by C. J. Pinard
Maybe it was the ‘fixer’ in me. My mom had always told me I wanted to fix people, and she was surprised I hadn’t become a nurse. Honestly, I’d thought about it, but I cannot stand the sight of blood and I get queasy at the slightest thing. Still, every boyfriend I’d ever had – all 3 of them since high school – were broken men whom I thought I could fix. In the end, I couldn’t, and I let them go. Or rather – two of them dumped me. All of them were users and I was glad they were out of my life. I’d been single now for two years, and as much as I longed for someone to take care of me, and admittedly, someone I could also take care of, I was mostly happy being on my own. I was proud I had bought that condo and all the stuff inside of it by myself without going into any debt, except the condo itself, of course.
Without thinking, I began twirling the purple flower in my hand as I walked. How was I going to continue to pay the mortgage on my condo without a job? The responsible side of my brain had been niggling at me to job hunt so I wouldn’t miss a payment. I only had enough in savings to make one payment after my paychecks stopped from the law firm in which I was set to testify against in just days. But I couldn’t return to St. Petersburg and job hunt because my life was in danger.
I sighed in resignation, continuing to walk, enjoying the quiet of the forest. The trees were beautiful and the air was starting to turn cool and crisp. It was a nice break from the stifling humidity of Florida that I was so used to. I’d grown up there and would never live anywhere else. That got me thinking about my parents. Supposedly, the government had sent them a vague message about how I was being taken into protective custody, but the Justice Department hadn’t even let me make one last phone call to them to reassure them that I was safe. Which in turn made me worry about their safety. Would this maniac who had been threatening me with horrific things go after them now? I wasn’t sure, but something deep inside of me knew they’d be safe, but I still worried. I was glad my only sibling, my sister, and her husband were in Hawaii visiting my cousin for the next few weeks. If I knew anything about criminals, I knew they were lazy. I didn’t think anyone would spend the time or money to fly to Hawaii to harm my sister just to get to me. That’s if they could even figure out who she was. She obviously had a different last name than me.
As I trudged through the leaves and trees, a movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. Whipping my head around, I saw a small brown jackrabbit hopping through the trees. He was perfectly camouflaged against the forest floor, and I smiled at the little creature. It stopped briefly, parking itself on its haunches and staring at me with its beady little black eyes. Its nose twitched in curiosity and I inched ever so slowly toward it, hoping to get a closer look. When I got within five feet, he hopped away, disappearing behind some trees.
God, what was wrong with me? Was I so deprived of any sort of interaction that I was talking to flowers and hoping to touch a wild rabbit? I felt like Snow Freaking White.
I kept strolling, laughing at my own silliness. With the flower still clutched in my hand I continued to twirl it, looking down at it as I walked. I marveled at the yellow that spotted the inside of its petals, and began dreaming up ways I would display it in the drab and outdated kitchen of that little cabin I now found myself staying in with Duke.
Smiling a little to myself, I checked the delicate wristwatch I wore and could see I’d been out here for 20 minutes. I’d purposely walked in circles, making sure I didn’t lose sight of the little rustic cabin and wondered if the caveman had noticed that I was gone yet. With my mind once again on Duke, I continued to walk until my legs started to tire. I spotted a tree up ahead that looked thick and sturdy enough to sit down and take a rest against and I headed toward it. I kept my eyes fixated on its trunk. It looked strong and impenetrable to anything. Smiling at how I was obviously messed up to be attracted to something so strong-looking, I shrieked in terror when I felt a set of warm arms envelop me from behind.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Blondie?” I heard a gruff voice breathe into my ear.
My calm, melancholy mood turned to infuriation at the sound of his voice. “Get your hands off of me!” I screamed.
Without saying another word, Duke lifted me off the ground and threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. My face was now quite literally bouncing up and down against his rock hard ass. The one I said I’d love to bounce a quarter off of. But now, I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to find one of those thick wooden paddles with all the holes in it like we had in elementary school and paddle him with it.
“Put me down, you ogre!” I yelled, beating my fists against his hard butt that was definitely as solid as it looked. I slammed my fists against his thighs and then his back, which did absolutely no good. I even thought I heard him chuckle as he carried me the short distance back to the cabin.
My screams of protest went unheard. I doubted the birds, flowers, rabbit, and deer gave any shits about me being dragged back to my outdated cabin prison against my will.
Chapter 13
Duke
With one hand secured around her slim waist and the other pushing her legs down against my back to keep her from falling, I walked with purpose toward the safe house. I ignored the blows and shrieks she was throwing at me and just kept walking, knowing I had no other purpose than to secure the vic into the confines of the small sanctuary the government had provided us.
Admittedly, I had dozed off during the game I’d been watching. It was some lame local high school warmup practice during their off-season, and a small part of me felt a flick of shame that I had not stayed awake. When I’d awoken, I shook off the sleep and got up and stretched. My watch told me it was close to dinnertime, and I’d searched the small cabin for Rayanne. For once, I’d planned on being nice and asking her what she wanted for dinner.
