by Penny Reid
“Well, where do I begin…?” I said, and wiped at my eyes. “I’m sorry to tell you, Thomas. I won’t be sending any more patients your way.”
His eyes were bright and merry as he responded. “Oh? Why is that? Are you swearing off men?”
I shook my head. “Yes and no. I’m with Alex now.”
“Alex? The young man?” His eyes lost some of their brightness, and he looked a bit worried. “You know, Sandra, Shirra has known him since childhood. He’s a few years younger than her.”
“I know. He told me. He’s twenty-one.”
“Yes, well….” Thomas cleared his throat again. “She seems to be fond of him in a sisterly sort of way, but he’s had some trouble with the law.”
“I know, he told me. He’s a genius computer hacker wanted by the NSA.”
Thomas stiffened then frowned. “I see. And given all of this, you still think continuing a relationship with him is wise?”
“I don’t know how wise it is, but for the first time in my life, I don’t care.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I love him, and I want to have his babies. It’s all I can think about.”
Thomas’s eyes narrowed as though deep in thought, and he searched my features. His frown mellowed into a small smile. “And no crying?”
I shook my head. “Nope, no crying. I’ve cried, but he hasn’t.”
“Hmm….”
We stared at each other for a long moment, sharing a smile. The waitress returned, bringing all three plates of food.
As soon as she departed, he said, “Diagnosis?” And I knew he was referring to me.
Therefore, I responded, “Completely pathological.”
“Prognosis?”
“Not good.”
“Treatment?”
“Institutionalization…cohabitation…marriage.”
“Marriage?” He sounded and looked shocked.
I nodded.
“Huh.” Thomas glanced at my left hand. His eyes widened. “Goodness.” His mouth tugged to the side, his gaze filled with wonder, and he said, “Well, perhaps I’ll join you.”
CHAPTER 30
Tuesday Horoscope: Your happily ever after begins today, as long as you remember there is no such thing as happily ever after.
I WAS KNITTING a swatch for a sweater. It was my seventh attempt. I was on my seventh attempt because I was allowing my mood to be dictated by the absence of my husband.
A week had passed with very little in the way of information from Quinn.
To that I continued to say, Boo-o-o and hiss-s-s!
My friends were doing their best to be supportive. Elizabeth and Nico had me over twice. Fiona invited me for the day on Sunday; we played with her kids and that was wonderful. She had cute kids. Also, her husband Greg happened to be back from one of his months-long trips. He was the funniest, most sarcastic man in the known universe. That was also wonderful.
Marie, Ashley, and Kat took me out shopping and we went back to Marie’s place for a home-cooked meal. Ashley wouldn’t let me go pee while we were out, as she wanted me to test her no-pee-purchase hypothesis. I had to tackle her at one point in the public restroom.
Also, they snuggled with me on Marie’s woefully small couch. I craved the physical comfort. It helped my mental stability.
I loved my friends.
Presently, we were in Cloud City, which I’d just decided to start moving into. I figured that, since Alex now worked for Quinn and Quinn was keen on maintaining that relationship, the apartment was fair game—even if it took begging, borrowing, and stealing.
Elizabeth was snuggled up next to me. I wondered if she’d guessed my secret addiction to sharing a friend’s warmth. Regardless, I welcomed it.
Knit night was strangely silent, and I wasn’t the only one sighing. Janie missed Quinn. I missed Alex. Marie was still recovering from her break-up. And Ashley was just acting weirder— more grumpy and argumentative—than usual.
“Well, someone needs to make cocktails. If we’re going to be depressed, then we might as well be on depressants.” Ashley’s voice was monotone, her attention entirely focused on a blue sock she was knitting at breakneck speed.
Janie perked up. “I could go upstairs and get the stuff to make lemon drops.”
“How about margaritas? Today feels like a tequila kind of day.” Elizabeth set her knit object to the side, prepared to help Janie with the task.
“Sure.” Janie nodded and glanced at me. “You want to come?”
I sighed, again. It was probably driving everyone crazy. “Nah. I’ve got a good butt groove going on in this couch. By the way, can I keep it? The couch? When we move all our stuff in?”
Janie shrugged. “Sure, if you want it. Quinn furnishes all the empty apartments just in case a new employee is coming in from out of town.”
“I love that Quinn’s employment package includes a luxury downtown apartment overlooking Grant Park.” Marie laughed. “Why would anyone ever quit?”
Elizabeth sighed. “That’s the idea. He….” Elizabeth abruptly ceased speaking, stood straighter, and glanced over her shoulder. “Did anyone hear that?”
We all held still, sharing shifty eyes. After a long minute of hearing nothing, I heard the unmistakable sound of the apartment door opening.
I bolted to my feet, threw elbows in all directions, leapt over furniture, and clamored against the imaginary crowd within my head in order to reach the front door.
And like a manlicious oasis of magnificence, he was there.
I rushed to him, not caring that Quinn was behind him and might get knocked around a bit, and jumped into his arms. The next thing I did was cover his face with kisses. And then I started tugging at his clothes.
“Whoa!” Quinn intervened, stepping past us and into the apartment. “Can we at least get out of the hallway?”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Janie came running past me and tackled him to the ground.
