. Katrina was surprised, but appreciative of Remington’s car.
“It seems to fit you, pretty well,” she told Remington.
“I think so,” Remington agreed, smiling.
At Katrina’s apartment, Remington got out of the car and walked around to the passenger’s side, opening the door for Katrina and taking her hand to help her out. She then walked Katrina to her door. Katrina wanted more than anything to invite her inside but she sensed easily that Remington not only wouldn’t accept, like most other women would, but it would likely put her off. That was the last thing she wanted to do.
“I had a really great time tonight,” Katrina said, smiling up at Remington.
“I did as well,” Remington said warmly. “Thank you for that.”
“You have my number… I really hope you call me,” she said, her voice slightly tremulous.
“I will call you,” Remington said, “but you need to know that the work I do is pretty much twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. This was a rare night off for me. So I can’t promise how much time I will have like this.”
“I understand,” Katrina said, nodding. Remington had explained that she was a bodyguard and that her ‘detail’ was 24/7. “I’d be happy to spend any time with you that I can.”
Remington lowered her eyes, smiling almost shyly.
“You are nothing like any woman I’ve ever met,” Katrina said, looking up at Remington, her eyes softening as she noted Remington’s look. The woman was far from egotistical and it was astounding.
“And that’s a good thing?” Remington asked.
“It’s a very good thing,” Katrina assured her.
“Okay,” Remington said. “Well, I better let you get inside.”
“Okay,” Katrina said, her eyes staring up into Remington’s.
Remington lowered her head to kiss Katrina’s lips softly, her hand reaching up to touch her gently under the chin. When their lips parted, Remington stepped back and waited while Katrina put the key in the door and unlocked it.
“Good night,” Katrina said, as she stepped inside.
“Good night,” Remington answered.
Later back at Wynter’s house, Remington was stood in the kitchen eating a handful of almonds when Wynter walked in. She was still wearing what she’d been wearing at The Club: a low cut black halter top, faded hip hugger jeans, a leather biker style jacket, and high-heeled boots.
“Late night snack?” Wynter asked as she entered the kitchen.
Remington turned to look at her, nodding. “Yep,” she said.
“Did you have fun?” Wynter asked. Her tone held an edge, and Remington could tell she’d been drinking.
“I did,” Remington said simply.
“You’re home awfully quickly to have slept with her, or are you that fast?” Wynter asked, her tone almost malicious.
“ Fè jalouzi…” Remington muttered under her breath. Jealous .
“What?” Wynter snapped, knowing that Remington hadn’t just spoken in English.
Remington looked back at her giving nothing away as she shook her head. “Nothing.”
“You said something,” Wynter said, narrowing her eyes.
“I did,” Remington replied, her look derisive, but she said no more.
“That’s a really irritating habit you’ve got,” Wynter said. She knew she was acting like a bitch, but she was unable to stop herself at that moment.
“What is that?” Remington asked. She leaned her elbows on the vast granite island between them looking directly at Wynter.
“Saying shit behind my back,” Wynter said.
“I was facing you,” Remington replied calmly.
“You know what I mean!” Wynter snapped. “Talking in that… whatever it is.”
Remington’s face remained a calm mask, telling Wynter she was being inane.
“It’s called Haitian Creole,” Remington said evenly.
“What did you say?” Wynter snapped.
Again, Remington simply looked back at her, unaffected by her tone. She straightened up from the counter and inclined her head to Wynter. “Good night,” she said, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Wynter staring openmouthed after her.
Remington had just hung up her coat when Wynter walked into her room.
“Who do you think you are?” Wynter asked sharply.
Remington stood where she was, looking mildly surprised that Wynter was pushing this so hard.
“I believe the question should be who do you think I am?” Remington said.
“What’s that mean?” Wynter asked, forever confused by the way Remington handled things.
“It means that if you think I am some kind of servant to be spoken down to, you are very mistaken.”
“You work for me!” Wynter snapped.
“I work for John Machiavelli,” Remington replied. “I’m assigned to you, currently .”
“Is that your way of threatening to quit?” Wynter asked.
“It’s my way of reminding you that you are more than welcome to change that status if you don’t feel your interests are being se
rved.”
“My interests?” Wynter asked, seizing on the one thing that stuck out to her.
Remington looked back at her calmly, inclining her head.
“Now,” Remington said, moving to sit on her bed and remove her shoes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.”
