Explicit Memory

by Scarlett Finn

  ‘That’s why I need the reminder that we’re on a job.’

  Revealing the truth of her past, and her experience with Rushe, to her family, wasn’t something she’d ever thought that she would do. But needs must, and having Rushe with her had made the confessions easier. She had craved the security of his companionship the whole time they were apart, and she would never take it for granted again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  They got themselves and their things into her bedroom, and Rushe began to unpack the duffel to check out and inventory their equipment, as he did when trouble was advancing or retreating. Flick sat on the ottoman, crossed her legs, and watched him lay everything out.

  ‘If I told you a story like that you’d mobilise in five minutes flat,’ she said, staring in a trance at his practised actions.

  ‘What do you think I’m doing right now?’ he asked, pulling from the bag what turned out to be the pocketknife she’d used on Antoine.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I mean if you didn’t know the story, and I told you that something like that had happened to me.’

  He took his attention from the knife to tilt his head toward her. ‘How many stories like that have you got?’

  ‘You’re missing the point.’ Flick snapped out of her daze. ‘I’m saying, it’s a sad state of affairs that a man I’ve known for less than a year cares for, and trusts, me more than my own family does.’

  ‘They don’t know you like I do, Kit,’ he said. ‘They’re bastards, and they’ve treated you like shit. If you wanna say fuck them, we can walk out the door right now.’

  ‘We should leave them to be slaughtered because they were mean to me? That’s a bit harsh.’

  ‘Do you think they would protect you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, this is what we do. We help people who can’t help themselves. Nasty or nice, this is our job. The fact that I’m biologically related to them is sort of irrelevant. They’re clients, let’s just look at it that way.’

  ‘You’re emotionally invested, don’t ignore that. I’ve warned you before,’ he said, flipping open the knife to inspect it more closely. ‘We should sterilize the thing, but it’s clean enough. I don’t want you unprotected.’ Rushe clicked it shut and tossed it to the end of the bed, just in front of where she sat. ‘I’d tell you not to hesitate to use it, but I think you’ve proved yourself.’

  Reluctant to touch it initially, Flick got over her funk and picked it up to tuck it into her back pocket again. It had been useful in protecting her against her attacker. Rushe had been right, as he so frequently was.

  ‘Do you think he’ll come here?’

  ‘Not himself,’ Rushe said. ‘I think he’ll be beyond wanting to connect with your family. Saving face here does nothing for him now. He’s lost you, so he’s not getting into the family. It makes no sense that he would return when he knows now that he can’t strong arm you into being with him. When you go for a guy like that, Kitten, like you did… there’s no way he’s lying down next to you to sleep.’

  ‘I’ve always been very nice to your dick,’ she said, drawing up her knees and folding her hands on them before she rested her chin on her knuckles. ‘Especially when you’re sleeping.’

  ‘That’s ‘cause you love my cock,’ he said, unrolling a gun from a shirt.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I’ve never tried to force it on you either.’

  ‘No,’ she murmured, and replayed the moment she was compelled to kneel in front of Antoine as he unbuckled his belt. ‘But another man trying it... I’d rather be beaten... or murdered...’

  ‘Hey,’ he said, tossing the gun aside and coming to the end of the bed to sit at her side, his feet on the floor and his back to the bed. ‘You’re a fighter, and you’re not gonna let a fucker like Mercier break your spirit. I won’t allow it, Kit. You fought, you made me proud.’

  ‘There was so much blood,’ she exhaled, rolling her cheek to her hands so she could meet his eyes.

  ‘All his blood was headed that way, and you were in the path of it. You did the right thing.’

  ‘I made things worse.’

  ‘We’re together again,’ he said, twisting to stroke her hair while laying his other hand on the end of the bed to support his weight. ‘That’s not worse.’

  ‘And if it costs Serendipity her life? If she dies because I wouldn’t suck his cock?’

