But I rarely get what I want.
The sound of a card-key in the door acts as a cold shower on his ardor. As the door opens, Will’s body lifts off mine to sit up. I’m not as quick as him. Chandler walks in just as I rise too. It’s obvious what we’ve been doing what with me still on the floor and Will’s hair disheveled, but Chandler’s stony expression doesn’t change. The man still doesn’t forgive me for playing the part of Helen of Troy in the war between Oliver and Will. They called a truce but it still weighs heavy on is all.
“I, um, fell,” Will says.
I give a little wave. “Me too.”
Chandler rolls his eyes. “I need to pack. Wolfe and Rush are accompanying mobile command and the prisoner to Montana. She’s in the cell now.”
It takes effort, but Will finds his shaking feet. “Oh.”
I stand too. “Is she awake?” I ask as I pull down my bunched up sweater.
“Yes, but we sedated her for the trip.”
“Is everyone else back?” Will asks.
“I brought Oliver with me and took the liberty of alerting the airfield. Wheels up in an hour.”
“Very good. Thank you for, uh, taking charge while I was…incapacitated,” Will says.
Will and I exchange a guilty glance which garners another eye roll from Chandler. “I’m gonna go check on Nancy, I guess,” I say. Not looking at either one, I walk out. “See you, uh, both on the, uh, plane.”
I shut the door and stand with my back against it for a moment, savoring the sensations still jangling through me. I touch my lips, still feeling his against them, still tasting him. The biggest smile I’ve ever had forms on my face. The smile of a victor. K.O., Bea.
Ya got him.
Chapter Two
Happy Birthday To Me
As usual, Nancy insists on sitting beside me on the plane, so I can’t sit next to Will. Though I doubt I could have regardless, not with his new chaperone blocking me at every move. Chandler wouldn’t leave his side. Not on the way out of the hotel, not in the car, and not on the plane. If I got too close, I’d be treated to a dirty look. The man gives rather frightening stink eye. Good on perps and psychokinetics alike. One would think I had spit in his face. Not that Will or anyone else noticed. Will refused to look my way and fell asleep on the plane before takeoff. I passed out a few minutes later.
The situation does not improve when we land. We exit the plane, he ignores me. We drive to the mansion, he pretends to sleep. We arrive home, he hangs back so he doesn’t have to walk to his room near me. Thank goodness exhaustion prevents me from caring too much. I barely have enough energy to put on my pajamas before crawling into bed.
I awake from a dreamless sleep in my cloud of a bed around eleven, and the first thought that pops into my head is of me rolling around on the floor with Will. The second is, “Oh, crap. It’s my birthday.” But I push the negative away to focus on the memory of those kisses. His taste, his smell, his feverish body pressed against mine as he pinned me to the floor. Oh man can that man kiss. And if stupid Chandler hadn’t shown up, I bet I’d be re-playing something more X-rated. I let my imagination stroll down Smut Street anyway. It is my birthday after all.
After a shower, various painful beauty necessities, a careful blow-dry, and make-up application, I carefully choose my clothes. Will falls more on the Madonna spectrum than whore, so I put on my black and pink swirled knee length dress with bell sleeves and black leggings. Adorable. He won’t be able to resist me. I hope.
As I apply my lipstick, there’s a knock on the door. My heart skips a beat. It’s him! I check myself one last time in the mirror—for once happy with what I see—and hurry to the door. But my smile vanishes the moment I see Chandler waiting in the hall holding a brown package with envelopes on top.
“Oh, hello,” I say.
He hands me the box. “This came for you when we were in Virginia.”
It’s from Nana. “Thank you.”
I’m about to shut the door when Chandler asks, “May I come in?”
This can’t be good. “I…can’t think of a reason why not.” I move to let him pass.
