Those lines formed at her eyebrows again and she pulled away. He dropped his hand, took her glass, refreshed it and walked back to her, resuming his position.
She let him, didn’t move away, just tipped her head back to look in his eyes.
“They’re investigating Lowe,” he told her. “You remember him?”
“I, yes, I…” she stopped and her head tipped to the side, “Denny had it rough, Colt, Susie was a bitch to him. But he pulled it out, got the last laugh. He was gorgeous when he graduated. Half the girls in my class had a crush on –”
She stopped talking suddenly, her face blanked of everything and she took a step to the side, sliding down the counter.
Then she turned to face him, put her hand to the counter and leaned into it heavily.
“What?” Colt asked but she didn’t speak, so he moved into her and repeated, “Feb, what?”
She focused on him and said, “Freshman year, in lunch, during lunch…” she stopped and shook her head, looking to the side before she hissed, “fuck!”
Colt slid his hand under her hair and curled his fingers around her neck again, putting pressure there for a different reason, to keep her attention on him. He got what he wanted, she looked back to him.
“February, tell me what.”
She nodded but it was jerky. “Susie was going after him, her and some of the cheerleaders, a few jocks. God, I don’t even remember who was there but I remember it was Susie doing most of the talking.”
When she stopped speaking, Colt prompted, “What happened?”
“I waded in,” she told him, “me and Angie, but mostly me. I was always the one with the big mouth.”
This was true.
“And?” he pressed.
“And nothing, that’s it. I just walked over to them and told them to fuck off, leave him alone. I wasn’t nice about it either. Susie had a few words for me but the jocks drifted away, probably because they knew you and Morrie wouldn’t like it if they got into it with me. Once she realized she didn’t have anyone at her back, Susie backed off too. Denny was long gone by then. He didn’t do anything, say anything, just escaped as quickly as he could. I didn’t even see him go since I was into it with Susie. He just vanished.”
“That the only time you did that?”
She nodded.
“Denny ever say thanks, show gratitude, anything?”
“Nothing, I didn’t know he knew I existed,” she told him then her eyes, still on him, went far away and she went on. “I’d smile at him in the halls. I remember. I’d smile at him even when he was scrawny. But also when he filled out,” she focused on Colt again and finished, “he never smiled back, looked right through me.”
Colt had never been scrawny and he’d never been teased, growing up he had his own hell to deal with but it wasn’t that.
February had never been scrawny either and, because of him and Morrie, definitely never teased. She was a pretty little girl who grew into a very pretty teenager who grew up to be a very beautiful woman.
A pretty girl smiling at a shy, skinny, taunted kid with greasy hair, fuck, it must have felt like the clouds opened up and angels shined their light on him.
“Denny come into the bar very often?” Colt asked.
“I haven’t seen him since I’ve been home,” she answered and then said, “Colt, I don’t think I’ve seen him since high school.”
“Far as we can see, he fits the profile, Feb, and he’s disappeared and he took fifteen K out of his bank before he did.”
Feb dropped her head back and closed her eyes. “This can’t be.”
He gave her another squeeze at her neck to get her attention and he got it. She righted her head and looked at him again.
“All sorts of shit trips triggers,” Colt said gently, “maybe that tripped his.”
“That’s insane.”
Colt couldn’t help it, he smiled. “Honey, he’s the guy, he’s not acting exactly normal.”
The skin around her eyes went soft as did her eyelids and her lips tilted up at the ends before she muttered, “This is true.”
He’d never seen her face get soft like that, never seen that little smile, her look saying a lot, sharing humor but still holding something back. Fuck, but it was sexy as all hell.
She didn’t move, didn’t pull away from his hand when she kept talking. “I can see him knowing about Angie, he was in that class, he could take the note. And Pete,” she didn’t even hesitate in saying her ex’s name, Colt was surprised to note, and she hadn’t said Pete’s name in Colt’s presence since the day she showed up bloodied and broken on Morrie’s doorstep, “everyone knew about him. But Butch?”
“It’s him, there’s a trail and we’ll find it.”
She studied him a moment before she nodded then her eyes drifted to his throat. “Will you do something for me, Colt?”
What he’d like to do was tell her to stop calling him Colt and call him Alec again but he didn’t say that.
Instead he said, “What?”
Her hand came up and she grabbed his wrist which was holding his bourbon. She lifted his hand with the glass up between their bodies and she rested her glass to his. She kept her head bent, her gaze on their drinks for a second before she looked at him.
“Angie was fucked up but she was a good person. Her parents were nearly as shitty as yours and she wasn’t touched with a lot of love,” Feb said softly then he felt her put pressure on her glass against his. “To Angie,” she whispered then she took a drink.
Colt put pressure on her neck and she came a few inches closer before he took his own sip.
When they were done, she put her glass up between them again and taking her cue, he rested his against hers. Her eyes grew soft, this time in a different way, before she kept speaking.
“You had a great dog, Colt.”
Fuck, she was killing him.
“I know,” he whispered.
“To Puck,” she whispered back and he felt his glass press into his hand before they both lifted them and drank again.
“This’ll be harder,” she told him, her glass again against his and her eyes again at his throat.
