by Cari Quinn
“Oh yes, you are. I’m not leaving without you.”
Part of her rejoiced at the sentiment, but the rest did not appreciate his tactics one bit. “I’m not ready to go back. I heard Li’s text ringtone earlier, and maybe she recruited you to convince me it was time, but it’s not. I’m not going.” She let out a long breath. “Not just yet. Okay?”
“So let’s not go back ever.”
“What?” She frowned. “Now you’re just talking crazy talk.”
“If you can, so can I.”
Of course, he had to be pulling some kind of reverse psychology bullshit on her. “I’m not being crazy. I know I have to go back. I just need a little more time.” She swallowed hard and fumbled for the blanket, drawing it tightly around herself. “Before the service. I’ll go back then. I know we have shows planned, and someday I’ll be able to play again.”
“Don’t ‘someday’ that shit. It’ll happen soon.”
“I want to be there to pay my respects. For Jules and Tris and all the others. I just can’t yet. I can’t.”
He surprised her by sitting down beside her on the edge of the bed. Close, but not too close. “Then we won’t.”
“We?”
She liked the sound of that too much, which proved she was on dangerous ground. It wasn’t just being a we with anyone. It was him. The man she was beginning to realize he was behind the sarcasm and the silences and the myriad attempts to push people away. There was more there, and she liked that he was a puzzle.
Oh, she hadn’t, say, a week ago. Ten days ago. Back then, she’d had no use for him. She’d never doubted his skills on the skins, and she figured he had to have a good quality or two buried deep, but she’d had no interest in finding out what. He was rude and uncouth and…Mal.
Just so very Mal.
He was still rude and uncouth, and very much the kind of guy who would belch and look at you as if you’d done it. But that was surface stuff. Underneath, he was more.
“Yeah, we.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Not like I’m in a hurry to go back either. Press circling, emotional crap right and left, questions. Fucking questions everywhere.” He let his hands drop into his lap.
“It’s hard being a hero.” Her tone was teasing, but the look he gave her was not. So she took a risk and leaned in, hooking her hand behind his neck. “Am I allowed to still kiss you or was that only before?”
“Usually, I prefer to make the moves.”
“Sorry, but my lifespan is predicted to be eighty years.” She tilted her head and found his lips with her own, savoring the bite of crisp air from outside and the flavor of the gum he’d been chewing. Cinnamon. Red-hot. So fitting.
But he didn’t let her command things for long. He pushed his hands into her hair, slanting his mouth over hers and taking control in a hard, possessive way that shot thrills straight to her toes.
Earlier so had not been a one-off. This was a man who could make her come disturbingly easily. Even if he was already moving back again.
She sighed. “Is your appeal the fact that you play so hard to get? I never got that vibe from you on the bus.”
“I’m not playing hard to get. I’m very easy to get. You have no fucking clue how much I want to roll you underneath me and fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
That mercurial little half smile came and went so fast she nearly missed it. “We’re still leaving.”
“But I thought you just said—”
“Not going home yet.” He rose and pulled her blanket back up on her shoulder. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m bigger than you and will toss you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you don’t come willingly.”
“Unless there’s actual coming involved, try it and see what part of you survives.”
“Not everything has to do with sex.”
It was only because she saw him tuck his tongue in his cheek that she let him get away with it. “It does when you’re getting denied right and left,” she muttered.
“You barely even need me for that.” At her death glare, he held up his hands, palms out. “I’m jealous. Really.”
“You are not the slightest bit funny. Tell me where we’re going or I will scream loud enough to pierce your eardrums if you so much as lay one little finger on me.”
“Let’s just say it’s the happiest place on Earth.”
She frowned. “We’re going to Disney World? While I’d love to see you in a pair of Mickey ears, I’m not thinking it’s your bag.”
“Christ, no.” He moved to the door. “Look, I have just a few minutes to convince your friend that she needs a bodyguard.”
Elle frowned. “Do you honestly think that’s a good idea? I don’t like the idea of leaving her right now.”
Then again, would she really want to leave her in ten days either? And she would have to. She couldn’t just hide out back East forever.
No matter how tempting it was.
“It sucks. All-around sucks. I wish we had more time, but—”
“Why don’t we?”
“The woman who’s going to shadow her, she’s good. Donovan recommended. This is the same firm he’s using for the increased security at Ripper.” He gripped the edge of the door. “We’re not leaving her in just anybody’s hands. She’ll be with a woman as well, so it will look like she’s got a friend staying with her.”
Again with the we stuff. And he was talking more than he ever did, so he had to be worried.
About her friend that he barely knew.
Elle swallowed hard, rubbing her arm almost unconsciously. The pins and needles were back again. “I intend to call her often. If anything seems off, I need to be back here.”
He gave a short nod. “Just pack and get ready, all right?” He waited a beat, then rasped, “Please.”
“Well, look at that. He knows the magic word.” And there she was, going to the dresser to retrieve her things like a nice little horny, curious girl.
