by J. D. Faver
Where did he get off ordering her around like a child? She lolled against the headrest as Oz rounded the car and wrenched her door open.
Micki was vaguely aware that the drugs she’d been given were influencing her compliance as she allowed Oz to draw her from the vehicle and tuck her under his arm.
Being smushed against him wasn’t so bad. Her face hurt, her legs were leaden, her head pounded and she was emotionally drained from her trauma-inducing adventures. Yet, it wasn’t so bad having Oz put his arm around her.
She stumbled against him and he swept her up into his arms. Her whole body stiffened for a nanosecond. She had to protest. He was taking too much for granted. She should stop him right here and now.
She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. It felt so good to be held, to be borne like a child, like when her daddy had carried her up to her bed. She was excruciatingly tired. A little sleep would be good.
Oz carried her up to his apartment and deposited her on the sofa. “Relax. I’ll make dinner.”
“You learned to cook?”
The grin he gave her could melt a bronze statue. “I can cook some things. I can make eggs and burn a steak. Let me see what’s in the refrigerator.” He opened the door and peered inside. “It looks like we’ll be ordering in. What do you want?”
She managed a grin in return. “Anything. I’m not particular.”
“Oh, yes you are,” he said. “But I know what you like.” He took a menu out of a drawer and ordered from a Chinese deli in the next block.
Leaning back on the sofa, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember breakfast and had been drugged through lunchtime, so she looked forward to the possibility of food.
“I’m going to change out of uniform and then we can talk.”
Talk? That sounded ominous. What did he want to talk about? They were alone in Oz’ apartment and he was getting comfortable. She closed her eyes again, still sleepy from the medication.
When she felt his weight sink down on the sofa beside her, she opened her eyes. Oz had changed to a faded pair of blue jeans and a navy tee. He stretched his arm across the backrest behind her head, not touching, but still giving the impression of surrounding her.
Micki drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. It might have been the effect of the drugs, but she felt drowsy and comfortable. She leaned into the curve of his body and felt him momentarily tense as her head nestled against his shoulder.
She felt the tension leave his body as he brushed her hair away from her forehead.
“Aw, Micki...”
Oz was leaning toward her and his lips were so close. Her lips parted and he kissed her. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, a tentative invader, then entered more confidently, inviting hers to dance. He pulled her closer and his hands grazed the side of her breast, sending a signal to her brain that Oz was touching her and it should moisten certain parts of her anatomy. It was probably just habit that caused him to revisit all the familiar places.
Yes, he does know what I like.
She made a little noise in her throat, something between a whimper and a moan. He pulled away, looking down at her with the face that caused major problems to her ability to say no. Then his lips were on hers again and his hand was under her shirt. The warm fingers teasing her breast sent a serious mayday to her brain. Must stop, it said. But her mutinous body was jumping ship.
The doorbell rang and Oz tore his lips away from hers.
She took a breath. Saved by the bell. She felt strangely detached but turned on, as though she was viewing the scene from a distance.
Oz went to the door holding his sidearm. Micki focused as he looked out the peephole and then holstered the gun.
He opened the door, paid the delivery man and received a large paper bag with handles. Bringing it to the coffee table, he spread the contents in front of her.
“Let’s eat.”
She smiled at him and accepted a plate with a variety of her favorite Chinese entrees. “Thanks Oz. You do know what I like.” And how.
They ate with chopsticks and she was surprised at how much Kung Pao Shrimp she was able to put away. When she set her plate on the coffee table, Oz cleared it off and stored the leftovers. He returned and sat facing her.
“Tell me what happened when you went to your apartment. Was the door locked? Did you see the intruder immediately or was he hiding?”
Her head felt clearer and she was able to focus on the event that led to her being held prisoner in Oz’ apartment. She related everything she could remember and gave him a description of the man who’d hit her.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you over to your place and you can check on your valuables. Make a list and we’ll see if anything turns up at pawn shops.”
Micki gave him a rueful smile. “I don’t have any valuables other than my cameras. I don’t have much jewelry and the things I think are valuable are only sentimental trifles.”
“Do you have insurance to cover your losses?”
“I have renters insurance. I listed my equipment and electronics, but the pictures on that memory card are priceless.”
“Why would this guy want your pictures?”
“I can’t imagine. The memory card stored three hundred shots. It was filled with weddings, the last being the one I photographed last week and the formal bridal portraits I took yesterday in the park. Why would anyone want those other than the family?”
“Don’t know. He thinks he destroyed your computer but the lab techs are trying to restore your data.”
“I back-up my files.” Her brow furrowed. “I hope they’re intact.”
“Okay, that’s enough. You look tired. Tomorrow I’ll take you to your apartment. You can look around and see what’s missing.”
“He stole the camera I just rented.”
“Where are the cameras I got from the lab?”
