by Jami Gray
‘Mess me up?’
‘Yeah.’ He grimaced as he studied her, and she was surprised to note a flush of colour riding under his cheekbones. ‘It’s getting complicated—you, Simon, and now Math—’
No shit. She couldn’t stop the short, harsh laugh. ‘No worries there, you nailed it. Me showing up with Math just gives Simon permission to keep doing what he wants without guilt.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure.’ And it wasn’t hurt making the words rough. ‘Seems he wants something easy.’
Reaper’s face darkened. ‘What?’
Realising how her snarky comment sounded, she was quick to amend, ‘Not that, sheesh Reaper, Simon’s not that much of a dick.’ She forced a cocky smile. ‘I’m just a bit more work than your average female.’
Reaper gave her a considering look. ‘The best things always are.’
At his unexpected reply, she gave a jerky shrug, wishing the pressure behind her eyes would take a hike. ‘You might be the only one who believes that.’
Reaper closed in and brushed a startlingly gentle hand over her cheek. ‘Don’t think I am, babe.’
She sucked in a shaky breath and stepped back, away from his careful concern and the brittle emotional edge she teetered on. ‘I have a living room to clean up and a man to put to bed if I want any sleep tonight.’ She put her hand on the knob and gave Reaper her back. ‘You might want to ice that bruise.’
‘Right,’ he rumbled.
She slipped inside her apartment and shut the door.
Chapter 7
Not keen on being kept in the dark, especially when it came to his brother’s machinations, Math didn’t waste time crossing the room once Reaper and Vex stepped out to the hall. Years of skulking in the shadows had him moving carefully to the side so he didn’t cause a shift in the shadows under the door ledge. A challenge, considering the narrow space he had to work with. He put his ear close to the door, and Reaper’s deeper rumble slowly morphed into, ‘… you, Simon and now Math—’
Even with the door between them, he still caught the bitter edge of hurt in Vex’s laugh before she answered, ‘Seems he wants something easy.’
Her comment left Math revising his opinion of Simon’s intelligence. Who the hell wanted easy? You could pay for that kind of female. Women like Vex, the ones who presented a challenge, not just sexually, but emotionally and intellectually, those were the most intriguing and dangerous types to tangle with. Once he would’ve been all about taking on that challenge. But now? With Cam’s ass on the line and Greer breathing down his neck? He couldn’t afford the distraction. Even if indulging in his lustful curiosity would tweak the shit out of Reaper. Despite his internal arguments, the last one encouraged rather than discouraged his urge to act.
The doorknob twisted, snagging his attention. Silently he cursed his wandering mind and in a quiet rush made it back to his chair. He dropped into his former sprawled position, eyes closed just as the door opened, then closed. With a slow exhale he forced his spiking pulse to level. As Vex’s footsteps came closer, mental and physical exhaustion overwhelmed him. Sleeping right here sounded damn good to him. Unfortunately, considering the tendril of citrus and spice curling around him, it looked like Vex wasn’t going to let him crash here.
Sure enough, a warm palm cradled his face, the sensation seeping like sunlight through hardened layers. ‘Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty.’
Instead of jerking away, he turned deeper into the touch. ‘I’m awake.’ The claim came out jumbled.
‘Uh-huh, sure you are.’
The warmth of her hand disappeared, leaving behind a wisp of loss. Then it was back, wrapping around his wrist. She gave a soft tug and he blinked his eyes open. A groan escaped as he carefully sat up and let her help him into her bedroom. ‘I can take the couch.’
‘You can barely move now,’ she murmured. ‘A night on my couch and you won’t be able to move at all.’
Body aching, head pounding, he didn’t bother to argue. Instead, he let her help until he could sit on the bed’s edge. When he went to lie down, she stopped him. ‘Not yet, we need to wrap your ribs.’ She disappeared into the bathroom and came back with the first-aid kit. She set it on the nightstand. ‘Alright, ready?’
He nodded. Together they managed to remove his nearly dry t-shirt, leaving him bare to the waist.
Grabbing a roll of medical strength tape, she stepped between his knees and bent forward. Her hair brushed against his chest, the soft strands causing a different kind of ache. ‘Here, hold this end for me.’