“Do it,” he murmured.
She looked at him and said, “He was a dick, but he didn’t deserve that,” she pressed her glass against his. “To Pete.”
Colt thought if Pete Hollister were ever to have a toast made to him that said it all, that was it, so he drank as did Feb and they resumed their positions.
“You didn’t know him and he fucked me over but he was a fun guy who made me laugh,” she pulled in a short breath and let it out on a shorter sigh. “To Butch.”
On the last toast, Colt drained his glass dry, so did Feb and he put his on the counter, taking hers out of her hand and placing it beside his. Then he used his hand at her neck to pull her body to his and wrapped his arms around her.
She slid her arms around his waist.
Then she whispered into his chest, “See. Told you I’m not gonna leave.”
“You’re doin’ great, baby.”
Resistance he didn’t know she was holding in her body drained away and she softened against him.
“Can I cry now?” she asked but her voice said she was already doing it.
“Have at it.”
Four days, four deaths, four times Feb cried in his arms.
He’d be the fool Susie accused him of being if he didn’t admit he liked the feel of her right where she was.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fucking jump for joy when this shit was over and at that moment he’d sell his soul so she’d never cry again.
When he heard the tears subside, he said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked his chest.
“For trusting me enough to give that to me instead of keepin’ it in and lettin’ it eat more of you away.”
She gave a slight jerk in his arms, not resistance, surprise, before she settled back in.
Finally, she tilted her head
back and he looked down at her but he didn’t move his arms.
“I need to go to sleep,” she said softly.
“You gonna be able to do that?”
“I’ll take some of Doc’s pills.”
“That okay if you’ve been drinking?”
“I’ll check the bottle.”
Without another tactic left to him to delay, Colt let her go.
She started to the door but turned in its frame and looked back at him.
“I know it’s heavy, Colt. Thanks for sharing the weight of it,” she whispered then she walked with a hurried step, leaving him staring after her long after she disappeared down the hall.
Yes, she was fucking killing him.
Colt turned out the kitchen light, went to the couch, sat down, picked up the phone and called Sully.
Chapter Five
Reprieve
I got up feeling groggy, the pills worked great but they didn’t know when to stop.
I threw the covers back off Colt’s bed, rolled twice to make my way across the grand expanse to the side, threw my legs over, got up and dragged myself to Colt’s bathroom.
I was so groggy, I was halfway through my morning routine before I realized Wilson wasn’t sitting on the toilet seat watching me with blame in his eyes that said me brushing my teeth was not more important than him getting fed. Wilson was a cat and therefore could be aloof but he liked me and he didn’t make any bones about showing it. When I was in a room, Wilson was in it too. He might not be laying on me or rubbing up against me purring but he knew he was the man of the house and needed to keep me company so he didn’t often leave me alone.
Therefore I went in search of my unusually absent cat deciding, even though Colt was super cool last night going so far as to toast Pete with me, still I’d kill him if he let my cat out only for Wilson to be murdered by a bi-species killing maniac.
I heard the meows the minute I fully swung open Colt’s partially-opened bedroom door.
When I hit the doorway to the living room I saw Colt standing in the kitchen, a coffee cup in his hand, his back to me, his neck twisted, his eyes pointed down to the floor which was the source of the meows.
In the depth and breadth of my vision I saw all of it, including some of the living room, the dining area, the kitchen and even out the kitchen window which showed part of the speedboat, part of Dad and Mom’s RV.
But all I really saw was Colt’s back and it was a fucking great view. Nearly as good as his front view last night, shirtless, hair mussed and wearing shorts.
Damn, they needed to find this guy so I could get the hell out of there.
Colt turned when I hit the dining area and leveled his eyes on me.
“How do you get him to shut the fuck up?” he asked, his face cloudy.
Wilson meowed.
“You feed him,” I replied, hitting the kitchen.
“Then for God’s sake, feed him,” Colt muttered, turning, backing up, leaning his hips against the counter and crossing an arm on his bare chest, his coffee still held up, his scowl still aimed at poor, defenseless Wilson.
I got down to the business of feeding Wilson. Wilson saw my movements, knew the drill and shut his kitty trap.
“Thank God,” Colt muttered and I bit back a laugh but I couldn’t bite back my smile. “You should name him something else,” Colt told me.
“What’s wrong with Wilson?” I asked Wilson’s food.
“His name is Wilson?” Colt asked my back, I looked over my shoulder at him and saw his brows were knitted.
“Yeah,” I said, turning back to the food then moved to set it on the floor by Wilson’s kitty water bowl that Mom put out yesterday.
“You called him something else last night,” Colt said.
“I did?” I asked, going to the cupboard Mom took the mugs out of yesterday and I opened it to see in the divorce Melanie got the matching coffee mugs because none of Colt’s matched.
I picked one when Colt informed me, “Yeah, you called him ‘Mr. Purrsie Purrs’.”
I felt my neck get tight.
Oh Lord. That was my kitty speak, I only did that when Wilson and I were alone. Wilson loved it. Anytime I lapsed into kitty speak he came closer or if he was in another room he’d come running. But I let no one else hear my kitty speak. I thought Colt was sleeping or I’d never have done it. Obviously Colt wasn’t sleeping. Shit.
