Suds and Sam

by Stella Marie Alden

  “What if someone needs to find him?”

  “She shouldn’t hold her breath, that’s all I’m sayin’. You’re smart. Follow the money, bella. Surely, you learned something working for the Feds.”

  “True, but I need a breadcrumb. I have no idea who wanted Sylvia Bannerman dead.”

  He grins and opens up his phone to a camera shot of his yellow cat playing on what seems to be a tree limb inside in a huge room filled with cat toys. “This is my Kitty-cam. Thanks for bringing her home.”

  He hands me two, crisp, one hundred dollar bills. “Go out to dinner on me.”

  The interview over, I take the money, and give him a hug. “Thanks, Frankie. Give my love to Chloe.”

  “If you change your mind about getting into the business, come and see me. I’ll give you some pointers.”

  “Thanks Frankie. I’ll just stick with my detective work for now.”

  “I’ll put the word out. Best damn cat-napper in the city.” As he laughs, I picture the new banner on my website and exhale deeply.

  Chapter 15

  Suds

  My phone rings and when I see Samantha’s callerID I calm the fuck down. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Her voice is almost drowned out by traffic in the background. No doubt she’s in full sight of anyone who might want her dead.

  “I had a chat with Frankie to see if he could help out with our case.”

  “Shit.” I resist the urge to give her hell. It’s better to ream her out in person.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I take a left, run the yellow light about to turn red, and head downtown. “I’m coming. Where are you?”

  “I’ll meet you in front of the Village Vanguard.”

  “Would you at least step inside?” I pray Frankie’s keeping an eye on her as I race down Seventh Avenue. Despite my best efforts, it takes me almost thirty minutes to get to her and when she waves, I let go the breath I was holding.

  She hops into the Patten SUV and smiles like she just had tea with the queen instead of a meetup with a hitman.

  And despite all that, my anger disappears. Damn, she’s like some kind of drug. When she gets close and I catch a whiff of her fresh scent, all I want to do is take her home and fuck her until she’s too tired to get into more trouble.

  “So, what did you learn from Frankie?” I clamp my hand on her knee, hoping my concern doesn’t show too much. If she knew I thought she couldn’t take care of herself, she wouldn’t give me the time of day.

  “Chloe is doing well.” She grins and waits for me to give an impatient grunt before continuing. “Oh, you mean about the Bannerman case.”

  “Sam…” My voice grows tight. After worrying about her for hours, my patience is wearing thin.

  “Okay, jeesh. He said to follow the money, specifically around the murder weapon.” Her pretty brown eyes flick over at mine when I stop at the next light.

  “Shit. That was it?”

  Holding back some lie, she nods. “Let’s go back to the office. I want to start researching right away. I must have missed something…. By the way, how is the congressman?”

  “Devastated. He thinks he’s going to be convicted. I got to admit, he looks guilty as sin.”

  “How come you got pulled from guarding him?” She opens her purse pulls out a ball of yarn, and starts to jab a little hook in and out of a circle.

  I want to tell her Slate was worried about her but figure it will not fly well. “Slate wants us to focus on helping his defense team get him off.”

  “I think-” Her phone rings and she puts it to her ear. “Hey, Dad.”

  Then, her face drops. “No, no. I understand. Thanks for letting me know. Me, too. Bye.”

  I glance over waiting as she gives the bad news. “They couldn’t trace the bullet in your car. You can go pick it up, anytime.”

  “Not surprised.”

  “Yeah, me neither. But I was hoping for a break.”

  “You still don’t think it was Frankie’s ex?”

  “Nah, my cousins say she hated the cat and was glad to be rid of it. It must have something to do with Bannerman’s murder. Do you think we’re getting too close? Or perhaps, they were aiming for you? You probably have plenty of enemies. Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out quite like that.”

  I grimace because she’s right. I got plenty of folks wanting me dead.

  “We need to keep off the streets until we think this thing through. By we, I mean you and me. And by streets, I mean you are going to hole up inside your house.”