The panic that shrouded me as I had searched and not found her was nothing I could describe in simple words. The fact that I was being paid to protect her and keep her from harm – and then failing in that mission – sent a bolt of panic shooting through me. It was so strong, it almost brought me to my knees. As I’d wandered into the kitchen, I could still smell the faint scent of her fruity body wash. The back door that led to the woods was unlocked, and a relief like no other had washed over me. I knew, without one single doubt, that I had locked that fucking door. I was a lunatic about locked doors, and after we’d returned from our little excursion to the Walmart, I had checked to make sure that bitch was locked the second we’d returned.
Rayanne wasn’t happy that she was draped over my shoulder, but I didn’t care one bit. I threw her onto the sofa on which I’d been sitting not moments before. She didn’t get a chance to protest before I was kneeling between her legs on that very sofa, my body hovering over hers.
“Do not ever leave like that again,” I breathed into her face.
“Get off me, you asshole!” she snapped, but I had to keep from laughing at her. She was no scarier than a small puppy growling at someone.
I paused a beat before rising off the couch, wincing at the pain in my leg that had suddenly begun to shoot thanks to carrying her. It always hurt after carrying or lifting something heavy.
Limping as least as I could, I went and sat in the armchair opposite of the couch. I put pressure on the scar, hoping it would dissipate. I looked up at Rayanne to see her angry expression gone, replaced with – was that worry? Pity? Either way, I didn’t like it.
“Don’t look at me like that. I wouldn’t be in pain if I hadn’t had to carry your ass back in here.”
“You didn’t have to carry me, you could have tapped me on the shoulder and asked me nicely to come back to the cabin. I would have. I was just taking a walk.”
I huffed and continued to press my thumb into the pain while I stared into her honey-colored eyes. “Well, you’re not to take any fucking walks, strolls, or anything else without me, understand?”
Her eyes widened momentarily and then she turned her head to the side.
“You mean, you would have gone with me?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “No.”
She looked sad and I hated that I could read her expressions so easily. She definitely wore her emotions on the outside, but I guess most chicks did.
“Why are you so mean all the time? I just want us to get along and be nice for the next few days until this trial is over with. Is that too much to ask?”
Who the fuck was she kidding? Nice? “Look, Blondie, I’m not here to make friends with you. I’m here to protect your life. If you think I’m being mean, I’m not. Anything I do is for your protection and safety. Do you get that? I don’t think you grasp how much danger you’re in.”
I reached over to the side table and grabbed a plastic cup I’d kept there and spat some chew into it.
She eyed the cup then looked at me, her arms folded over her chest. “That’s a disgusting habit, you know. You’re gonna get mouth cancer,” she said. “We had a client once who was suing…”
I cut her off and bit back a laugh. “Why do you care if I get mouth cancer?”
“I don’t want to see anyone get cancer. It’s awful.”
I didn’t have an argument for that so I shoved more dip in so I wouldn’t have to talk.
Watching as her eyes roamed my body, they eventually landed back up to my face. Then she said, “What happened to your leg? I noticed the first day we met that you seemed to limp a little bit.”
She was wringing her hands in her lap as she spoke. I didn’t want to answer her but decided she was the type who probably wouldn’t shut up about it so I simply said, “War injury.”
“You’re a veteran? Which branch?”
“Marines.”
She nodded. “Well, thank you for your service. My daddy was in the Navy.”
I chuckled slightly. “So was my dad. Wanted my brother and me to join, too, but we chose different branches.”
She pointed to my leg. “Were you shot?”
I spat into the cup and simply replied, “Shrapnel from a fuckin’ roadside bomb.”
She visibly flinched, but I was used to that reaction. “Wow, that’s horrible. I bet you’re lucky to be alive after going through that.”
I nodded and got up, limping to the kitchen. “Do you want to cook, or should I?” I asked to get the topic off of me.
She got up and followed me. She stared at me hard for a few long seconds until she said, “I’d love to cook for you. Cooking relaxes me and keeps me busy.” She shoved off the doorframe and headed toward where I was standing. I leaned up against the counter next to the fridge with both arms pressed behind me on the countertop. I didn’t move when she headed toward me, her body brushing mine as she opened the door and peered inside. I watched as the light from the fridge bathed her face in a yellow glow. Biting the inside of her cheek in contemplation, I observed the way she showed all her frustration on her face. It was clear she had had something in mind for dinner, but it seemed like something was lacking.
She sighed, but reached in and grabbed some cheese, meat, and a huge bunch of broccoli. She closed the door, and without looking at me, but certainly making sure to touch me, she glided over to the small cabinet where we stored the boxed food. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and pulled out a box of spaghetti and a large jar of spaghetti sauce. I’m not ashamed to admit that I watched with too much fascination as her ass had bounced a little when she’d reached up into the cabinet while her shirt rode up, showing tanned, fit abs. Yoga pants – who invented them anyway? Some horny teen with a fetish for soccer moms? Well, hats off to you, horny teen, you done good. Because those yoga pants had my dick growing behind my zipper.
