She waved her hand at his outfit. “You know. The pristine business suit getup you always wear, like you’re either part of the secret service or going to your office the size of a penthouse. Or a Justice like my father.”
“Trust me, I’m not old enough to father a brat like you.”
“Ohhhh, touché. So how old are you? Forty? Forty-five?”
He stopped. “Are you serious?”
“Okay…thirty-five? Twenty-nine? I only started older because guys seem to get better looking with age, which is super unfair, and—” She caught herself and bit her lip. “Not that you’re attractive or anything.”
Shaking his head, he said, “First, I look like your dad, and now I’m an attractive old guy? No wonder you’re socially awkward.”
She gaped at him. “I’m not awkward. I mean, other than hanging out all the time with a guy dressed in a suit, which, by the way, doesn’t make you stand out at all. Really. You fit right in. At least Kirkpatrick wears jeans.”
He looked down at his attire and then shrugged. “I’m not here to fit in. I’m here to protect you. You could be a little more grateful and less concerned with what everyone else thinks.”
Katherine’s eyebrows shot up.
“What?” he barked.
“You’re kinda demanding.”
“Says the client who wants me to dress like one of those frat boys.”
“True,” she drawled, and then glanced at him again from the corner of her eye. “Speaking of frat boys…”
Here we go…
“Bree mentioned that party—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“You’re not even gonna listen to—”
“No.”
She threw her hands up. “Can I at least get out a full sent—”
“No. No parties. No shenanigans. Nowhere you could disappear from my sight only to be found chopped up in tiny pieces inside a garbage bag in the bottom of the Oconee River. Not only would that be an unfortunate end for you, but I’d lose my job. And I quite like my job.” He eyed her with mock disdain. “Most days.”
She bit back a grin. “Maybe you should think about training me. You know, self-defense. Just in case.”
“That would be a tremendous waste of time.”
“Yes, I’d hate to take away from the wonderful world of crosswords.”
“I’d hate that too, believe me.”
A groan of frustration left her lips, and she tried another angle. “Well…what happens when we catch the psycho and you leave me? I’ll need to know how to defend myself.”
“Go to a martial arts class.”
“Jason, come on. Please? Show me how to throw a few punches. I’m sure I can manage the crotch kick without any help, but a few tips on incapacitation would rock.”
“Why don’t you ask Kirkpatrick?”
“I’d rather ask you.”
He froze at the suggestive tone in her words and dared a glance at her. Though her face was a picture of innocent curiosity, there was a hint of mischief in her eyes. She was issuing a challenge, and damn if he wasn’t tempted to answer it.
Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and left her to trail him. “I’ll think about it, Miss Shaw.”
SHE KNEW IT was a bad idea.
Stupid.
Dangerous.
Probably the worst idea she’d ever had in the history of bad ideas. That wasn’t enough to stop her.
It was Saturday night, Valentine’s Day, the night of what Bree had proclaimed would be “the biggest party of the year.” She hadn’t planned on going. Knew she shouldn’t. But damn, she’d all but lost her best friend, her social life, and she was stuck every night with a bodyguard she couldn’t be in the same room with without fantasizing about tossing his crossword to the floor and mounting him right there in the living room chair.
Nope, that would be the worst idea she’d ever had.
So really, this was only the second to worst idea. And her current circumstances had forced her actions. That justification made her feel slightly better. A little less guilty for what she was about to do.
From her spot on the couch, she peeked out of the corner of her eye to see Jason casually sitting in the armchair, sipping an iced water. Closing her schoolbook, she gave a big yawn and stretched her arms over her head.
“I’m so tired tonight. I think these management courses put my brain to sleep.”
“Quite the party animal, aren’t you?” he murmured.
At those words, her heart stuttered, and she wondered if he saw right through her lie. But he wasn’t even looking at her. She willed her body to act cool for the next few crucial minutes.
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry I’m not up for video games or Sudoku, but I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to live without me.”
He looked at her then, his eyes twinkling. “You do always know how to keep things…interesting.”
“Well, thank you for finally acknowledging how much you love my company.” She stood up and smirked at him. “Night.”
He nodded, and as she headed off to her bedroom, she prayed the whole time that nothing about the way she was walking would tip him off. It was stupid—how could a walk tip him off? But she’d never been a very good liar and was more than a little paranoid.
You’re fine. You’re just gonna have one drink…maybe two. Kiss a guy. Forget your life for an hour. Come home and no one will be the wiser.
When she’d shut her bedroom door behind her, she quickly shed the oversized sweater she’d been wearing in favor of the tighter, low-cut shirt underneath. Even though it had long sleeves, it was thin and she knew she’d freeze, but a large red cup of alcohol would be warming her up soon.
She threw on a pair of boots over her jeans and then leaned against the door to listen for any sign of footsteps. All she could hear in that moment, though, was the rapid beat of her heart as she willed herself to go through with her escape.
Over the past couple of days, she’d been watching to see what the security setup was like, and she didn’t see any alarms, nor did she see the bodyguards set anything. They trusted locks and their guns, apparently, which was good for her. There was a tree outside her second-floor window with branches that looked thick enough to hold her. She’d tested the window in her room last night, and no alarm went off, no bodyguards rushing in to save her.
