Oil & Vinegar

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “Praise the Lord and pass the plate,” Henry exclaimed.

  “We’ll get out of here for a while and let them get you moved,” Hettie said. “We’ll come back tonight, okay, Dad?”

  “Sounds good,” he replied. “Can you send the boys home now, too? They should be out protecting the streets instead of babysitting me.”

  “You knew about them?” Hettie asked.

  “Of course, I knew. It’s not like there’s a donut shop in this hospital.”

  “Good one, Dad. They’re here on their own time, so your city is safe,” Hettie said, winking at me. “One more night, okay, Dad?”

  “All right, but that’s it. They’ve been flirting with your mother and she likes it too much.”

  Laughing, Hettie leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, too, honey.”

  *

  “Are you hungry?” I asked as I slid the keycard in and unlocked the hotel door. “I could order room service.”

  Hettie shut the door and latched it. “I’m hungry all right. But not for food.” She turned and looked at me rapaciously. “The question is, what are you hungry for?”

  I walked over to where Bubbles slept on Hettie’s bed, and I scratched her head before I picked her up in my arms. “I hadn’t been hungry in quite a while,” I said, as I placed Bubbles in her pet carrier. “I thought that I never wanted to be again.” I pulled the cover and sheet down and picked up my pillow and placed it beside Hettie’s pillow. “But then I met you.”

  “And now?” she asked, standing rigidly still.

  I turned to her and placed my hands flat on her chest. “And now I want you so bad I’m shaking.”

  She placed a hand over mine and tucked her finger under my chin. “I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl… anymore.”

  I gazed up into her dark brown eyes swirling with specks of gold. I could see the desire in her eyes and it excited me. “And I’m not a love them and leave them kind of girl.”

  “Glad to hear that,” she said. “Because… I love you.”

  I gasped, not from her revelation, but that she’d voiced what was in my heart. “I love you, too, Hettie, more than I could ever convey.”

  “I know, kid. I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

  “Oh.” Why does that surprise me? “Well then, thank you for waiting,” I replied.

  “I’ll take it as slow as you want,” she said, running her finger down my cheek.

  I shuddered with anticipation. “Can you maybe go slow the next time? As I said, it’s been a while and you make me so hot that I’m already halfway there.”

  “Wow. You’ve been holding back on me, baby,” she said, shrugging out of her jacket.

  I waited for her to take off her gun and holster, then I moved in and began unbuttoning her shirt. Remembering how she looked without clothes, so brazen and self-aware, brought another surge of electricity to the pit of my stomach. I slipped my hands under her shirt and caressed her soft skin. Touching her, smelling her, feeling her take a quick breath at my touch, cured the sadness and the loneliness in my heart.

  “Oh, yes. I have. But I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

  “Let me take care of that for you, baby,” she said, capturing my lips with hers and probing my mouth, teasing me with her sweet-spicy, electrified tongue.

  I moaned for more.

  She slipped her hand behind my head and pulled me closer, kissing me deeper, harder, until my brain was on fire. I could feel her passion as my breath rushed to keep up with the pounding of my heart.

  “Touch me, Hettie,” I gasped. “I need to feel again. I need to know this nightmare is over.”

  She hurriedly began unbuttoning my blouse but fumbled with one of the buttons. Frustrated, she ripped it open. “I’ll buy you another blouse,” she said, her machoism exciting me.

  I was too motivated to fumble with the rest of the buttons on her shirt, so I ripped it open as well.

  “Wow,” she responded.

  “I’ll buy you another shirt, too. We’ll go shopping together,” I chuckled.

  She quickly unzipped my jeans and ran her hands over my hips and down my thighs as the jeans fell to the floor. “I can feel your heat, you’re so close,” she said, kissing me just below my belly button.

  Just hold off a few more minutes. I cupped her breasts in each hand and squeezed, feeling them grow hot under my touch. She arched her back and groaned deep in her throat. Oh, yes. The air was charged with the smell of love and desire as I ran my hands over her body. Such a beautiful strong body that responded to the trace of my fingers.

