Assuming Room Temperature (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 3)

by S. P. Durnin

  Kat nodded. “Lots of people always have fruitcake during the holidays, but they don’t think about it the rest of the year. If someone offered it to them say, in the middle of Summer, they’d find it was strange but maybe think, ‘You know what, I haven’t had that in a while...’ and—as long as they don’t hate it—have themselves a slice.”

  “You know what? That theory is totally weird, but it’s probably spot-on.”

  “Of course. I’m a woman. I’m always right.” Cho gave him a pitying look. “Haven’t you figured that out by now? Not very observant of you. How did you manage to survive your time as a combat journalist?”

  “Stop.” O’Connor fought back a chuckle and took a sip of spiked Tang. “I give. I can’t out-argue anyone in possession of that much cuteness and brains too, so we’ll go with your theory. It works. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—”

  He stopped talking when he noticed Cho’s smile.

  “Yeah. Totally just admitted you think I’m hot.”

  “You’re translating ‘cuteness’ into ‘Holy shit, I want to see her naked’?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”

  “So you admit you want to see me naked?” Her smile grew wider.

  O’Connor tried to moderate his fumble-tongue. “You’re twisting what I said. You do that a lot. I’m just expressing that it’s difficult to apply logic to a conversation—as enjoyable as it may be—when you’re distracted by the other person’s appearance.”

  “So making my case for me here.” Kat’s smile nearly gave her a flip-top head. “And I don’t have any sympathy for you. Now you know how I feel all the time.”

  That took him by surprise. “I don’t get it.”

  “I realized a while back you don’t possess a typical male ego—meaning you don’t think you’re the gods’ gift—but do you have the first clue how you affect some of us? And by some of us, I mean the female members our party with a pair of working eyeballs?”

  She’s messing with me, he thought.

  “That’s flattering, but let’s be honest: I couldn’t model baseball hats. From the rear.” Jake had no illusions. He didn’t look anything like the block-chinned action stars who used to grace the big screens. “Besides, everyone’s choices are pretty limited right now, so—”

  “Limited. Really. I think I’m insulted.”

  That was obviously the wrong way to say it, so he tried again. “You’re doing it again! Jesus Chr…! Okay, let me put it this way. I’m the only ‘available’ male, at least in our little group. I’m not including the guys here in Langley by the way, many of whom have significant others. Leo’s taken, George is from another generation, and Henry doesn’t swing that way, so—”

  “So you think some of us are shallow enough to go for anyone who’s still a free agent?” She asked.

  Jake didn’t catch the levity in her voice. “That is not what I’m saying!”

  “Well, what are you saying?”

  “That you’ve been on my mind a lot, alright?” He wasn’t thinking about the words spewing unchecked from his throat. “More and more after you broke me out of the walking coma—which I thank you for—and it doesn’t seem to be going away.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Shit. This isn’t even close to easy,” O’Connor mumbled.

  “So talking with me is difficult?”

  “When all I can think about is how much I want kiss you again? Yeah, you could say that,” Jake blurted. “I’m positive you’ve heard it before, but you want the truth? Okay, fine. You’re an incredible woman who can more than take care of herself, that doesn’t give two shits what anyone thinks of her. You hide ‘you’ away behind this vixen persona—which I don’t understand—to keep people from taking you seriously, even though your real personality is all kinds of sexy in some pretty impressive ways. You’ve got a frighteningly quick mind, but for some reason hide that too, and that’s even more of a damn shame. You proved that fact while I was away with the fairies. Then, there’s—”

  Putting her plate on the blanket while he spoke, Kat rose, stepped over the quiche, bent at the waist, and cut Jake off mid-rant by pressing her lips to his.

  It went on for a dozen heartbeats before she pulled away to take in his stunned face. She’d obviously shocked him, judging from the way his mouth hung open as she knelt caddy-corner to him on the blanket, and gave O’Connor a moment to collect himself before she spoke.

