The Brazen Amazon

by Sandy James

  Feeling cocky, Gina crooked her finger at the fourth SOG.

  He looked at his fallen brothers, first the one who was screaming in pain as he struggled to push off the heavy espresso machine, then to testicle boy who was gagging and retching like he was about to toss his cookies, and finally to a prostrate “Joel Woods.” The fourth SOG’s face blanched. He turned and ran.

  “Chicken shit. Come back here and fight!”

  As her adrenaline ebbed, she took inventory of her injuries and headed to check on Zach and Richard. Her injured arm throbbed in rhythm with her rapid heartbeat. One of the stupid goons had wrenched her shoulder hard enough it was already swelling. The burn hurt like hell. She didn’t have time to tend any wounds, so she pushed the pain aside. She had to get Zach out of there and someplace safe.

  The sirens caught her attention. They were about to get more company, and she sure as hell didn’t want to waste time lying to a bunch of cops.

  Turning back, Gina was hit with the wide-eyed stares of the innocent people who had only come there to feed their addictions, not witness a fight. “You can all thank me later,” she mumbled.

  Richard had Zach thrown over his shoulder, and she couldn’t help but think he could have been gentler. Zach was hurt and could use some coddling. She checked his pulse again before picking up his burned hand. Nothing she couldn’t patch up in a safe place. If a shocker’s hit didn’t stop their hearts, humans could get by with some fluids, burn ointment and rest.

  Blood trickled from both of Richard’s nostrils. He wiped it away from his crooked nose with the back of his sleeve, but the smear was soon covered by more blood. He’d need some attention too.

  “I’ll take him,” she offered. “You need to pinch that nose to stop the bleeding or you’re going to have to feed again tonight.”

  “I’m fine,” Richard barked.

  “Then let’s get out of here before more SOGs show up.”

  Chapter Five

  A pounding beat woke Zach. The loud, steady rhythm of his own heartbeat hammered through his head and echoed in his ears. Was he hung over? He didn’t remember drinking. Shit, he didn’t remember anything at all.

  Opening his eyes to a mere squint, he tried to give them time to adjust to the light. Thank God, the room was dim. Dim, yes, but not at all familiar.

  The wall next to the bed was covered with photos that weren’t in frames. Instead, they were thumbtacked into the drywall in a hodgepodge collage. Smiling, pretty faces of women kept vigil over whoever slept in this double bed. He sat up to get a better look.

  Four women. A blonde with the most amazing smile who had a penchant for bows and arrows because they were accessories in almost all of her photos. A redhead who seemed to think she was Xena, Warrior Princess, judging from the enormous sword she held. An exotic Indian with a beautiful face, pretty enough she could be a model if she wasn’t so damned short. At least she wasn’t holding a weapon.

  The fourth was Gina Himmel smiling down from some enormous climbing tower.

  Gina?

  Think, damn it.

  He remembered breakfast. A quick yogurt and an untoasted blueberry bagel. He recalled Gina catching up with him as he walked to work and that he’d been happy to see her despite the fact she’d forever changed the way he’d look at his inventions. That guy Richard had tagged along, but Zach had shown her the Toy in the privacy of his office. A kiss. Too short, but very sweet. And Starbucks.

  All he remembered came to an abrupt halt with Starbucks. They were supposed to meet Joel Woods. Had he shown up? That meeting was important enough he’d rearranged his entire schedule, but he couldn’t remember what they’d said or if he’d made any progress in convincing Woods to sell him his invention.

  Dear Lord. Could that invention be used against people—turning all the things meant to help people into a formidable weapon?

  Try as he did, nothing else came to mind. Zach needed answers. Now.

  Sunlight leaked through breaks in the cheap curtains covering the window. Zach’s second glance around the room told him more about the woman who lived here. She didn’t have much money. The comforter and curtains didn’t match. The walls were white. Only a bed, a dresser and a small desk and chair as furnishings. No knick knacks. No throw rugs on the worn carpet. Not even a mirror. The room had all the warmth of an Army barracks.

  How did he end up in Gina’s bed?

