by S. Poirier
After I get dressed I pull my hair back into a high ponytail and slip on my ballet flats. As I open the bedroom door I look across the hall to see that Catch’s door is closed. When I get to the kitchen I immediately start searching the cabinets for coffee.
While I’m standing at the counter waiting for the coffee to finish I put my head down on my arms. That was the best sex I had ever experienced since I handed over my V card when I was seventeen. And the fact that my knees are still weak and I can still feel him inside me proves it. During those moments it took for both of us to come down I enjoyed the way his body felt against mine, the way his skin rose with my soft touch. For a brief moment last night I thought maybe he would stay with me, but I never got the chance to ask.
Before he bolted from the room he looked terrified, as if I had sprouted another head. I don’t remember him coming back, but he must have. How else could I have woken up being tucked in? I distinctly remember dozing off with the bed almost completely made.
He must have gone to his own room to sleep. The thought of him leaving me after such amazing sex stung. Everything about him feels right, killer or not, there is no denying the connection between us. No. No, no. I can’t let my emotions start taking over. I told him I only wanted one night, so he gave me what I wanted. I have to kick my silly emotions in the ass.
I also have to get the hell out of this guesthouse.
Forgetting the coffee I cross the short distance to the door and yank it open just in time to see Gracie standing there with her fist raised. My eyes widen in surprise and she smiles.
“Morning, Max. Is Sage up yet?”
“I don’t know…” I start to say, but immediately remember my roll. “He woke up when I climbed out of bed, but I think he may have gone back to sleep.” Lame, I know, but it was the best I could come up with on such short notice.
“Well, normally when he’s home he helps me clean the stalls and care for Dakota. I usually pay the boy down the road to come once a day, but I told him not to come today.” She stands there rubbing her chin in thought. “I noticed that Sage looked like he wasn’t getting enough rest. How ‘bout we let him sleep and you can come help me instead.”
I love animals but growing up in foster care and in the city my whole life meant that I didn’t have much experience with them. “You mean like shoveling horse shit?” I reply.
She throws her head back and laughs. “That’s exactly what I mean. Now come on, let’s go shovel some horse shit. I hope you don’t like that shirt too much.”
I look down at my shirt and shrug. Not like I needed it for work or anything.
I follow her down to the stalls and she gives me a pair of old work boots that are too big. She hands me a shovel and pushes me into Dakota’s stall. The smell is terrible, but I push that to the back of my mind and listen to her instructions.
Gracie turns out to be some kind of barn cleaning, drill sergeant. When I start dragging ass she says, “My son must have showed you a good time last night.” I throw my head back and chuckle, but say nothing about her blunt comment. There’s just no point in trying to convince her otherwise.
Jesus if she only knew.
About an hour later I’m sweating and I’m sure I smell just as bad as the horse shit. Gracie introduces me to the filly. Unlike Dakota her face is brown, she has eerily crystal blue eyes, and instead of looking as if she is splashed with white paint her markings look more like little clouds.
“What’s her name?” I ask as I run the brush down her neck.
Gracie hands me a carrot. “I haven’t named her yet. She was seized because she wasn’t being cared for properly. She was in pretty bad shape when they brought her here.” She tilts her head and looks at me, her eyes brightening. “How about you name her?”
The filly takes the carrot from me and I start to back away. “No. No, no. She’s yours. You rescued her I could never…”
She takes my hand to stop me from fleeing. “Sage will never learn that I can see right through him. He introduced you as his girlfriend, and I really wish that were true, but I know better. I don’t know what you and Sage are doing, but I like you. And I think that you and this little filly have a lot in common. Both not loved enough. She has found her home, and it’s never too late for you, Max. So, I would really like it if you named her for me.”
I wasn’t loved enough, if ever, and that’s why it has always been so difficult to let anyone get close to me. A lump of emotions are stuck in my throat, and it takes every bit of strength I have to force it down. I won’t cry for this simple gift and the kind words that this woman—who is practically a stranger—has given me. As much as I feel like I shouldn’t be the one to name her Gracie is right, this filly and I do have a lot in common.
“There was this little girl that I was in foster care with. She had chocolaty brown hair and bright blue eyes. For a few years she was my best friend, my only friend. Although her parent’s named her Kalila they obviously didn’t love her enough. I never thought the name fit well with her, until the day she was adopted. I never saw her again.”
“What does ‘Kalila’ mean?” she asks.
“Dearly loved or beloved,” I reply with a smile.
“It’s perfect.”
Catch clears his throat and we both turn to see him standing next to Dakota’s stall. He’s wearing an old faded blue T-shirt, a pair of old jeans, and beat up work boots. He also looks rested. At the sight of him standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, a lazy, satisfied look on his face, my heart launches itself into my throat.
I swallow it down and fidget with my hair. It’s the only thing I can think to do, because if I acted on what I really wanted to do Gracie might come after us with the hose.
“I came down to help clean the barn. Did little Mikey already come by?” he asks.
Gracie furrows her brow. “Don’t be stupid, boy. You were sleeping so Max helped.”
Catch’s eyebrows rise up towards his hairline. “Well, I’m going to take Dakota out for his ride. Max, come ride with me.”