Easy.
She stuffed her comforter with extra pillows to make it look like she was lying underneath it, and stepped back to check out her work. It was a little lumpy, but eh, it was dark, and maybe he’d think she’d ate too many tacos that night.
After grabbing her wallet off the dresser, she said a quick prayer by the window, and then slid it up. It didn’t squeak—thank God—and she stuck one of her legs out to test the weight of the branch before climbing out and sliding the window almost shut. It wasn’t a long way down, and when her feet touched the ground, she peered around at her surroundings and then crept near the building.
The only reason she’d even considered going to the party at all was because of the proximity—it was across the street. Well, across the street and a few houses down, but close enough to walk.
Fuck, it’s freezing. Stupid up and down Georgia weather.
Holding her breath, she glanced up at her apartment window, but the curtains were shut, the light was on, and so far, it didn’t seem like anyone was coming after her.
She exhaled slowly, her warm breath leaving a trail of fog in the cold air, and stayed close to the houses on her side of the street. The pounding of music from the party was getting louder the closer she got. Crossing the street, she approached the large two-story colonial house. Several partygoers had filtered out the front door and were taking smoke breaks on the front lawn, and she passed an…interlaced couple on the porch swing as she walked up the stairs.
Keepin’ it classy, folks.
The smell of marijuana assaulted her senses as she entered the hou
se, the party clearly in full swing, half of them dancing, others engaged in an animated game of beer pong, and everyone had a cup in their hand. Now that was what she needed. And now.
As she pushed her way through the crowd, a group of girls in the hallway called out to her, and she smiled at them before gesturing to a cup in someone’s hand. They pointed, in response, to the room on her right, and she blew them an appreciative kiss before entering the kitchen. An assortment of kegs lined the sticky laminate floor, and bottles of cheap vodka and almost empty mixers lined the counter.
She grabbed an empty cup and was trying to decide which would be the lesser of two evils when she felt arms circle around her waist.
“You came!” Bree shouted, squeezing her tight, her drink sloshing on Katherine’s sleeve. Her arms were stuck awkwardly against her sides in the girl’s tight embrace, so she lifted her hand to give Bree a pat wherever she could reach.
“Can’t believe you actually escaped,” Bree said when she let her go. “Like my dress?”
Katherine wasn’t sure she could call the bubblegum-pink confection Bree was sporting a dress. It was so tight Katherine was surprised her breasts hadn’t popped out already, and the hem barely covered her naughty bits.
“Wow, um,” she said, trying to come up with something nice to say. “It’s really…festive.”
Bree flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I know, right? I totally kill the red hair and pink dress motif. Sooo Valentine’s.”
“Yeah, you kill it, all right.”
“Hell yes I do. So, where’s your shadow? I should get his opinion too,” Bree said with a saucy wink.
“My shadow?”
“Yeahhh, that hot, scary guy that follows you around,” she said, looking behind Katherine for a glimpse of him.
“Oh. I, uh…gave him the night off.” She tried for an easy smile, but her lips wouldn’t obey. Instead, a prickle of fear ran through her when she realized she’d left behind the only things that’d made her feel secure lately. And for what? A few minutes of fun? Shit, she thought, and looked down at the cup in her hands, debating whether to follow through with her decision to stay for an hour or turn around and head back home.
“Oh my God,” Bree said. “Why is your drink empty?”
After the girl grabbed her cup and took off across the room, Katherine tried to shake off her beer-drenched sleeve while her eyes searched around for a paper towel.
Yeah, probably the last thing I’ll find in this place.
“Here,” Bree said when she returned, shoving the full-to-the-brim cup back into Katherine’s hands. She sniffed it and, damn, whatever was in there practically singed her nostrils. She glanced at the large cooler in the corner of the room where Bree had gone. Hunch punch.
Bree laughed and swayed before tripping over one of the kegs. “It’s strong but gooooood,” she singsonged. “Come on, Kat, pound it. You need to catch up to me. Oh…and Danny should be here soon.”
Even as she looked down at the contents, Katherine’s conscience was screaming at her.
Oh, what the hell. Her conscience needed to relax as much as she did.
She lifted the drink to her lips and took a long swallow, but instead of the burn she’d been expecting, it tasted like Kool-Aid. So she took another. And then another. And yet another…
* * *
SHE DIDN’T KNOW how much time had passed, but she’d spent most of it on the dance floor celebrating with a group of new friends after winning two rounds of beer pong. She’d migrated back to the kitchen for a refill when she heard someone calling her name.
“Katherine!”
Whirling around, she saw Bree waving her arms in the air to get her attention.
“Guess who just got here?” she shouted, and Katherine’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Oh shit fuck. He’d found her. Jason knew she’d snuck—
“Here ya go.” Bree moved out of the way, and Danny Riley, god of the baseball team, slinked around the corner. The sight of all six perfectly ripped and tanned feet of him had her breathing a sigh of relief. She smiled at him, and a cocky grin spread across his face.