  Holy shit. Had he slept with her? He wanted to remember that. He desperately wanted to remember that. Try, Zach.

  No go. His memory was as holey as a tomboy’s jeans.

  Well, hell.

  He needed a bathroom. Throwing off the blanket, he was surprised he was still in his khakis. He spied his shirt lying over the back of the beat-up chair that faced the desk. Her laptop stood open, but the screen was in hibernation. Screensaver stars flew at a rapid, dizzying pace that made his headache worse. His shoes and socks sat on the floor next to the desk.

  He stood slowly, feeling a bit woozy and waiting for the loud whoosh whoosh of his heartbeat to stop pounding in his ears. It wasn’t until he steadied himself against the dresser that he realized his right hand was bandaged. He clenched it into a fist, wincing at the pain. There was no memory of an injury, and the throbbing ache didn’t tell him what had happened—only that something had happened.

  The discomfort of his full bladder drew his undivided attention. He stumbled out into the hall, following the sound of running water, past a second bedroom he didn’t take the time to look into, toward the bathroom. Someone was in the shower, but he couldn’t wait.

  The door stood open, so the person wasn’t worried about privacy, which hinted a level of intimacy he wouldn’t have felt with Gina if they hadn’t slept together. Assuming she was the person singing a happy tune in the shower, she was comfortable with someone walking in. Privacy or not, he had to go, and there wasn’t another bathroom in the tiny apartment. Peeking inside, he saw the shower curtain had been pulled closed, so he ventured in and went about business.

  Bracing his good hand against the wall, he waited for what was probably record time for the world’s longest pee.

  “Zach?”

  He jumped in surprise at Gina’s voice, but at least he’d finished peeing and hadn’t made a mess. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Just what in the hell are you doing?”

  “Gina?”

  “You’re in my bathroom.”

  “Yep.”

  “Why are you in my bathroom?”

  He flushed the toilet before realizing his mistake. Her enraged squeal made him close his eyes against the pain that still lingered in his head. “Sorry.”

  With the squeak of the faucet handle, the water slowed to nothing more than an annoying trickle. He couldn’t scald her now, so he washed his hands in the sink as best he could with a bandage on one palm.

  A slender arm snaked out of the shower curtain and snatched the towel from the silver towel bar. “That was mean,” she said as her movements made the shower curtain flutter.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Get out,” she snapped.

  As if he was going to leave knowing she was standing in that shower. Naked. A picture of her strong, sleek body formed in his mind. She’d be perfect. Small but firm and perfect breasts. Lightly curved hips. She’d probably have one of those sexy belly button rings. Maybe a tattoo, if he gauged her personality correctly. On a shoulder, no doubt.

  If they hadn’t already been lovers, he was more than ready to step across that line now. Hell, a pounding headache and throbbing hand weren’t enough to keep his cock from responding to the mere thought of making love to her.

  “Get. Out.”

  Cheeks hot with embarrassment, he said, “Fine.”

  Zach left, closing the door behind him.

  * * *

  Gina stood in the shower for a few very long minutes. Relief had been the first emotion that hit her. Zach was finally awake. Shockers took their toll on a person, an
d she’d been worried. When she’d been attacked by the shocker SOG, it had hurt like hell. But she was an Amazon. She healed quickly. Zach was a mere human.

  What if the shocker had done permanent damage?

  No. He was fine. He was up and moving. Coherent and oriented. Unfortunately, he’d ventured right into her bathroom when she was taking a nice, long shower.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Depending on how long he’d been in the room, he’d probably heard her singing. And she’d been warbling Barry Manilow. She wanted to die from embarrassment.

  Naked she could deal with.

  But singing “Copacabana”?

  Wrapping the big towel around herself, she tucked it between her breasts and worked up the courage to go get her clean clothes. She’d been in a hurry to take the shower because Richard had left on a food run, and she figured Zach might sleep off the shock for at least another hour or so. He was evidently as rapid a healer as she was. So used to running around her spartan apartment by herself, she hadn’t grabbed an outfit to change into. A quick glance in the foggy mirror revealed everything important was covered, so she headed to her dresser.