I decided to make no comment.
“Feb?”
“Mm?” I mumbled to the coffeepot, pouring myself a cup and not turning.
“Feb.”
“Yeah?” I asked, sliding to the side to open the fridge and grab the milk.
“February.” Oh shit, I could hear his laughter in my name.
“What?”
“Honey, look at me.”
I set the milk down next to my mug and turned to look at him. He was smiling.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
“Mr. Purrsie Purrs is funny,” Colt answered, he thought this was hilarious and I could tell it was taking everything for him not to laugh.
I rolled my eyes, muttered, “Whatever,” and started to turn again when Colt murmured, “Baby,” and when he did there was no humor in his tone at all.
At the timbre of his voice, I lifted my gaze to his and it felt like my head was moving in super slow motion. But when our eyes met things all of a sudden speeded up. Colt took one step forward in a lunge, his arm coming out and hooking me at the waist then, when he stepped back, I went with him. On the fly, I hit his body and my hands came up automatically to his chest to brace my fall. My hands were useless, his arms locked around me, his head came down on a slant and his mouth hit mine.
I wasn’t prepared for it. I’d been in his arms a lot lately and it felt good, better than I remembered because it was better, to have him hold me, this man, this Colt, older, smarter, stronger, more experienced.
But I hadn’t had his arms around me and his mouth on mine and my hands on the hard muscle of his bare chest and my bare legs tangled up with his while he was leaning against his kitchen counter, I was leaning against him and we were in his kitchen with me in my nightshirt.
I didn’t even try to push away. I opened my mouth, inviting his tongue inside. It swept in and I felt the spasm between my legs, instant wet and ready, and I moaned into his mouth because it felt so damned good.
I went up on tiptoe, pressing my body to his. My hands slid up his chest, his shoulders, my fingers went into his hair holding him to me as his arm tightened around my waist, the other hand going up. I felt the weight of my hair lighten as he gathered a bunch in his palm and held it against the back of my head.
We went at it, wet and rough and desperate and I wanted him so badly I had visions of pulling down my panties then his shorts then jumping up to wrap my legs around his hips and guiding him inside. I didn’t need foreplay. I just needed that kiss and Colt.
“Hey kids, we’re goin’ to Frank’s for… fuck!”
I would have torn away but although Colt’s head came up his arms got so tight I couldn’t move an inch.
“Jack, get out of the way, what’s the matter with… oh.”
Dad, calling loud, probably thinking he was going to wake us and coming up the rear and around grumbling at Dad, Mom.
Everyone stared at everyone else.
I didn’t look at Colt but both Mom and Dad looked like they wanted to kick themselves while simultaneously looking like they just remembered it was their birthday and found out they’d won the lottery.
I had no idea what I looked like but testing Colt’s strength with a cautious pull at his arms which only grew all the more tight I knew he had no intention of letting me go. I made the decision not to fight it in this uncertain situation and I stayed where I was.
When no one said anything, I waded in. “I could do Frank’s.”
“We’ll come back later,” Mom said.
“You don’t have to come back later,” I told her, trying another tug at Colt�
�s arms and finding them just as resistant so I gave up again. “You bought enough food to feed an army, we could do breakfast here.”
“Why don’t you come back?” Colt spoke and I could not only hear his voice, I felt it rumbling against me from crotch to chest and it felt far from bad.
“We’ll come back,” Dad said, backing out.
“We’ll give you some time. An hour,” Mom said, backing out with Dad.
“Jackie, an hour?” Dad muttered.
“More than an hour,” Mom amended hurriedly.
“How ‘bout we let them call us?” Dad suggested.
“Good idea,” Mom muttered and Dad, one arm extended to grab the door, Mom having disappeared, took one look at me and Colt, gave Colt a nod and then he shut the door.
I pulled back a lot harder against Colt’s arms but those arms didn’t budge.
I tipped my head back to look at him, putting steady pressure on his shoulders with my hands.
“Let me go.”
“Why’d you name your cat Wilson?” he asked.
In my confusion at his inane and insane question, my steady pressure ceased.
“What?”
“Wilson. Weird name for a cat.”
“Colt.”
He grinned. “Better than Mr. Purrsie Purrs.”
I put the pressure back on. “Colt.”
His neck bent, dipping his face to mine and he murmured, “Great kiss, baby.”
The pressure ceased and I whispered, “Colt.”
“I liked it.”
“I think I need to move out,” I announced.
He ignored me. “A lot.”
“Maybe I’ll move in with Joe-Bob. He was in Vietnam. Maybe he knows hand to hand combat.”
“When you moaned in my mouth… fuck,” Colt muttered, his arms giving me a squeeze.
“Will you stop talking about the kiss?” I squealed.
The grin came back but he said, “You aren’t movin’ out.”
“I think it’s best.”
“You wouldn’t know what was best for you if it smacked you on the ass.”
“Colt.”
“Though, I’ll give it a try.”
“Colt!” I shouted, giving his shoulders a shove and succeeding in gaining about three inches of space before his arms went tight again, hauling me right back.
For You Page 14