  “No, baby,” she murmured, grabbing my hands to stop me. “You first.”

  Before I could protest, she picked me up and carried me to the bed. A new tingle of excitement ignited my clitoris.

  She stood over me, looking me up and down. “My, God. You are beautiful.”

  Shimmying out of her jeans, she crawled on the bed, partially lying on top of me. A look of such desire came over her, and then she turned her head and quickly sneezed three times. Sneezes that, at that particular moment in time, were as sensual to me as they were cute.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Don’t be. Even your sneezes are sexy.”

  She laughed and slid her hand down my stomach, splaying her fingers over my clenched nerves.

  “Hurry, please.”

  Her fingers tangled in my curls and I caught my breath. “You’re so wet and hot already, baby. I don’t think you need me to—”

  I bucked my hips, trying to feel her fingers inside of me. “Please.”

  Her head disappeared between my legs, then I felt the hot tease of her tongue and I was gone. Euphoria filled my soul as the orgasm exploded, sending my body into convulsions of exquisite pleasure. Before the last wave shuddered past, Hettie had me begging for release again.

  I twisted my fingers in her hair and screamed, “Oh, God. I love you, Meredith!”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  U.S. Marshal Hettie Quinn

  Pulling back, I looked at her face, still flushed from the climax. “What the fuck?” Did she just call me Meredith?

  She looked at me, horror written in her eyes. “I didn’t… I wouldn’t… I mean... I’m sorry.”

  “I need some air,” I said angrily. Jumping off the bed, I grabbed my clothes off the floor.

  “Please. Please don’t go,” she pleaded.

  “I just need some time, Connie,” I said, punching my fist through my shirt sleeve. I knew it. I knew this would happen. Pulling on my jeans, I picked up my shoes. “You’re still under the WITSEC program, and I’m still on the job.”

  “Is that all I am to you? A job?” she sobbed.

  “Am I just a replacement for your dead wife?” I countered.

  Tears began streaming down her cheeks, and I cringed at my own tactlessness.

  “Fuck it. I’m going to call and check on my dad.”

  I snatched up my gun and cell phone and walked to the door. “Latch the door behind me and don’t leave this room.”

  She mumbled something but I didn’t hear it as I walked out the door. I’d set myself up for that one. I’d broken my own rules and fell in love with a widow. They can’t help themselves. They couldn’t let go of what they’d had, to see what they have right in front of them. I don’t blame Connie. It’s not her fault, it’s mine.

  I walked into the bar and set on a barstool at the counter. I was the only one at the bar, and there were only a few others sitting at a table. Too early to start drinking for most, but not for the broken-hearted. It was the same bartender, the burly guy in his sixties, and he asked me for my drink order. I ordered a whiskey sour and pulled out my cell phone. I sent a text to Mom instead of calling, because I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

  “What are you going to do?” the bartender asked as he placed my drink in front of me.

  “Excuse me?” I replied, taking
a sip of my drink. I pulled the cherry out and gulped a mouthful down.

  “You look like you just lost your best friend,” he explained. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Are you trying to be a cliché?”

  He laughed and leaned his hairy elbows on the counter. “I’ve been a bartender longer than you’ve been alive, girl. Who do you think they coined the term, bartender/coach, after?”

  “Let me guess, you?”

  “Damn straight. Now, stop avoiding the question.”

  “Are you expecting a tip?” I asked self-righteously.

  “I’m independently wealthy, kid. I don’t depend on tips, and I don’t like boundaries.”

  “Another guess, retired Marine?”

  “Ooh-rah,” he grunted.

  For some reason, I decided that maybe a pushy, over-sixty, retired Marine bartender might have some answers. I just needed to figure out the questions. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Ask for a transfer, I guess.”

  “Ah, so your problem is your job?”