  Sinking toward her, Rushe traced his lips on hers then licked out to part them. Flick obliged with her pout, but although he remained close, he didn’t kiss her again. ‘It would’ve killed me to see that,’ Rushe admitted. ‘You saved my life.’

  Appreciating his attempts to console her, she sighed and lifted her arms to drape them around his shoulders. Climbing over into his lap, Flick wrapped her legs around him and leaned back, forcing him to take her waist and her weight.

  ‘You’ve covered the bed with stuff, how will I fuck you now?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, bracing her on one arm so he could use the other to fondle her hair, which hung loose behind her. ‘’Cause a bed’s always been a requirement for us.’

  ‘You missed my hair,’ she said, when his palm scooped it up into a bunch at the base of her skull.

  ‘You missed my dick.’

  He bestowed on her such wonder, though he didn’t look her in the eye. For some reason he was still awed by the notion that she would want to be in his arms. ‘I missed your face,’ she said, cradling it in her hands. ‘I missed your voice, and your eyes, and your smile, and your hands. I missed your heart, Rushe, and how you make me feel. I love your dick. But even if I could never play with it again I’d still be right here.’ Gradually as his gaze came to hers, his brows came down in a frown. ‘Believe it, Lover.’

  Something passed over his expression, but he didn’t get the chance to speak because she lifted her mouth to his and tried to show him just what love was, in a way he would explicitly understand.

  ‘Business first,’ he said, when she kissed his jaw then nipped his earlobe between her teeth.

  She shook her head. ‘Business later.’

  Clutching her in his arms, he swooped to the floor and pinned her body down, gripping her wrists in his solid fists. ‘I got five weeks of frustration to pump out.’

  ‘Fill me up,’ she said, using all of her weight to arch up. She didn’t move far, but the action was enough to spur him on.

  He liberated her wrists long enough to grab the hem of her top. Shoving it upward, Rushe exposed her breasts and took his time to admire them. Sinking down, his mouth enveloped the cap of one bosom and he sucked her in, as much of her as would fit in his mouth.

  The growl this time came from Flick, but her attempt to wriggle lower was unsuccessful. Rushe reared up, and kneeling at her hips, his shins trapped her thighs down against the floor. He leaned forward just enough to press the length of himself against the scorch at her apex, and still she tried to squirm closer. Rushe’s expression relaxed until after a few seconds of trying, he smiled at her.

  ‘My pussy’s gonna purr tonight.’

  ‘Do it slow.’

  ‘We’re gonna do it every way that’s been invented… and then make up some of our own.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Her grin came with his groan as he dropped down to take her hair in his fists and yank her head back, giving himself access to her throat. ‘Gonna get you naked first.’

  There was a knock at the door, and his attention came up enough to briefly make eye contact. Then, in a flash, Rushe was on his feet with her still in his arms. He tucked her onto the bed and slapped the gun into her hand as she pulled down her top to cover herself again.

  ‘Stay,’ he ordered, and stormed for the door.

  She knew it was unlikely to be trouble because they hadn’t heard any commotion, but Flick stayed where she was anyway and revelled in the notion that Rushe put a gun in her hand and then turned his back on her. There was a time he wouldn’t have trusted her aim... or her nerve. He hadn’t take
n the gun with him, he’d given it to her to ensure her safety and trusted her to be his back up.

  Rushe opened the door to a steward, who stumbled back at the sight of this man ready to bowl him over. ‘You’re needed downstairs.’

  ‘Why?’ Flick asked, climbing off the bed while keeping the gun in her hand. Only pausing to slip her feet back into her ballet pumps, she traversed to join Rushe.

  When she reached his position, Rushe stayed in place, giving her just enough room to peek under his arm. Clearly, he wasn’t taking the risk that she could be a target, so he reduced the surface area of her someone had to aim at. His form also prevented anyone from getting hold of her if they wanted to pull her out.

  ‘Your father requires your presence,’ the steward said.

  Flick wondered at the questions her family could have for her, but she relaxed and tucked the gun into the back of Rushe’s jeans.

  ‘Stay here,’ she said to Rushe. ‘I’ll find out what this is about.’

