Don't Walk Away

by Elle Kennedy

  He was motivated. Hell, he was on fire. “What are we drinking?”

  She flashed him that filthy, dirty, gorgeous smile over her shoulder as she sauntered forward. “I could go for a dozen screaming orgasms. How about you?”

  Christ. Maybe the costume didn’t have enough room to contain him, after all.

  “Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets,” Colby drawled.

  His evening had definitely taken a turn toward amazing. He followed Suz’s curvy ass into the bar with a light step and a hard-on as strong as Captain America’s Vibranium shield.

  Chapter Three

  Dean found a passed-out superhero in his office.

  With a barely restrained grin, he approached the unconscious Captain America, who was far too big for the two-seat sofa across from Dean’s desk. Colby’s long legs hung over the armrest, one stubble-covered cheek pressing into the cushion while a red-gloved hand dangled over the side.

  “Ahem.”

  Colby’s dark eyes popped open at Dean’s loud throat-clearing, a testament to the man’s military training. A former Ranger like Dean and his partners, Colby was as deadly as they came, but he also knew how to have a good time, and apparently that hadn’t changed since he’d left the service.

  “What time is it?” the man mumbled. His cheek bore the impression of the cushion, and he looked so out of it Dean almost felt bad for him.

  Almost.

  “Nine thirty,” Dean said cheerfully. He purposely raised his voice, and was rewarded by Colby’s pained wince. Oh yeah, his colleague had a raging hangover, all right. “May I ask what you’re doing in my office?”

  “Why are you here? It’s Saturday.”

  “Nice deflection, bro, but we’re not talking about me right now.” He wandered over to his desk and hopped up on the edge, watching as Colby eased himself into a sitting position, groaning the entire time. “What the fuck happened to you?”

  Colby grunted out two words. “Susanna. Jones.”

  Dean grinned. “Ah shit. What did our resident troublemaker do now?”

  Two muscular arms rose in the air as Colby stretched them over his head. He yawned, then winced again and rubbed his temples. “She challenged me to a shot contest,” he grumbled. “I thought I had her once the tally reached eleven, but then she pulled a fucking miracle out of her sexy ass and downed two more shooters.”

  A laugh spilled out. Dean knew firsthand that Suz could drink any man under the table. If he’d stuck around at the party, he would’ve warned Colby about it.

  But he hadn’t stuck around. Nope, he’d left the haunted house the moment his goddess had fled the scene. He’d raced after her, in fact, getting completely drenched as he combed the sidewalk like a creeper in search of the woman who had knocked his entire world off-kilter with one blistering kiss. She was gone, though. He wasn’t sure how she’d vanished so quickly, or where she’d vanished to. All he knew was that she’d left him with a hard-on, a sense of crushing disappointment, and the all-consuming need to find her.

  And the key to finding her had apparently gotten plastered with Colby, which was probably why Suz wasn’t picking up her damn phone.

  “Do you know where she is?” Dean asked. “I’ve been trying to reach her since last night.”

  “I have no idea,” Colby muttered.

  “Where did this shooter contest take place? Because I looked all over for her until someone told me she’d left the party early.”

  “Yeah, we left together.”

  Dean’s eyebrows soared. “Interesting…”

  Colby sighed. “I fucking wish. I’ve been trying to tap that since I met her, but Blondie’s a real tease.”

  Dean tried not to let his surprise show. Suz did have teasing down pat, but she also didn’t deny herself pleasure.

  “She convinced me to ditch the party, got me wasted, and then when I made an attempt to kiss her, she pulled that annoying turning-her-head-and-giving-me-her-cheek bullshit.” Colby’s dark eyes clouded over. “Then she jumped into a cab and left. The bar was only a few blocks from here, so I figured I’d sleep it off in the office.” He rubbed his temples again. “The state I was in? I couldn’t remember my own name, let alone my address to tell to a cabbie.”

  Hmmm. The plot thickened. Suz had refused to kiss Colby? And then ditched him? That was totally unlike her, especially since Dean knew for a fact she was attracted to the guy. She waxed poetic about Colby’s “lick-worthy muscles” every time Dean saw her.

