“Z?”
“I need you at Kade’s place. I need you to be there when he wakes up. I can’t fucking go through this again.”
“Whoa, slow down. What’s happened?” Halim asks.
“I just pulled him off of a guy at Crash Palace. He’d practically beat the poor son of a bitch to death.”
“He’s fighting again!” Halim exclaims, shocked.
“It would appear so.”
“Z, tell me everything.”
“I stopped by his office today to collect a sphere and he was investigating some nonsense about a co-worker that went crazy for no apparent reason. He was really fixated on it.” Taking a deep breath he continues. “I stopped by his place tonight to check on him, maybe grab some food. He wasn’t there but according to his calendar he was going to The Spotted Dog. Ya know, that bar his girl’s fireman frequents.”
“I know the place.”
“So I thought I’d drop by there. He and Adil had gotten into it on the phone the other night about Gwen and the resealing, so I was worried about him.” Sighing Z pauses. “When I got there he’d gone, but Gwen was there and so was her fireman. The little blonde told me he’d all but stormed out about an hour earlier. So I cheated. I called Kade’s credit card company and spelled the agent to tell me his most recent activity. When I saw he’d purchased gas just outside of L.A. I assumed he was headed for Crash. Fuck.”
“When will you be home?” Halim asks.
“About 8 a.m. Hal, he’d been there awhile. He’s pretty beat up.”
“How is that possible? We heal almost instantly.”
“I don’t understand it, it’s like he’s found a way to turn it off. He wants to hurt, Hal.”
“I’ll be there, Z.”
I’m right here, I’m not a child! I want to scream at them; the caring sentiment in both their voices is nauseating. But all I can do is laugh as the roof continues to twirl and blackness pulls me down into the void.
Chapter 17
Gwen
A warm trail of sunlight spilling through the curtains shines directly into my eyes, rousing me. Not wanting to relinquish the night and acknowledge the day, I squeeze my eyes tighter together. This only buys me a couple minutes before I’m forced to accept the inevitable: it’s time to get up.
I move slowly, careful not to disturb anything and sneak a peek over my shoulder before gently laying my head back down onto the pillow.
Yup, Mr. Incredible is still there, I think, grinning to myself. Really, after almost two years, where else do I expect him to be? It’s not like he’s going to run off in the middle of the night, I remind myself. Still, I haven’t gotten used to waking up beside this man.
As if he knows I’m awake and thinking about him, I feel the light pressure of his arm wrap around me and pull my body back against his chest. I lay as still as I can, savoring this moment: the warmth of his breath through my hair, the sound of his heartbeat, the security of his arms. Being fidgety by nature, I know I will not be able to keep this up for long; in another few moments, my body’s patience for being restrained will begin to wane, forcing me to wiggle.
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, Ben rolls up onto his side, kisses me on the cheek, and releases me. Rolling over, I watch him climb out of bed and pull on the first pair of pants he finds. A moment later he disappears into the bathroom. Among the articles of clothing strewn about the bedroom floor, the white business card I’d given to Ben the night before catches my eye and I smile.
Returning from the bathroom, Ben asks, “What’s so funny?”
I point to the folded piece of paper on the floor. Stooping down he retrieves the card. Holding it out to me so the writing is clearly visible, I read my message, “Don’t be late.”
“You know how popular your little stunt has made me?” Ben asks. I shake my head. “Let’s just say I’m the envy of everyone and you have solidified your position as the coolest wife ever.”
Grinning from ear to ear, he leans over the bed and kisses me soundly on the mouth. Just as I’m contemplating pulling him back down into bed with me, he breaks our connection and announces, “I’m making breakfast.”
Sighing I roll over, wrapping the covers more tightly around me as he heads to the kitchen. Rebelling against the necessity of getting out of bed to enjoy said breakfast, I close my eyes once more and let my thoughts drift. My mind happily indulges me with dream-like fantasies and soon I find myself reliving the passionate details from last night.
