by Krista Wolf
I squinted upward. “If this place is abandoned,” I said. “Why is the electricity still on?”
“Some company bought it recently, to turn into an MMA center,” said Holden. “They turned on the utilities, the water, etc… Right now they’re caught up in permits, waiting to renovate. It’ll be months, though.”
“And what if someone comes in here?”
“Then we’re just part of the demo crew,” he shrugged. “Marking off what stays and what goes.”
I nodded. “The perfect place to hide out, then.”
“For now, yeah.”
I didn’t ask how they ascertained all this, or came up with the information. It was getting more and more obvious though.
“So you’re CIA?”
Holden laughed. Randall laughed harder.
“Really? Do we look like that?”
“Does anyone?”
The two men turned to each other and laughed again. They way they reacted in tandem, I could tell they’d been around each other a while. A few hours ago they were at each other’s throats. Now they were buddies again. Comrades. Teammates.
“So you’re military…”
Randall gave me an approving look. Holden scratched at his chin.
“SEALs,” he said, until Randall cleared his throat. “My bad. Ex-SEALs.”
“Wow,” I said.
I meant it, of course. I’d never met a SEAL. And I’d met a lot of people, with a lot of specializations. That part came with growing up with my father. Although he’d done everything to keep his personal life separate from everything he did for Indigo, there were always a few parts that bled through.
“So you’re SEALs… working against Indigo,” I said carefully.
Holden shook his head. “We couldn’t give a shit about Indigo.”
“Kyrkos, then?”
They nodded, again in tandem.
“And you’re doing this all on your own?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” asked Holden. “You’re doing the same thing.”
“And you’re a girl,” Randall added, as if it weren’t obvious. I smirked at him dryly. He winked back.
“And you’re doing it alone,” added Holden. “Which is even more amazing than your being a girl.”
“I don’t know,” his partner whistled. He was looking me up and down again. “The girl part is pretty amazing, too.”
I watched as Randall reached into a bag and threw something my way. I caught it in mid air; a balled-up pair of sweatpants, and a crumpled T-shirt.
“Don’t mind me saying this Shortcake,” he chuckled, “but you look like absolute hell.” He jerked the tip of his beard toward one of the steel doors. “Shower’s that way.”
For the first time all night — now morning — I took stock of my situation. I’d just failed an assassination attempt, narrowly escaped on a stolen boat, then inexplicably flown back on a plane. My beautiful red dress was disgusting. My stockings were shredded. My panties were at the bottom of a restroom garbage on the isle of Rhodes, a few hundred miles away.
Shit, I could only imagine what my hair looked like.
Oh yeah, and I’d also fucked a complete stranger. One who I thought was the man responsible for my father’s demise, but who somehow turned out to be there for the exact same reasons I was.
And even dirtier than that… I’d enjoyed it.
Randall was still staring at me through the absurdity of it all, almost as if he could read every thought in my mind. His mustaches parted as his mouth broke into a broad, white-toothed grin.
“Hell of a fucking night, ain’t it?”
Nine
RANDALL
There were a lot of things on my bucket list, both daily and life in general. For example, I wanted to stand on the edge a live volcano. Not just some boring one either, but one with real lava in it. I wanted to stay the night in a castle. Go ice fishing. Surf big waves in Hawaii. And someday, preferably after I had a son or a daughter to enjoy it with, I wanted to build a really kickass treehouse.
Right now though, all I wanted was a hot shower.
I pushed through the changing area, pulling my clothes off the whole way. They smelled like sweat, and adrenaline — not a particularly bad smell, really. Not a great one though, either.
I dropped them on the same bench I always did, between the two rows of lockers.
Treehouses…
Yeah, I thought about that one a lot, actually. I’d even come up with some designs. The blueprints were in my head, and constantly shifting. So much so, that I really should be writing them down…
“HEY!”
I turned and there she was, floating naked in the steam. Her hair looked much darker while wet. My eyes followed the rivulets of water as they streamed downward, washing the soap off her body.
“What the HELL, Randall?”
She covered herself quickly, throwing her arms over her breasts. She had fantastic breasts. And the little washcloth she was dangling over her ladyparts wasn’t hiding much of anything.
“Hey sugar,” I said, jerking a thumb. “I brought us some towels. They’re over that way.”
There were six showerheads, but only two of them worked. She’d taken the second one. I walked past her, straight to the back, and turned on the last.
“What are you doing?”
“Showering.”
“I mean… why are you doing it now!”
The head squeaked, and the water sputtered as the air was forced out of the line. God, I hated this showerhead. It had shitty water pressure.
“Because I’m dirty?” I shrugged.
“YES BUT I’M IN HERE!”
She was still covering herself, still trying to keep me from seeing her goods. Which was perplexing, because she had some really fine goods.
“C’mon,” I smiled, finally stepping into the stream. “You’ve seen a man naked before, haven’t you?”
She looked me up and down for a moment… lingering at the down part. That was just fine by me. I winked at her again.
“And I’ve seen a girl or two in my time,” I grinned. “Although not too many with curves like that.”
