by Melody Anne
“They’re beautiful,” she said as she took them. “Let me find a vase.” He followed behind her as she moved into a very small and very clean kitchen. He leaned against the wall as she opened one cupboard after another. It took four tries before she found a vase, and he wondered if it had been so long since she’d received flowers that she didn’t know where her vases were. He found that sad. A woman like her should receive flowers every week.
“I know my place is small, and it should be a lot easier to find things,” she said with a nervous chuckle. Brackish looked around, and though it was small, she’d taken great care in making it feel like a home. The furniture was slightly worn, and there were minimal knickknacks around, but it was charming and made a person feel welcome.
“I like small, that means less cleaning,” Brackish said with a chuckle. She beamed at him before moving to the sink and filling the vase.
As she carefully put the flowers in the water, one stem at a time while she organized the arrangement, he moved to the living room, noticing a wall of pictures.
“It looks like some good memories on this wall,” he told her.
“Yes, I wasn’t always such a workaholic,” she replied.
Brackish felt himself go still when he found a group photo with an obviously younger Erin standing with several men and a few other girls all making silly faces. In the center of the photo was Jorge, the drug cartel kingpin — and also Erin’s uncle. He’d nearly forgotten that fact in his pursuit of this woman. How involved was she with her uncle? How did he go about asking her about it? He wasn’t sure.
“I love this picture,” Erin said as she moved up next to him. “I’m with two of my cousins. I was thirteen, my cousin Martha was the same age, and her little sister was eleven. We had an amazing weekend.” The end of her sentence sounded sad enough he couldn’t help but reach for her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
“What happened?” he asked.
“That was the last time I saw them. A year later my parents passed away. This is them,” she said as she pointed to another picture. “These are my grandparents who took in my brother and me after that. They’re both gone now, kind of like Johnny Cash with June, my grandpa passed away six months after my grandma lost her fight against cancer. They said he died of natural causes, which is true if a broken heart is natural, and I guess it is.”
“Why don’t you see your cousins anymore?” he asked, wanting to get back to the picture that had stopped him in his tracks.
“This is my uncle Jorge. He lives in California, and he’s a real jerk. From the time I was little, he gave me the creeps and was always so mean. My grandparents never talked about him and we didn’t visit that side of the family once my parents were gone. That meant I lost my cousins too.”
Brackish let out an internal sigh of relief at her words. He didn’t believe she was involved in the messed up world of drugs. He felt bad that she’d seemed to have lost her entire family, though.
“I’m sorry, Erin. I know what it’s like to lose family, but no one can know how another feels. It seems you’ve done pretty well, considering all you’ve lost.”
She smiled again, reaching up and squeezing the hand that was still on her shoulder. “Thank you. I think people want to say the right thing, and want to understand, but sometimes the best thing for someone to do is just be by your side without trying to understand. Losing those you love is painful, and it’s different for everyone who goes through it.”
“I agree,” he told her.
“Okay, enough of this talk,” she said as she moved away from the wall. “Today is our first date and I want it to be fun, so let’s get out of here.”
He laughed, truly impressed with this woman. She’d been through a lot, and she kept going. Maybe that was why he was so interested in her. She didn’t seem to be the type of woman to ever give up, or to live in the past.
“So, what are the plans for the day?” she asked after they were in the vehicle, and moving onto the freeway. “It looks like we’re moving toward Seattle.”
“You just have to be patient,” Brackish told her as he reached over and grabbed her hand. He constantly wanted to touch her — and he liked it.
“A lot of people hate surprises. Lucky for you, I actually love them. It makes life more exciting,” she said.
The rest of the drive went by in a flash as they got to know each other a little more, laughed a heck of a lot, and even sang a few verses from the eighties station he’d managed to find. When she knew the entire chorus for Baby Got Back, he thought he might be falling in love.
All too soon they were downtown. He found parking, jumped from the truck, and rushed around to open her door. He held out a hand she easily took, giving him another smile that had his pants feeling a little too tight.
“I can’t complain about how you treat a woman,” Erin said. The connection between them seemed surreal. She slid from the truck, their bodies brushing together. Neither of them stepped away. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman more . . . but finally, with willpower he wasn’t sure he had, he managed to step back. He wanted a perfect date, and he feared if he kissed her, he wouldn’t stop.
They didn’t speak as he took her hand in his and moved down the street. He noticed her glancing at him as they moved, but maybe she was as confused by the electricity between them as he was.
They moved several blocks, and when they turned a corner he stopped. She looked in front of her, then at him, those luscious lips turned up more than earlier.
“Are you taking me to a museum?” she asked, clear delight in her voice.