“I took them to a camera repair shop to be professionally cleaned. A tiny spec of dust can ruin an entire shoot. Gus rented me a Konica to use until I get mine back. That was what the pony tail guy grabbed when I walked into my place. I have a wedding lined up for this Saturday afternoon at St. Basil’s.”
“Calm down.” Oz stroked his palm over her cheek. “Tomorrow. We’ll look into everything tomorrow.”
“I must really look like crap for you to be so nice to me.” Gingerly, she put her fingers to her eye and winced as the pain registered.
Oz brushed her hair back from her face. “I’ve seen you look better.” He gave her a little smile.
“Very tactful, Oz.” She grinned at him. “So, what did you have in mind? Am I going to sleep here?” She indicated the sofa.
“No, I’ll sleep here. You can have the bed.”
“I’m smaller. You need more room.”
He threw his hands up and made a noise in the back of his throat. “Is there anything you won’t argue about?” He went to his bedroom, returning with a pillow and sheet.
“I’d like to take a shower,” she said.
“I laid out something for you to sleep in,” he said. “Now, get off of my bed. I need my beauty sleep.”
“Thanks Oz.” Micki rose on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek.
When she went to his room she saw that he’d left a soft tee shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts on the bed for her. She couldn’t help but smile.
Micki turned on the shower and dropped her clothes on the bathroom floor. Running a sink full of water, she washed her bra and panties with hand soap, leaving them to soak while she stepped into the steamy water. She shampooed her hair and stood in the soft rain shower to rinse off. When she emerged she felt better until she wiped the steam off the mirror and saw the bruises on her face. The under eye number was an especially dark purple while the cheekbone had some magenta in it. She found a hair dryer among the towels and dried her hair. Rewinding the cord just as Oz had done, she replaced it in his linen cabinet.
When she emerged, wearing Oz’ tee shirt and boxers, she discovered tha
t he had turned down the covers for her. The bedside light provided an inviting glow. The only thing missing was chocolate on the pillow.
She tiptoed to the living room and gazed down at Oz, sleeping curled on his side on the sofa that was too short for his full length. She resisted the urge to touch him, smooth his hair. She tiptoed back to the bedroom and closed the door gently.
#
CHAPTER FOUR
In the morning, Micki nestled in the curve of Oz’ body, his warm muscled length surrounding her. One of his arms provided a pillow for her neck, while the other lay across her torso.
As she groped her way toward consciousness, a familiar ache filled her chest cavity. This was the thing she’d missed most and the thing that had made it so hard to sleep alone after they’d broken up. Sometime during the night he had crawled in beside her. She suspected it was the uncomfortable sofa that had driven him to be snuggled against her, but it really didn’t matter. He was here and so was she.
“Good morning,” he said against her neck, sending little sparks to her nerve endings.
She tried to sound matter-of-fact. “Good morning. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah, fancy that.” His voice sounded rough and sexy, kick-starting her heart rate.
“You didn’t molest me. That’s a first.” She felt his laughter resonate through his chest, into her spine, annexing her into him.
“As far as you know.”
Micki tried to squirm away from his hardness against her backside. He rolled her onto her back and straddled her hips.
She tried to keep a straight face but broke into a grin. “I don’t want to wrestle. Get off of me.”
Oz smirked, pinned her down. “Un unh.” He pulled up the tee shirt and kissed her stomach and ribs, sending shock waves to the center of her being. His tongue circled her navel making her giggle and arch her back.
Her pulse rate surged. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She couldn’t become that person again. Her need for Oz couldn’t take over her life again, shoving her into a comfortable little box of happy where her brain ceased to function on its own.
The voice of reason was quickly drowned out by her own voice whispering, “Oh, Oz.” She buried her fingers in his thick, dark hair.
He found her lips and kissed her hungrily. A little groan of desire escaped his throat. Sliding his hand into her borrowed boxers, he stroked his fingers between her legs, sending a wave of desire to her core.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Oz and Micki jerked apart. He leapt to his feet, grabbed his gun from the holster on the bedside table and pointed it at the intruder. When he recognized the furious woman standing beside the door, he lowered his weapon.
“Fawn, you shouldn’t be here.” He replaced the gun in its holster.
“No shit!” She picked up the lamp beside the bed and hurled it at him.
He ducked and it crashed against the wall.
“You said it was over with her and then I come back a day later and you’re screwing her.” She burst into tears.
“Fawn, I...”
Micki rearranged the tee shirt and prepared to dodge whatever was thrown her way.
“Don’t bother,” Fawn said icily. “I’m taking my things.” She stormed off to the bathroom and emerged a short time later with the hairdryer Micki had used the night before, dangling its cord from her oversized bag.
The outraged Fawn turned to Oz once more. “You never let me keep a damn toothbrush here. I hid this in your towels but, one night and she’s got her panties hanging in your shower. You totally suck, Oz!” She whirled and strode out of the room, taking all the oxygen with her.