She was built for performance, I could tell that straight away. Strong and lithe — very athletic. Muscles and sinew, hidden just beneath a delicious layer of babyfat.
“Stop looking at me,” she demanded.
I laughed again and slicked my hair back. “Why?” I asked. “You’re looking at me, aren’t you?”
I held my hand out. When she did nothing, I shook it expectantly.
“Soap me?”
Slowly, reluctantly, she reached out and handed me the bar of soap. She had to step out of the stream to do it. She also had to uncover a bit.
“Peaches listen,” I said soothingly. “You’re absolutely fantastic but I’m tired as all hell right now. I wanna see my pillow a lot more than I want to see your…”
My sentence trailed off as even more of her tantalizing curves revealed themselves. They were so incredible, I felt the blood in my veins shifting to make all new accommodations below my waist.
Hell, maybe I wasn’t that tired after all.
“Wash my back?”
Andrea made a face and turned away. She went back to rinsing out her hair. Squeezing it her fists, or whatever that move is that girls always do.
“Look, I’ll try not look if it makes you feel better,” I lied. “But don’t think for a moment that street goes both ways. If you want to a closer view, be my guest. No need to be shy or—”
“How long have you been after him?” she asked abruptly.
The question took my by surprise. “Who? Kyrkos?”
She nodded and held out her hand. I flipped the soap back to her, hoping like hell she’d miss it and have to bend over. Miraculously though, she didn’t.
“Year and a half,” I said finally. “Almost two.”
I saw her pause mid-scrub, one arm high overhead. She looked shocked.
“He doesn’t make all that many appear
ances,” I explained. “As you already know.”
Alexander Kyrkos had been the hardest target we’d had, both within the Navy and afterward. Which really was saying something, considering our training, our resources…
… and our desire to wipe that piece of filth off the face of the fucking planet.
“He’ll show his face again,” I promised, with lot more confidence than I actually felt. The soap started moving through her armpit again. “And when he does, we’ll move on him.”
She went quiet once more, and for a few moments we basked silently beneath the steam. I had a general idea of what she was thinking. We’d read her dossier. We knew why she was in this.
“Sorry about your place,” I said. “That… that kinda sucks.”
Again she said nothing. She finished rinsing, turned off the spigot, and squeezed some more water out of her hair.
“Anything else to worry about over there?” I asked. “Dogs? Cats?”
She shook her head.
“A pet turtle that needs feeding?”
I heard her sigh, softly. “I wasn’t living there long enough to get attached to anything.”
Damn. Now I did feel bad for her. She’d had it tough, harder than most. And here I was, crashing her shower…
“You were in Croatia, seven weeks,” I nodded sympathetically. “And Milan before that. You’re always moving. Always—”
Andrea’s mouth dropped open. The little washcloth fell from her hand, landing at her feet with a wet ‘plop’.
“How do you know all this?”
It took every ounce of willpower to keep my eyes glued to hers. To not let them wander down her perfect shoulders to those amazing breasts. To explore the curve of those slender hips. Those sculpted, ivory thighs…
“We know,” was all I said. God, even her eyes were beautiful! “We’ve been… following your…”
The steam dissipated, my answer stopped. Suddenly all that stuff seemed so inconsequential. I dropped my gaze, looking down at my feet.
“I— I mean, what I meant to say…”
I raised my chin, getting my confidence back.
But when I looked up again she was already gone.
Ten
ANDREA
The dream began as it always did, halfway between light and darkness.
I was in the garage of the house I’d grown up in, surrounded by tools, projects, supplies. I could smell oil. Gasoline. My father’s usually neat things were complete mess, and for once in my life I wasn’t responsible.
I tilted my head upward. Fifteen feet above me there it was — the hole in the upper wall that served as our attic. An unbroken rectangle of pure blackness, with a metal-runged ladder leading down from it.
A ladder I was forbidden to climb.
I’d never climbed the ladder in my dream, nor had I even climbed it in real life. I wasn’t ever to know what was up there. I’d always imagined it could be anything. Everything.
And then suddenly, just like always… the skeleton stepped into view.
It grinned down at me facelessly, gripping me with instant terror. It was so stark white, it almost seemed to glow. Or maybe the black rectangle was so impossibly dark, it only looked that way by comparison.
With agonizing slowness, it began to move. It gripped the ladder first, then climbed down in a halting, jerking way that made absolutely no sense. I ran as I always did, down the hall and into our kitchen, which was exactly — down to every last painstaking detail — the way I remembered it.
My mother was there again, seated at the kitchen table. Drinking coffee. Reading a newspaper.
Not paying any attention to me.
I screamed, but no sound came out. I ran, but my feet barely moved. Everything went slow-motion again, except for the ever-increasing beat of my thundering heart. The skeleton appeared in the doorway, grinning manically, chasing me without running, catching up to me despite barely moving at all.
And then all of a sudden, something changed.
