by JA Huss
“I don’t need a recap,” I say.
“—and I don’t know what you call that, but I call it survival mode. Two days ago I’d have agreed with you. Two days ago Alec van den Berg was nothing but a bad memory. And now he’s back—”
“And I’m back too.”
“But you wouldn’t be here without him.”
For a second I don’t know what that means. It could go one of several ways. I wouldn’t be an assassin. True. I wouldn’t be alive. Also true. I wouldn’t be back with Danny.
“Not true!” I say, deciding the last one is right.
And then I do something stupid. Something ridiculous. I start to cry. And it’s not even fake.
“Christine—”
But I can’t look at him and I’m too busy wiping my eyes anyway.
“Stop it,” he says, grabbing my wrists and pulling them away from my face.
But my instincts kick in and there’s a flurry of movements, arms twisting and body turning, and I’ve broken his hold and there’s a loud crack.
Because I just slapped him across the face.
He stands there, hands up kinda half-heartedly defending himself from my attack, and laughs.
So I slap him again.
And then his eyes narrow. And his instincts kick in too. He grabs my shoulders, turns me around, and pushes me up against the wall of glass, tight grip on my wrists as he slams them into the window and pins them there so I have a perfect view of paradise as he presses the whole weight of his body into my back.
I hold my breath, unable to see where this might go.
He leans down, his mouth next to the soft, sensitive skin under my ear, and whispers, “I love you. You know I love you.”
“Then why are you fighting me?”
“I want you for myself.”
“I want you both.”
He lets go of my wrists, but I leave them where they are. I stare out at the choppy lake with the blanket of misty fog, and a million things are running through my head.
But then he presses his hips into my back and I realize he’s hard.
He kisses me. Just once, right below my ear.
And I hold my breath again.
He does it again and I turn my head to see him, staring into his eyes as I wait.
And when it comes… it’s more than I expected. It’s hands inside my shirt, and fingertips pinching my nipples, and when his lips touch mine and that kiss finally happens…
It’s so perfect I wonder if I’m still sleeping. I wonder if the hazy fog rolling across the lake is the same hazy fog from my dream.
But I don’t care either way.
I just sink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - DANNY
I should stop. I know I should stop. The word ‘stop’ is the only thing in my head as I kiss her. But then her tongue is there, pushing against mine. And her lips are soft, and when I pinch her nipples she moans into my mouth.
And I know Alec is here somewhere. Probably watching because when Alec has security, he has security.
So yeah, maybe what I do next is for him.
Or maybe it’s for her.
But if I’m being honest I know why I do it.
I do it for me.
I pull away and immediately she moans, “No, don’t. Please don’t.”
And I wasn’t going to stop anyway, I just want to kiss her other places too. I want to kiss her whole body. I want to strip her naked and fuck her right up against this window.
Her hand reaches behind her, grabbing for my cock through my jeans. She squeezes and that’s it for me. All rational thought about what I’m doing and how this should go—it should be special. Our first time should be special—all those thoughts fly far, far away.
I grab her hips, pull her towards me, then press down on her back until she leans forward. Her hand leaves my cock, and I miss that. But only for a second, because she slams her hands back up against the glass and moans.
Her sweatpants are down, the button on my jeans open, zipper released, cock in my hand… all that happens before any more doubts can creep in and ruin this.
I’ve wanted her. All this time, I’ve wanted her.
So now I’m just gonna take her.
One hand pumps my cock a few times, the other lifts up the back of the pea coat, and my foot kicks at the inside of her foot and she opens her legs.
It’s so fucking hot she moans and I grit my teeth, guide the tip of my cock to her already wet opening, and thrust inside her.
“Oh, shit,” she whispers. Her cheek pressed against the window so her breath makes a little circle of fog, which retreats as she sucks in air.
I thrust again. Gripping her hips tight.
“Fuck,” she moans. “Yes,” she finishes.
With each thrust forward, that’s what she says.
“Fuck. Yes. Fuck. Yes. Fuck. YES!”
I lean back, hips still pumping, my balls swinging with each back-and-forth movement. She presses back, bracing herself with palms flat on the window, more moans escaping past her lips with each ragged breath.
God, I want her. I want this. And I shouldn’t think about that now because she could ask me anything and I’d say yes. I’d kill for her. I’d give her anything she wants to make her mine and keep this going.
Give her to me. I’ll do anything.
“Harder,” she begs.
Oh, God. If that’s all she wants, this is gonna be easy. I smack her ass with one flat hand and she yelps, but when I reach around to play with her clit, she’s so wet—so fucking wet, I want to die.
But I don’t. I can’t. She wants it harder and if that’s all it takes, I got this.
I smack her again, thrust harder. So hard all I hear is her groaning to the beat of our fucking and the rhythmic jingling of the zippers on my leather jacket.
But it’s not enough. Not for me.
I want to see her face, not just the reflection of it in a window.
So I pull out, she protests with, “Hey,” and I immediately say, “Shhhhhhhhh. I just want to see you. Make sure you’re real.”
