10-Code (Rock Point, #4)
Page 10
I’m glad to see the clock in my dashboard shows just seven thirty when we pull in the parking lot of the Yooba Yoga Studio and The Edge Boxing Gym. Both these places are owned by Arrow’s Edge, a local motorcycle club. I dread doing them, especially the gym, but the club pays well, leaving a generous tip for whatever cleaners draw the short end of the stick that week.
The yoga studio isn’t that bad, but the blend of aromatic oils and body sweat can be a bit much, and the full wall of mirrors is a nightmare to clean.
We save the gym for last, knowing that the sooner we get it done, the faster we can get home. Being the mother of three boys, I can handle the acrid locker room stench permeating the place better than most, but it still hits me like a concrete wall every time I step through the doors.
The ringing of a phone pierces the dead silence of the gym. It’s Darla’s, and I leave her to take the call, while I get a start in the locker room.
As always, there’s an assortment of stray towels, single socks, shirts, and underwear under and around the benches and showers to be collected and shoved in the stackable laundry combo in the small kitchen in the back. I don’t sort the stuff, I just shove it all in on the same setting. If these guys don’t care enough to pick up their shit, then I’m sure as hell not going to make an effort to keep the whites from the darks. Screw that.
Darla walks into the small kitchen, an apology already on her face. Shit.
“I hate to do this to you,” she starts. “But my daughter is having an asthma attack and my boyfriend is in a panic—”
I hold up my hand to stop her. “Go. Don’t even worry about it. I’ve got this.”
“I don’t live that far, I’ll just go—”
“Seriously, just get home and stay with your girl. Kids come first.” She still hesitates so I take her arm and walk her to the door, unlocking it for her. “Go.”
“Thanks, Marya. Anytime you need me to cover for you...”
“I’m a mother of three boys, I’m sure it’ll happen.” I grin at her and she waves as she gets into her car.
Back inside the gym, I lock up and rest my back against the heavy glass door, sighing deeply. Things were going so well...
It’s close to eleven thirty when I pull the stuff from the small dryer and add it to the lost and found bin in the corner of the gym. Flicking the lights off, I make my way to the front of the gym. As I’m unlocking the door, I notice a car on the far side of the dark parking lot that wasn’t there earlier. I can’t tell the make, but it’s a dark color and a light from across the street shines off the exterior and reveals the shadow of someone in the driver’s seat.
My eyes stay locked on the silhouette as my hand is already digging the phone from my purse. I dial the first person that comes to mind, but as soon as I put the phone to my ear, the car’s headlights come on, blinding me.
“Marya?” I hear Dylan’s voice, but I’m focused on the car pulling out of the parking lot and taking off down the street. “Jesus, Marya? Everything okay?”
“I’m sorry, I...I shouldn’t have called. It’s probably nothing,” I stammer, annoyed that I may have overreacted.
“What’s nothing?” he asks sternly.
“I...uhm...was just getting ready to leave and got spooked when I spotted someone in a car in the parking lot. It’s fine now, he’s gone,” I add quickly.
“Where are you?”
“Seriously, it’s fine, he took off. Was probably just looking for a quiet spot to do...whatever.”
“Marya, where are you?”
“There’s a good chance I spooked him more than he did me,” I try to brush it off, but Dylan won’t have any of it.
“Babe, don’t make me ask you again.” Despite the endearment, there’s an edge of steel to his voice I haven’t heard before. I’m not sure if I like it, although the head to toe tingle it entices would suggest my body is on board.
“Fine, The Edge Gym. It’s on—”
“I know where it is. You’re inside?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Doors locked?”
“They are, but—”
“Do not move until I get there.”
I take in a deep breath to tell him off, when I hear the line go dead, and I let the air go in a sharp hiss.
At least I’m no longer freaked out. Now I’m pissed.
CHAPTER 12
Dylan
Good thing Max is already at my mother’s tonight.
When Luna walked into the office with the paperwork from the judge, I’d wanted to head out and serve Marya’s ex right away. Jasper told me to check in with Damian before doing anything. When I got hold of him, he suggested I not go without backup. He also pointed out that rather than trying to catch him during the day, and have him see us coming, it would make more sense to surprise him first thing in the morning.
We’d tracked his credit card charges to a small cabin he rented through Airbnb, just south of Hermosa. A full month. An indication he intends to hang around for a while.
The cabin is tucked away in the trees near Tripp Gulch and shouldn’t be too hard to approach. Luna offered to meet me at the office at five thirty in the morning, so we could be in place before sunup.
That’s why Max is at Ma’s, and why I am speeding over to the boxing gym in the middle of the night. Jesus.
When I pull into the parking lot, the interior is dark and if not for the familiar Jeep still parked in the lot, I might’ve thought Marya took off, despite my instructions.
Still, relief floods me when I see a shadow move around inside. I get out of my truck and hear the click of a lock releasing before the door opens.
“I can’t believe you hung up on me,” are the first words out of her mouth.
I’ll take her aggravated over scared or hurt any day. “Had some calls to make.” In a few long strides I reach her, slamming my mouth over hers as I pull her tight into my body.