“Yes, for the first part of our date,” he told her.
“The first part?” she asked.
“I want today to be memorable,” he said. “It can’t be just one activity.”
“I’m sure today will be very memorable,” she said, her smile permanently in place. She tugged on his hand as she began moving, obviously excited to get inside.
By the time they entered the third door, he was pleased that she stopped trying to grab the handle. It might be a small thing to some, but to him it was a gesture of respect to open her door. He wanted to show her that he saw her, he appreciated her, and he respected her. Besides, if his mom ever heard he didn’t open the door for a woman she’d whip him up and down the street before the scolding he’d receive. She might be near the end of her life, and more than a foot shorter than her son, but none of that would stop her from teaching him a lesson in life that truly mattered.
He and Erin moved through the museum together, both of them laughing at certain paintings, and stopping in awe of others. Some were two thousand years old and had been maintained so well, it looked as if they’d been created the week before.
“I chose this museum because it covers so many eras of art. The way some of these artists had no training and painted beyond the scope anyone could imagine fascinates me,” Brackish told her as they moved to another exhibit.
“I know. I have zero artistic ability, and that’s why I appreciate art that much more. I can’t comprehend how someone can take a blank canvas and create something that inspires millions of people around the world. It’s a gift, and those who have it and don’t use that gift . . . well, I feel sorry for them.”
“What if they don’t know they have the gift?” he asked.
“I guess there could be some who don’t know. But from the time a person is in pre-school they are given pencils and crayons. You’d know pretty soon if you have a true talent or not.”
“Most artists don’t believe their work is that good, though,” he pointed out.
She looked at another painting and thought about his words. The one they were currently looking at had a young woman in a torn dress with a man pulling on it. There was a story being shared by the artist, and she showcased it perfectly right down to the yearning look in the couple’s eyes.
“I don’t know how a person couldn’t finish this, look at it, feel the emotions, and not know how great they
are,” she said after several moments.
“This is a great piece,” Brackish agreed. “And we feel the emotion looking at it, but maybe the artist felt empty.”
She nodded as if she hadn’t thought of that. And then she stepped forward. Brackish could see she was completely lost in the moment. She’d forgotten he was there or that any other patrons were as well. A guard called out to her, and she didn’t hear him as she moved another step closer. She was less than a foot away from the painting, looking deep into the details, and missed the call from the guard again telling her to step back.
“Ma’am, you need to stay behind the line,” a frantic guard demanded, lightly tapping her shoulder.
The touch pulled Erin from her momentary fascination. She blushed as she looked from the guard back to Brackish who was grinning at her. “I’m so sorry. I totally zoned out there for a moment,” she said to the guard, who let out an obvious sigh of relief that she wasn’t a crazy person trying to take the painting. Then Erin glared at Brackish who chuckled. “You should’ve told me I was in a trance walking like a zombie.”
He laughed. “I saw the guard getting all nervous and decided to take pics instead,” he said as he held up his phone. “I was hoping you’d fight the guard and I could capture some WWE wrestling.”
“Men,” she said as she threw her hands in the air. “You would hope for that.” She rolled her eyes and walked from the exhibit. He might’ve been worried if he hadn’t seen the twinkle in her eyes. She was embarrassed, but she was fighting laughter as well.
Brackish quickly caught up to her and threw his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. She finally chuckled, finding the humor in their situation. They got a few looks from other patrons who obviously took life far too seriously. That made the two of them laugh even harder, annoying more people.
They stepped into another room, and their laughter died. Almost simultaneously they realized how close they were pressed together. Erin leaned back and looked up at him, her eyes flashing with desire instead of laughter. Brackish’s body instantly responded.
“I could look at you all day,” Brackish said. The room of people disappeared. It was just the two of them surrounded by priceless works of art.
“I was thinking the same thing about you,” Erin replied, her voice husky.
Brackish couldn’t wait another moment. He pulled Erin close to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, her hands lightly tracing his back.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, but he couldn’t wait another second. He leaned down and took her red lips, his tongue tracing their sweet, soft curves. She sighed against his mouth as her eyes closed and she kissed him back. He might’ve grown completely lost in her if the loud chuckles around them hadn’t shaken him from his lust coma.
As quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, Erin’s cheeks flushed, and his body felt on fire. He reluctantly let her go as she took a shaky step back.
“It looks like the art has come to life,” someone said with a chuckle.
“I know. It makes me want to find a dark corner with my own art-come-to-life,” another voice said, referring to Brackish.
“He does look as if he stepped right from a painting,” another woman continued.
“Nah, she’s the work of art,” a male voice said. That one made Brackish want to snap necks. He didn’t want any man lusting after his woman.