I take her hand off the glass, turn her around, and stare into those beautiful hazel eyes of hers until she blushes.
“There you are.”
“I didn’t go anywhere.”
“No,” I say. “I did. But I’m not going anywhere now.” I walk her backwards two steps, press her back up against the window, and kiss her.
Like… really kiss her.
Softly. Because she’s soft underneath all the tough assassin exterior. And I like those soft parts. Even when we were together all the time, that part of her was always hard to find.
Then urgently. Because I feel like all this is gonna slip away. Or it’s a dream and I’ll wake up. And I don’t want this to ever end.
She responds, her hands on my face, her palms rubbing the week-old stubble on my cheeks. I reach between her legs, slipping my hands behind her knees, and lift her up. Press my rock-hard cock against her belly. She laughs a little, lifting up the too-big t-shirt with one hand while the other grips the sleeve on my leather jacket to keep herself steady.
I enter her again, only this time slower. Facing her.
Her head falls forward and I press my face into her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair.
How, after all these years, can she smell the same?
I don’t know, but she does. She smells like every day we’ve ever spent together and every night we’ve been apart at the same time.
I lean back so I can watch her. Memorize everything she does. Her sweatpants are still on, the elastic stretched tight just below her knees so she can’t open her legs too far. And I don’t know why I find that so hot, but I do.
I inch forward, burying my cock inside her pussy so deep she sucks in air and closes her eyes tight.
“Too much?” I ask, my voice a hoarse growl.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, it’s just right.”
I go slowly after that. Almost painfully
slow. But it’s the best kind of pain. If only all pain could feel this perfect.
I kiss her mouth. I kiss her neck. I whisper, “Don’t ever let me walk out again,” into the shell of her ear.
And she responds. She kisses me back. She nips my lip. And she answers, “Never again.”
And then there’s a moment when she goes still and stiff. And I realize—this. This is what she’s like when she comes. And every time I make love to her, from this day forward, I will be looking for this sign.
This signal of utter and total surrender.
I press my whole body against hers. My cock buried as deep inside her as it will go. My chest against her breasts, my hands gripping the outer edge of her upper thighs. And then I close my eyes, bury my face into her so-familiar hair, and I come inside her without giving it a second thought.
And when I open them again, when she has stopped shuddering and our hearts have synchronized in their beats, I see Alec.
Standing outside on the shore of the choppy lake
Hazy mist swirling around his body like a cloak as he stares up at us.
And smiles.
Ten minutes later I find him in his office. I had to wander down a hallway that could be described as either a walled-up glass bridge or a human-sized hamster tube. But there was a small stream filled with smoothly polished river stones running under it, so I guess it’s a bridge.
The office is a large room with floating shelves lining one wall. There are no books on them, just… art. Probably priceless art, knowing Alec. And there’s a large executive-sized desk made of steel and glass. Fits with the décor, I suppose. And two chairs in front of the desk with a small glass table between them on which sits a bottle of brandy so nice even I’ve heard of it, and two snifters, both with the appropriate amount of liquor in them.
“Where’s your shirt?” He nods to the drink, then the chair and stares unapologetically at my bare chest as I pick up my drink and take a seat. I put my leather back on after I took off the t-shirt. But he still stares.
“I used it to clean up Christine.”
“Where’s Christine?”
Hmm. So he’s got nothing to say about that. I shrug internally. “Taking a bath.”
We both smile at the same time. It’s just so Christine to take baths in the middle of chaos.
“Well, good,” he says. “Because we need to talk about what comes next.”
I take a sip of the brandy. I don’t much care for brandy, but I’ve had enough of it in the company of Alec to appreciate the taste of this one as it goes down. “What comes next?” I ask. Then answer for him. “The usual, I guess. Hole up here, wait for some information, and move along. That’s how it usually goes.”
“I don’t think it’s going that way this time.”
“Why not?” I ask, setting my snifter down.
“This is different.”
“Different how?”
“We didn’t just do a job,” Alec says. He’s annoyed with me, but I can’t tell if it’s because he saw Christine and me having sex or if it’s something else. “And… I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. Something just feels… off.”
“Hmmm,” I say. “Could it be… oh, let me take a stab at this… that I just took Christine away from you?”
He smiles. Manages to huff out a laugh. “That’s not how I see it.”
“Maybe you didn’t get a good enough look?”
“Grow up, Fortnight.”
I shrug.
“And besides. Nothing has changed. She doesn’t want you, she wants us.”
And there it is. Didn’t take long, did it?
I make a promise to give her everything she wants to keep this going.
And what she wants is the only thing I can’t give her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - ALEC
He starts to respond, but then stops himself, swallows down the rest of his drink in one gulp, slams his snifter down on the table, and stares at me. I wince. Both because I’m certain he’s going to shatter the glass in his hand and the table itself, and because that is simply not how one sips brandy. But I understand. He’s aggravated. I am too.
I smile at him, reach for the decanter, and refresh his snifter for him. I take my own drink up and offer him a toast of cheers before taking a sip. Then I take the seat opposite him. Sit for a moment. Feel the air move through my lungs before I speak.