  “You’re kind of long-winded, you know that?” she said, “Let’s dispense with the oratory-based method and try it like this.”

  Cho kissed him again, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and leaning into the embrace. That pressed their upper bodies together, prompting O’Connor to tense the muscles of his core to keep himself from being pushed over backwards, as the kiss stretched on and on and on. He placed one hand against the rough planks of the dock behind his tailbone for more support while his other moved to her hip, and Kat ran nimble, nimble fingers through his hair. They remained that way for some minutes, unhurriedly exploring each-others mouths in the slight mid-morning breeze wafting over the water, until she pulled away with lingering touches of her lips. It was hard, but she managed not to begin frantically ripping at his clothing.

  “See? That’s way better than another ten minutes of inadequate dialog and verbal fencing.” She ran her hands over his neck, feeling the cords tense as he kept them both in a sitting position. “Don’t you think?”

  Jake was short of breath. While the statement had been ridiculously overused, it was still true: Fireworks had gone off behind his eyelids when she’d kissed him.

  “Um. Yeah. Definitely.” He didn’t have the first clue where to go from there. “I, uh, don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m didn’t say any of that only thinking I could get in your pants. I really—”

  Kat moved against him and O’Connor’s mental process began to lag like an overloaded server. “I didn’t either.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “I like the way your mind works too. Most of the time. When you’re not doing something monumentally stupid.” Cho’s eyes glittered in amusement. “So it’s not that I’m trying just to get into your pants either.”

  He swallowed. “Alright?”

  “But I won’t complain if that’s where we end up.” There was a high level of heat coming his way from behind Kat’s eyes. “In each other’s pants, I mean.”

  Okay. Okay. Now, be smooth, his back-brain advised him firmly.

  He wrapped his free arm around her as Kat moved from her knees to sit beside him on the cushion, feet stretched out behind him and hip pressed to Jake’s own. Smooth shouldn’t be too hard. “I don’t think I could fit into those leathers.”

  Oh... my... God. This is what I have to work with? His brain threw its mental hands up in resignation. You’re hopeless.

  Cho moved closer, lightly nuzzling his nose with her own. “I think you’d fit just fine.”

  See? See? His brain screamed. That right there is what I’m referring to when I say smooth, moron! Maybe you should just, not talk? At all?

  She went on as his brain berated him. “I’d know, since I was one of the people taking care of you after you got stabbed. Two words: sponge baths?”

  “Really? I don’t remember...well, anything about that time.” For which he was grateful. Talk about embarrassing. “Everything’s just a blur, until the soccer field.”

  “What changed?” She breathed the words into his mouth.

  Realizing any answer he gave would sound like an attempt to schmooze, Jake took his brain’s advice and laid his best ‘curl-you-toes-to-your-ankles’ kiss on Kat’s lips.

  At least, he hoped it was his best. If not, there weren’t any copies of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus in Langley’s library for reference.

  He’d looked.

/>   On a side note: He hadn’t seen any copies of The Kama Sutra either.

  * * *

  Now it was Kat’s turn to see fireworks. There were definitely a few detonations going off in her head somewhere, because very little was taking up space in the ol’ cranial cavity at that very moment. Including (but not limited to) where she was, what day it was, or even what color the underwear she’d put on that morning was. Truth be told, she really wasn’t concerned over the last. It likely matched. She’d check, once they started removing clothes.

  Leaning back until she was cradled over his lap, Kat decided right then and there anyone in sight of the pier was shortly going to get a show. That damn tac-vest O’Connor wore needed to go first though, and she undid the trio of clasps holding it closed over his chest to pull it away. He didn’t want to let her go long enough for her to get it over his shoulders, so she ended up yanking his arms away until the vest got tossed to the dock. That enabled her to get her hands under the CBGB’s t-shirt he was so fond of wearing and against his flesh.