  She nods rapidly. “As long as we figure it out before morning. I have to be at work early.”

  “Call in sick.” I grip the wheel.

  “No can do. I’m barely making ends meet as it is.”

  My temper, explodes. “Fuck it all, Samantha. Someone tried to kill you last night. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Her eyes widen and her mouth turns down. “I know that. You don’t have to yell.”

  “Well, yeah, I do! Because talking rationally to you doesn’t seem to work.” I race up Eighth Avenue, needing to get her inside the office where we got plenty of security and where she was supposed to stay put.

  “No one in their right mind would try anything in my neighborhood.”

  “They did last night.”

  “That was Bayonne.”

  “Fine.” I give her a stony stare.

  “Fine.”

  If I could, I’d put her over my knee and spank her but she’s probably right. Her neighborhood, because of its affiliations, is one of the safest in the city. No one messes with Vinny’s family.

  As we enter Patten Securities, we’re still not talking and go to our respective cubes and plug in our computers.

  After an hour or so, she sighs, walks over to my cube, and leads me back to hers. “Frankie told me someone put a hit out on Bannerman’s wife.”

  Finally, the truth. “Did he say who?”

  “Nope. Just they weren’t paying top dollar and hired cheap labor.”

  “So we need to find the hit man, is that it?” When I try to catch her gaze she looks away.

  “Not quite. He might’ve also mentioned we shouldn’t waste our time looking for his remains.”

  “Hmmm.” I straddle a chair and sit, looking into her double monitors. “So someone wanted her dead. She must have some enemies. Did you check all her credit cards and back accounts?”

  “Jason did. Unless… Her maiden name?” She starts typing and a picture of a much younger woman pops onto her screen. “Adams. Sylvia Adams.”

  “Oh my God. Look here.” She calls up an online account with several payments of ten thousand dollars to an individual in DC. “He’s an activist, specializing in environmental protection.”

  “We need to talk to him.”

  When he doesn’t take our call, I decide it’s time for a field trip.

  ***

  No longer fighting but not exactly chummy we arrive in the nation’s capital around midnight. During the drive, Sam convinces Rose to tell Aunt Marion, that her being shot at has been so traumatizing she needs a day off. A few hours later, Mia texts how she lit a candle and is praying for our safe return.

  Better she send prayers I don’t need sleep.

  Now, at the front desk of the hotel where we first made love, Sam’s hand reaches out for a hotel card and after paying, I place one in her palm. She probably wonders if we’re staying in separate rooms. I had considered it but until we find out who fired those bullets, I’ll take the lesser of two evils.

  She sticks her card into the door, a little LED turns green, and the lock clicks. Then, I follow her and flop onto one of the double beds.

  Her brows raise. “We’re sharing this room?”

  “You have a problem with that?” I place my hand behind my head and capture those big brown eyes with mine.

  “Do you share a room with all your coworkers?”

  “Nope. Only you.”

/>   She ponders for a moment, disappears into the bathroom, and when she returns, she blurts out. “Are we having sex?”

  Not liking her tone, I decide Slate is probably right about fucking her while on the job.

  “Absolutely not. We’ve had revenge-sex and glad-I-didn’t-die-sex. I don’t think working-a-case-together-sex is a good idea.” I just wish I could convince my cock to agree.

  After putting my computer on the small desk, I motion her over, my tone all business. “While we were on the road, Slate had Jason look up the guy Sylvia made payments to. Apparently, she was passionate about safe chemicals for lawn care and there’s currently a bill on the senate floor.”

  “Agro-grow?” She stands behind me and points at my screen. “Who’s that?”

  “They’re a billion dollar chemical lawn-care company. They import most of their products from China.”

  “Wow, now that’s a motive. Still, can we tie them to her murder?”

  “Not sure.” I turn and catch her gazing at me with heat.

  Damn. I promised Slate and myself I would behave. Still, after being with her all day, then in the car, I’m reaching the end of my self-control. I should’ve purchased a second room with an adjoining door but I kept thinking of the bullet in Bayonne.