Following her directions, he anchored the tape as she wrapped his ribs with a practised efficiency. Staring down at her bent head, the temptation to bury his hand in the unusual tangle of golds, bronze, and ebony had his hand fisting. He closed his eyes, hoping to dim the urge to touch. Locked in the darkness behind his eyelids, her delicate, intricate scent joined the heat of her touch and burrowed through the cracks of his control. His body ignited with a near electric flash. Curses filled his head, almost pushing aside the dull throbbing headache. He caught her hand, holding it against his chest and stopping her movements. His eyes flew open and clashed with hers. His voice came out rough. ‘I’ve got this.’
She pulled back, not much, just enough to look at him. He studied her face, not missing the pale undertones or the darkening bruise along her cheek. The split on her lip was puffy but closed, but her eyes were razor sharp. He braced for her snide comment but got a quiet, ‘Fine’ instead. When she tugged her hand, he slowly let her go.
She used his thigh and pushed to her feet, a wince sliding in and then away as she adjusted her weight. Dragging her now free hand through her hair, she turned away without a word and disappeared into the bathroom.
He finished wrapping his ribs. A metallic squeak announced the opening of a medicine cabinet. A rattle of bottles on shelves soon followed. He was tying off the wrap when she reappeared, took a couple of steps to the nightstand, and dropped a couple of pills next to the glass of water.
When she caught his gaze, she said, ‘Take ‘em.’
He tucked the end of the tape under and downed the pills. She moved towards the makeshift closet as he carefully inched his way down to his back. His ribs protested and his breath escaped through clenched teeth on a long hiss. When he was finally prone, he sucked in a couple of shallow breaths and laid his arm over his eyes to block the glow of the lamp.
‘Do me a favour.’
He raised his arm enough to see her standing at the foot of the bed, with what he thought was another t-shirt, wadded in her hands. ‘Does it involve moving? Because if so, the answer’s no.’
Even with the shadows playing over her face, he caught the twitch of her lips. ‘Don’t die in my bed tonight.’
He let his arm fall back into place. ‘Wasn’t planning on it.’
‘Good.’ The air shifted next to him as she came up on his side. He thought he felt something touch his hair, but before he could check there was a soft snick and then the press of the lamp’s light disappeared, leaving him in soothing darkness. ‘Sleep tight, Rapunzel.’
He drifted, listening to the faint sounds of her settling in for the night. The painkillers kicked into gear as his aching body slowly downgraded to an annoying dull throb. It was enough to have exhaustion send his mind careening in slow, disjointed circles until he dropped into blessed unawareness.
***
Math woke when he made the mistake of turning to his side. Lesson learned, he shifted to his back and waited for the wave of discomfort to recede. When it withdrew enough to dare another attempt, he took his time sitting up. His mouth was dry so he nabbed the glass of water and drained it. Sitting up made breathing easier so he managed, with some careful maneuvering, to stuff the pillow behind his back and against the headboard, creating a backrest. He turned to the window, hoping to gauge the time and found only a shimmer of moonlight squeezing through a narrow opening in the heavy material obscuring the glass. Based on the fa
ding darkness, dawn wasn’t far away. At least he managed a few solid hours. He went to move his leg, only to have the muscles seize in protest. He reached down and dug his fingers in an attempt to stave off the cramp. Yeah, definitely long enough for his muscles to stiffen.
Now that he was awake, his mind began churning. Thanks to Reaper’s deal, the earliest he could head out to Boise would be after breakfast. Reaper’s promise to tap his connections translated into extra eyes and ears. Math had a faint idea of who those extras might be—the Dogs of War, one of the roving bands trotting through the lawless landscape, led by an appropriately named bastard known as Dog. Not a bad choice considering their reputation rivalled that of Fate’s Vultures. Word was that once given a scent, Dog and his pack of barely sane mutts ran it to the ground. Because of that, they held a permanent seat near the top of the pile of mercenary trackers. To get them to hunt, you needed the right incentive. Math had no doubt Reaper knew exactly what bone to offer.