  His arms tightened around Cho slightly at the feel of her fingertips trailing over his waist, and she moved them up along his ribs to circle firmly behind his shoulders. This tugged his shirt higher, allowing for the tingling sensation of skin-on-skin as Kat utilized the gap between her own waistline and the cut-off shirt she wore to press their lower torsos together. That set off a whole new set of impulses that boiled down to Get Clothes Off, Now, and made her slightly fumble fingered as she tried to remove the offending shirt. Finally yanking it away over his head, Kat sent her hands—closely followed by her tongue—along the lines of Jake’s chest. Up where the cords of his pectorals met at the middle of his sternum, along the arch of his collarbone, and finally over the melted patch of skin on his right deltoid where Rae had seared his gaping stab wound closed. She bit the rough spot cautiously not wanting to hurt him, and his fingers tightened into the fabric of her shirt.

  That had to go. Taking one hand reluctantly away from his flesh, Cho reached back across her shoulder and worked the cut-off tank top over her head.

  * * *

  O’Connor had just time to think, ‘Purple!’ before she dove into the embrace again. Kat’s touch was working its maddening brand of magic and it was becoming impossible for him to focus on much of anything, save the determined woman in his arms. She pushed against his chest, rolling them backward and-

  They fell off the edge of the dock into the lake.

  Once he rose to hit air again, Jake sputtered and tried to clear his eyes. Lake-water might look pure, but there were all kinds of things floating in it. Leaves, bits of plants, sand and dirt.

  Oh, and—most certainly—fish poop.

  Cho surfaced laughing, not at all resembling a pissed-off tabby with her short hair plastered to her head. “Wow. That was agile.”

  “It’s your fault,” he countered, attempting not to laugh himself.

  “How do you figure?”

  “You distracted me.” Jake snorted as he tread gritty water.

  Reaching behind her head, Kat used one of the dock pylons to anchor herself as she pulled him closer. “You know, normally felines don’t like getting wet.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware.” Her thighs came up, encircling his waist to support him at the surface, and Jake took hold of the pylon behind her with one hand. The other he slid down her spine to the small of her back, causing Cho to shiver, even in the warm waters. “They usually go berserk. Latch on to anything within reach, trying to keep dry.”

  She smiled and used her free hand to scrape light nails diagonally from his left shoulder down across his ribs. “There are always exceptions to the rule though. People used to post videos on YouTube all the time of giving their cats baths. Some of the furry, little buggers loved the water.”

  Jake’s sent his mouth along the side of her throat. “So you’re saying I’m safe from feline retribution?”

  Kat let go of the pylon and—using her hand not currently making its way down O’Connor’s stomach—gripped at his hair as his lips brushed their way along her jawline. She closed her eyes when his tongue found the hollow where her collarbones met.

  “Oh, you keep on doing that and you’re gonna get all kinds of clawed up.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Might even have a nice set of fresh scratches when you go update Mooney about the buses.”

  “Maybe. But that’ll be later.” Jake murmured and his hand slid lower to cup her right leather-clad buttock.

  Kat sucked a ragged breath then rolled her hips against him. Her mouth fell open, and she took a gulp of air before mashing her lips to his again. O’Connor’s hand moved north up her back, undoing the first hook on her bra and she lightly bit his lip. The second popped open while her lower hand worked at the buckle on his belt, and the last—

  Raised voices could be heard from the treeline. The two of them halted mid-caress and froze in place.

  “Are we sure they’re down there?” That was Leo.

  “Are we?” And Elle.

  “Yes!” And Rae. “Hurry up! We need to find the pier!”

  Jake’s face took on a long-suffering expression.

  “Maybe if we keep quiet they’ll go away?” Kat didn’t let go of his belt buckle.

  “Are you kidding?” he mumbled. “With our luck, they’ll decide to grab some scuba gear and start searching the bottom.”

  Running footsteps approached along the deck planks.

  “Oh, man.” Kat put her face against Jake’s neck.

  Rae’s voice came down to them. “See? There’s a blanket and their stuff.”

  “Maybe they’re on one of the boats?” Leo wondered.

