Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

“Show me what being your first priority means,” Stella said, waiting for him to finish undressing; she had already thrown his shirt on the floor.

  “I’m waiting for you to take my pants off,” he reminded her.

  “Oh, that I can do.”

  Stella answered her cell while she was reviewing legal authority for Colorado statutes allowing the consumption of marijuana if individuals have a prescription. Her hair was just getting long enough that she could put it back now, and she’d pulled it up in a messy bun over an hour ago. Stella slid her shoes off her feet and leaned back in her chair. She needed to prepare herself for the release of the statement to the press from Congresswoman Delaney. She’d been arrested for smoking a joint at a concert at the Red Rocks a few weeks back and Stella was spinning things, but she needed to make sure she was knowledgeable of the law.

  “Stella Murphy.”

  “Stella. So, I’m doing some digging and I want to make sure I give you as much information as possible so you know where we are with the investigation.” Agent Harris’ voice was full of something she couldn’t put her finger on.

  She hadn’t heard from him in a few days, only from Gunter, and she didn’t know if Agent Harris was aware that Jamie was back at the ATF or what. This ought to be interesting.

  “Have you found Jack?”

  “He’s back at ATF headquarters saying that you blew his cover in Montana and he’s been on the run since the day you guys flew there.” His tone was now full-on sardonic.

  “That’s total bullshit,” she retorted.

  “ATF bought it hook, line, and sinker.” He laughed. “I also heard why you were assigned to Montana in the first place. You interested?”

  “Sure,” she tried to appear nonchalant, but that question had ruled her thoughts when she first woke up in the hospital.

  “Well, the FBI agent that was in charge of the Montana office just happened to be in DC when they hired you for the lawyer position. He requested the really hot, young attorney that was just hired because you looked good in the black suit you wore to your interview.”

  All the breath left her body in a rush. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Harris laughed bitterly. “Oh, don’t act like you’re shocked you got a job because you’re pretty.”

  “I didn’t get my job because I was pretty. I’m a fucking attorney and I’m good at what I do.”

  “You were a graduate from law school who looked good in a blouse and a push-up bra,” Harris countered.

  “Fuck. You. Agent Harris.” Stella sounded confident, but she knew he was probably right. She did wear a black suit to her interview, but why would anyone remember that? Or it was a really good guess—a black suit is pretty typical.

  “Look, Stella,” Agent Harris sighed, “I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “Unfortunately, Agent Harris, this is my life. I know you might think I’m ‘playing at’ something, but I’m not. I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone.”

  He was silent.

  “Please tell me what I can do to help. I appreciate the security detail on my house, but you haven’t told me if you believe me and if you’d be interested in me testifying.”

  “I’m debating putting you in a safe house and finishing my investigation. Right now I don’t even know if I believe you’d be useful.”

  “You’re fucking kidding, right?” Stella couldn’t believe she was getting shit from the FBI agent—she was the one in danger. “I’m being threatened by him and you’re fucking with me?”

  “Let me do my job and you do yours distracting the media from politicians with their dick in their hand.”

  Stella’s real, obnoxious laugh burst out of her mouth.

  “So you agree?”

  “Let’s just say I see a lot of dicks in my line of work.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I Belong to the Hurricane

  Cooper was waiting for her by the door when she came in from the garage, tail swishing back and forth on the floor. “Hey, Coop,” she petted his head, “you need to get your hair did?” With all that had been going on, she’d forgotten to get his hair cut. She’d been neglecting the old boy a lot lately…

  The scent of sautéed mushrooms and onions wafted through the air and her stomach growled. She was surprised George was home already, though he’d been trying to be home when she got there for the past week because he was leaving tomorrow. She put her bags down and walked into the kitchen and slapped George’s ass, then grabbed it.

  “Hey, babe.”

  He leaned down and kissed her while stirring the mushrooms. While his hands were occupied, Stella unbuttoned his pants. “Hey.” He smiled.

  She shrugged. “What? You’re going to leave me soon and I won’t be able to do this.”

  George turned down the heat on the food. “I’ve got the steaks on the grill.”

  “Fuck the steaks.” Stella pulled George’s pants down to his ankles.

  “Fuck the steaks,” George agreed.

  They had a quickie—make that two quickies; he bent her over the arm of the couch and then they moved to the shower.

  Stella was toweling off when George came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m going to miss this.”

  “Me too,” she agreed. She pulled on a tank top and some shorts. “I’m starving,” she said, just realizing how ravenous she was and that she hadn’t eaten lunch.

  George trailed her down the stairs. He’d turned the grill off quickly in between sexual venues, but was more than ready for food now.

  “What do we have left?” she said, looking at the stove. The mushrooms and onions were done.

  “Well, the steak is well done. I have a salad in the fridge too.”

  “Perfect.” Stella pulled the salad out, then she set about making their plates and putting them on the bar. They sat next to each other, shoulders rubbing.

  “So what’re you going to do without me?” George asked, his mouth full of overcooked steak.