  What if it hit her?

  Without warning, our door handle rattles, the door starts to open. I hadn’t turned the bolt lock but at least the chain is on.

  I throw her to the floor and hold my breath, waiting, with my weapon pointed toward the noise.

  Zipth-zipth. Two silencer shots fire into our mattress, footsteps pound, and another door slams. I jump up, bolt to the hall, and look up and down.

  “Shit.” I check the stairs, elevator, and laundry room before returning back to Sam.

  “Shouldn’t we call security?”

  “Yeah, but whoever it was covered his or her tracks.” I point up at the hall cameras and she pales.

  “Is that paint?”

  My hand finds hers, we interlace fingers, and I lead her back into the room. “They’ve upped their game and want us to know.”

  “A warning?” Her eyes search my face, needing reassurance so I give it.

  “I’m guessing.”

  “We should change rooms.” She stares at the holes in the comforter and shudders.

  “We could but I’m not sure we’ll be any safer. We’ll sure as hell get less sleep.”

  “Yeah, but I bet we can negotiate for one of their best rooms. And, well. We’ve already decided almost-getting-shot-sex is perfectly okay.” The sly smile she gives me is the only green light I need.

  That’s my girl.

  Three hours later, we’re drinking champagne on the top floor in one of the newlywed suites. The police have come and gone and promised to leave someone in the hall. The adrenaline high is gone, leaving me in need of a few hours of sleep but I don’t dare.

  “I’ll keep watch. You sleep.”

  She looks disappointed but I can’t risk it. “No, sugar. Too dangerous.”

  “Will you just hold me? You may be used to getting shot at… but it’s a little unnerving.”

  I have no idea how I’m supposed to hold her close and not make love with her but idiot that I am, I agree.

  She slides out of her clothes and crawls under the covers, naked.

  Fuck me. I am so fucked. “Darlin’, Slate pretty much told me you are off limits.”

  “What happens in DC stays in DC?”

  Ah shit. I slip out of my boots, my holster, and drop the rest of my clothes on the floor. Then, I pull off the covers so I can see every inch of her.

  When she blushes, I can’t help but ask. “When did you go all shy on me?”

  “Every time before, you turned down the lights.”

  “Maybe I want to see more, from now on.”

  “There can’t be more. You said so, yourself.”

  “How about we stop fooling ourselves and admit we find each other irresistible.” I climb in next to her, my appendage swelling.

  “That’s a pretty strong statement.” She slides into my open arms and kisses my neck. “Maybe it’s this room, the environment.”

  “No, don’t say it… Newlywed Suite Syndrome?”

  She giggles. “NSS? That came from your mouth, not mine.”

  “C’mere you.” I kiss her smart mouth and pull her into my hard want, craving her all day.

  She’s as hungry as me and claims my mouth, her hands clamped behind my neck,

  Moaning, I roll onto my back and drag her up my body. I want to feel every inch of her against me. I can’t resist her scent, her skin, and her damn mouth. It doesn’t matter what Slate wants or who might kill me for fucking her, I need to be inside her.

  Her knees tucked at my side, she sits on her heels, my cock right in front of her, standing tall. She grips me with both hands, and kisses my tip while her hair tickles my chest. Then, she leans over more and sucks me off until I’m about ready to blast into her mouth.

  I’ve been thinking of her tight pussy all day so I gently put an index finger between her lips, reduce the pressure, and with a pop, she releases.

  Groaning, I lift her high, place myself at her opening, and she’s so slick, I impale her to the bone. Her eyes rolls back, her chest thrusts forward, and she begins to ride.

  Oh fuck. Foreplay is out of the question. We both have this insatiable hunger driving us on. Two starving souls, we connect on a primal level that transcends thought.

  Every time she lowers, her boobs bounce, and my swollen length grows harder. I arch up, slamming into her urging her faster, her hot liquid honey dripping onto the base of my length.