She covered his face with kisses and tugged at his clothes.
***
EVERYONE WELCOMED ALEX back—which warmed my heart to see—and Alex appeared to be a bit overwhelmed by the attention. They’d transferred their love for me to him, accepting my guy as part of our weird, dysfunctional group of loons.
Elizabeth, tactfully, suggested that everyone move upstairs to her place, which would give Alex and me privacy, and Janie and Quinn some alone time at their place.
They cleared out in record time, and I made promises to keep lunch dates, coffee breaks, and breakfasts already planned for the week.
Quinn loitered, though his arms were around Janie like he had plans to keep her with him always. He waited until the last of the knitting group left before leveling me with his glacial glare.
“Make sure he’s at the office in two weeks. No tricks.”
I glanced innocently between Alex—who was suppressing a smile—and Quinn—who was not suppressing a smile.
“What happened? Did it work? Are they satisfied?” I addressed my questions to both of them.
Quinn grumbled something indecipherable in response.
“What was that?” I asked, and my gaze flickered to Alex. His head was bowed, his expression now completely hidden.
“Not exactly,” Quinn growled, then he glared at Alex. “You want to tell them what you did?”
“Oh, tell us what you did!” Janie didn’t try to disguise her excitement.
My attention shifted to Alex, and I was surprised, as he lifted his head, by his smug expression. “I did exactly what they asked me to do—no more, no less.”
Quinn rolled his eyes, but I detected a hint of admiration or even pride in the slight curve of his mouth. Abruptly, he turned from us both, tugging Janie behind him, and stalked to the entranceway. He called over his shoulder. “I’ll expect you in two weeks.” Then the door closed, announcing their departure.
I glanced back to Alex. “What happened?”
He shrugged as he sauntered
over to where I stood next to the bay window. “They gave me the accounts. Once I was satisfied that they belonged to actual bad guys, I swept the bitcoins.”
“What kind of bad guys were they?”
“Human traffickers, terrorists.” He appeared to be lost in his thoughts, and when he next spoke, I wondered if he were talking to me or to himself. “It was actually good—really good. If I’d known a compromise was possible, that I could negotiate with them, I would have done this years ago.”
“So Quinn helped?” I prompted gently.
His eyes refocused on me. “Yeah. He did. He speaks my language, and theirs. I still don’t trust them, but I think we’ve build a tentative understanding that should work to everyone’s advantage.”
I gave him a small smile. He sounded so reasonable and levelheaded. “And you didn’t have to give them the skeleton key?”
“No.” He shook his head, looking very pleased. “The key is safe, and bitcoins will endure.”
“So why did Quinn roll his eyes?”
“Because….” Alex’s gaze moved over me, my body, with such simmering appreciation and desire that I had to cross my arms over my chest to hide the effect.
“Alex. Tell me what happened.”
He twisted his lips to the side and closed the remaining distance between us with his lovely careless swagger. “When Agent Bell gave me the instructions, she said to move all the bitcoins, but she didn’t specify what percentage of the swept bitcoins she wanted deposited into the NSA black ops account.”
“What do you mean?” I blinked at him, his hands sliding into place on my waist. “You just said she told you to sweep all the bitcoins.”
“Yeah.” He nodded vaguely. “She did say that. But bitcoins can be parceled into fractions. I did as she asked—I put a percentage of all the bitcoins into the account. I just didn’t put all of the bitcoins into the account.” He bent his head to my neck and kissed my throat.
It felt nice…verra, verra nice. But I still wanted to know exactly what happened.
I placed my hands on his chest and shifted a little away so he would have to look at me. “What do you mean? And use plain English. What exactly did you do?”
He glanced at the bay window beside us. “Of the two hundred million dollars, I put two percent of each bitcoin into the NSA account.”
“Oh, my god. Alex. Where did you put the rest of the money?”
“I also put two percent of each bitcoin into an NRA donation account.”
“The NRA? You mean the National Rifle Association?”
He shrugged, though his eyes dipped to my lips. “Yes. And I also put two percent into an NAACP scholarship account.”
My mouth fell open. “So, let me get this straight. The National Security Agency black ops account shares a percentage of the same bitcoins also owned by the National Rifle Association and the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People?”
He nodded. “I also transferred two percent into an AARP account.”
“The American Association of Retired Persons?”
“That’s right.” He subtly shifted closer. “And I donated a half percent—of each coin—to the national Republican Party, the Libertarian Party, the Independent Party, and the national Democratic Party.”
I thought I might fall on the floor were it not for his hands and body encouraging me to press against him. He was crazy. There was no way—no way—the NSA would ever successfully confiscate any percentage of the bitcoins from even one of these organizations without creating an angry hornet’s nest of rhetoric and grandstanding from a lot of important people in Washington DC.
“So you divided the bitcoins among many of the loudest political players in the United States?”
He shook his head. “No. Just ten percent of each bitcoin went to the American political machinery.
“This is unbelievable.” I shook my head. “What did you do with the other ninety percent?”
“I divided it equally between the Boys and Girls Clubs of America, the National Endowment for the Arts, and Wikipedia.”
“You gave it to charity.”
