Scratch knew he had a choice. He could fall back into his old routine. He could go back to the pretend world of being an accountant by day and a playboy at night. Or, he could fight. He could trust the part of him that believed her words, and believed what he saw shining in her eyes when she looked at him over that candlelit table. No, he didn’t have to accept things the way they were, and he wasn’t going to.
Just as he made up his mind to go confront Monica and straighten things out, his office door swung open. Jack strolled in, looking around at the visible destruction without any expression of shock or concern.
“Taking a late lunch?” He looked at Scratch, glancing down to his hand that held his keys and to the jacket flung over his arm.
“I’ve got to take care of something,” Scratch grunted as he moved to brush past his friend. Jack calmly held out his arm, barring the other man from passing him.
“Looks like you have a situation right here that needs attention.” Jack cocked his head to the side at the smashed computer monitor on the floor.
“Something more important.” The two men stared each other down. When it was clear that Jack wasn’t going to budge on his stance, Scratch swore again, and launched his jacket across the room.
“Look,” Jack said as he closed the door and leaned his back against it. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that if you don’t pull it together you’re going to make things worse than they already are. Where were you headed anyway?”
Scratch looked up to the ceiling as if it held the answers to all his problems and then shrugged before answering. “I need to straighten something out. That’s all.”
He wasn’t trying to be vague, but they both knew that certain conversations couldn’t be had within the walls of Hawk Global. Jack nodded his head in acceptance, already seeing that Scratch had calmed down considerably.
“Why don’t you take off? I’ll have someone take care of,” he gestured towards Scratch’s aftermath. “your mess.”
Scratch just nodded and waited for Jack to move so that he could walk out. Going straight home was not an option. While he may have regained some of his composure, he hadn’t lost the urge to pummel something, and the punching bag at the gym was calling his name.
There was no surprise when he got home and he had a waiting audience. Jack and Glitch were sitting in his living room, waiting for him like his mother used to do when he got in trouble at school. Having worked off most of his aggression, he was able to laugh at the situation. After the temper tantrum he’d thrown earlier that day, it was to be expected.
Scratch threw his gym bag onto the varnished wood floor, landing it in the corner next to his ficus plant.
“So who wants to get this party started?” He slumped into his favorite chair as he waited for the firing squad.
“I heard you got into a fist fight with your computer today. Like I don’t have enough to do without having to replace and program a new one,” Glitch jabbed.
“Yeah? Well it had it coming,” Scratch joked.
“Procurement wasn’t happy to be tasked with replacing your special chair either. It took them long enough to find one that met your specifications the first time,” Jack added.
“Right. And I guess I need to write a sorry note to the cleaning service for not separating my trash properly either. Now that we’ve got that all covered, let’s get down to the reason you’re both here.”
“See that’s the thing. We don’t know why we’re here. Maybe you could enlighten us.” Jack’s tone was smooth and even, but Scratch knew it was time to get serious. So he recanted his run in with Monica and Axe. Both men were aware of his short fuse, so it could have been a feasible excuse, but they weren’t buying it.
“Yawn,” Glitch said, voice full of boredom. He wasn’t even going to pretend to be fooled by the idea that Agent Axe could insight that much rage out of Scratch over a simple disagreement. Ego or no ego. “So what happened on your date with Monica?”
Scratch glared at him, but didn’t reply right away. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to convey the way he was feeling, or if he even wanted to.
“Were you able to get under her skin?” Jack went straight to the point. He couldn’t care less about the details of their dinner.
“Huh,” Scratch snorted. “Nice choice of words. You could say that, yes.”
“And you got her talking?” Jack’s question felt like a cattle prod to Scratch.
“Yes. I got her talking, but she didn’t reveal anything I didn’t already know. Then I took her upstairs and got ‘under her skin’ all night,” he replied dryly.
Jack and Glitch exchanged suspicious glances.
“And then?” Glitch gestured with his hand for Scratch to get on with it.
Scratch groaned and then ran his hands through his hair.
“And then I woke up and she was gone. I haven’t spoken to her since, except for today.”
Glitch replied with a drawn out, “OK...” Jack, who had a better understanding of the situation, let out a harsh curse.
“Dammit Scratch!” He jumped up and began to pace the room, much like Scratch had done in his office.
“What the hell is going on?” Glitch, for the first time in a long while, was confused. Scratch was acting like a teenager, and Jack looked like he was about to start climbing the walls.
“I think lover boy over here just got tangled in his own damn web. I knew this shit was gonna go down like this,” Jack grumbled.
“OK. Fucking, Dionne Warwick! Why didn’t you do something then?” Scratch was beginning to feel his anger trying to reignite, and he wasn’t in the mood to be chastised. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want this for himself either.
“Is it bizarro day? I’m clearly missing something,” Glitch complained.