“Uh, okay,” I say as I watch him putting the saddle on the horse. When he’s done he offers me his hand but I wave him off. Reaching up I grip the saddle with both hands, stick my foot in the stirrup and pull myself up into the saddle. Thankfully, my back is to him, because I can feel my face twist in pain as my muscles scream at me to stop torturing them.
That whole six month sex hiatus thing may not have been the best idea.
“Have you ridden before?” he asks.
“Nope, I’ve seen it done enough to know what to do,” I reply without looking at him. To say things feel awkward is an understatement.
“Then get your ass out of my saddle. There’s no way I’m letting you drive this beast.” I plant the palms of my hands down on the front of the saddle, lift my butt and push myself off the saddle so I’m sitting on Dakota’s blanketed ass.
Without a word or making eye contact with me, Catch lifts himself up into the saddle with no problems. With a click of his tongue the horse starts a lazy walk out of the barn. Instead of holding onto Catch I opt for the back of the saddle instead.
He takes it easy riding along the edge of the pasture, every so often hopping off the horse to check the fence posts. I sit there in silence watching as his beautiful body flexes and moves every time he yanks and pulls on a post. I’m actually starting to think he might be trying to punish me for some reason.
We reach the back of the pasture when he finally decides to talk to me. Instead of getting on the horse facing forward he sits in the saddle backwards. His eyes are beautiful, shining, and sweat beads his hair line and lip. There’s a piece of stray hair lying across his forehead, and dammit, I want put it back in place.
“Listen, Max, about last night…” he starts, but I put my hand up. I don’t know what he’s about to say, but I have a good idea. I feel like in order to keep my emotions from getting the better of me I need to take control of the conversation. Last night was my ch
oice. I was in control, so I need to be in control now.
“I said one night. That’s all I asked for, so don’t worry about it. I don’t want things to be awkward. Okay?” I say with a smile. Yeah, it’s a fake smile, but after years of practicing that fake smile I have it perfected.
Catch reaches up and touches my cheek before leaning in to place a very tentative kiss on my lips. “Okay. You deserve better than me anyway.” I open my mouth to say something only to snap it shut when I realize I’m at a loss for words.
He rights himself in the saddle and tells me to hold on. I wrap my arms around his waist and dig my fingers into his shirt, much like I did when I was on the back of his motorcycle. My heart rate picks up and I feel short of breath, but not in a good way. I’m suddenly freaking out that this might be the last time I’ll get to have my arms around him, so I squeeze tighter.
My heart feels cracked, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about that. I’ve never let a guy close enough to allow me to feel anything. Now here I am with Catch, and somehow he has been able to scale the walls around my heart. I don’t know when this happened, and I’m not positive on how to throw him back onto the other side. The safe side.
Dakota takes off in a fast gallop. I can feel his every movement and the way his muscles move with his powerful stride. With the sweat on his ass and mine I feel like I’m starting to slip. I dig my fingers in tighter and try to right myself. Then Catch reaches back with one hand, grabs my thigh and slides me back into place.
Upon doing that he causes that crack to open up a little more.
For the rest of the day I don’t see much of Catch. Gracie has to go into to town for errands and he is quick to accompany her. When she asks if I want to come along I politely decline feeling like Catch is trying desperately to get away from me.
So, I go up to the guesthouse and take a shower. I find a robe on the back of the door and I use it while I make my way into the house to do laundry. Immediately after I get my clothes washing I go back to the barn. I don’t want to stay in the house. It lingers of Catch’s smell, and all the pictures of him through his different stages of life are just too much to be around. Not to mention this house reeks of family. Something I’ve never had, and has never bothered me, until now.
It’s when I have my very little amount of dried laundry in my arms that Catch and Gracie walk through the back door.
“I should have asked to use the washer and dryer. I’m sorry. I just…well, all of my clothes were dirty, and I didn’t think that…”
“Shut up, Max,” Catch says. I frown, and he winks at me in return. “It’s fine. I’m glad you decided to wash your laundry. The last thing I want to do is have to share space with someone who smells like ass.”
Gracie pops him on the back of the head as I hurry past them and mumble a quick, “Thank you.”
I go straight to my room and close the door. But it still isn’t enough space. He’s everywhere, his smell is everywhere, and it’s starting to drive me fucking crazy. I need to shoot. I need to blow off some steam.
I pull on the first pair of jeans and shirt my hands touch and I run back to the house and straight through the back door without knocking. Catch is sitting at the bar while Gracie is standing at the stove cooking. I’m out of breath and on the verge of a panic attack. They both turn and regard me with wide eyes. I’m sure they think I’m bat-shit crazy.
“I need to shoot. Please tell me we are far enough out to shoot,” I blurt.
“Max, honey, are you okay?” Gracie put’s the spoon down that she’s using to stir with.
“I’m fine, I just need. Crap, I don’t know,” I’m babbling, and I sound like a crazy idiot.
Catch stands up and starts towards me. “Yeah, I need to go out to the back of the property to get the car anyway.” When we get to the jeep Catch opens the door for me. “I’ll go get your gun. Is it in your bag?” I nod.