Fuck…
Rayanne turned around and headed toward the stove. I was still leaning up against the counter next to the fridge watching her. She lined up all her ingredients neatly on the countertop, opposite the stove, and crouched down and began rifling through cabinets. What was she looking for?
Opening and closing them, I watched with amusement as her eyes raked over me then down to my legs. Walking straight up to me, stopping much closer to my body than was necessary, she pointed at my crotch and said, “I need in there.”
One of my eyebrows rose and then I looked down, suddenly conscious that she could see my boner behind my pants. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized she was actually pointing at the bottom cabinet between my legs, which I was blocking.
“Ah, okay,” I grunted, moving to the side so she could find what she was looking for.
I went to leave the kitchen, deciding the sexual tension in there was just too damn much, when, as I was one foot out of the kitchen, a loud clang echoed in my ears. I turned to see nothing but Rayanne’s ass all up in the air, picking up a small saucepan that had clamored to the floor.
Righting herself, she placed the saucepan back into the cabinet and pulled out a larger one, along with a big boiling pot. Without looking at me, she and her fine ass sauntered to the sink to fill the pot with water. But I didn’t care about the pot or what she was cooking. My eyes refused to leave the plump, delicious roundness of her ass in those damn pants.
No wonder people hated WPD duty. I was gonna get fired for sexual harassment if I didn’t stop staring…
She turned around abruptly, catching me gawking at her. With a rueful smirk on her perfect lips, she said, “You gonna help, or just stand there with your mouth open?”
Oh, fucking hell. My mouth wasn’t open, was it? I need to get out of here.
“Don’t worry, Cowboy, your mouth wasn’t really open. I was just messing with you.”
Trying to regain my composure, I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “Why do you keep calling me cowboy?”
She didn’t face me, but began searching the drawers until she found what she had been looking for – a wooden spoon. Turning around to face me, the spoon gripped firmly in her hand, she said, “Because your name is Duke. You know, like John Wayne – ‘The Duke’. The original cowboy.”
Well that’s one I hadn’t heard before. Especially since Duke wasn’t even my real name, just a nickname. I never told anyone my real name. Raising an eyebrow, I just shook my head and left the kitchen. I had to get out of there. She was looking way too cute cooking, and the way she’d smirked at me with her full lips as she’d explained the cowboy thing to me was going to be my goddamn undoing.
Chapter 14
Rayanne
From the corner of my eye, I watched Duke leave the kitchen. After I’d put the meat and sauce into a skillet and stirred it, I added the spices. The water began to boil, so I opened the box and pulled out a handful of stiff spaghetti. I broke it over the sink into thirds, then dumped it into the boiling water, adding a few shakes of salt.
I glanced once again at the doorway to the kitchen and saw Duke was long gone. Biting my lip, I reached up into the cabinet and moved the remaining spices aside. I grinned as my fingers wrapped around the bottle of Jim Beam. Chancing a glance once again at the kitchen entryway, I looked back down at the bottle. I slowly twisted off the metal lid and carefully brought the bottle up to my nose and inhaled – which was quickly followed up by a cough.
Whew, that’s potent stuff! Shouldn’t take more than a shot or two to relax me. This guy, this cabin, this whole entire bizarre situation had me on edge. I just needed a little something to take that edge off.
I searched the cabinets but did not find any shot glasses. I poured a small measure into a beveled green glass that looked like it belonged in the 70s. I stared at the amber liquid for a long time before working up the nerve to take a sip.
A sip! my subconscious teased me. Just shoot it, you wuss.
Lifting my shoulder in a shrug, I tossed back the glass, wincing as the bourbon burned its way down my throat, warming my belly. I slammed the glass on the counter and had to ball up my fist to keep from letting out a whoop at the wonderful burn.
The sizzle of the skillet captured my attention, and I stirred the sauce mixture again, turning
down the heat as it was beginning to splatter on the outdated yellow gas cooktop – and me.
The whole damn kitchen was outdated. It looked like my grandmother’s growing up. Yellow and brown linoleum floors, sparkly yellow and silver countertops, mustard-colored appliances. I giggled at the absurdity of this kitchen, hell, this whole cabin, and then hiccupped. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I shook my head at my silliness. Yet, I really wanted another shot of that bourbon.
Just one more.
“Just one more,” I said out loud.
Glancing again toward the kitchen entryway and seeing no Duke, I poured another small amount and quickly shot it back, enjoying the burn.
Smiling, I looked at the boiling noodles, realizing I hadn’t set a timer and now had no idea how long they’d been in the water for. The sauce was most certainly done.
Hiccup.
Cheese! I need cheese. I always make cheesy spaghetti. I get compliments on my cheesy spaghetti!
Opening the fridge door, I stared for a good, long minute, trying to remember why I’d opened the fridge. Then I spotted the bag of already-grated cheese.