For the first time in the dream, I actually reached my mother. I touched her. I shook her! The newspaper rattled and her coffee spilled but she still ignored me, still went on sipping as if I weren’t there. As if I weren’t screaming for help, yelling into her face…
I’d had the dream countless times, and I’d never gotten this far. The skeleton was an afterthought now. The most terrifying thing was my mother, completely ignoring my cries and screams. The feeling of being there but not there, of being totally helpless and utterly alone.
The bony hand finally closed over my arm. The pain was icy, agonizing. It squeezed down hard, and now I could actually hear myself scream. The sound grew louder and louder until it split the night, until it ripped through our little kitchen as the skeleton crushed my arm down to the bone…
ANDREA…
And still, the terror of watching my mother. Looking down at her newspaper. Sipping her coffee.
Doing absolutely nothing.
ANDREA WAKE UP!
I bolted upright, aware of the two big hands gripping my upper arms. These hands were warm though, covered in flesh and blood. And there was no pain…
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” a gentle voice said. “You were dreaming...”
I gasped, gulping in my first breath of air in what had to be half a minute. My heart was racing! My whole body tingled.
“You were screaming too,” said Holden. “So loud you almost brought in half the neighborhood.” His arms went around me, all warm and inviting. They felt comforting and wonderful as he crushed me against his chest. “Holy shit honey, you’re shivering all over…”
I looked down at the cracked leather couch, all cold and uncomfortable. It had been my idea to sleep here. They guys had tried insisting I take one of their beds, but I wouldn’t have it.
He called you honey.
The word was warm. Soothing. It made me feel good, on some much deeper levels I hadn’t visited in a while.
“Grab that,” Holden ordered, pointing at my threadbare blanket which had slipped to the floor. His voice was firm and commanding. “You’re sleeping with me.”
Eleven
ANDREA
His body heat was absolutely amazing. Come to think of it, so was his body.
I’d been too cold to argue, standing there in a loose pair of Randall’s sweatpants and a 40-year old promotional T-shirt. The dream was still fresh in my mind. My whole body, shaking.
Holden had led me by the hand, up a trio of wooden steps, and into the boxing ring. He’d even held the ropes open for me, like some up-and-coming contender. Stepping silently past Randall’s mattress, he tucked me into his bed and slipped right alongside me.
Mmmmmm…
I couldn’t help but spoon back against him, as he threw one strong arm over my body. His muscles tightened as he cinched it around my waist. I could feel us flesh to flesh, where my sweatpants had already started slipping down.
“You okay?”
I nodded and squirmed back into him, hyper-aware of my ass grinding against his crotch. It felt sooo good! So totally perfect.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get him last night,” he whispered into my hair. The arm around my waist went a centimeter tighter. “But don’t worry. We will.”
His voice was deeply masculine. Unintentionally sexual. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. It was hard to know.
“Can I tell you something?”
He was stroking my hair now, pulling it gently back over my ear. I nodded silently.
“That kiss tonight…” he said softly. “That wasn’t fake.”
All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at once. I grinded my ass backward a little more, telling myself it was only to steal his warmth. But I was already plenty warm.
“I wanted it,” said Holden. “I needed it, actually.”
His lips were just inches from my ear.
“And I totally fucking loved it, too.”
The emphasis on the word was wholly intenti
onal. It came with a distinct bump, a surge of his hips. I could feel a bulge forming there now, between his legs. Growing slowly…
I blinked, looking straight ahead. My eyes had readjusted to the darkness, when suddenly I realized something.
“Randall!” I gasped, raising my head to look at his mattress. “He’s not there!”
Holden only squeezed me tighter. “I know.”
“W—Where is he?”
“Who knows?” lamented Holden. “He does that often. Randall is restless, always moving, always doing something. He roams.” I felt him shrug his big shoulders. “Half the time I wake up he’s not there. I don’t even ask questions anymore.” His body swelled as he heaved a big, beautiful sigh. “Don’t worry about it. He always comes back.”
I settled back down, only this time I twisted into him. We were face to face now. Nose to nose in the semi-darkness.
“Okay,” I smiled. “Holden?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He smiled back, rather than answer. One of my hands found his, beneath the blankets. Our fingers intertwined.
Then he shifted forward, rising up on his arms… and his body slid on top of mine.
“You’re still cold,” he murmured. “Let me make you warm.”
Our eyes locked, our mouths drawing even closer together. I could feel his breath on my face. The heat of his deliciously hard abdomen, pressed snugly against mine.
“For warmth then,” I breathed.
“Yes.”
“Lots of people cuddle to stay warm…”
His lips curled into a smirk, a split-second before they closed over mine. Then he was kissing me, with fire and passion. Parting my lips with his, as his jaw rotated slowly, sensuously, against mine.
Holy fuck.
It was just like before, only now we were alone. Alone and in bed. Beneath the blankets…
His tongue slid to meet mine, dancing softly between us. His kisses went from warm and sweet, to totally, totally hot.
Damn…
I found myself rolling against him. Parting my thighs, so he could grind his body between them. My sweatpants slipped some more, and I felt a rush of heat down there. I wasn’t wearing panties. It was just him and me.