Far too curious for her own good.
“If we can come back, we will. I just don’t want to make promises.”
“Very cryptic. Also, do you ever want to make promises? I can’t see it being a preferred pastime of yours.”
“Pack.” The barked word only made her smile. “And put some damn clothes on. Maybe two layers.”
He didn’t slam the door, but the effect was there.
She unwrapped the blanket and tossed it on the bed, then opened the top dresser drawer and pulled out her underwear.
Mal was still a grouchy asshole.
And she was beginning to like him. A lot.
Chapter Fifteen
He had her hurry up and pack, but then they didn’t leave until late Tuesday afternoon, almost two whole days later.
Convincing Teagan of the importance of the bodyguard had been about as easy as Elle had believed it would go. Leaving her–even knowing she would be in good hands–had been nearly impossible.
Teagan had promised to call multiple times a day and to pay attention to the bodyguard’s requests, at least for a few weeks. Then they were going to renegotiate things if all remained quiet on the ex front.
As far as Elle was concerned, she would prefer if the bodyguard shielded Teagan forever. You never knew when a crazy from your past would decide now was a good time to wreak havoc.
But the three of them had had fun the last couple of days. Mal didn’t say much, as always, but he stuck close and didn’t make rude remarks about the endless board games Teagan wanted to play since she’d taken a few days off work to “get her chill back” as she’d called it. So they had gone through Scattergories to Scrabble to Cards Against Humanity, and though he’d won far more than his share, he hadn’t gloated.
Much.
Now they were on the road, finally, headed to his mystery location. They’d been driving for a good hour already and the fading sunlight only s
eemed to intensify Mal’s growing discontent. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve guessed he was racing against a clock. One only he could see, since he was so freaking secretive.
She was starting to feel the same way, since she’d been sparse with her responses to her friends and family the last few days. She’d answered Lila’s texts, and they’d talked about mostly safe topics, other than discussion about the services for Randy probably being moved up since Jules didn’t want it to conflict with holiday travel. Even now, she was thinking of others.
Then there had been mention of a band meeting right after Thanksgiving, and Elle absolutely did not want to think about it. Just the idea of being around that conference table and looking at the faces of her bandmates, imagining that they might be thinking the wrong person had lived—
She knew her thoughts were crazy. But she couldn’t stop them. And she also hadn’t been able to help snapping at Denver when she’d mentioned Mal and how Elle must be feeling desperate if she wanted to spend time with the growler.
Little did they know that Mal was the reason she was getting through this at all.
“Can you turn off the fucking Christmas music?”
Naturally, he had to ruin any charitable thoughts she was having about him. He had an uncanny sixth sense like that.
Elle tapped her fingers against her mouth. “Hmm. I have weighed your request and—no. Denied. Sorry.”
Mal grunted and changed lanes, applying more speed than was necessary. His idea of a vehicular middle finger.
Since she rather enjoyed his creative muttered expletives, she had no complaints. At least about that.
This endless ride to nowhere? That was pissing her off.
It was so dark and cold outside and every time she tried to turn up the heat, Grumposaurus promptly flicked it back down. So she’d turned to cheerful holiday music to try to distract herself, and now he was even pissing on that?
That was another point. They hadn’t stopped in forever, and she really needed to pee.
She also needed a Coke or something. A serious jolt of caffeine. Truth be told, she was craving something much harder. Her arm was achy and stiff and she desperately needed some relief. She also felt more than a little antsy about leaving Teagan with the bodyguard Mal had hired. The guy seemed competent enough, but Teagan had been wholeheartedly against the idea. Not that she’d been given a lot of choice. Mal was pretty hard to dissuade once he’d settled on a course of action.
So, yeah, Elle was uncomfortable and jittery and needed…something. But she would settle for caffeine.
Though, God, that little pesky voice in the back of her head was trying to intrude with every silent mile they traveled. Ignoring it was awfully hard without something to take her attention.
Just take a few pain pills. Grab a bottle of something at the next convenience store you pass. Wait ’til you get to wherever you’re going and see if you can find a hook-up there.
And that voice was not referring to sex.
Hell, she’d even debated going through Mal’s duffel to see if he’d stashed the bag of pills in there. She hated those thoughts. Hated that she wasn’t strong enough not to have them.
But if she had to, she would call her sponsor at the next rest stop. Even if she had to do it from the bathroom stall to get some privacy.
She couldn’t break again, because she didn’t know if she’d get back up.
“Stupid Christmas music,” Mal muttered, bringing her back.
This was what she needed to focus on right now—fighting with him. Being with him. Letting the way he overwhelmed her fill up all the holes created by boredom and fear and cravings.
Getting addicted to him wasn’t a smart idea either, but at least she couldn’t inject him into her veins. At this rate, even screwing him seemed unlikely.
“It’s November.” Her voice sounded faint, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Traditionally, that’s the start of the Christmas season.”
Another grunt.