  “You’re half right. My problem is a woman and my job.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Okay, you stumped me with that one.”

  “I’m in love with a woman whose wife was murdered.”

  “You thought you’d shock me with that, didn’t you?” he challenged. “I told you, I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve heard it all. It’s my turn to guess. You were making love, and she called out her dead wife’s name?”

  Damn! My mouth fell open as my eyes grew large. Instead of him being shocked, I was. As if he had read my mind, he had gotten right to the problem.

  “I see I guessed correctly.”

  “How?”

  He smiled at my confusion. “Your hair is still sweaty. So, anyway, apparently, that upset you enough that you’re down here drowning your sorrows in whiskey.”

  “Two for two,” I replied, unconsciously rubbing my arms.

  “Well, hell, girl. It’s obvious. Dump her and find someone else without any baggage.”

  “That’s fucking impossible. Everyone has baggage,” I shot back.

  “Okay, then dump her and find someone who is a virgin.”

  “I don’t want to dump her, damn it. Look, just forget it. Give me another drink and can the chatter.” Before you piss me off.

  He didn’t move. He stood there and stared at me. I casually glanced over my shoulder, severing his penetrating stare, but when I turned back, he was still staring at me.

  “Knock it off, damn it, and give me my drink.”

  “Sure, if you’re done whining,” he countered.

  “All right, asshole, I’ll bite. What would you do?”

  “I’d ask the questions first, before turning to the alcohol.”

  “Like what?”

  “Was this her first time for sex since her wife died?” he asked, finally mixing my drink.

  “Uh, yes. I’m pretty sure it was.” Shit. It was her first time since Meredith.

  “Did she call her wife’s name in the heat of the moment?”

  Okay, this is getting embarrassing. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Did you freak out and leave her still hot and bothered?”

  My heart stopped and then started again with a lurch. I dug my wallet out of my jean pocket, tossed a couple of bills on the counter, and stepped down. “I need to go.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  I ran out of the bar, almost running down a couple walking in, and dashed down the hall toward our room. I called her name even before I unlocked the door. I rushed in, expecting to take her in my arms and beg her forgiveness, but she wasn’t in the room. “Connie?” I looked in the bathroom, but she wasn’t there either.

  Bubbles meowed at me from the pet carrier. “Bubbles, where’s Connie?” She would never leave the cat behind. Chills ran down my spine. “Connie!”

  I ran out of the room and down the hall again, to the front lobby. Think, stupid. They wouldn’t take her out the front door. I ran out the front door anyway and into the front parking lot, but Connie was nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, God. Connie?” I ran around the building to the back parking lot and spotted her getting into the passenger’s side of a car. “Connie, wait!” Running full out, my mind was panicking, my heart pounding. A man jumped up from the passenger’s side just as I approached the car and fired at me. Shit! I hit the ground and rolled to the side. I couldn’t fire back and take the chance of hitting Connie. The man wore a black ski mask so I couldn’t see his face, but I knew who he was. Harry the Scar.

  “Let her go, Harold,” I screamed, ducking behind another parked car.

  “Can’t do that, Deputy,” he shouted. “You stuck your nose in where it didn’t belong,” he said, sounding closer. He was on the move. “And fucked it up for the rest of us. It’s payback time, bitch.”

  I laid on the ground and looked under the car for his feet. The wheels blocked my sight, so I crawled on my belly under the car until I had a better angle. He was walking around the car I was under. He jumped and placed his feet as if he were going to fire. I couldn’t roll over and was in the wrong position to shoot. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t detect me.

  He ran back to the car. He’s making a break for it! I scrambled out from under the car in time to see him grab Connie by the hair. She must have been trying to escape.

  “Freeze!” I yelled, pointing my gun at him.

  He swung around, pulling Connie against his chest, his hand gripping her neck.

  “You don’t want to do this, Harold,” I warned.

  “Oh, yes, I do,” he retorted. “You might have slowed us down, but you can’t stop us.”