Thing was, Math wasn’t sure having Dog at his back was the wisest move. Mercenary didn’t equal back up. When shit hit the fan—and it would—nothing could guarantee Dog and his boys choosing to save Math’s skin over theirs. Call him cynical, but Math couldn’t ignore the whispered warning not to forget the length of Greer’s poisoned influence, not when he survived the bloody proof of how deep it could reach. Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck he blew out a long breath. Keep it together, man. The line between paranoia and scepticism was razor thin.
Next up, Vex and the dangerous temptation she presented to his personal boundaries set deep and long ago.
On a purely business level he had no problems working with her, but he had hoped to get a bit more in the way of back up than one hardheaded woman. It wasn’t because she couldn’t handle herself. He saw firsthand just how lethal she could be. No, his wariness had more to do with the fact she bothered him on a level no-one touched in a hell of a long time. ‘Bothered’ didn’t come close to the uncomfortable need she ignited in his body, one he had no idea how to snuff out. Well, he had ideas. They just weren’t all that bright. Maybe if he carved out some downtime with an available female that wasn’t her? Something told him that wouldn’t end well.
How long had it been since he got laid? He scrubbed a hand over his face when the memory came back foggy. Obviously too damn long. He’d suck it up and keep an iron hold on his libido. He owed Cam at least that much. Not to mention, Vex struck him as a woman more than willing to exploit any weakness.
Maybe he could convince Havoc and Mercy to join in? God knows it might offset Vex’s presence. Getting Mercy to agree wouldn’t be hard, not only was she a Strix, but she knew Cam. She’d be all about getting him back. The problem was Havoc. His loyalty lay with Reaper, which meant if Reaper said no, there’d be no Havoc. If Havoc didn’t sign on, chances were damn good Mercy would choose to stay behind with her man. Relationships complicated everything, especially the sticky-ass line of love versus loyalty.
Math grimaced. No sense in putting Mercy in the position to choose, especially since last time she chose to follow her damn heart. Seemed every time that line got drawn, Math got the short end of the stick. Remembering the stark expression on Vex’s face when Reaper went after her about Simon, left Math wondering if he wasn’t the only one holding that opinion. And why the hell did that matter?
It didn’t. It couldn’t. He needed to get Cam back, and to do that he had to pay his dues to Reaper. Not speculate on the illogical battle between love and loyalty or how hard his body got whenever Vex was around.
Since sleep wasn’t on the cards, he decided to brave getting vertical and attempting a shower. Sweat, dust, and other less pleasant things coated his skin, leaving behind a grimy film. He struggled to his feet and eyed the partially opened door, his ears straining for any sounds from the woman in the other room. When the quiet held thick and steady, he shuffled over to the rickety closet. Riffling through the drawers, he hoped Reaper came through with new clothes. Depending on Vex’s charity left him with limited options. He unearthed a well-worn pair of sweats when the first sound drifted from the front room. He stilled, ears straining. The barely-there whimper would have gone unnoticed if he hadn’t been awake and near the door. As it was, he waited for a repeat, and when it stayed quiet, shook his head and turned towards the bathroom. He took a few steps when another small sound came.
Knowing it was none of his business didn’t stop him from moving back and opening the door fully. Standing in the doorway, he could make out the murky outline of Vex, sitting on the couch, feet to the floor and head bent, visibly shuddering. Something about the image got to him. Before he could think twice, her name was out. ‘Vex.’
Her head jerked up, but she didn’t turn his way. ‘Go away.’
A cautionary voice urged him to heed her edgy order, but he had his share of similar nights and understood going at it alone wasn’t always the answer. ‘Nope.’
That got her attention. When her head turned towards him, he made sure to flash her an arrogant grin. ‘Figured since you’re up and I’m jonesing for a shower, we might as well get this hair thing over with. Two birds, one stone.’
Her huff of amusement held a sharp edge. ‘Sure you trust me near you with a blade?’
‘You going to hurt me?’
She rose and stretched, pulling the oversized t-shirt up her bare thighs, and bringing his attention to her long legs. ‘Not unless you make me.’