“It’s fun and makes you smile. Okay, correction—it makes me smile. Like this one.” She pointed at the radio. “Alvin and the Chipmunks. Do you remember this from when you were a kid? You were one once, right?”
“No.”
“No what? You don’t remember it or no, you were never a child? Both seem equally possible.”
“No to remembering it. My mother wasn’t exactly one for playing holiday standards.”
Elle smoothed a hand over the ripped denim leg of her jeans and released a long, slow breath. Okay, this was good. If she kept talking, and he kept talking, she could keep that pushy voice at bay.
Mal could help her drown it out.
“Not a music lover?”
“No.”
“But your father, he’s in the music business, right? I remember Lila mentioning something about that once. He works with artists too.”
“Mostly what he does now is count his millions and his mistresses.”
Elle rubbed her chin. Different tact needed there. “How did you get into music then? If your mother didn’t like it and your father didn’t bring his work home—”
“Like you give two shits about any of this.”
“I do. I’m curious.”
“Why? Because you sucked my dick so now we’re star-crossed lovers?”
She reeled back as if she’d been struck. In a way, she had been. Not by his words. This was Mal, and he’d said much worse to her over the years they’d known each other. But the venom in the question knocked her off her already very shaky perch.
“Next rest stop we pass, stop.”
He didn’t say anything for probably five minutes. Maybe longer. “Look, I’m sorry.”
She stared straight ahead.
“I don’t like talking about my past. At all.”
“No? Well, I’m not loving my present much at the moment either, so I guess we’ve said all we need to.” She pressed her fingers together over the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger, trying pressure points to relieve some of the pain. She’d try anything.
She had before, and probably would again.
Soon.
“What is it?”
“What’s what? I gotta use the bathroom.”
“Your knee’s been jittering for five miles. Your pale as goddamn snow. What is it?”
“I’m an addict who wants a fix.” She said it quietly, hoping he would just let it go.
He’d said she mattered, but she had her doubts. Caring about keeping someone alive didn’t mean you truly gave a crap about how they felt. That were two very different things.
“Ahh, Christ.” He beat his fist lightly into the wheel, and she didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed.
So she went with both.
“Sorry to disrupt your day.”
“It’s not that. It’s just, fuck, I don’t know how to handle this shit. I can’t keep you locked up forever.”
“You just realize that?” Amusement was definitely winning now, and only because he’d developed the cutest little wrinkle between his eyes.
She had never thought a single solitary thing on Malachi Shawcross was cute. Maybe she needed meds more than she thought.
“No. I’m just saying. And I knew this was gonna happen, and fuck. I’m not the guy to be anybody’s nursemaid.”
“No fooling?” Now the annoyance was winning. “Here I thought you’d be perfect in a little white dress and hat.”
“Fuck it. You need a distraction.”
“Yeah. No kidding. I figured on calling my—what the hell are you doing?” she demanded as he veered across three lanes of traffic and sailed down an exit ramp into the parking lot of the rest stop. She hadn’t even realized they’d reached one, but he screeched into a spot at the back of the lot right near a light.
And now he was whipping off his belt, shifting toward her, leaning across the seat, and—
“Stop.” She slammed her hand against his chest. “What are you doing?”
>
“Distraction, right?” His eyes were already focused on her mouth, and that wasn’t a bad thing. She couldn’t help licking her lips, and his low groan set off something primal inside her. A drumbeat every bit as stirring as the ones he played onstage. “This will do.”
“What, you’re going to fuck me into forgetting I’m an addict? Your penis is lovely, but I think you’re asking more of it than is fair.” He made a frustrated noise and she placed her finger over his lips. “Not like this.”
“That’s my line.”
“You’ll share, right?”
“Not the best at that.” He flicked his thumb over her damp lower lip, so quickly she barely felt his touch. “I wouldn’t share you.”
Her cheeks went hot. “Never got the feeling before that you thought about such things.”
“Sharing you?”
“Me, period.”
“Wrong.” His thumb made that same sweep again, except this time he lingered. “So wrong.”
She didn’t know if this line of conversation still fell under the distraction heading, but she was in too deep now to care. “Ever plan on, I don’t know, telling me?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm.” She nibbled on her lower lip, drawing the flesh between her teeth mainly to torture him a little bit. He made that same sound in his throat that vibrated between her thighs, and she sucked in a breath. “I suppose, if you wanted to, you could reciprocate last night.”
For the first time ever that she’d seen, an emotion like panic flashed in his eyes. “Not enough room.”
“Backseat’s plenty roomy, even for a big guy like you.” She trailed her fingertip up the side of his neck and his shoulders tightened. “Unless you’re just not that interested.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Then?”
He shifted on the seat, looking anywhere but at her. “That’s intimate.”
She frowned. “Umm, no more intimate than when I had your dick in my mouth.”
“Untrue.”
She sighed. “Never mind. Lady boner gone.”
He yanked the keys out of the ignition and stared at the main building that housed all the different eateries featured at the rest stop. “I’m hungry. You?”