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, I got ditched, too,” he admitted.

  “No shit?” Colby brightened. “That does make me feel better. The lady-killer himself got shot down? What’s the date? I want to mark it down on the calendar.”

  “Funny.”

  Colby heaved his broad body off the couch and made a beeline for the mini-fridge. He ditched his Captain America gloves, grabbed a bottle of Evian from the fridge and twisted off the cap, then downed the whole bottle before reaching for a second one.

  As Colby rehydrated, Dean pulled out his cell phone and checked the screen, but Suz hadn’t gotten back to him yet. Where the hell was she? He needed the name of her friend, damn it. In recent years, a parade of women moved in and out of his life, and normally he never looked back after a hookup. This time, he couldn’t stop looking forward. He wanted to see his goddess again. He wanted to kiss her and fuck her and learn everything about her.

  Maybe not even in that order, which was even freakier.

  He’d come to the office in the hopes that Pepper might be there, or maybe Parker and Lynn. Lynn was Suz’s best friend, and if anyone had detailed knowledge about Suz’s friend roster, it would be her. But he’d completely forgotten it was Saturday, which meant Pepper and Lynn were probably tangled up in bed with Dean’s business partners, unlikely to come up for air until Monday.

  “So who did you strike out with?” Colby asked curiously. “Was it Pepper’s friend from the gym? Jessica? Jamie? Can’t remember her name, but holy hell, she was hotter than—”

  They both froze when a blur of motion came from the door, and Dean found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The woman in the doorway lowered her weapon, her dark eyes flickering with humor. “I should’ve known your drunk asses would crash in the office.”

  Holstering her nine-mil, Gillian strode into the room, her gaze darting from Dean to Colby.

  Dean had to give her credit. He hadn’t heard her come in, though that was probably because the woman moved like a ghost. Before joining DreamMakers, Gillian had been the sniper for a covert military unit that had a reputation for kicking ass and taking names. When she’d first started working for them, she’d been serious and overly professional, but in the last couple of months, she’d begun to lower her guard, her fiery nature and whip-sharp humor making welcome appearances.

  “Hey, he’s the only drunk in the room,” Dean said, hooking a thumb at Colby. “I came in because I thought it was a regular old workday.”

  She smirked. “So you forgot it was Saturday? That’s not helping your I-didn’t-get-sloshed-out-of-my-mind-last-night cause.”

  He slid off the desk. “I’m sober as a judge, baby.”

  “It’s true,” Colby confirmed. “He left the party early so he could go home and cry himself to sleep.”

  Gillian broke out in a grin. “Aw, did the haunted house scare you? You poor thing. You should have come to get me—I would have held your hand.”

  He was about to make a cocky comment about how she was the weaker sex and was therefore the one who required hand-holding, but truth was, Gillian was a million times tougher than any man he’d ever known, and if the woman ever found herself in a house full of ghosts and ghouls, she’d probably shoot her way out of it.

  Instead, he flipped up his middle finger, then flashed her a wink. “If I had my way, you would’ve held more than my hand.”

  “Ha. In your dreams.”

  “God, you don’t
know how true that is,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “I dream about you every night, Hot Shot. In explicit detail.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she grumbled, as she always did when he used the nickname. Then she turned to Colby with a chuckle. “I want to know why Dean was crying.”

  “I wasn’t crying,” he objected.

  “He got ditched,” Colby informed her. “I haven’t pried the details out of him yet, but I think it was a Cinderella type of deal. You know, our man Dean dances the night away with a sweet li’l thang, he’s about to profess his undying love, and then she disappears into the night, leaving nothing but a sparkly silver shoe behind.”

  Ironically? Colby wasn’t that far from the truth. Well, minus the shoe, and adding a tongue-tangling kiss.

  “Wait—so in this scenario, Dean is Prince Charming?” Gillian snorted so loudly Dean’s ego took a hit.

  He rolled his eyes, then adopted a casual tone as he said, “That’s not what happened. But just out of curiosity, do either of you know who Suz’s friend was?”