“Where ya been, Pussy Kat?”
She cringed inwardly but tried to keep her expression neutral. She hated that nickname, but the buzz flowing through her made her overlook that annoyance. He was pretty hot in a traditional, jock kind of way. Not her usual type, but then again, she wasn’t looking for much tonight.
“Told you I’d get her to come,” Bree said, elbowing Danny in the side.
“That you did.” As Danny’s eyes roamed over Katherine with interest, she crossed her arms and tried to casually pull the top of her shirt a bit higher. Her buzz was starting to hit her harder, venturing into the “too much too fast territory.” She needed to leave soon.
He tsked and shook his head. “No need to do that. I’m enjoying the view…” When his gaze rested on her chest, he licked his lips.
“Hey.” Bree tugged Danny’s sleeve and he leaned toward her, never taking his eyes off Katherine. “You gonna pay up now?” she said.
He looked down at her sharply and then back up at Katherine. When he saw her alarmed expression, he began to laugh, and ruffled Bree’s hair.
“Such a kidder,” he said before pushing the girl away and stepping closer to her.
Did she say pay?
Someone knocked into Katherine from behind and she stumbled forward, grabbing Danny’s arm to hold herself up. The sleeves of his button-up shirt were pushed back, and an expensive-looking gold watch hung from his wrist. She’d expected him to be warm, but his skin where she touched it was cold, or maybe it was just cold compared to her. Sweaty strands of hair stuck to the back of her neck and suddenly she was dying of thirst. Pushing off him, she held up her empty cup and looked around for water.
“More punch?” he asked, but before she could answer, he took her cup and moved to the cooler to refill it.
Sighing, she reached into her pocket for her phone, but it wasn’t there. Panic hit, and she patted down the rest of her pockets before cursing when she remembered she didn’t have one anymore. After a quick scan around the room, she noticed there wasn’t a clock anywhere, but it had to be later than she’d intended to stay.
When Danny came back with their drinks, she shook her head. “Sorry,” she said, leaning in to his ear. “I’ve gotta go.”
“No you don’t.” He pushed a drink into her hand and then held his up. “It’s still early, and you have to cheers with me.”
“I really can’t—”
“Pussy Kat,” he said, giving her his best stern face. “Don’t break my heart. I’ve been wanting to get to know you for a while now.” He gripped her waist and then let his hand move around to her lower back.
His touch didn’t send any tingles through her body, but then again, she was a little drunk, so maybe that diluted the whole electric effect that Jason had on her.
Jason. Tall, powerful, sexy-as-hell Jason. No. That wasn’t who she needed to think about tonight.
Her eyes refocused on Danny’s black ones. He was obviously interested, and was decent enough of a guy to get her another drink. Maybe that was what she needed. At least for a few more minutes.
“Cheers,” she said, clinking his cup and then taking a big sip of the punch. It was beginning to taste less like Kool-Aid now and more like really strong alcohol, and a shudder ran through her. “Yeah, I’m not sure I can do any more of this tonight.”
Danny stuck out his bottom lip. “I didn’t realize you were such a lightweight. Come on, you can’t waste the punch. You could get arrested for alcohol abuse.”
Her lips twitched, and she brought the cup back to her lips to take another swig. His hand pushed against the bottom of it, forcing her to take more until it spilled down her chin and throat.
She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and cringed. Yep. Definitely tastes weird now.
“Oh, sorry, baby,” he said, “Let me help.” Bending down, he pressed his lips against
her neck, his tongue darting out to lick the punch off.
His mouth on her felt all wrong, and she pushed him away, rubbing at her neck. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Maybe we should go upstairs where we can have some more privacy? We can clean you off.”
“No,” she said, her head starting to spin. She was seeing two of him now.
“You’re a mess, Pussy Kat. Let me help you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think…” She swayed on her feet and her hand reached out to hold on to him. “Might’ve had too much.”
Danny took the cup out of her hand and then she felt both of his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, but, somehow, also down the hall.
“Wait, no…have to go. Door’s…other way,” she tried to say, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out as a fog descended on her brain.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she heard as her eyes drifted closed, “I’m taking you out the back way.”
THE WINDOW IS still cracked where she left it open.
Easy to enter without notice or alarms—and even easier to exit.
I pause by the bedroom door, listening for outside movement. Nothing.
The apartment is quiet except for the occasional loud snore from down the hall.
Creeping to her bed, I reach for the comforter and pull it off to reveal a mass of pillows. I swiftly stick my knife into the center and rip them open. I’m not expecting to find what I’m looking for hidden in them, but I can’t stop myself from making sure my presence here is known when she comes back.
She doesn’t take my threats seriously. She really should. They won’t be just threats for much longer.
The bone-chilling wind that flows through the window causes the feathers to scatter, and I move on to search through her drawers. I tear through each one, littering the floor with her t-shirts, pants, her bras…but stop once I reach the drawer of her panties.
I finger them lightly, each one. She seems to prefer boy shorts, though most of them are trimmed in feminine lace.
Rubbing a pink pair between my gloved fingers, I debate for a moment whether I should take one.
Flash Point Page 7