I’m pretty sure this is unprecedented, him being on this floor. The agents have their own apartments in town, so there’s really no reason for them to leave the ground floor. And yet, here he is. The man dislikes me to the point of visible contempt, so why would he volunteer to bring up my mail? Chandler, a former recon Marine, stands with his back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind his back. I suppose he’s a good looking man with hawk like features, olive skin, and expensive hair cut. Even now he’s in a crisp suit with gun clipped on his hip. Uptight is not a turn on.
“It’s your birthday?” he asks as I set the package down on my desk.
“Yeah.”
“Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks.” I fold my arms across my chest. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I wanted to speak to you about Will.”
Here we go. “What about him?”
“Normally, I don’t get involved in the personal lives of my co-workers.”
“And I’m sure they appreciate that,” I cut in.
His nose crinkles with displeasure. “Yes. And I preface what I’m about to say by acknowledging the fact your tactical, defensive, and offensive abilities are for the most part impressive. You are an asset in the field. Under other circumstances, I would be proud to serve with you.”
“I feel a massive ‘but’ coming on.”
He nods. “But I cannot ignore the fact that since your arrival, you have brought unneeded and unwelcome strife to our team. Whether it was intentional or not remains beside the point. The fact is due to your presence, the team fractured. We weren’t as effective at our jobs as we should have been, and I just thank God the rift didn’t cost any civilians their lives. And it should also be noted, during the time you were away recovering, things returned to the status quo.”
“I’m not quitting if that’s what you’re not so subtly hinting at.”
“It’s not. I just see a potential problem, and I feel it’s my duty to defuse it before it blows up in all our faces.”
“Cut to the chase, please,” I snap.
“Fine. I have worked with Will Price for five years. I even consider him a friend. Until your arrival, he was driven. Confident. A capable leader who saved my life a dozen times over. And in the last two months, that man returned to us.”
“Since I was out of the picture,” I say.
“He told me what transpired between the two of you. All of it. From your first meeting, your declaration at Christmas, even last night. And I am worried to say the least. We can’t take another split, especially so soon after the first.”
“And you want what from me?” I ask, no longer hiding my anger.
“I want you to think before you act. I want you to put the needs of your team, the lives of the people we save, ahead of yours.”
I hold up my hands. “Now, wait a minute. If I remember correctly, I was not the one who started the war. It was Will and Oliver with you adding fuel to the fire. I was just caught in the middle. And it was all because your friend got jealous and pig headed about some imaginary love affair I was supposedly having. And they’ve settled that.”
“For now. But what do you think will happen if you and Will do become romantically involved? I’m the first to admit I don’t like Oliver. I never have. He’s arrogant, rebellious, and damn selfish. He hates Will as much as Will hates him. I don’t know if it’s a vampire/werewolf thing or what, but it is a fact. And Oliver has an attachment to you I never thought he was capable of. What do you think he’ll do when he sees the two of you together?”
“He knows about my feelings for Will,” I counter.
“Knowing about a crush and having to watch the two of you as a couple are two very different things. If you think Will’s reaction was extreme, it will be like a match compared to the forest fire Oliver will reign down upon us.”
“Look,
I get where you’re coming from. You want to protect the team and your friend. I respect that. I do. But you aren’t giving any of us enough credit, especially Oliver. He would never do anything to hurt me or the team. He’s not the bogeyman everyone makes him out to be.”
“I knew this would be pointless,” Chandler says, shaking his head. “I knew you’d just deflect and make excuses. I can only hope Will has more sense than you.”
Without another word, he walks out, which is really good because I was about three seconds from tossing him through the door without the benefit of opening it first. The nerve! And on my birthday. Oh fudge it. I am twenty-seven years young, I look fabulous, I have presents to open, and I made out with my dream man last night. I will not let Mr. Gloom and Doom ruin this day for me. And I know just how to wipe away his bad juju. Presents.
I open the birthday cards from Brian, April and the kids, and the gang at the salon. April already got me a present before I left. A dark green teddy with black lace trim from Victoria’s Secret for what she calls my “grand seduction scene” with Will. I do look darn good in it. Sexy even. It covers all my trouble spots. Hope I’ll have an opportunity to wear it soon.