Alex shrugged, but his hands grew restless and moved to cup my bottom.
“Charities that help underprivileged children and society as a whole.” I said it to the room.
His head dipped again, and this time, I felt his intentions as clearly as a steel pipe against my stomach.
Regardless, I tried to focus. “They have to be so angry. What happens if they try to get it back? Can they take it back?”
“In order to confiscate any of the distributed wealth—even from one organization—” Alex’s words were a hot whisper against my ear. “—the NSA has to have the cooperation of all groups.” I felt him smile against my skin. “I doubt they’ll be able to arrange that.”
I chuckled, despite my incredulousness. Then I laughed, loudly, and snorted—all while he backed me down the hall and into our bedroom. I tried to picture Agent Bell and her ponytail, or Agent Dumas trying to get the NRA, NAACP, AARP, GOP, and the National Democratic Party to give the NSA back their money.
It would never happen.
I stopped laughing when my calves hit the mattress and I tumbled backward onto the bed. Somehow, my shirt was off, as were his pants and boxers. He was hiking up my skirt and searching for the waistband of my leggings.
My eyes focused on his hands, then his face, then the monster I loved between his legs.
“Wait…Alex, wait, can we talk for a minute?” I made my request even as I lifted my bottom to assist with his dispensation of my tights and underwear.
“No.” He bit the inside of my thigh. “No more talking.” Alex paused to place wet kisses on my ribs where I was most ticklish. “I need your body.”
Oh. Okay. If he needs my body, then who am I to complain?
I arched against him, bowed my back, and flexed my legs. My hands beneath his shirt made ravenous work of grabbing and caressing all my favorite places on his torso—so basically every place.
He knelt above me, on his hands and knees, placing lingering wet kisses in a trail down my neck, to my chest. His hands told me they appreciated every curve and softness.
“Sandra,” he whispered.
I glanced down and saw only the top of his head. “Yes?”
He lifted his lips from my stomach and speared me with the blue heat in his eyes. “My name is Alex, and I’ll be serving you tonight.”
My mouth fell open and I nearly choked.
He grinned wickedly, sliding up my body. “And every night, from now on.”
I looked at him, lost in him, found in him. He was my remarkable, extraordinary, unbelievable Alex. Despite what he thought, he wasn’t broken. His missing pieces provided a home for my heart. And I knew—no matter what the future held—that life was good.
Epilogue
Meet Alex, Astrological Sign: Scorpio
“HOW MUCH IS IT?”
“Which one? That one?” the man asked. His nametag labeled him as Luke S.
“No.” I shook my head, hid my irritation, and pointed to the largest one in the case. “That one. The big one. How much does it cost?”
His eyes moved over me. I was counting; this was the seventh time he’d stopped to study me since I’d walked into the shop.
This was my last wedding errand for the day, and the most important.
When Sandra told her mom that she’d gotten married, I was impressed with how the woman handled the news. Her lack of reaction was noteworthy since Sandra and her parents got along so well, and Sandra was an only child. The two things her mother wanted to know was whether Sandra was happy and when they could meet me.
The second wedding had been my idea, and over the past two months, I’d often regretted the suggestion. What I thought would be a simple ceremony at the Chicago courthouse and a small party afterward at the Patels’s restaurant had become something altogether different.
Now we were going to have a “real” wedding, with a
minister, at a church, in Texas; and a reception on Sandra’s parents’ ranch, in a barn. I’d never been to a ranch before, so I bought a copy of Lonesome Dove two weeks ago and read it at work. It was a great book.
Luke S. scratched his elbow, then his ear. He frowned. “That one is really expensive.”
“I didn’t ask whether it was expensive,” I said.
He rolled his eyes and reached into the case, fiddled with the price tag. “It’s six thousand dollars.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take it.”
He didn’t move to retrieve my purchase as I fished through my messenger bag. He didn’t move until I pulled out the thick envelope of hundred dollar bills and began counting them.
Then he jumped. “In cash? You’re paying in cash? Now?”
I placed the first pile of ten hundreds on top of the glass case. “Does the six thousand include tax? Or is it six thousand, five hundred and fifty-five?”
“What?”
“Nine point two five percent sales tax.”
“Oh. Yes. I mean, no. It doesn’t include the tax. I’ll have to calculate that for you.”
I shrugged, ignored his slowness. He hadn’t picked up on the fact that I’d already calculated and stated the total inclusive of taxes.
The model was an original, 1978, large-scale replica of Darth Vader’s TIE fighter from Episode IV, A New Hope. I was going to assemble it. Then, I was going to put her new engagement ring inside it.
She had no idea.
Nico and Elizabeth had helped me pick out a ring a few weeks ago. I was starting to like them. This surprised me. But he was a good cook and, as far as I could tell, a nice person. Elizabeth was neurotic and bossy. However, her generosity, her seemingly altruistic desire to help people, and her biting sarcasm made up for the other defects in her personality.
“I need a bag,” I said. “If you have a vintage one with Star Wars on it, that’d be great.”
He was moving quickly now, retrieving the sealed Lego Star Wars model box from the case. He also glanced behind the counter, I assumed for the bag I’d just requested.