  He was slipping on his shirt. She tried not to stare, but that was one nice body he was covering. Muscular but not overdeveloped. A neat patch of brown hair at the center of his chest her fingers itched to touch. The hair thinned to a line that trailed down his body, fanning his belly button and disappearing below his waistband.

  Gina marched to the dresser, pulled open a drawer and found her last clean shirt and panties. No clean pants, just the black jeans she’d worn for two days now unless she could find something not too disgusting from the pile of dirty laundry.

  She missed Beagan and Dolan. Those miracle workers always took good care of her when she was in Avalon, although it had taken her some time to get used to their ability to shapeshift. The changelings now spent a lot of their time acting as nannies to Rebecca’s kids, yet they still handled being caretakers of the Amazons. Gina never worried about clean clothes or deodorant or fresh sheets. Beagan and Dolan might be short enough they barely reached her waist, but they made sure she always had what she needed.

  Sifting through the dirty clothes on the carpet next to the bed, she fished out a black bra. She gave it a quick sniff. It met her approval.

  Zach had the nerve to laugh. “I used to do that in college. If anything wasn’t rank, I’d just spray it with deodorant and head to class. I’m fussier about my stuff now.”

  At least he was laughing with her, not at her. “I haven’t had time to do laundry.”

  Her gaze wandered the mess of a bedroom, pausing briefly to look at the faces of her sisters. She missed them. Probably more than she was willing to admit, considering how much of a loner she’d been her whole life.

  She shifted her eyes to the discarded shoes and laundry. “No time to pick up, either. I was following you. And it’s not like I’m going to be here long.”

  Just until the threat passes.

  Why go to the trouble of moving in when she’d have to move out again? She’d learned that lesson well at an early age.

  Zach had to be disgusted with the state of her home. After all, that little OCD problem of his probably made him clean that pristine place of his three times a week. He had to be the kind of person who backed out of a room as he vacuumed so he didn’t leave footprints on the carpet.

  Gina resisted the overwhelming urge to start picking up. Why did she feel the need to impress him? When Richard came over, she never wanted to hide her laundry or get the dishes out of the sink. Besides, he dirtied as many plates as she did. It was easier to eat right out of the take-out cartons.

  “Gina, I need to know... Did we... I mean, were we...” His face was red, the curiosity plain in his brown eyes. “Did I spend the night?”

  “It’s not night yet. You were only sleeping for a few hours.”

  “What I meant was did we—um—did we sleep together?” The last four words were a hushed whisper.

  The laugh bubbled out before she could stop it. “God, no.”

  “You don’t have to sound so damned happy about it.”

  Men were such odd creatures. First, he appeared nervous because he thought he didn’t remember sleeping with her. Now, he seemed mad that she hadn’t wanted to. “You fell at Starbucks and hit your head. Richard and I brought you back here.”

  His hands shot up as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t feel any sore places. If I hit my head, why didn’t you call an ambulance?” He held up his bandaged hand. “And what happened to my hand?”

  Okay, so it wasn’t the greatest cover story. What was she supposed to say? You got hit by a shocker SOG who was trying to fry your brain... Yeah, that would go over well.

  Gina changed tactics, choosing diversion. “Richard is getting us something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  His good fingers were still searching his skull. “I passed out? Did I have my meeting with Joel Woods? Why in the hell can’t I remember?”

  “Um...sort of. Do you like Chinese? I ordered a bunch of different stuff so I’d get at least one thing you liked. I’m into crab rangoon and Kung Pao chicken.” She dropped her clothes on the dresser, picked the brush up and ran it through her hair. “Although the stuff they call Chinese here isn’t at all like what you get in Beijing.”

  He gaped at her, openmouthed—seemed like he’d been doing that a lot since she’d met him. “You’ve been to Beijing?”

  She put the brush down and nodded, grateful he’d followed her distraction path. “I’ve been lots of places.” Some before she became the Air Amazon, even more after she was called by her goddess. Picking up her clothes, she headed back to the bathroom to get dressed.

  “Seriously? Beijing?”

  “Yep. I’ve lived in London, too. And the Australian Outback for a while, although that only lasted a couple of months.”