Inside the package Chandler brought are two smaller boxes and two cards. One is simply wrapped with a familiar Snoopy design, but the other has rich, shiny paper and cloth bow. I open the card on the Snoopy one first. It’s from Nana. Just “I love you, I miss you” written inside. My present is a black beret with matching gloves and scarf. All very useful in frigid Kansas. Then I open the second card. Of course. What a gentleman.
“Dearest, Beatrice,” it begins, written in flourished handwriting, “I do hope this reaches you. I understand you have since departed San Diego. We are much poorer for it. Regardless, may I wish you many happy returns on this joyous day. I hope you will enjoy your gift. It was exceedingly hard to come by. Think of me whilst you read it. Yours, Lord Connor McInnis.”
And what did he get me? A second edition of Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell. Also known as Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte. Charlotte is my favorite author. This book is over a hundred and fifty years old, incredibly rare and is probably worth thousands of dollars. He really shouldn’t have.
I’m not surprised by the grand gift though. Connor could give Machiavelli lessons on how to maintain a powerbase. I met the generous vampire around Christmas when he tried to force me into becoming his consort, the vampire term for concubine. I said no and threats and guns became involved. All pretty standard when dealing with vampires. My salvation came when Will convinced him we were madly in love, and threatened a werewolf war. Connor backed off. Sort of. Really, he just changed tactics. Carrots instead of sticks. Hence the extravagant present. And the kiss we shared in his Ferrari. And the flowers he sent every week while I recovered in San Diego. I’m sure he’d send them here if he knew the address. I haven’t seen him since the Christmas Eve kiss. I stayed true to Will despite the very enticing invitations he extended such as a trip to London and private New Year’s celebration on his yacht. That is how much I love Will. I really would have liked to have seen London though. Maybe for our honeymoon.
After cleaning up, checking myself in the mirror, and fluffing my hair, I step out of my room. My first stop is the kitchen where Andrew and Carl sit at the small circular wooden table enjoying brunch. Carl is in his early thirties with short black hair, non-descript features, and only a few inches on me. The first thing people notice about him, myself included, is the gloves. He never takes them off except maybe to shower. It’s not a fashion thing. If he touches a person or object, he can sense things about them. Thoughts, feelings, even images. Very useful in investigations. I have a similar trait, though not as strong. If a person has an intense emotion, I sense it. Makes it hard to be in big crowds.
His dining companion Andrew has been with the F.R.E.A.K.S. the second longest after thirty-year-old veteran Oliver. He’s in his early sixties with gray and black hair, dark brown skin, a kind face, and white eyes hidden behind square sunglasses. He’s blind, has been ever since he was a boy, but for some reason he can see ghosts like we do normal people. He can hear and talk to them as well. Sometimes I walk into a room and find him chatting to thin air. There are a lot of ghosts in this house.
“Happy Birthday,” Carl says as I stroll in.
“Thank you.” I prepare my favorite breakfast, Count Chocula cereal with a Pop Tart on the side. S'mores flavor this morning. Diabetes ahoy. “You guys just get up too?”
“No,” Andrew answers with his Louisiana drawl. “We had to buy your cake.”
“Chocolate with vanilla frosting?”
“Of course,” Carl says. “You told us five times.”
“What can I say? I take my cake very seriously,” I joke, joining them at the table.
“So, do you have any plans for the day?” Andrew asks.
“Oliver’s taking me to Wichita tonight to see Legally Blonde: the Musical.”
“That should be fun,” Carl says.
“Yeah. And I usually make a bowl of popcorn, shut off the lights, slip under the covers, and watch Gone with the Wind.” My mom and I started the tradition and I’ve kept it up all these years.
“I love that movie,” Andrew says.
“Me too.”
“Sounds like you have a full day,” Andrew says.
“What about you two?” I ask.
“Nothing special,” Carl says.