  She ducked and was about to squeeze through the narrow gap when Rushe’s arm tensed, clamping the door closer to his body and preventing her exit.

  ‘We’re a package deal,’ he said, taking the gun out and putting it on the floor by the door.

  With her hand in his pocket, he took her out of the bedroom, and they followed on after the steward. Rushe liked to be prepared for conflict, but Flick appreciated him not taking the weapon to her family. If her father, if her sisters saw it, then it could cause uproar. They weren’t against guns as such, and the men had been known to hunt. But a handgun in their house, and after the story they’d been told tonight, would probably be too much.

  As soon as they got to the top of the stairs, Flick knew something wasn’t right. It wasn’t a compliment to her intuition though. Two uniformed police officers stood in the lobby with Flick’s parents. Her sisters and their husbands loitered in the shadows on the perimeter of the space.

  ‘Stay here,’ Flick said to Rushe, brushing her lips against his arm.

  In credit to him, Rushe didn’t follow her when she went down the stairs, and he didn’t flee either, not that she expected him to. If the officers thought that they could take down Rushe on their own, then they would be mistaken. But having him too close, and intimidating them, wouldn’t better their cause.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Flick asked, when she joined the group of four beside the main entrance. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘Are you Felicity Hughes?’ one of the officers asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ Flick said. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We’ve had a report of a serious incident.’

  ‘Ok,’ she said, glancing at her ashen mother and stern father. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’

  Playing it cool was the only thing she could think to do, because the alternative was to spin on the spot and scream up at Rushe to run.

  ‘Are you engaged to Antoine Mercier?’

  ‘No,’ she said, surprised by the question. ‘Not anymore.’

  ‘No,’ the officer said. ‘We appreciate that the engagement will have been broken now. But you are Felicity Hughes, and you were with your fiancé last night, weren’t you?’

  ‘What business is that of yours?’ she asked, but being cagey only increased the suspicion.

  The officer who hadn’t yet spoken came closer, and she tried to edge away as the other officer stepped in.

  ‘This is an outrage,’ Beverly said. ‘Your father and I have been trying to explain to these gentlemen that we are a reputable family; we are respected in this community.’

  But all the name dropping and consternation in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Flick had indeed committed the crime she was being accused of. Flick heard the thunder of footfalls and didn’t have to look to know that Rushe was bearing down upon them.

  ‘We have to ask you to come with us,’ the talking officer said.

  ‘No,’ Flick said. ‘I won’t come with you.’

  This was completely unexpected. It hadn’t even occurred to her that something like this might happen. For all the time Flick had spent worrying about Rushe in a jail cell, she’d never considered how she’d feel if she were put in one. If it meant saving Rushe, she’d do anything. But they’d just gotten each other back, they needed each other, they were a team. Antoine must have sensed that, or this was his revenge, because apart they were weaker, and these last five weeks had proved that.

  As soon as she’d walked into the watchman’s room with Antoine and his men, her strength had returned, because that was where she and Rushe had slept, it had been a temporary haven for her and the man she loved. That room was their turf. She’d put up with Antoine and his crap for weeks. But in Rushe’s presence she could take on the world.

  ‘Felicity Hughes, you are under arrest for the assault of Antoine Mercier.’

  ‘Where is your evidence?’ Flick asked.

  ‘We’ve seen the injury, and there was a witness.’ A witness that was no doubt coerced, Flick thought.

  ‘Rushe,’ Flick said, turning to seek him out. ‘What do I do?’

  ‘Be calm,’ Rushe said, and on his flat words, she blinked up to see his blank expression. His eyes were nothing but the abyss of his pupils.

  Rushe’s aggravation hung around him, but he called on his uncanny ability to detach and he just watched her, imparting on her some of the calm he cultivated in himself. If she asked him to fight, he would, and he’d win. He’d get her out of the clutches of these cops, and he’d take her far from here. But being on the run meant sacrificing the security that they had here, and was probably exactly what Antoine wanted.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, and stepped into her.