  * * *

  Zach wondered if he’d ever really get to know this complicated woman. Beijing? The Australian Outback? Where else had Gina called home? Why was she being so hesitant in telling him what went down at the Starbucks or what happened with Joel Woods?

  Maybe he was loopy because he’d hit his head.

  The front door opened, and he came out of the bedroom at the same time she emerged from the bathroom. The hall was incredibly small, and when she brushed past him, her tight backside rubbed across his groin.

  He groaned.

  She turned back to throw him a worried frown. “You still feeling bad?”

  Zach shook his head. The scent of strawberries caught his attention, the same bewitching, feminine fragrance he’d loved when he’d held her in his arms. His physical response had been quick and hard. Very hard.

  Gina’s concerned gaze fixed on his face as she placed the back of her cool hand against his forehead. “You sure? Your face is kinda red.”

  Because I’m blushing like a virgin, he wanted to reply. Would he ever stop feeling like an awkward geek? “I’m fine.”

  He followed her to the tiny kitchen, trying to get a grip on his frustration.

  The place was ready for FEMA. Richard pulled white cartons out of a brown paper bag and set them on the only counter space that wasn’t filled with dirty dishes and abandoned fast food containers.

  Zach couldn’t help himself. He picked up an empty pizza carton and looked around for a trash can. There wasn’t one.

  She reached into a cabinet and pulled out the last three plates stacked inside. They were mismatched—two of blue plastic, one of heavy brown stoneware. “Just put that anywhere,” she said as she fished in a drawer for forks, pulling out two. “I guess it’s chopsticks for me.” She gave Zach a goofy smile that charmed him so much, he forgot about the mess for a moment.

  “He’s awake,” Richard said, inclining his head toward him.

  “Can’t get much past you,” Zach said. “Right, Sherlock?” He grinned, a little excited that Gina was trying to bite back a smile. Then he got a good
look at Richard. The man’s eyes were blackened and his nose had swelled. “Jesus. What happened to your face? Looks like you went ten rounds with Mike Tyson.”

  Richard narrowed his eyes. “I was saving your ass, Poindexter.”

  “Richard...” Gina cautioned.

  The guy had been pushing Zach’s buttons from the moment they’d met. While he wasn’t normally a hostile kind of person, he couldn’t seem to make himself tolerate Richard—from the way he eyed Gina, looking like some lovesick schoolboy, to the way he tried to assert himself as in charge. It was clear, however, that Richard had helped after whatever the hell had happened at the Starbucks, so he cut him some slack. But only a smidgen.

  Just remembering the coffee shop was enough to tweak Zach’s temper. “You haven’t told me how I ended up here yet or what the hell happened at Starbucks. I wanted that meeting to go well, but I can’t even remember if it even happened.”

  Neither of them bothered to enlighten him.

  As if knowing any attention he gave her would piss Zach off more, Richard grabbed Gina’s hand as she reached for the brown bag. He pulled her wrist to his lips and gave it a kiss. “You still sore?”

  Her face flushed red, her hair shifting to pink, as she jerked her hand back. “I told you. I’m fine.”

  Zach hadn’t noticed the small bruises on the inside of her wrist. How odd that she so easily distracted him from his growing anger at being kept in the dark. “What happened? Looks like nasty a dog bite. Did that happen at the Starbucks?”

  Her gaze locked with his. “It’s nothing. Really. My shoulder still hurts, though.” She gave it an exaggerated roll, picked up the plastic plates and handed one to each of the men. “Dinner’s served.”

  Nothing, my ass. He hated Richard’s knowing smirk.

  Gina piled her plate first. Kung Pao chicken. Moo goo gai pan. Half a dozen crab rangoons.

  “Wow,” he said. “It’s nice to see a lady eat for once. I hate taking a woman to dinner, thinking when she heads to the bathroom, she might be upchucking an expensive dinner just to stay too skinny.”

  She stared at her plate as if seeing it for the first time. “I suppose I shouldn’t...I’d hate to get...” Plucking a couple of crab rangoons, she put them back in the container.