It’s hard to believe Ben and I have been together for almost two years. Our whole relationship has been somewhat of a whirlwind. But hey, when you’re thirty you don’t have the patience for long, drawn out dating scenarios, and you pretty much know what you’re looking for in a guy. Or at least you know within the first couple dates if he’s worth spending any lengthy amount of time with.
That’s kind of what happened with us. Melanie and I had been frequenting The Spotted Dog a lot that summer two years ago. I’d seen Ben a few times at the bar and believe me, I’d had my fair share of fantasies about the guy, but I’d never pursued an introduction. What I was blissfully unaware of at the time was Ben also had his eye on me.
With all the live musical performances at the bar during the summer months, Melanie and I spent a majority of our time on the dance floor. We both love to dance and at the end of a long week nothing relieves stress quite like dancing, except maybe running. One night, Ben crossed the invisible line at The Spotted Dog separating the firemen from the rest of the bar population and asked me to dance.
Closing my eyes I recall in vivid clarity the details of that encounter. A song had just ended, and Melanie and I were laughing on the dance floor. I leaned closer to her in order to be heard and said, “I’m going to get a drink.”
Turning toward the bar, I ran smack into the lithe, muscular chest of Ben. Losing my balance, he quickly caught me by the arm before I fell. I remember having to look up in order to see his face, and I rarely have to look up to see anybody. The string of curses preparing to launch themselves from my lips was instantly lost as I gazed into those cool blue eyes. Smiling down at me, he apologized while gently maintaining a hold of my arm. I must have agreed to dance with him because moments later he was steering us out onto the floor, but honestly I can’t remember any words having left my mouth. To hear Ben tell it, watching me dance Friday night after Friday night was so distracting he’d lost a small fortune playing cards. Getting up and asking me to dance was the only thing he could think of to end his losing streak.
We dated for about two weeks. After wading through all the get-to-know-you crap, it became obvious we got along superbly, we had a similar outlook on, well, everything, and we both wanted a simple life with a family and a house by the beach. So we went to Vegas and eloped. After extending the honeymoon to include a short trip to Cancun, we made the awkward trips to meet the in-laws. I was nervous. Ben’s family is quite wealthy and, with my preconceived notions about rich people being snooty, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Turns out the apple didn’t fall far from the tree—I absolutely adored Ben’s folks. They also graciously offered to let us live in their beach house in return for maintaining the property. When I took Ben to meet my folks, I was just happy my dad didn’t kill him for running off and marrying me unannounced.
“Hurry up, before I finish your breakfast booze,” Ben yells from the kitchen.
He means mimosas! I think to myself, and the thought of a mimosa instantly has me reminiscing about our trip to Cancun. Ben had to keep ordering me replacements because I kept misplacing them.
Well, that’s not entirely how it happened.
We must have ducked into every vacant corner of that resort for a quickie.
That means I was constantly setting my drink down, and after our trysts when we would sneak back into the populated areas of the hotel, my glass was always missing. The drinks were probably picked up by the overly efficient wait-staff.
That was a great trip.<
br />
Groaning, I roll out of bed and reach for my bathrobe. In my semi-lucid state, I’m too busy adjusting the ties on my robes to look where I’m going.
“Shit!” I scream, tripping over yet another pile of Ben’s clothes.
Mr. Incredible can go to hell, I think to myself. His bad habit has almost killed me twice in one week.
Fully awake and ready to do battle, I march down the hallway into the kitchen. Hearing my approach, Ben hands me a halfway full champagne glass. Eyeballing the missing top two inches and snatching it from his hand, I rush straight into my tirade.
“Twice,” I say shaking my fist for emphasis. “Twice you’ve almost killed me this week. How many times do I have to ask you to put your stupid clothes in the hamper?”