Jack stopped pacing and folded his arms across his chest. “The plan was for you to soften her up to make her easier to handle regarding this case. Fuck her, not fall for her and still be at square one! Now she’s got her damn partner riding us. Jesus H!”
“Fuck who to make her easier to handle?” All three men jerked their heads around to find Araceli fuming in the doorway. Her hands were on her hips, and she looked like she was ready to go to war.
“Che cazzo!” Scratch groaned as he got up and headed to the kitchen to grab a much-needed beer. Glitch burst out laughing so hard, Araceli lessened her combative stance, slightly.
“Come on over here babe. This is the ‘don’t know what’s going on corner’. I’ve been here for a minute now.” Glitch patted the cushion next to him where Araceli reluctantly sat. She noticed the abnormal body language that both Scratch and Jack were projecting, and narrowed her eyes.
“Did something happen?” She asked the room, but her eyes were focused on Jack.
“Scratch is in love,” he said blandly. Araceli snorted in disbelief.
“Not in love,” Scratch mumbled on his way back from the kitchen.
“Yeah. We’ll see,” Jack shot back.
“Seriously?” Araceli looked around confused. “What’s going on?”
Tired of the shenanigans, Scratch told the whole story including how he felt, felt, about her, and how it seemed like the noose around his neck was getting tighter. The silence was loud until Araceli spoke.
“Let her come to you. If you go charging at her, it will put her in a position to make a hard choice, and she will have to choose work.”
“Choose?” Scratch echoed. “I don’t want her to choose anything.”
“Right. That’s why you're over there pouting. Of course you want her to choose. Choose to take a risk on your crazy ass,” she added.
“I’m just tired of this case. This bullshit with Eagle. It was either break my chair, or go up to his fucking office and strangle him. And I am not pouting.”
“Yes you are. And you’ve got those perfectly pouty lips too. Big baby,” Araceli crooned.
“Hey! What about my lips?” Glitch gave her hair a playful
tug.
“Yes baby. Your lips are cute too.”
“Please. Enough,” Jack shook his head in true disgust. Not so much for the joking around, but for the fact that he was still concerned.
“Sorry boss,” Araceli teased.
“Look. Just give them the TopSec files. All of them. Make a mess. Mix up accounting with proposal research. Give them all the past performance crap. Make them dig, work for it. They’re looking at the money. Even if they find something off, it will take them a minute to piece it together. We’ve got everything almost in place anyway as far as our escape hatch goes. If we need to do an early extraction for Scratch, then so be it. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
Again, there was silence. Scratch perked up at the mention of him being the first to go. While it did relieve some of his pressure, it wasn’t the relief he was expecting. And he knew exactly why. Damn. He had it bad.
Chapter 11
It wasn’t everyday that a man like Scratch took the plunge. Not that he wanted to say to anyone other than himself that he’d taken the proverbial long walk off a short pier. No, he mulled over it while he sat in the horribly uncomfortable temporary replacement for his fucked up chair, at a desk that now sat his brand new computer. Glitch had warned him not to do anything major on it until he got it completely updated. No worries there. Scratch couldn’t even get his mind right in the first place.
Nope, that part of his anatomy, and a very unhappy secondary location, was completely focused on the woman who’d come to get files from him, partner in tow, and left, again without a word. If he didn’t like the sound of grinding teeth he would have been all gums by now. Something was up with her. He knew it. He could see it in her eyes. There was heat there, yeah, but questions too. Questions she wouldn’t ask out fucking loud. At this point he’d answer any damn thing she asked.
If only she’d ask.
He groaned, running his fingers through his hair before shucking off his jacket and draping it off the back of his chair. He was in it deep. Too deep. He needed to take a step back but he didn’t think he could. This was what Jack had been afraid of. Sad thing? He couldn’t seem to find it in him to care. Scratch just wanted to know what was going on in her head. He wondered, then, if she had even gotten the flowers. It was two days since he’d given her the files that she’d needed. Two days since he’d seen her, or heard anything. She should have gotten the flowers by now. But she didn’t even visit, or at the very least call. He wondered, momentarily, if this was how the women in his life had felt. A string of them, one by one filtered through his mind while he tried but failed to even appear to be working. His screensaver was staring him in the face, but he couldn’t see it. All he saw was Monica. All he smelled was the vanilla on her skin. And in his mouth? The taste of shit he’d put other women through. He was eating it now. Where was the anger? The pulsing rage that was such a part of him?
“You shouldn’t have sent me the flowers,” he heard and froze. Everything in him stopped. Finally he got his eyes working enough to look to the door, just to make sure that he wasn’t imagining things. She was there, dressed in a pewter blazer with white buttons and a matching skirt. On her feet were stylish heels to match. Looking at her now, he would never believe that she was federal agent. The woman had style out of this world.