I take a bite of the Pop Tart. Oh, that’s yummy. And thinking of yummy… “Oh, have either of you seen Will today?” I ask.
“I think I saw him going down to the basement,” Carl says.
“Oh. Huh.”
We make chit chat for a few minutes, talking about the op last night, and my awesome present from Connor. After I promise to read Andrew a few poems, I clean up and skip off. They of course know where I’m off to in such a hurry. Helen Keller could.
There’s a hidden elevator to the two basements in the staircase. On the first level are Oliver’s bedroom, the conference room, and laboratory. The floor beneath it houses the firing range, gym, and Will’s moon cell. Curiosity brought me inside the cell once, and once was more than enough. It’s nothing but a 20X30 concrete room with metal cage filling most of the space. For the lucky person guarding him on the full moon there’s a couch, fridge, coffee pot, tranq gun, and magazines to kill time. The chemical smell with an undercurrent of urine adds nothing to the ambiance. And Will’s stuck in there every month.
I find the future prisoner already pumping iron in the gym. About five hundred pounds worth. Sweat dribbles off his forehead onto the floor, and his arms shake a little as he pushes the barbell up. He lowers it again, and then with even shakier arms, presses it up once more.
“Do you need a spotter?” I ask, concerned.
The bar clanks on its holder as Will racks it. He grabs the towel from the floor and wipes his face. The happy, lustful man I played tonsil hockey with last night has vanished. In his stead is the grumpy, obstinate jerk I spent months fighting with. I can tell that bastard’s back by the scowl and tense body. Great. Nothing can ever be easy, can it? “Looks like you’re feeling better,” I say.
“I am. Thank you,” he says, back as straight as a razor. “Sleep helped.”
“Good.”
And right on cue the uncomfortable silence begins. I think we’ve spent more time in one of these traps than actually talking. He breaks it first. “Did…you sleep well?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He moves to the rowing machine and locks his feet in the apparatus. His back is to me now, which I’m fairly sure was intentional. This is what he always does. We get close, he freaks, I confront him, we fight, we forgive, and the cycle begins anew. There has to be a way to break the loop. It just makes me frustrated and dizzy.
I slowly saunter around him until I’m within his eye line. “How long have you been down here?”
He starts rowing, making it a point not to look at me. “Ha
lf an hour.”
I sit down Indian style right in front of him. “Having fun?”
“Yes,” he says gruffly.
“So, are you going to spend all day down here?”
“That’s the plan.”
“What about my birthday present?”
“What?”
“The lock picking lesson. Remember? You promised to teach me right before you kissed me.”
His jaw sets. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“But it’s my birthday present. I want to learn to pick a lock. No, I need to know. If I had known how to, maybe I would have gotten out of those handcuffs and that cabin a lot sooner. All that…stuff might not have happened.” I pause for a moment as he rows harder. “Come on. It’ll keep your mind off things. And you promised.” He didn’t really promise, but I’m hoping he forgot everything before the kissing. I fake pout. “I thought you were a man of your word.”
Will stops rowing, looks up, and glares at me. I smile back brightly. I knew that’d work. He is a man of honor. “I don’t want to talk about last night.”
“Okay. Cross my heart.”
“I have to get my tools.” He climbs off the machine and stands.
“I’ll go with you,” I say, rising too.
“Why?”
“We can’t practice down here. There are no locks,” I point out. “We can use one of our doors. They both open with keys. And I have a pair of handcuffs in my room too. Come on.” I walk out first, and he follows a few feet behind. On the elevator he practically hugs the wall, that scowl never wavering. “Will you please stop making that face? You’d think I was leading you to a firing squad.”
His mouth loosens a tad. “Sorry.”
The elevator doors open. “So, your room or mine?” I ask nonchalantly.
“Mine.”
We start up the stairs, him behind me again. “Good. Mine’s a mess. I didn’t clean up the wrapping paper from Connor’s gift yet.”
High Moon (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 4) Page 3