“You don’t need to follow me,” Leah said over an early breakfast of toast and sliced grapefruit. “I’ll be totally fine. It’s right downtown. And it’s daylight. You don’t have to worry.” Her cheeks glowed a faint pink, and her lashes were lowered in signs of obvious charmed embarrassment at his insistence, but her tone was steady and firm. She really didn’t want to inconvenience him; but, mostly, he thought, she didn’t like the idea of being dependent. She’d always had a contrary streak.
One that Carter wasn’t willing to indulge right now, not about this. “It was broad daylight when Nicole Myer got snatched, too. Right on the sidewalk in the middle of downtown. She went out for a ten-minute break, and never came back.”
Leah’s gaze flickered up, and the color drained out of her face. Carter hated scaring her, but it was necessary now, he thought. There was no such thing as being too cautious in the world of the Lean Dogs.
“I’mnot going to follow a stranger outside,” she said.
“What if the guy was dressed as a cop? Or a fireman or something?”
“Carter–” she started.
“Me following you isn’t about me thinking you can’t take care of yourself. Or that you’re not smart,” he huffed, impatience showing, he knew. “If something happened to you…” He didn’t finish because it was all too easy to imagine her running through that field behind the mill where they’d found Allie Henderson’s shirt, and blood drops spattered on leaves. “It’s about making sure you’re safe because I care about you.”
She studied him a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” Took another bite of toast. “Where are you going after that?”
“To the clubhouse, to see what kinda crazy shit we’ve got on the agenda today.” When she smiled fondly, he was helpless but to smile back, despite the churning anxiety in his stomach.
Last night had been something of a revelation for him. Sex in high school and college had been a strange mix of girls so shy they didn’t want him to look at them, and girls trying to use him for social clout thanks to his football star status. It had been mechanical for that kind of young woman: they said he was hot, and asked to feel his muscles, but they weren’t seeinghim. They’d eyed him up like a prize hog, until his skin had crawled, and he’d lost all interest in dating.
Then had come the club, and Jazz, and a walk on the wilder side, free of shame and judgement. Whatever felt goodwasgood. He’d learned a lot in her bed; she’d taken his raw skills and honed them just like any good coach, until he knew all the moves and tricks that had women blossoming like flowers, the moves and tricks so often unknown-to, or disregarded by men just looking to get their own.
But, even though he genuinely liked Jazz, she’d never felt like a friend. Like a companion. When they were tangled up and sweaty, there’d been something almost motherly about her affection, and he’d thought that was as close as he could come to love.
But Leah last night…
He’d already known that he liked her. They’d been friends for far longer than they’d been anything more serious. She had a way of reading his moods and expressions, anticipating just what he needed to hear in weak moments. She could cheer him up like no one else. He’d wondered, though, if she would recoil from his frankly demanding passion.
To have her meet him halfway; to see her enjoy herself, and him, and for them to be able to laugh and joke with each other after…To sit up late with a plate of nachos and a crappy action movie…
He had no idea what to make of that. She could moan, and arch, and urge him deeper inside her – and then share the inane details of her day with him. Make faces and do bad impressions of the characters in the movie they were watching.
It was so contradictory – and so rich because of it. So unexpected and wonderful, and he would guard it with everything he had.
He loaded the dishwasher while she gathered her laptop bag and purse, and did one last check that the apartment was set for the day.
She paused at the door, before they went out, and turned to him.
Worry flared – but it shouldn’t have.
The smile she tipped up to him was full of banked heat; he could watch the memories from last night play out across the pleasure that shifted over her features. “You won’t be able to pull into the parking deck when we get to the building,” she said. “And don’t worry: it’s guarded, and well-lit, and totally safe.” She hummed a sound that was almost a laugh, and then grew serious again; placed a hand on his chest that didn’t grope or fondle, but which felt heavy with promise. “We should say goodbye here.”
His throat had gone dry. He swallowed. “Good idea.”
“Last night was…” Her gaze flicked back and forth across his face as she searched for words. “Incredible. I’ve never had sex like that.” She said it plainly, without artifice – but it felt like a gift.Wasa gift. She grinned. “Thank God for Sex Fiend Carter Michaels.” At this point, she didn’t mean it as objectification, but she went on to say, “And for Wonderful Friend Carter Michaels, too.” She leaned up to kiss him, then, lashes falling low.
He cupped her face and deepened it, one indulgent moment, before reluctantly letting her go. “Thank you,” he said, and the spark in her eyes told him he didn’t have to say what for.
~*~
The clubhouse, when he arrived, buzzed with activity. Ratchet’s usual table looked to have become a catch-all for printed photos and Red Bull cans. Chanel was handing him another as Carter entered, and he wondered if the Secretary had even slept.
Ghost was looking over his shoulder, as expected, cell phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you think – well, I don’t travel in that rich shithead circle, do I? Yeah. Talk later.”
Carter perched on the edge of a table, beside Reese; his first instinct was to sit somewhere else, but he remembered their brief semblance of a conversation the other day, and thought aboutstepping up,and didn’t avoid the quiet assassin.
To his surprise, Reese leaned over a fraction and said, “Peter Weston woke up an hour ago. We questioned him again, and he gave us an address where they were keeping the girls, a phone number for Ricky, and details about the mayor’s involvement.”
“Awesome. Where is he now?”