  “Which one?” Gillian said blankly. “She showed up with like twenty people.”

  “The chick in the sexy nurse costume?” Colby guessed. Then he grinned. “Nice.”

  “No, the one in the silver get-up. I think she was an elf or something? Might have been from Lord of the Rings or one of those other pansy-ass nerd fares you guys are into.”

  “Trashing Lord of the Rings is not the way to get us to help,” Colby said primly.

  “Yeah, fuck you. Tolkien rocks,” Gillian agreed.

  “Ha, like you’ve ever read the books,” Colby accused her. “You just like Viggo.”

  “Bullshit you’d say no if Aragon smoldered in your direction,” she shot back.

  Dean touched his temples to ward off a headache—and he wasn’t even the one with the hangover. “Children, please. I just need a name.”

  “Sorry,” Colby said. “But I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  Gillian nodded. “Me neither. I don’t remember seeing anyone in that costume.”

  Shit. Back to square one. AKA waiting for Suz to awaken from her frickin’ beauty sleep and call him the fuck back.

  “You want us to help you track her down?” Colby offered.

  Gillian’s lips twitched. “Oooh, we could do some recon. An Unexpected Journey Seeking Colter’s Missing Elvish Hottie.”

  “The Desolation of Colter’s Sexcapades.” Colby snickered before grimacing in pain, pressing a hand over his eyes.

  Wonderful. Dean had forgotten he worked with assholes. Who were now never going to stop teasing him about this.

  “I don’t need your help,” he grumbled. “I can handle my love life on my own, thank you very much.”

  “Love life?” Gillian said in alarm. “I thought we were talking about a hookup. Do you actually want to date this woman?”

  He had no idea what he wanted. Her name, for starters. And he definitely wanted another chance to explore the sexual chemistry that had nearly burned down that closet. But thinking about dating her was way too premature. And dating in general? He couldn’t even remember what that was like. He hadn’t been in a serious relationship since he was a teenager.

  And fuck, big mistake allowing his mind to wander there. Because now he was thinking about the bomb that’d been dropped on him a while back when he’d discovered Suz had gotten chummy with Emma Lee.

  Emma. Christ, he’d been fighting the urge to track her down in person for years, but when he’d heard she was in town in September he’d once again chickened out. And now Emma was back in New York, and he’d missed yet another opportunity to atone for the past. Except…God, the thought of seeing her was too damn painful. Just hearing her name last month had unleashed another rush of memories he was having trouble bottling up.

  Memories…and a helluva lot of guilt.

  Crushing, bone-deep guilt.

  “Well?” Gillian demanded.

  Dean shoved aside all thoughts of his past and donned a light tone. “Who do you take me for? Pussy-whipped Jack or Parker? Dating isn’t a concept I’m familiar with, people. I want to fuck her, of course.”

  Gillian sighed. “You’re the biggest slut I’ve ever met.”

  “Are you slut-shaming me?” he said with mock hurt. “It’s the twenty-first century, Hot Shot. Own your sexuality.” He headed for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to catch up on my sleep. Someone told me it’s Saturday.”

  He ignored the laughter growing in volume behind him. Ignored it, but couldn’t resist manning the alarm as he walked past. He flipped the newly installed dead man’s switch that would trigger ear-splitting sirens to go off as soon as either Gillian or Colby broke through a security beam.

  The DreamMakers’ rookies could use a little kick in the pants.

  Dean grinned all the way to his lonely bed.

  Chapter Four

  Emma passed another dose of her special morning-after-the-night-before concoction to a bleary-eyed Suz before curling up in an armchair across from her friend’s couch with her own cup.

  Unlike Suz, it wasn’t the twenty-four-ounce flu kicking her butt. It was the I can’t believe I was in a closet playing tonsil hockey with the man I gave my virginity to and who then stomped on my heart, can’t sleep a wink all night syndrome that had Emma blinking hard and moving slowly.

  Although, nowhere nearly as slowly as Suz.

  “You going to survive, sweetie?” Emma asked softly.