“It isn’t ethical, George. What we had—”
“We’re way past ethical,” he interrupted her.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, sitting back in his chair, and glaring at her. Right then, in that moment, everything felt just about right. She was there, she was talking to him, and he’d be damn if he ever gave her chance to forget who could set her on fire like him.
“Come here,” he said.
“George,” she started.
“Don’t speak. Listen. Close the door and lock it behind you. Then come here, or walk out that door and I’m not going to be anything else but a point of contact for you from here on out.”
He forced the words to come out. Araceli told him to let her come to him. He’d have to take her advice. If Monica took this next step, then she was in it, just like him. He wouldn’t question it, and he’d make sure she didn’t either. She just had to take that step.
“I won’t ask again,” he added, cocking his head to one side. She swallowed, her pupils dilating as she watched him. He could see her hands trembling, faint, but there. Slowly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was doing herself, she turned and closed the door. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the golden handle move. She turned and he slid back into his stern expression. She needed this reminder, and he needed the control. His emotions were flying all over the place. He needed her just as wild. Slowly, she took one step and then another, until she was on his left. He turned in his chair to face her.
“Take off the jacket.” She frowned at him before she did as he asked, sliding each button matter-of-factly before sliding the coat off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in the silence in the room. He swallowed, taking in her white lace covered breasts and narrow waist. The woman was going to kill him.
“The skirt,” he said then. She did so, in the same manner she’d taken off her blazer.
“Damn,” he whispered, unable to stop himself. She wore a slip of cloth, white as well, that disappeared between her legs, with thigh-high stockings held up by a garter. What got him though, was the fact that her underwear was on the outside of her garter belt. She was meant for him, in every way.
He didn’t give her another command. Instead, he slid forward in his chair and leaned until he could trail his lips over the soft flesh above the edge of her panties. He tasted her flesh there, letting his tongue dip into her navel before circling over the opposite hip. Then he gripped her underwear with his teeth and leaned back. She stepped with him, gasping. Her fingers found his hair. With deft fingers, he pulled her underwear down her legs, kissing over her hip, down the side of her ass, and over the front of her thigh. She clenched the strands of his hair and wavered on her feet.
“Step out,” he growled. He tucked her underwear into his pocket before kissing his way back up her leg, lifting her right ankle at the same time. He gripped her waist with one hand to steady her and placed her heeled foot on the chair next to him.
“Keep it there.” Then he traced the back of her knee with his tongue, nipping at the soft flesh of her inner thigh. All while tantalized by the thick smell of her sex. It was her, but stronger, heady, and sweet. He wondered just how wet he could get her thighs. She moaned when he licked the seam where her leg met her groin. He nuzzled the area before kissing his way to her clit. The little bundle of nerves peaked out from her hood and he kissed it, softly at first. Teasing her. Tasting her. She slid over his tongue like ambrosia.
“So sweet,” he whispered against her skin before sucking the flesh in his mouth. She cried out.
“Quiet, cara mia. Hold it in. Let me feel the bite of those pretty little nails,” he said around her pussy. Her nails dug into his scalp as he lapped at her, swirled his tongue around her clit, and thrust it deep inside of her. She rode his face, rocking her body into him, holding on tight. He wrapped his arm around her raised thigh and the other around her waist. He wanted every drop down his throat.
“Yes,” she cried out huskily, the breathy moan pushing him further. His dick pulsed in his slacks, thickening against the zipper until it nearly hurt. But he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get enough of her. He sucked her as she curled her body around him in pleasure. She clenched, around his thrusting tongue, a soft keening sound filling the air. He gripped her tighter before lifting her body off the floor. She cried out as he laid her down on his desk, all over his paperwork. He didn’t give a shit.
“Bra,” he gasped out, and she fumbled to take it off. It flew and hit something to his right, but he didn’t look to see what. Instead, he kissed his way over her belly to one, now exposed breast. Sucking her nipple into his mouth, he fumbled with his pants until he could r
elease his cock. Then he was pulling out his top right draw, almost taking it off the hinges as he searched for a foil packet. Finding one, he stopped sucking on her long enough to rip it with his teeth.
“Kiss me,” she demanded, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to meet her seeking mouth. He fell on her, taking her mouth like a man starved. Her tongue dueled his, tracing over the roof of his mouth before flicking over his lips. He nearly exploded as he slid the condom on.
“This no talking shit,” he gasped when she let him up for air, “stops now. Say it.”
“Stops now.”
He kissed her, pulling her tight in his arms and hugging her close. She wrapped him just as tight. He scattered papers on the floor as he slid her into a better position, and slid in. They groaned into each other’s mouths, kissing to fight the noise. Right then he didn’t give a damn if Eagle heard them. He needed this. Needed her. He pumped faster, pushing deeper. She rode with him, rolling her hips to match him. He gasped, needing more—needing to be all the way in her heart.
SCRATCH (Corporate Hitman Book 2) Page 7