“What happened, man?”
He doesn’t respond immediately. Finally, he says, “To what?”
“To us. The three of us. It seemed to me that we were just starting to really thrive. And then…”
“Are you serious?”
“About what?”
“Are you asking me a real question right now? ‘What happened?’ Are you being this way deliberately or are you honestly stupid? Never mind. I know the answer. You’re not stupid. What do you want?”
That is an impressively loaded question whether he realizes it or not.
“Well, Daniel—”
“Fuck you.”
“—I suppose the first thing I want is to figure out who has put us in this position.” He nods a bit. “And then before I kill them for trying to take our lives—Christine’s twice—I want to thank them.”
Danny draws his head back, knits his brows together, and takes on an agitated expression. “Thank them?”
“As I said.” I sip brandy.
“For what?”
“For bringing us all together.”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh, I realize that whoever-is-doing-whatever-this-is-that-they’re-doing is doing it with the intention of somehow wiping the three of us off the planet, but their mistake is that they didn’t just attempt to pick us off one by one. Because the three of us? Together? We are, my dearest Danny, an unstoppable force.” I take another sip. Not to give Danny a chance to react. I know he won’t. I just feel like taking a sip. “The only thing that can undo us,” I continue, “is us.”
He adjusts himself in his chair. The creak of his leather jacket fills the room. When he settles, he says, “There is no ‘us.’ There never was.”
I smile and shake my head. “You’re still a stubborn naaier.”
“And you’re still a smug asshole who thinks he can get whatever he wants, just because he wants it.” He reaches for his own brandy and I place my hand over his, holding it on top of the glass.
He looks down at me holding his hand there. My other hand slides up my thigh. I let it rest on my crotch.
He looks at me holding my cock, then his eyes shift to where my hand is touching his. He swallows. His breathing accelerates. He shifts in his chair again.
“Take. Your. Fucking. Hand. Away.” he says.
I don’t.
“Alec…”
“You need to get your head around something, bru.” The tension filling every muscle in his body is radiating off him. I squeeze my hand around his slightly. I want to make sure I don’t grip too tightly too quickly. Not this time. “We need each other.”
His jaw tightens. His fist tenses around the glass. I’ve been lucky so far that nothing has shattered, so I opt not to push my luck further and release my grip on his.
Standing, I remove my jacket, walk around the desk and hang it on the chair behind, and take that seat now instead. Probably best to give a little space for the moment. Then, watching Danny’s bare chest move up and down, just like it did in the car earlier, a thought occurs to me. I cock my head at him.
“What?” he asks. I cock my head the other way. “Fucking what?” he asks more emphatically.
“Just… I was just thinking… That’s not the first time you and Christine naaied, izit?”
“What? Jesus. Will you just talk—”
“Shagged. Had sex. Fucked, man. That wasn’t the first time for you two?”
He breathes heavily through his nose. Like an angry bull. His chest rises and falls. Then, “It’s none of your fucking business.”
�
�Hawu! No fokken way, man! Really? And I was there to see it? Well, that is just too fokken perfect for words.”
He leaps to his feet. For a moment it looks like he’s going to bound over the desk and have a run at me. There’s a not insignificant part of me that wishes he would. I’d be curious to see if things would go differently than they did in the past. But he restrains himself. Which, to my mind, is really the only flaw Danny has. A willingness to override his instincts.
I suppose if the three of us were to be seen as one person, I’d be our id, consumed with fulfilling my desires and sating my appetites; Christine would be our ego, a realist, looking for ways to satisfy my demands while keeping harm from coming to her or me; and Danny would be our superego, curtailing, when he can, my feral desires, and encouraging Christine toward something greater than merely survival. Something that feels almost like… morality.
Yes. That all sounds about right. Danny… Danny still believes that there is such a thing as good and evil, fair and unjust, right and wrong.
As I say: His lone weakness.
He stares at me angrily once again. What he fails to understand, I think, is that I like it when he does. I enjoy seeing Danny’s buttons get pushed. Not because it causes him pain. But because he likes it. He thrives on feeling that heat. That rage. Just as much as I do. And he knows it. We both know he knows it.
“I don’t know how fuckin’ long we have to stay here,” he mumbles out, “but do whatever you gotta do to figure out what the fuck. Because we’ve already been here too long for my liking.”
“I will. I’ll get some answers.”
“How?”
“However it is I do the things I do. I’m magic, Daniel. Just enjoy the show.”
He rolls his eyes at me. Which gives me great pleasure. Because it means he still knows when I’m taking the piss. And he’s willing to play along.
I do love him so. I always have. I always will.
He turns and begins to walk out of the office.
“Danny…” I stop him. He spins back around. I smile at him.
“Yeah? What?”
I don’t say a word, just unlatch my cufflinks and begin unbuttoning my shirt. He watches me. Also not speaking. I finish unbuttoning, pull the shirttails from inside my trousers, strip the fabric off and throw it on the table, and stare at him. His breathing accelerates, and his eyes narrow in something that’s not quite anger.