Really fucking relieved.
“Talk to me,” I urge her when I reluctantly peel my lips from hers, but keep her circled in my arms.
“Who did you have to call?”
“The owners; Arrow’s Edge. Had to make sure it wasn’t one of their own guys.”
She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed when the rumble of motorcycles approaching can be heard. “Great,” she huffs snidely. “Bad enough I got you out here for nothing, but you had to call in the troops.”
The crunch of boots on the gravel has her lift her gaze over my shoulder, and I watch with amusement, as her eyes get big. “Your mouth is open,” I whisper, giving her a wink before I turn to the two bikers sauntering up to us.
“Ouray, Paco.” I shake the men’s hands before introducing them to Marya, who mumbles cutely, but squints her eyes at me.
“Did you catch who was behind the wheel?” Ouray asks her.
“I couldn’t really see more than a shape and then he suddenly turned his headlights on, and I couldn’t see anything at all. Maybe he saw me on the phone.”
“You say he,” I point out. “Sure it was a man?”
“Pretty sure it was, unless it was a six foot something woman with short-cropped hair wearing shoulder pads I thought were outlawed after the eighties. They should’ve been anyway.” There is clearly more bite in Marya’s tone when she answers me.
Ouray checks his boots but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Anything about the car you remember?” he asks when he has his amusement in check.
“Not much. Dark, four-door sedan. I do remember it looked new, shiny.”
“Think it could’ve been Jeremy?” I ask her.
Her eyes flit to the other two men before she answers, “Could be.”
“That the ex?” Ouray wants to know and I hear Marya’s sharp intake of breath.
“You told them?”
I open my mouth to answer but Ouray beats me to it. “He didn’t, but I’ll leave it to your man to explain.” Then he turns to me. “We’ll check the feed, if there’s anything I’ll give it to m
y wife. Take her home, she looks about ready to drop.” With that he lifts his chin and rounds us, Paco on his heels, and disappears into the gym.
“What the hell was that all about?” Marya swings on me, her hands balled into fists by her side.
“There are cameras.” I point at the corner of the building where one is mounted next to the downspout. “They’ll check if there’s anything usable on the tape and Ouray will hand it over to Luna.”
“Luna?”
“His wife. She’s the one who told him about Jeremy. The club mentors young boys, mostly runaways they take in. Sometimes they keep an eye out for kids in the community. A few of them will be at the boys’ soccer game this Saturday.”
“Wow,” she mouths, still looking a bit confused. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“For starters, let’s take it home,” I tell her, taking her by the arm and leading her to my truck. “You can barely stand straight.”
“But my Jeep...”
“We’ll pick it up tomorrow morning.” I open the passenger door, but she’s not getting in.
“Hey, where is Max?”
“He’s at Ma’s. Now, Marya...get in the truck, babe.”
MARYA
It’s after midnight by the time we get to my place, and Mom looks like she’s dozing off on the couch. The moment she spots Dylan behind me, she sits up straight and checks her hair.
“Good, you’ve got company. I didn’t know you planned on going out.”
“I hadn’t. I—”
“I’ll just make another plate.” She ignores me, gets up, and heads straight for the kitchen.
“Mom, hold—”
“Homemade lasagna,” she informs Dylan, as if I hadn’t spoken, already loading up a second plate. “There’s still plenty here for leftovers tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, Lydia. Not too much though, I had dinner earlier.”
I throw up my hands when he walks into the kitchen, giving my arm a little rub in passing, and sits down on a stool. Mom’s putting the plate in the microwave to heat.
From the moment I called him earlier, it’s like I’ve lost any and all control.
“Just pop the other plate in at a minute and a half when this one is done,” Mom instructs Dylan. “I’ll just grab my purse and be on my way home.”
“Mom.” I try to stop her. “It’s late. You should just stay the night. I don’t think you should be driving.”
“Hogwash. You kids don’t need me around. Oh, and by the way, the boys were in bed by ten. Tomorrow’s lunches are in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply automatically. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She’s already by the door, shrugging in her jacket. “I don’t mind. Okay, I’m off, give me a call tomorrow?”
When the microwave beeps she’s already out the door, and I just catch Dylan slipping the second plate in. “Come eat.”
I move to the kitchen, too stunned to even think about objecting. It’s been a weird night, and apparently getting even weirder. I’m sitting at my counter—next to Dylan—in the middle of the night, eating my mother’s lasagna. It feels like I’ve landed in an alternate universe.
“Did you have a chance to talk to the boys about their father?”
I wince. I was going to, yesterday, but we were having a good day and I didn’t want to spoil it.
“Not yet,” I confess.
“It’s important they understand, Marya. Especially considering what happened Saturday and tonight. Until we get him served with the order, there’s nothing stopping him from showing up at their school. You don’t want them caught unaware.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” I promise, knowing he’s right. “I’ll call the school first thing, and talk to the boys when they get home.”
“I can be here tomorrow. Help you talk to the boys, give them some tips on how stay safe.”