  “Darlin’, you’re going to be the death of me.” I pull out completely, turn her onto her back, and thrust into her, mindlessly.

  Her legs wrap around my waist and damn, when she bites my shoulder, I won’t last much longer. I put a finger to her hot nub, circle around until she screams and cums.

  Her voice triggers a nerve in the center of my back, my butt muscles clench, and my release is both agony and delight. Rockets go off behind my eyelids as her body milks me of every last brain cell.

  When she crawls up my chest, I wipe a sweaty lock away from her face and kiss her forehead.

  She’s too sleepy to baptize this sex with a new name which is okay by me. It’s high time we started calling what we got a relationship or a thing, or whatever.

  Unaware of how tired I am, I drift off and wake in the desert with bullets flying. Some remote part of my brain registers this might not be real but when you’re about to get killed, it’s not a great time to pause and reflect.

  Someone hops into my hiding place, grabs my shoulders, and shouts. I search for my knife but for some reason, I’m barefoot so put my fingers around his neck. I am not dying tonight, motherfucker.

  A woman screams.

  Huh?

  The scenery changes and it’s light, not dark. It’s a hotel, not a hole in the dirt, and my hands are around the throat of a terrified angel.

  “Fuck!” I jump off the bed and onto the other with my arms in the air, touching the ceiling.

  Shit, shit, shit. How had I let myself fall asleep?

  Eyes wary, Sam rubs her neck and backs up slowly into the bathroom,

  “I’m awake now. Y’all don’t have to worry none.” My heart pounds in my chest, the unneeded adrenaline no place else to go.

  “PTSD?” She asks in a whisper, like you might with a crazy person.

  I grab my underwear and pants. “Yeah. Something like that. I’m real sorry. I didn’t think I’d fall asleep.”

  Shit. I fucking ruined everything. “Listen, I’ll just ah, wait outside in the hallway. You go on and go back to sleep.”

  “You are kidding, right? You almost killed me.” When she touches the red area again, I place the hard pads of my palms into my eyes to hold back what might be tears.

  It’s been so long since I cried, I’m not sure what all is going on. After I
finish dressing, I open the door, walk out into the hall and slide my ass against the wall until it hits the carpet. Then, with my face to my thighs, I wait for the fucking pain to subside.

  A few minutes later, the door cracks open and Sam hands me a black coffee from the shitty little maker they put in hotel rooms.

  “You’ll have to share with me, they only gave us one pack.” She sits cross-legged in the hall with me and interlaces her fingers with mine.

  “How long you been like this?”

  I chuckle bitterly. “Stupid? Forever.”

  Soft lips kiss the side of my face but I dare not look up because I never want to see that fear there again.

  “No, Suds. How long have you had nightmares waking you up like that?”

  I shrug. “My last tour was rough. IED. Only me and Lucky survived.”

  I picture all my brothers’ dead bodies on the sand and shudder. “Like I said, I’m real sorry. It won’t happen again.” Thank God I didn’t fall asleep with my boots on. God knows what might’ve happened.

  “You ever seen anyone for it?”

  “What? Like a shrink?”

  “Yeah, exactly like.”

  “No.” I say it loud enough and with enough attitude so she knows it’s not up for discussion.

  First off, I’m not a nutcase. Secondly, Slate would need to lay me off, and thirdly, well, whatever it is, it’s probably a very good reason, too.

  She sighs, sounding resigned and I know we’re through, which sucks because I was pretty sure she was the one.

  “Let’s have some breakfast then go interview this lobbyist.” She gives me a tight smile.

  “Copy that.”

  Chapter 16

  Sam

  Suds stares vacantly in the elevator’s mirror as we make our way to the lobby. He won’t meet my gaze, take my hand, or even touch thighs.

  After what we shared last night, the lack of physical contact breaks my heart. Sure, I’ve only been in New York less than a week but in that time I’ve come to know him. Maybe I should be scared but I’m not. I knew he’d wake up. And, now I’m over the shock, I’m fine, except for some soreness around my neck.