I want to put distance between the two of us yet I somehow do the exact opposite. Things are happening to me that are causing me to throw my good sense out the window. He excites me, and I like the way he makes my stomach flutter with nerves at just the thought of him. Being around him is like being high.
When he gets into the driver’s seat I’m twisting my hair like a mad woman. You can actually hear the strands popping under the pressure.
Catch grabs my wrist. “Jesus Christ, Max. What the hell is going on with you?”
I yank my wrist free and continue the assault on my innocent hair. “Cabin fever,” I reply, and it’s not far from the truth.
We drive out around the fenced in part of the pasture and up over a hill. On the other side is an old barn. Catch stops at the wide double doors and gets out. I do the same and follow him around the back. Behind the barn there is an area set up for shooting. A couple of saw horses with old rusty cans and other objects for target practice.
Catch hands me safety glasses and ear plugs. We shoot in silence. I miss only two of my targets, and he misses none. But of course, he’s an assassin. He’s doesn’t know how to miss his targets. After I feel the stress and tension ease out of my shoulders I call it a day and start back towards the jeep.
“Max,” Catch says as he tosses me the keys. “The jeep stays here. When I pull the car out of the barn I need you to put the jeep in its place.” I nod and jog over to the jeep.
He unlocks the padlock on the wooden double doors and swings them open. A few seconds later I hear an engine rumble to life. I watch as a midnight blue Mustang rolls out of the barn. It’s old, a restored classic, but I was never good with cars so I’m not sure of the year.
Before I can exit the jeep Catch opens the door for me. He hits the automatic locks, shuts the door, and then gets me to help him cover the jeep with a black cover.
“So who does this beautiful thing belong to?” I ask as I approach the car.
“Someone special left it for me,” he replies. I know the car once belonged to his dad, but I let it drop. Maybe one day he’ll want to tell me about him, but until then I’m just going to pretend I don’t know anything. “Her name is Marilyn and she’s a ’69 Ford Mustang.”
“And why are we switching vehicles? Not that I don’t like Marilyn, she’s beautiful, I’m just curious.”
All the happy leaves Catch’s face and now I feel like crap for asking. “Yesterday morning I got a call from Snitch. He told me to ditch the jeep. And after being chased I knew it had to be done.”
I nod. “Are we leaving now?”
“No, we’re staying one more night. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
When we get back to the house Catch invites me in to eat, but I decline. I want some time alone. I need to dig deeper into those documents from James’ computer, and he needs to spend more time alone with Gracie. I tell Catch my plans and he nods to let me know he understands.
I also don’t think I can handle spending any more time around Gracie. She’s kind of wonderful, and leaving knowing that I probably won’t ever see her again kind of sucks. So, I’m just going to hide.
****
A few hours later Catch comes through the door holding an armful of what looks like woman’s clothes. He drops them on the couch and then hands me an envelope with my name on it.
“The clothes are Sarah’s. Mom was going to bring them to the consignment shop here in town, but since you need some clothes she wanted you to go through them first. I told her we were leaving tomorrow, so she wrote you a letter, but she doesn’t want you to open it until you really need it. Whatever that means,” he says.
I look down at the envelope. “Honestly, I’m not sure what it means.”
He sighs. “Anyway, have you figured anything out yet?” I’m sitting on the floor with the papers organized in a way that makes sense to me.
“It’s bad, Catch,” I say as I look him directly in the eyes. He walks over to the couch and sits down behind me. “There are documents, copies of check stubs, receipts, bank statements.” I pick up one of the
bank statements. “Fiddle doesn’t do business with this bank. I’ve never heard of this bank before.”
He takes the paper and looks it over. “No, I’ve never heard of it either.”
“This check is made out to some company that manufactures weapons. The only reason I know this is because they are monitored by Fiddle for the federal government.” I pick up another piece of paper. “And here, this is a shipment document. The weapons purchased don’t come here they go overseas to terrorist countries.”
“Do you think they send them there for our military?”
“No. I don’t. I think they are providing terrorist groups with weapons.”
“Max, that’s a mighty assumption…”
“No, I’m sure of this, but the question is, is why? Why would they do this? The amount of money Fiddle is receiving from them isn’t going entirely to the weapons they are sending them. And why would James Kelly and Fiddle do something this fucking stupid?”
Catch lies back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I don’t know, Max. Hopefully, those papers will answer your question. Anyway, we need to get some sleep. We have to be up early. Make sure your things are packed so we can just load the car in the morning.”
My brain is shot, so I gather up the papers and tuck them deep into my bag. Then I dig through the bag of clothes while Catch showers, and I’m packed and in bed before he’s done in the bathroom.
12
Catch
The ringing of my cellphone jerks me out of a restless sleep. Thinking about Max and what she said today when we were out in the pasture had me tossing and turning. She acts like she is perfectly fine with last night being a one night stand, but I can tell she feels differently.
After I left her alone, last night I spent most of the night thinking about her. Everything from her smile to the way she handles a gun. The way her fists clench when she wants to deck me, and the way she meshed so well with my mom.
Then there was the sex. The mind blowing, emotionally confusing, every time I think about her my cock responds sex.