The front door slammed hard and something crashed to the floor in the living room. Oz and Micki trailed a safe distance behind Fawn. He relocked the door, then picked up a picture of his parents that had fallen from a shelf. “I’ll change the lock today.”
Micki ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. The reality hit her that Oz and this woman, Fawn, actually had a relationship. The reality swirled in her gut, made her nauseous. “I’m sorry, Oz. It seems I’ve caused you a lot of trouble.”
“No big deal.” He shrugged.
“I could talk to her,” she offered.
He grinned at her. “And what would you say? Oz was giving me CPR?”
Micki shrugged. “Yeah, you did a good job. My heart was beating pretty fast.” She tried to flash a smile but failed.
Oz stopped grinning and came to stand close. He gazed down at her like he was starving and she was the main course.
Micki experienced a tingling in her female parts when he looked at her that intensely.
“I liked that you were so wet, Micki. I liked that you wanted me. Some things don’t ever change.”
She looked down, embarrassed by the feelings he had stirred. “Don’t you have a job to go to?”
He lifted her chin. “Yeah, I do, but I’ll be back.” He kissed her nose and disappeared in the bedroom.
She heard the shower running and thought she should stay as far away as possible from the man who could make her want to shed her clothes with a single kiss.
When he emerged his hair was still damp, he was freshly shaved and his starched uniform shirt wasn’t yet buttoned. “You stay inside. Do not go out. Is that clear?”
Micki nodded. “I think you made that pretty clear. What if your irate girlfriend comes back to pull my hair out?”
“That won’t happen. I’ll be back at noon and take you to your apartment, so be ready. We can grab a bite along the way.”
He leaned close and kissed her before he left. She watched the deadbolt knob turn as he locked it from the outside.
Just like that, she was right back in the same place where Oz made all the decisions and planned everything that would happen in their lives. Just like that. But what about Fawn?
#
Precisely at noon, the door opened and Oz was back. He drove her to her apartment, making certain that no one suspicious lurked about.
Micki unlocked the door and surveyed the debris strewn over the floor. Papers and computer accessories lay intermingled with shattered knick-knacks inherited from her grandmother. A sense of hopelessness swamped her. She didn’t know where to begin to make order of the chaos.
Her small computer desk was empty. The top-of-the-line photo printer lay on its side and the monitor appeared to be intact, but the CPU itself had been taken to the police lab.
Oz lifted the printer and monitor into place but there was no way to tell if they were still functional without the computer being hooked up.
She choked back the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. She knelt to gather papers and stacked them on her narrow dining bar. Locating a legal pad she began listing the damaged or missing items.
Micki searched through the papers surrounding the desk, suspicion gnawing at her gut. “He took the envelope of proofs I’d just printed. It was right on top of the computer table. I hadn’t filed it yet.”
Fear gave way to panic. She scrabbled through the debris remaining on the floor. “It’s not here,” she gasped.
Oz squatted down beside her. “What are you looking for?”
“My pen. I can’t find my pen.” She sat back on her haunches as a feeling of despair settled over her.
“A pen? You’re worried about a lost pen?” He looked incredulous. “Was it made of platinum or something?”
She felt her lips quiver and pressed them into a firm line. “No, I...it’s not just a pen. There!” She spied the cap of a black pen sticking out from under her sofa and made a lunge for it, but Oz scooped it up.
His eyes narrowed. “Now what could be so special about this particular pen?” He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Give me that!” Micki snatched it out of his grasp and rose to her feet.
“Thank heavens he didn’t get this.” She pressed her lips against the metal case.
“Lucky pen.” Oz straightened, e
yeing her speculatively. “Was it a present from your dad?”
She thought about confirming his assumption but couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. She never had. “It has a flash drive. I backed up my photos on it.” She removed the cap and pulled the pen apart, revealing the concealed tool. “It was late when I downloaded them. I forgot until now.”
“You saved your shots from the park?” Oz asked.
“It’s so much more than that. This device has all the photos I’ve shot in the last year. I back everything up. I make a file on my desktop for active clients but I always copy everything to this flash drive.” She clicked the pen together and clasped it to her breast experiencing a rush of giddiness.
His brows drew together. “You’re saying you have the pictures you took in the park yesterday?”
“Yes and the wedding I shot last week. I sent the proofs, but the family hasn’t ordered yet. I have a lot of money out there waiting to be collected.”
Oz slouched against the door frame to the kitchen. “How does your business work, anyway? Do you charge for your time or by the photo?”
“Both,” she said. “I charge a flat fee to shoot a wedding depending on the elaborateness and that includes a certain number of finished pictures for the wedding album. But the family members always want extras and I take formal portraits of the bride before the wedding and the wedding party on the day of the event.”
“It sounds like a good gig, Micki.” Oz gathered the rest of the debris and papers from the floor, depositing it by the pile on the bar. This was the most attention he had ever shown in her work.