A wicked impulse to do just that seared through his brain before he slapped it back in line. Somehow he managed to keep his voice casual as he shot back, ‘Then no problem.’ Deciding he’d danced close enough to the fire for now, he turned away and headed for the bathroom. Only when her footsteps sounded behind him did he take an easy breath.
Inside the narrow confines of the bathroom, he threw the sweats over the shower rod and sat on the only available seat, the toilet’s lid.
Vex came in and crouched in front of the sink, rummaging in the cabinet. ‘How’s the ribs?’
‘I’ll live.’
She turned, armed with scissors and a towel. ‘Put this around your shoulders.’ She tossed him the latter, rose, and went back to dig in the medicine cabinet.
‘Why bother?’ He went to set the towel aside. ‘I’m taking a shower after.’
She turned back to him, comb in hand. ‘Don’t use it and you’ll be itching like you’ve rolled around in poison ivy.’
‘Think I can handle it.’
She shrugged as she settled back against the sink. ‘Your choice, but no blaming me if you move at the wrong time to itch and—’ she widened her eyes comically and covered her mouth with the hand holding the comb, ‘—oops.’
He snorted, but shook out the towel unable to miss the hint of laughter in her murmured, ‘Good choice.’
Holding the towel around his shoulders, he waited as she stepped in front of him. When she tapped his knee with the comb, he obliged and widened his legs, giving her room to move in.
‘Hold this.’ She handed him the scissors, waiting until he took them before she began running the comb through his hair. She was curiously gentle as she worked out the tangles. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation. All too soon, she said, ‘Okay, ready?’
His lifted his lashes only to find his visual field filled with unrestrained curves. The thin t-shirt she wore didn’t do much to hide her generous tits or the betraying fact her nipples were erect. His hand on the towel tightened even as a heavy breath escaped. He gritted his teeth as those alluring points stiffened. It was like waving a juicy steak in front of a starving dog, his mouth watered and the urge to reach out rode him hard. No touching, idiot! To ensure he followed through he clenched the towel in one hand, while on his thigh the other curled into a fist around the cold metal of the scissors. Oh hell, this was a bad idea. A really bad idea.
‘Math?’
He jerked his gaze up to find her holding out a hand, awareness colouring her face, darkening those un
usual amber eyes. Still her voice was steady when she repeated, ‘Scissors?’
Shit! Right. Focus, man. He handed them over, then closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to ignore what was in front of him while Vex got to work. The snipping of the scissors filled the quiet, pausing now and then as she drew the comb through, followed by her fingers. A few times she adjusted her stance and soft heat would press against him, leaving him choking back hungry groans. Finally, just before his body threatened to hit a breaking point, she stepped back, her voice husky. ‘There, done.’
Wading up the towel and dumping it on the floor, he rose on unsteady legs. He used the movement to covertly adjust himself, releasing some of the pressure on his aching dick. When he caught sight of the pile of dark hair littering the floor he couldn’t stop his free hand from going to his shorn skull in a quick check. Hair met his touch but it still took courage to look into the mirror. He blinked.
‘You still need to get rid of the beard, then you’ll be set.’ She stood behind him, her head behind his shoulder, studying his hair with a critical eye. ‘I think it came out damn good.’
He ran a hand through strands shorter than he was used to, but still long enough not to leave him resembling a shorn sheep. Even with this change, he could see the difference. With the shorter cut, his face looked leaner. ‘Not bad.’ He tugged on his beard, then using the mirror, looked at her. ‘You got a razor I can use on this?’
She handed the scissors over his shoulder, waiting until he took them before her hands went to his waist. The feel of her palms against his skin sent a line of goosebumps over his spine. Submitting to her nudge to get out of the way, he stepped to the side. She came around his front, crouched, and once again began digging through the cabinet. Her position sent lust roaring through his veins. Thankfully it wasn’t long before she muttered, ‘There you are, you little bastard.’ She rose, an old electric razor in hand. Turning, she offered it to him. ‘You can use this. Not sure how long it will last, but it may get through most of it.’ He took it as she continued. ‘Once you get through the main layer, I’ve got a straight razor in the cabinet. Help yourself.’