  “Work. Lots of work.” Stella let her mind wander to how she’d stay in the house without him. She put her hand on his thigh and squeezed it.

  “Let’s talk about plans.”

  “Plans?” she said, her mouth full of salad. Stella took a swig of the beer he’d poured for them earlier. It was warm.

  “You know, with Jamie. I hate to leave you here. I won’t be here to protect you.”

  Stella tried not to choke on the steak in her mouth. “I have an FBI detail on the house and cameras following me around. I think I’ll be fine.” She honestly wasn’t worried about George not being there to protect her, but she was going to miss him. Stella needed his presence in her life; it centered her, gave her hope that something good may happen to her, has happened to her.

  “I’d feel better if I was here.” He used his steak knife to point toward the street in front of the house. “They can’t be everywhere.”

  “George, give me a fucking break. You don’t follow me everywhere. If Jamie wants to kill me, he will.” She carefully put mushrooms and onions on top of a piece of steak and then shoved it in her mouth. “I rather like it that you won’t be around during all this madness.” She chewed consciously. “At least you can be somewhat normal.”

  He put his silverware down deliberately and looked into the kitchen opposite where Stella sat. She could feel the anger roll off him. He stood up suddenly, knocking his barstool to the floor, making a loud noise that filled the entire house. Stella jumped in surprise. Cooper bounded across the floor and sat in front of Stella protectively.

  “What’re we doing?” he exploded. He yelled from a couple of feet away, but his voice rang in her ears. “What the fuck are we doing here? Are you just playing house with me? If you can’t trust me with this, then what are we even doing together?” Frustrated, he picked up another barstool and threw it across the den, knocking a lamp down in the process. The room darkened with the loss of the lamp’s light.


  Stella didn’t react to George’s temper tantrum. She stayed seated and worked on cutting another piece of steak. “We’re loving each other, George. This is how I’m loving you. I want to protect you. I want to build some sort of storm cellar and keep you there so that you’ll be safe during all this madness. I’m poisonous. I destroy everything I touch. Don’t you see that?” She paused to take a breath. “Everywhere I go, people get hurt. I can’t have him hurt you.” Her voice remained calm, but inside she was turned inside out. She wouldn’t survive if Jamie hurt George—it was the only thing she knew with absolute certainty. So for her, this was a weird sort of self-protection.

  George began pacing the length of the den. “No!” He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to be loved like that. I don’t need your fucking protection!” Sighing, he stopped pacing and walked back to her, forcing his way in between her legs. He cradled her face with both of his hands. She breathed in his scent, minty and mixed with the smell of Finnegan’s. “I want to be in the eye of the storm, holding your hand, and if you get sucked into it, I want to go with you.”

  She shook her head, still cradled in his hands. “Let’s not fight when you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to fight. I’m going to fight for you. You need to remember that.” He held her head firm and stared intently into her deep green eyes.

  “It’s not to supposed to be this hard.” She put her head on his forehead.

  His hands tangled in her still-wet hair. “El,” he stepped back and looked her directly in the eyes again, “if you don’t have to work for something, it’s usually not worth shit.”

  She was silent. She hadn’t meant her relationship with George, she meant everything. Jamie…life. Everything was so fucking hard. She knew she’d never have easy, but fuck, she’d take relatively difficult at this point.

  “I hope I’m worth the fight,” he whispered into her ear, then turned abruptly and went upstairs.

  George’s last night at their house before he left for the campaign trail was painful. They slept in the same bed, but were miles apart. He stared into the darkness of his closet for hours and thought of all the things that could go wrong. George turned over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his body.

  “I love you,” he whispered into her ear.

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  She turned so that they were face to face. “I know.” She smirked with her eyes still closed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, opening her eyes. She could hardly see him, but she could make out the outline of his face.

  “For what, Love?”

  “For me. I’m just so lost, George. You’re my only sure thing. The only thing I know that I need. Everything else is…”

  “A fucking hurricane,” he finished for her.

  She leaned in a few inches and kissed him gently. “A fucking hurricane,” she said into his mouth, parting his lips with her tongue.

  “I promise we’re in this together, Love. Me and you.”

  “I’m scared,” she admitted then kissed him again, this one hungrier. “Not for me, but for you and Millie and everyone else I love.”

  “I know.” He pulled her earlobe into his mouth, then ran his tongue the length of her collarbone.

  “I’m so happy for you.” She was breathless now.

  “Shut up.” His hands searched her entire naked body. She’d gone back to sleeping without clothes on a few months ago. He assumed she was becoming more comfortable with her scars, the ones that pissed him off every time he saw them.

  Her head fell back against her pillow and for the first time in a long time she did what she was told.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cooper, My Hero

  The week after George left, Stella tried to keep herself busy with work. On Thursday, she drove to her yoga class in her sex mobile. Her seat was vibrating, all the windows were down, and she was even singing to the boy band on the radio until she realized what she was doing and changed the channel. The broadcaster on the other station was reporting on the FBI Beauty and the latest rumors. Why did anyone give a shit about what she was doing? Disgusted, she turned the radio off and called Jesse.