Wynter stood staring down at Remington, taken aback by her calm reception to her anger and assertions. After a long moment, she finally decided she was making a fool out of herself, and turned and left the room. Remington watched shaking her head, and continued to get ready for bed.
Chapter 2
The next morning an extremely hungover Wynter sat huddled in a chair on the back patio, with the built-in fireplace going due to the chill in the winter air. She smoked and sipped her coffee. Lauren had come home after a night of drinking and doing god only knew what drugs and they’d had a fight. Fortunately, it had been a very quiet fight, so Remington hadn’t become involved. It had, however, resulted in some nasty bruises on her arms from where Lauren had grabbed her. Wynter was still smarting from the argument she’d had with Remington the night before as well. She knew she’d been a complete bitch, but she just hadn’t been able to shut up or let it go. She wanted to push Remington to react to her. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but she did.
She saw Remington walk through the dining room, turning her head and locating her out on the patio. Wynter half-expected Remington to come out and tell her she was quitting and she was willing to beg Remington to stay.
Remington stepped out onto the patio, her eyes taking in Wynter’s disheveled appearance and suspected that she was hungover. Remington lit a cigarette and sat in a chair across from where Wynter was huddled. She looked around the rustic patio and at the arbor above their heads that would bloom with wisteria in the Spring. There was also a built-in barbecue and counter as well as the built in fireplace. It was just the beginning of the beautifully landscaped backyard, with lush trees and a built-in spa.
“Remi,” Wynter began softly. “I’m sorry about last night.”
Remington nodded slowly, her look closed.
“I was drunk, and in a bad mood and I took it out on you, and I’m really sorry.”
“Is it that you truly have no respect for me?” Remington asked. She wasn’t accusing her in the slightest, it was an honest question.
“No, it isn’t that,” Wynter said shaking her head vehemently. “I just get used to fighting all the time and I forget sometimes that not everyone is like me.”
“Fighting all the time,” Remington repeated. “Like last night with Lauren?”
“You heard that?” Wynter asked, shocked.
Remington nodded her head.
“God, you must have like super hearing or something, because I thought we were really quiet.”
“Perhaps compared to other arguments you were quiet,” Remington said, a slight grin on her lips, but then her eyes narrowed. “She hurt you, didn’t she?”
Wynter’s eyes widened at Remington’s question. She started to shake her head, but Remington pinned her with a look. Taking a deep breath, she nodded slowly. Remington’s lips flattened in displeasure.
“She was high,” Wynter said, shaking her head, “she didn’t realize how hard she grabbed me.”
Remington looked back at her for a long moment. “Does it happen often?”
“No,” Wynter said, shaking her head, “no, just when she’s really high, and feeling really insecure.”
Remington wondered if that was fairly often, but didn’t say anything. They were both silent for a few minutes, each smoking and lost in their own thoughts.
“Can you forgive me for last night?” Wynter asked.
Remington thought about the question for a moment. “As long as you can respect that my position isn’t beneath you, it’s in front of you.”
Wynter’s eyes widened and her chin came up as she understood Remington’s meaning. It was true, Remington was the person standing between Wynter and danger, and that position deserved her respect. She nodded with that new understanding evident on her face.
“I really am sorry, and I do respect you, Remi. I just need to be better about showing you that.”
“Then we can forget what happened last night.” Remington said simply.
Wynter smiled almost sadly, wondering how many times Remington would forgive her impulsivity.
“So…” Wynter said hesitantly, unsure if she wanted to approach this particular subject.
Remington waited, lighting another cigarette.
“If you’re planning on seeing the girl from The Club last night,” Wynter said. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re more than welcome to invite her over here.”
Remington’s lips twitched slightly. “And you’d be okay with that?”
“Yes, I mean, since you kind of work all the time on account of me, I know you’re not likely be able to see her as much as you’d normally be able to.”
Remington nodded slowly, her look considering.
“Are you planning to see her again?” Wynter asked then, her tone gentle, not wanting to irritate Remington by being nosey.
Remington didn’t answer at first, then grinned, inclining her head. “Yes.”
“She’s really cute,” Wynter said, smiling slyly now.
“Yes,” Remington said, nodding, “she is.”
“So, call the girl,” Wynter told her.
“I plan to,” Remington said.
“And don’t do that whole wait like a week game, it’s really annoying,” Wynter said.