Nonchalantly turning around from the stove and crossing his arms, Ben cracks that school boy grin and replies, “Do you really expect a man to ignore his half naked wife, whom he hasn’t seen in three days, just to be sure his clothing makes it into the hamper?” Turning back around to the stove and checking the eggs he continues. “Honestly, Gwen, I’m more thoughtful than that. My wife’s sexual needs come first.”
Laughing out loud, I throw a balled up dish towel at him as all the anger seeps from my body.
Damn it, I think to myself crossing the room to wrap my arms around him, he’s just so hard to be mad at.
“Can you hand me the plates?” he asks, breaking our connection. Handing him the requested items, I then grab silverware and condiments for us before sitting down at the breakfast table. Handing me a plate, Ben sits down across from me and starts eating.
“So,” he says, “you wanna tell me about work?”
I’m usually eager to reconnect our first morning home together after his shifts at the station. Today I roll my eyes before launching into a rant about the trials and tribulations of my week.
“Hmm, sounds rough,” Ben responds when I’m finished. Grinning, he adds, “I understood less than half of the big words you used, so I know it must have been a long week.”
Returning his smile and feeling a little better I ask, “How was your week?”
“Pretty standard. No fires but plenty of other calls.”
The dynamics of Ben’s job and some of the ridiculous calls they get never cease to amaze me. I need those humorous stories to keep me from fretting over the more dangerous aspects of his job.
“We’re headed into wildfire season though, so that could change.”
Yes, I think to myself, summer changes everything.
Wildfires are common in California during the hotter months. Like many county firemen, Ben has participated multiple times in the fight against the wildfires that threaten populated areas. It makes me cringe every time. His job is life threatening enough without throwing Mother Nature on top of it. It is what it is, though, and needlessly worrying about it is fruitless, so I keep my misgivings to myself.
“So is my lab rat going into work today?” Ben teases me.
Tapping my foot while looking out the window, I consider his question. While part of me is dying to work on the life-sucking project that is compound 253B, the other part wants to never think about it again. Laughing at my ridiculous dilemma, Ben makes the decision easy for me.
“Why don’t you come to the beach with me and some of the guys today. They’re all bringing their families, it’ll be fun.”
Looking him in the eye, I reply, “Okay.”
“You’re the only one I know who might be happiest at work, Gwen, and it’s a little creepy,” he says shaking his head. “Go on and grab a shower, I’ll clean up here.”
Turning on the shower, I close the door and step back, giving it a chance to become nice and steamy. Taking advantage of the time until then, I head back into the bedroom. Picking up Ben’s offending pile of clothing off the floor, I carry the armload into the closet and deposit it in the hamper.
“See, that isn’t so hard,” I mutter under my breath. Returning to the bathroom, I flip on the radio and climb into the shower, sighing as the near scalding temperature of the water warms my body. After a minute or so, I turn the temperature down to a more reasonable level and relax, leaning my back up against the wall. Closing my eyes, my mind drifts along with the lyrics of a song.
Lost in the moment, I almost miss the soft click of the shower door alerting me to the fact my humid sanctuary has been invaded by another person. Eyes still closed, I scoot further along down the wall, wedging myself into the corner, making as much room as possible for my large companion. The snapping sound of opening shampoo bottles reaches my ears moments before a soft loofah lightly brushes over each of my nipples.
Squinting into the heavy mist of water deflected off of Ben, I cock my head to the side and ask, “What do you think you are doing?”
“Helping you wash,” he answers, a playful grin lighting up his face. Looking down, the bubbles have begun to drip off of my breasts and run down my stomach, gravity aiding them on their journey toward the drain.
Gazing into his inviting expression, I take a step closer to him. Stretching up onto my tiptoes, I lean against his chest and whisper, “You missed a spot,” into his ear.
Feeling his whole body tense with excitement, his hands reach around my hips drawing me closer. My fingers run through his hair as my lips grace his jawline, seeking the heat of his mouth. As he pushes us up against the wall, my back arches and my hands slip behind his neck, desperate to maintain possession of his lips.