  Rushe swept his hands over her shoulders and down her back. Under cover of a needlessly dramatic kiss, Rushe stuck his fingers into her back pocket and palmed the knife she’d put there for her protection. Having the weapon that caused the assault on her person when she was arrested wouldn’t help her case, and as usual, despite her terror, Rushe had thought of everything.

  ‘I love you,’ she said, catching her lip in her teeth when the heat of water scorched her face.

  When he drew back Rushe’s eyes softened in the agony that her tears always caused him. ‘I’m gonna get you out, Kit. You trust me.’ Flick nodded and lowered her head to rub her face against his chest.

  ‘We have to take you into custody now, Miss Hughes. Please put your hands behind your back,’ the cop said.

  Flick did as she was asked and maintained eye contact with Rushe throughout. She’d give anything in the world for her love to be the one putting the cuffs on her now instead of this authoritarian officer. He might be doing his job, but this was an injustice, a tactic adopted by a despicable man. The cop didn’t realise he was doing the bidding of a criminal, but somehow that only made it worse.

  ‘You consider her precious cargo, or we’ll have a problem,’ Rushe said, when the cops were done.

  The reverberation of his chest soothed her, and Flick knew the cops were being warned, though threatening them couldn’t be wise. Rushe kissed the top of her head before she was removed from proximity to him, and led toward the door by the police, who paused there to read out her Miranda rights.

  ‘I’m gonna follow you in—‘

  ‘No,’ Flick cut Rushe off. ‘It could be a trap. I don’t trust them, and I don’t want you there. You have work to do here.’

  Rushe considered her for a few seconds. On a nasal inhale his head went back, and he pinned the family in his glare. ‘Go with her. I entrust her safety to you. You better not let her down.’

  ‘We will not take—’ Beverly didn’t get a chance to finish, because Lucia spoke up.

  ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘You will not,’ Roger said. ‘To a jail? A place like that? No. You will not. It’s not safe.’

  ‘If you’re that worried, go with her, dickwad,’ Rushe said.

  Roger would be none too happy about the insult or about visiting a police s
tation with his delinquent of a sister in-law. But staying here with Rushe would offer him no reprieve.

  ‘Come on,’ the cop said to Flick, when the other officer opened the front door.

  Keeping her eyes on Rushe for as long as she could, Flick walked backwards to the door and let the police officers take her out to their car. The car door slammed behind her and her body ceased. She was a prisoner again.

  Getting booked into the station seemed to take hours. Lucia and Roger weren’t present as Flick had her possessions catalogued and her fingerprints taken. Flick was numb to the whole process, moving through the instructions as she was given them, watching herself from outside her body.

  She had refused to give a statement against herself, but thought it odd that Antoine had made the report here in New Hampshire, and said that the assault had taken place locally. Not having to be extradited from the state made the process easier for her, as bail would be straightforward. But she didn’t understand the motivation of the European’s unsettling untruth.

  Fear wasn’t what overwhelmed her, vulnerability did. Rushe was out there and he’d fight for her, but in here she was ineffectual. Abandoning her here wouldn’t occur to Rushe. Being detached from him and the job again so soon made her uneasy, and she guessed that was exactly what Antoine wanted.

  Antoine wasn’t dumb enough to assume that his relationship with her was salvageable. The idea of being alone with, or susceptible around, Flick, probably repulsed him after her actions. She hoped it did, in fact she hoped it struck terror into him, though more likely it was rage she inspired.

  The cell door closing behind her left her in a state of flux, useless when she had a dozen uses. Helpless when her greatest desire at this moment was to help those she cared about.

  She spent her time in that dank cell staring at the concrete floor. When Flick had driven herself insane thinking about all the things she couldn’t do, she turned her mind to the thousands of other people who must have sat in this place, staring at this floor.

  The clunk of the door brought her to her feet. When she saw it was being held open a question about what was going on flavoured her tongue, and then Flick saw a man in the outer doorway.