“I don’t play games,” Remington said simply.
“I should have known that, huh?” Wynter said. “No true gentleman would do that.”
“Indeed,” Remington said, winking at her.
“You certainly smiled a lot last night. And even laughed a couple of times. Out loud.”
Remington chuckled. “I told you, I do smile.”
“Just not around me,” Wynter said rolling her eyes, her tone self-effacing.
Remington contemplated her words for a minute, then said, “This is a serious job.”
“I know, but it doesn’t mean we can’t get along and be friends, does it?” Wynter asked.
Again, Remington didn’t answer right away. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but then she nodded. “I suppose it doesn’t have to mean that, no.”
“Good,” Wynter said, smiling.
Remington looked at her watch. “We have that meeting at the studio at noon,” she said, looking over at Wynter. “Are you going to be alive?”
“Ugh, I hope,” Wynter said.
“We can pick up some Yaka Mein on the way, that’ll help.”
“Yaka what?” Wynter asked.
Remington grinned. “It’s an old Creole hangover cure.”
“It doesn’t include anything really creepy does it?” Wynter asked making a face.
“Well, the chicken sacrifice is usually the worst part,” Remington said seriously.
“What?” Wynter breathed, going pale.
Remington burst out laughing, a rich infectious sound. “I’m only kidding. It’s a soup, nothing weird in it, I promise.”
“You suck!” Wynter exclaimed, then held her head for the shot of pain that went through her head.
“We need to leave early,” Remington said, nodding. “Let’s try for eleven and we can stop on the way.”
“Okay,” Wynter said, her voice softer this time.
Wynter and Remington arrived at Wild Irish Silence studios twenty minutes early. Wynter sat down in the conference room sipping the Yaka Mein. For the most part it was beef soup with spaghetti noodles and various spices. But it was working to make her hangover better.
“You are a god,” Wynter told Remington, to which Remington only nodded with a knowing grin.
Quinn and Xandy arrived shortly after. Remington and Quinn shook hands and both stood by the wall, while Xandy sat down next to Wynter.
“What is that?” Xandy asked Wynter.
/>
“It’s called Yaka Mein,” Wynter said, holding it out to Xandy. “It’s actually pretty good, but it’s some Creole hangover cure.”
“Is it working?” Xandy asked as she saw Billy Montague arrive and start walking toward the conference room.
“So far,” Wynter said, looking up and grimacing. “It needs to work faster… I’m not ready for this…”
Billy Montague, tiny, long jet-black hair, blue eyes, and a wicked smile, swept into the room. Behind her was her husband Skylar Kristiani, a handsome man with dark hair, shot through with just a few gray hairs. No doubt put there by his ever-dramatic wife.
Billy walked straight over to Quinn and Remington and looked them both up and down. Both bodyguards did their best not to ogle. Billy Montague was a damned hot looking woman, it was nearly impossible not to be impressed.
“Wow…” Billy said, her tone a sexy drawl. “If this is what butch lesbians look like, sign me up!” She said the last with a wink at both Quinn and Remington. “Oh, hi girls!” she said, turning to Wynter and Xandy and sitting down.
Skylar walked over to Quinn and Remington and extended his hand to each of them.
“My sincerest condolences,” he said with a crooked grin.
Quinn and Remington chuckled, nodding their heads. They could only imagine what it was like to actually have to live with Billy Montague. If there was a Hall of Fame for dramatic flair and tantrums, Billy Montague would be its very first inductee.
“Sky?” Billy said, glancing back at her husband. “Where’s Kid? He’s coming to this isn’t he? I’m damned if I’m going to remember half of what BJ tells us…” she said, shaking her head.
Wynter and Xandy exchanged a look.
“He’ll be here, Billy, don’t worry,” Skylar said, moving to lean against the wall next to the bois.
“Good thing,” Billy said, throwing herself back in the high-backed conference room chair. “Can’t remember a damned thing these days…” She looked over at Wynter and Xandy and made a face. “I guess you kids don’t have that problem, huh?”
“Nope,” Wynter said simply.
“Uh-uh,” Xandy murmured.
Billy looked back at both women and raised an eyebrow. “Okay you two are way too fucking hot to be lesbians,” she said with a wicked grin. “And you’re with that one back there aren’t you?” she asked Xandy, her thumb indicating Quinn.
Lightning Strykes Page 3