Stroking the side of my face, he pulls back slightly, whispering in a throaty voice, “Don’t worry, I’ll get there.”
Grasping the loofah once more, he gently continues what he started, working from my fingertips to my toes, his hands massaging as they lather, his lips paying homage to my freshly cleansed skin. A slow burning and euphoric throbbing unfold in the pit of my stomach long before he reaches the alluded to spot. The first brush of his fingers over that sensitive skin sends me over the edge, and I clutch his shoulders as I ride the wave of my orgasm to completion.
Panting, I relax in his arms. He continues, sliding himself inside of me, finding a rhythm that grows in intensity until we both cry out from the release at climax.
Holding each other in the warm cascade of water I ask for the millionth time, “Who are you?” to which he replies, “Just a guy, loving his girl.”
Chapter 18
Kade
The sounds of another day come crashing down on me as I lie in bed. Eyes closed, flat on my back, my mind is clear, my body whole and undamaged. The brutal stimuli of pain have fled. Pity, I’m deprived even the gratification of wallowing in the agony inflicted upon my person last night.
Yay for Wanderer abilities, I think sarcastically. I’m not even left with a hangover for my troubles. My mind begins to reel as I reach full consciousness, my thoughts consuming me. I open my eyes and sit up, seeking escape from the plague of thoughts that’s out of my control.
Perched on a kitchen chair in front of the bay windows of the bedroom, motionless, is Hal.
“You were unconscious when we dragged you in here last night. Covered in bruises and bleeding from the temple. I think you had a few broken ribs as well. How is that possible, Kade?”
“It’s my gift,” I say, refusing to look at him as I head toward the bathroom.
“Connecting with humanity is your gift. This, this is something else.”
Pausing mid-stride, the full force of his words hits me in the back before I let it roll off. Without further acknowledgment I close the door behind me and hit the shower. I waste time trying to give Halim ample opportunity to see that I’m fine and leave. When I exit the closet fully dressed nearly an hour later he’s still sitting stoically upon that chair.
“What was last night, Kade?”
Not meeting his gaze I laugh. “Figuring it out.”
Unimpressed with my response, Hal shakes his head slowly from side to side.
“Don’t look so taken aback; it was your advice, brother.�
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“That’s not what I meant when I told you this was something you needed to reason out for yourself and you know it,” he says carefully, rising to his feet.
“Well, this works for me,” I say, turning to step past him and into the kitchen. Reading my body language he moves, blocking my path before I can complete my first step.
“She’d only known the guy a few weeks. I meant pursue her or let her go.” Pointing at a pile of bloody rags at the foot of the bed (which can only be my clothing from yesterday) Hal continues, “Not harbor your feelings until they boil over into physical violence.”
“Whatever, I’m the only one who gets hurt,” I say defensively, fists clenched at my sides.
“Arrogant child, what about the man you nearly killed last night? Or your partner, who can do nothing but watch while you slowly self destruct?”
Flashbacks of last night (and the many nights like it) play through my head. Unfortunately alcohol doesn’t affect me the same way it does humans. I remember all of my nights in vivid detail, down to the last drop of blood on the pavement.
“Don’t bring Z into this!” I shout, finally losing my composure.
“Z, the guy who’s pulled you out of that place over and over again, who isn’t here now because he just can’t suffer any more of this with you. I didn’t bring him into this, Kade, you did that all by yourself.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed my head droops into my hands and the air rushes from my body, completely deflated. Z has been the only companion in my life for a long time. The Wanderers are all my brothers but I’ve largely lived at odds with them for the last decade, ostracized for my belief in Gwen and the permanent posting I’ve established here. Like the butt of a bad joke. Zafir is the only one who believes in me, his faith unwavering even as one by one the rest of my brothers have come to see Gwen as a lost cause.
“You play dirty, Hal,” I say, lifting my chin up to look at him.
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