  “But I have already stopped them, Harold. And I’ll damn sure drop you where you stand if you don’t—”

  Connie stomped on his foot and elbowed him in the nose. Blood gushed everywhere.

  “Damn, baby.” I was as proud as I was shocked by the petite, beautiful young woman who surprised me when I least expected it.

  Harold released her and grabbed his nose. Connie ran over to me, and I wrapped my sore arm around her shoulder. Keeping my eyes and my weapon pointed at Harold, I pulled Connie close. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now,” she replied, wrapping her arms around my waist and squeezing.

  “Connie, reach into my pocket and get my cell phone out. I need you to call 911 and get the cops here while I keep an eye on this guy.”

  “Which pocket?” she asked, patting my jeans.

  “If circumstances were different, I’d say you have to find it on your own.”

  “Don’t make me puke,” Harold gurgled, holding his head back, trying to stop the bleeding.

  “It’s in my right front pocket. I didn’t have time to put on my belt after we… after I, uh…”

  “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Hettie,” she said, reaching her hand into my pocket.

  Feeling her hand so close to my thigh, my legs trembled, remembering her touch. “No, it was my fault. I reacted badly and I’m really sorry, baby.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Harold spat out. “Just shoot me now so I can go to my glory a martyr.”

  “You mean go to hell, don’t you?” I asked, as Connie talked with the dispatcher. “I can assure you that you won’t be a martyr. Heaven will reject you and hell will laugh at you for failing your mission.”

  “Who said I failed?” he taunted.

  “The biggest, ugliest gangbanger in the prison you’re going to will say it as he beats you to a pulp for treason.”

  Connie ended the call and put the phone back in my pocket. “They’re on their way.”

  “Good.”

  Harold looked around as if he were planning the quickest way to escape.

  “Harold, down on the ground, and interlock your hands behind your head.” He didn’t move. “Do it before she kicks you in the nuts,” I warned, smiling proudly.

  Connie drew her leg back and kicked as if she were kicking a football.
Harold scowled reflexively and sat on the ground.

  After Harold was in custody, I took Connie’s hand in mine and asked, “So, baby. Will you go out with me tonight to celebrate?”

  “Celebrate?”

  “Yeah. Harold was the last piece to the puzzle. With him captured, you’re safe. Free.”

  “Oh,” she mumbled. She sounded disappointed.

  “I thought that’s what you wanted?”

  “I did. I mean, I do. It’s just that, um, what about us?”

  “Do you want there to be an us?” I asked, holding my breath. I want it so bad I can taste it. I couldn’t imagine not having Connie in my life. It would be like a part of me was missing.

  “Yes. Yes, I want to be with you. I can’t bear the thought of not being with you.”

  “I feel the same way, baby.”

  “Wherever you go, I want to go. I want to get on with my life, but I want you to be a part of that.”

  “How do you feel about living in Florida next to my parents?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I noticed there was a house for sale a block from Mom and Dad. I can request a transfer to Miami and that way, I’ll know you’re safe with my folks if I am on a case.”

  “Oh, Hettie. That sounds so wonderful, but… but I’m not sure I’m ready to marry again.”

  “And I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking you to move in with me. You’ve been through a lot. You need time to process everything. It’s enough for me to know you’ll be there. I don’t need anything else.”

  “Will it be a monogamous relationship?” she asked timidly.

  Is she thinking of Angie and me? “I’d prefer it, yes.”

  “Oh, Hettie. I love you so much.”

  “Is that a yes, kid?” Again, I held my breath. Please.

  “Yes, absolutely, yes,” she said and threw herself into my arms.

  I pressed her to me and kissed her softly, deeply, hungrily. “Can we go back, and—”

  “Pick up where we left off?” she asked with a grin.

  “You read my mind.”

  “It wasn’t your mind I was reading,” she giggled. “Oh! Look!” Excitedly, she pointed at her arm.