  “We can look.” Elle sounded highly amused over the prospect.

  Rae piped up again. “Start checking! Boy. I knew Kat had a massive lady-boner for him, but I didn’t think Jake would cave that easily. She must’ve pulled out all the stops.”

  “I’m going to kill her,” Kat said calmly.

  Jake shook his head. “Tempting, but no. We might need her big brain and intellect down the line at some point.”

  “Better be the only ‘big things’ of hers you need.” Kat grumbled under her breath as he let go and pushed away.

  “What?” O’Connor moved through the water from beneath the dock.

  “I said we need to find out what’s going on,” she said quickly, re-hooking her bra.

  Using the opposite pylon for leverage, O’Connor pushed himself higher in the water and took hold of the plank at the docks end. He levered himself over, lay prone on the weathered boards, and reached back down to pull Kat up as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. The pair swiftly donned their respective shirts and retrieved their weaponry (still thankfully dry upon the blanket) while listening to their friends search a nearby single-masted

  tub.

  “Nothing in the aft cabin.” Elle called.

  “The bathroom and kitchen space are clear too.” Jake smiled wryly at Leo’s warbling statement. Young Salizar—once a student of the culinary arts—was turning into quite the soldier under his blonde Sergeant’s tutelage. “Should we move on to the next boat?”

  Rae’s voice dripped sarcasm when she replied. “Check the master cabin. I’m sure if they were in there we’d be able to hear Cho shrieking, but check it anyway.”

  The Stop Me Before I Kill Again look on Kat’s face prompted Jake to call out to their friends, before any further statements assured Rae’s swift and painful demise. “Hey guys! We’re up here!”

  The trio hurriedly climbed deck-side and filed down the boarding ramp onto the dock.

  “What the hell were you guys doing?” Elle looked at their soaked pants and Kat’s haphazard, still-wet hair.

  “Spelunking.” Cho was glaring daggers at Rae.

  The ample-chested woman rolled her eyes—foolishly Jake believed—at
the ninja-girl’s irked expression. “Whatever. We need both of you back at the east barricade. Right now!”

  They began trotting back along the dock and Jake called up to Rae as he and Cho followed in their wake. “What’s going on? Maggot-heads?”

  “No, but you’re not going to believe it!” Leo panted from beside him. “It’s survivors! Other survivors found us!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Foster didn’t look pleased.

  Jake noted that as he climbed the barricade. The aged fixer wore a decidedly unhappy frown, and he still held his Long-Arm rifle tight to his shoulder ready to fire. Looking out over the edge, the writer saw a trio of odd-looking army green vehicles waiting fifty yards from the wall with their engines off.

  “What the heck are those?” Kat was right behind O’Connor as he reached the top of the impromptu wall. “They look like the bastard children of a monster truck and a Volkswagen...”

  Rae shook her head. “While ridiculous, that statement isn’t far off the mark. Those are Unimogs; 416’s, unless I miss my guess. They’re Mercedes-made all-terrain transports that rival our American Humvee.”

  “Rival hell,” A chuckle rumbled from George’s chest. “A Mog is what a Hummer wants ta’ be when it grows up. 5.6 liter engine that ya’ can get 125 horsepower out of—if ya’ upgrade the fuel injectors—high wheelbase, all ridin’ a standard bulletproof drive-train. Plus it’ll take all kinds a’ hydraulic implements. You could use ‘em as backhoes, front-loaders, even snowplows like these three.”

  As Foster pointed out in his own unique way, the ‘Mogs’ outside Langley’s barrier had been heavily modified. Plate steel had been used to reinforce their primary cabs, leaving only a six-inch horizontal strip across the front and side windows for the driver to see through. By no means enough room for even the most determined zombie to enter. The metal rear beds were entirely enclosed as well, but that looked to be something done via the manufacturer and not an after-market addition. All three had snowplow blades over their front grills, which displayed varying amounts of use and—for lack of a better word—zombie schmutz.