My head is heavy with the weight of all this stress, which is probably why I just nod. It’s always been a lot to carry my family on my own, financially and otherwise, but with their father stirring up trouble, the responsibility seems almost impossible. The offer to shoulder even a small bit of that load with me, is welcome.
I barely hear Dylan telling me they’ve found out where Jeremy is staying and plan to serve him with the protection order tomorrow morning. All I manage is a nod. It’s like I have my ears stuffed with cotton and concentrating on what he says takes what little energy I have left.
“Marya?”
I blink a few times and turn to him. “Yeah?”
“Babe, you’re sleeping where you sit. Why don’t you head up to bed, I’ll lock up.”
“I need a shower first. I smell like dirty socks.”
Dylan chuckles. “Do what you need to do, but get your cute butt upstairs. I’ll sort things down here.” He drops a light kiss on my lips, to which I don’t protest either. Apparently along with my energy, all common sense has left me.
I’m halfway up the stairs when I realize he just called my butt cute. Huh.
I’m hauling my ass into bed after the fastest shower in the history of running water, when it occurs to me the TV is still on downstairs. Dylan must’ve forgotten to turn it off.
I slip down the stairs on my bare feet and pad over to the TV to turn it off.
“Hey, I thought you were in bed.”
I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of Dylan’s voice and swing around. He’s lying on my couch, the afghan my mother knitted years ago covering his legs, but his chest is bare.
“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me. What are you doing?”
“Trying to sleep.” He slowly sits up, swinging his long legs on the floor. I never thought bare feet sexy. In fact, most of the time I try not to look at them because they repulse me a little, but somehow his mesmerize me. Naked feet on my couch make me wonder what else is bare under my mother’s afghan. “Are you all right?”
My head snaps up at the question. “Uhh...yes, fine. I just don’t get...I thought you were going home.”
“It’s almost one, I have to meet Luna at five thirty at the office, you just had a scare, so I thought I’d crash on your couch.”
I have questions; I just can’t seem to get them formulated in my head. Especially not with him looking at me like that. “What?”
“Cute nightie.”
I look down at the favorite sleep shirt I haven’t been able to throw out, even with holes from frequent washings. It’s not cute. It’s hideous and not fit for a cleaning rag, but it’s the most comfortable nightie I own.
What it definitely isn’t, is sexy, but you wouldn’t get that from the look on Dylan’s face.
“I should let you sleep,” I rasp, suddenly very aware of the tension in the semi-dark room.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I start moving to the stairs, trying to scoot by the half-naked body on my couch when suddenly his arm shoots out. Before I can react, I’m hauled off my feet, pulled over the armrest, and end up squarely straddling his lap. I scramble to get off but his arm locks me in place. With his other hand he brushes the still damp hair from my face.
“I don’t think—”
“Then don’t,” he whispers, his lips already brushing mine.
This kiss is different: soft, gently exploring, and leisurely. The lazy stroke of his tongue has my body relax into him. Hands—his and mine—explore the heat of exposed skin as the world falls away around us.
My nightshirt is lifted and my arms go up automatically, without even a single thought to anything but this moment.
I’m melting, a puddle of goo carefully stroked and molded by skilled hands. His lips draw a hot trail down my neck and lower, over the swell of my breast, until I feel his warm, wet lips pull a nipple into his mouth. The sudden charge zipping through my body has me cry out in response.
“Shhh,” he mumbles against my skin as he moves to my other breast, and again draws the hard bud in his mouth. This time I bite my lip and moan deep in my throat.
“Shit,” he hisses, his fingers digging in my hips to keep me still as his eyes bore into me. I guess that control has a limit. I press my lips together to hide the small, satisfied smile, but he sees it anyway, narrowing his eyes. “Minx,” he growls, but it sounds more like a caress than an accusation.
The next moment I’m up in his arms, my legs rounding his hips for purchase, as he uses the afghan to cover me up. Like that, he carries me up the stairs and into the open door of my bedroom, carefully closing it behind us.
“Bed,” I order, rubbing myself shamelessly on his hard length between us.
“Fuck, yes.”
He walks me two steps before dropping me on the mattress, but instead of covering me with his body, he pulls me to the edge and drops to his knees. Before my inner sexpot can pump her fist in celebration, he throws my legs over his shoulders, hooks a finger in the gusset of my panties, and yanks it aside. There is no tentative taste, no flick of the tongue, no hesitation at all when he covers me with his lips, kissing me as deeply there as he did my mouth.
The heat, the hunger, the sheer hedonistic pleasure of our combined moans is unlike anything I have ever experienced. He’s as much into what he is doing as I am, his sounds of pleasure vibrating against my sensitive skin.
DYLAN
Fuck me.
I’m going to blow my load just watching her from between those plump thighs pressed against my head, as she comes undone right before my eyes. Her toes dig into my shoulders as she tilts her head back, long neck strained, and erupts in a rough groan of release.
I lick her gently, the occasional shiver running through her as her body relaxes in the aftermath of her orgasm.
With a last kiss on the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, I sit back carefully lowering her legs. My cock is distended with the need for release, precum leaking from the tip.