  The other woman groaned, then sighed, then collapsed farther into the overstuffed cushions. “I can hear your eyelashes slam together every time you blink.”

  Oh dear. “I promise not to bat them at you until you’re feeling better,” Emma assured her.

  “Maybe 2020,” Suz suggested. “I tied one on hard last night.”

  But she’d still come to the door and let Emma in. And even hung-over enough to sway as she walked, Suz had taken one look at Emma and made one of those noises. The kind that said they were going to have a serious discussion as soon as the room stopped spinning.

  Which was fine with Emma, to a point. She was itching to know everything Suz could tell her.

  But first, she needed more details on Suz’s evening—the woman had been unflappable since they’d met. Seeing her friend in such rough shape seemed way out of character. “Did you get the license plate of the bus that ran you over?”

  “I’d shake my head, but I’m afraid it might fall off my shoulders.” Suz took a deep breath, braced herself and aimed for vertical. She went too far, swinging past a full upright seated position, headed toward the floor.

  Emma darted across the space between them, stopping Suz’s slow roll. She held on for a moment until Suz stopped reeling. “You’re still drunk.”

  “Maybe. I was doing shooters.”

  Ha. “Oh, sweetie. Didn’t you get that out of your system the night I outdrank you?”

  Suz mustered up an evil grin, a flash of her usual enthusiasm emerging.

  “Are you kidding me? I took everything I learned from drinking with you, and that’s why today I stand before you as this month’s ‘Shoot the Shit’ champion. Or I would, if I were standing.”

  Emma laughed. “I’m glad I inspired you to the gold.”

  Suz waved a hand. “Enough about me and my evening. I looked for you before I left, but you’d vanished.”

  During her long, sleepless night, Emma had plotted some of how to deal with this. Straight-up announcing she had a past with Dean was out of the question, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t morbidly curious to know what he’d been doing since they’d parted ways.

  Or rather, since he’d walked out on her and left an empty space in her chest where her heart used to be.

  But…semantics.

  “I headed home after the blackout.”

  Her friend looked disappointed. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time.”

  “I did have fun, but I’m better in
small groups,” Emma admitted.

  Suz rolled her eyes, immediately wincing. “Ouch.” She laid a hand on Emma’s knee. “I’m an idiot. You told me you don’t like crowds, so what do I do? Haul you to a party with a million people you don’t know.”

  Emma raised a brow. “A million, huh? Were you drinking before the party as well?”

  Suz ignored her and continued melodramatically. “And once I got you surrounded by a teeming mass of rowdies, I abandoned you!”

  They both cracked a smile at the same time, followed by laughter.

  “I take it you’re feeling a little better?” Emma asked drolly.

  “A little? Maybe.” Suz winked. “Tell me you had a good time? Even the teensiest moment of fun?”

  Emma flashed back to the combustible lust Dean had dragged from her with barely any effort. Fun?

  That was an understatement.

  Which only pissed her off, because…well, damn him. And damn her traitorous body for responding. Her subconscious should have been able to figure out who she’d been locking lips with. It should have set off warning bells in her head before any part of her even got close to Dean.

  “I did,” Emma said awkwardly. “I…uh, got to meet some of your friends.” She paused. “They were nice.”

  She paused again, long enough that she had Suz’s full attention.

  “Oh shit.” Suz frowned. “Which one of them made a pass at you? And if you say Parker, I swear to God I’m driving over there right now, no matter how hung-over I am, and slicing his fucking balls off—”

  “I didn’t meet anyone named Parker,” Emma interrupted with what she hoped was a reassuring look.

  Relief filled Suz’s eyes. “Oh. Good. Because his fiancée is my best friend.” The suspicion returned. “But you didn’t deny that someone made a pass at you. Who was it?”

  Emma put on a casual voice. “He said his name was Dean? He was flirting, I guess—” You guess? You kissed him! “—but I wasn’t having any of it.”

  She waited for a reaction, and boy, did she get one. Suz’s mouth gaped open for about five seconds before her lips twitched, and then she shook her head, quickly stopping as she pressed her palms to her temples and gritted her teeth.