  “Hey, Stella,” he answered.

  “What’s up, my football-playing friend? You’ve been doing very well this season.” She’d been keeping up with his stellar season—he’d been all over ESPN.

  “You’ve been watching?”

  “Of course.” Stella was certain he would make the Pro Bowl this year. “If you make it to Hawaii, will you invite me?”

  “You don’t think George will mind?” Jesse joked.

  “Let’s not tell him; let him find out on Twitter.” Stella played along.

  “Still bad?” Jesse laughed.

  “Bad is relative. Can I leave my house without pictures everywhere? No. However, I have been able to buy tampons on my own lately.”

  “Fuck! Thanks for that visual.”

  “What, that I have a vagina? I’m pretty sure you knew that.”

  Jesse’s laugh was hearty. “Did you need something? I gotta jet; watching video.”

  “I just wanted to hear your sweet southern voice.” Stella sighed. “I missed it.”

  “After the season, we’ll hang out, I promise. Shit is just crazy right now.”

  “I totally understand,” she sympathized. “Just know I’m watching you.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “By the way, did you download that app I was telling you about?” Stella asked.

  “Yes. Me and all the guys are using it. Thanks.”

  “Okay. I’ll find you on it and leave you messages while I watch you play. I’m sure you’ll love that.”

  “I’d only let you do that,” he acknowledged. “Before you go, how’s your Jamie situation?”

  “I’m working with the FBI. I think they’ll arrest him, I just have to figure out how to get them what they need to arrest him without incriminating myself. I’m still in the planning mode.”

  “Keep me informed.” Jesse said something to someone else in the room. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do. Thanks, J.” She paused. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Stella. Keep your head down.”

  Stella rolled over to stare at the clock; it was 4:36 am. She couldn’t sleep again. George had been gone for over a week and she missed him. Since the warmth of his hand on her shoulder was gone, she couldn’t sleep through the night, even with taking the sleeping pills. It was like her body needed him there. He’d left for who knows how long and she dove headfirst into work to distract herself from missing him. It didn’t work. When he was in the room with her, the world felt right for some reason she couldn’t figure out. George being in her life made the things that were fucked up fade to the background. Without that presence, all the things she didn’t want to think about rose to the surface and wrapped their tentacles around her, pulling her under.

  Sighing, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling fan. Cooper’s head popped up. He always started off the night sleeping at the foot of the bed, but without fail, his head was on the pillow when she woke up.

  Petting his head, she smiled. “You crazy dog. George won’t appreciate you sleeping on his pillow.” She sat up and decided to go for her morning run a few minutes early. Since George left, she’d been running early every morning; like, before five am early, when the paparazzi leeches weren’t out watching for her. “Come on!” she called to Cooper and walked into the guest bedroom to put on her clothes.

  Cooper followed her into the other room and got excited seeing her tie her running shoes. He matched her steps on the stairs and ran directly to the door where his leash hung on a hook.

  Stella left the house and waved at Gunter sitting in the dark sedan in front of their house. He didn’t talk to her very often, but was professional and would give her updates about the investigation if she asked him directly.

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nbsp; She started off easy, running up Cameron and crossing over Washington into an old cemetery that let out a block later. As they turned a left to run towards King Street, she ran directly into a man’s chest as he stepped out of the shadows. They collided and she took a step back, dropping Cooper’s leash. Fucking clementines. Cooper jumped up and down, smelling Jamie and wagging his tail.

  “What the fuck?” she demanded, looking around to assess whether there was anyone on the street. She already knew the answer. Her mind was working a mile a minute. She assumed if she wasn’t back from her typical run, Gunter may call it in or try to find her. She didn’t know. Jamie may shoot her and leave her body on the street. What the fuck was she thinking running by herself?

  “Stella,” Jamie’s voice was jovial, “I’m glad you’re so predictable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For the past week and a half since that prick left, you run around 4:45 every morning.” Jamie put his hands in his pockets. “It’s like clockwork, unless it’s raining.”

  Stella looked around again for anyone on the street. Fuck. “Coop, come.”

  Jamie bent down and grabbed Cooper’s leash. “Wait a minute. We need to talk.”

  “Give it.” Stella’s voice was fierce. Do not fuck with Cooper.

  “Not until you listen to me. This can end well or it can end a different way. I’m hoping you’ll be smarter than you were in Key West.” His voice was harsh and Stella was listening.

  “What do you want?” Stella fought to keep her voice even, but she was looking at Cooper and thinking of what she would do if Jamie hurt her dog. Their dog. Fuck.

  “You know what I want, Stella. Where’s my money?” Jamie stood, holding the leash in one hand, his stance casual.

  His nonchalance pissed her off. Hardness crept along the tissue of her body. Good. She needed that hardness because he was beginning to look more like the Jamie she’d loved once, the clean-cut college boy with the warm smile. She knew that was on purpose. He was trying to ingratiate himself back into the agency as a wronged undercover agent instead of a crazy, fiancé-shooting bastard. Too bad they couldn’t see through his bullshit like she could.