“We should go before we give them more of a show,” Brackish said. He tried to chuckle, but he was too wound up.
Erin grinned at him, her face filled with joy. She leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the lips before stepping away again. “Steve, I don’t know much about you, don’t know where you came from, and don’t know why this is happening, but I’m done questioning it because you make me feel something I haven’t felt before.”
Brackish’s stomach clenched at her words. “I was thinking the exact same thing,” he admitted. “But I’ll add that you’re brilliant, sexy as hell, and have so many layers, it makes me want to peel each of them back, one by one.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t mind some peeling,” she said as she winked at him. Then she moved forward, leaving his eyes on her ass and hips as she swayed them while walking.
“Vixen,” he said with a growl as he caught up to her and gave her a slight swipe on that beautiful ass. “You’re trying to get me arrested.”
“I’d never do that,” she said, wiggling those hips again as they moved toward the exit of the museum.
“I think you’re full of trouble,” he said with a laugh as they walked outside. “It’s a good thing I’m always up for an adventure.”
They laughed as they retraced their steps back to his truck. Their hands remained clasped, and it felt right being with her. The longer he was with this woman, the more he found he wanted to be. He was falling hard.
He opened Erin’s door and gave her one more long, satisfying kiss before helping her inside. He was very proud of the shakiness of her legs as she collapsed against her seat. He wasn’t the only one affected by this connection between the two of them.
Brackish didn’t know what that meant going forward. There were a lot of secrets between the two of them. If this continued moving in the same direction, he wondered if those secrets would eventually destroy them. Should he put it all on the table now?
No. He couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to risk what they’d just started. He’d have to take a leap of faith and see what was going to come next. And he’d have to pray if it got serious she’d forgive him for all he wasn’t telling her. There was no way they could continue a relationship with the kind of secrets between them that were resting there now.
It had been years since Brackish had prayed — but he said a short one before he started his vehicle. He didn’t want to lose this girl. He wanted to see how far they could take the relationship — maybe they could take it all the way.
Chapter Nine
Chad turned onto the disguised driveway to the compound at 0548, smiling when he saw the team finishing their morning exercises. It was already seventy degrees outside, so they were shirtless, sweat dripping off of them. They worked hard at every single thing they did and it showed in their actions, their bodies, and their minds.
Chad wasn’t as young as he’d once been, but he still worked hard, sweated a lot, and kept himself in shape. He might take a few more breaths than the men he was in charge of, but he had no doubt he could keep up, and maybe make them sweat a bit harder than they already were.
He chuckled to himself. Did any man ever admit he couldn’t do that? Not someone like him. Heck, Joseph still punched Chad in the arm every once in a while, challenging him to a push-up competition. Age was just a number, and Chad wasn’t going to slow down until the day he was buried.
Chad beat the men to the building, entered his security password, then walked through the halls that made him smile. He loved the work they were doing.
He dropped off his briefcase in the conference room, then made a beeline for the kitchen, smiling at the aroma of his favorite coffee the men had brewed just for him: Black Ivory Coffee, which he only drank once in a while. It was from Thailand, costing hundreds of dollars a pound, and he hadn’t told the men the process of procuring the beans. If they knew they were drinking coffee that had been harvested from elephant waste, they might revolt on him. But life was an adventure, he thought as he poured a cup of the fragrant brew.
He grabbed a banana and scarfed it down before finishing his first cup of coffee. He normally tried to sip on this delicious brand, but the first cup always was gone in a few chugs. Of course. His enthusiasm for coffee was what had led to his call name of Chugs. He poured his second cup and grabbed a blueberry muffin while leaning against the counter. He wasn’t in a hurry that morning as he’d told the team they’d meet at 0630 instead of their usual 0600.
As he attempted to sip his coffee instead of guzzling it, he looked around the homey kitchen, noting that Green had obviously been in ther
e since pots and pans were on the drying rack. He was the only member of the team with any cooking skills, and he was good — really good.
Chad searched for leftovers and hit the jackpot when he opened the fridge and found a couple containers of salmon tartare. He needed to drop by some night Green was cooking. Though his wife was amazing, she certainly wasn’t a gourmet cook — but he’d never in a hundred million years tell her that.
As Chad was trying to decide whether to eat the leftovers or not, Sleep joined him, moving straight to the coffee pot. “Morning, Chug,” he said, looking bright-eyed and ready to take on the day. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
“Come on, Sleep, I’ll pay you a hundred dollars to take the blame for my gluttony this morning. I assume Green whipped this together, and no one wanted it because it was so disgusting, so I can do you all a favor and get rid of it . . . in my gut.”