K. Tucker - Four Seconds to Lose

Cain was telling the truth. He doesn’t know how to date and he sure as hell doesn’t take things slow.

“I know. Traffic. Biscayne Boulevard is backed up with all the construction.”

“Huh . . . that might explain it. Maybe the delivery guy is stuck in it too, because there’s no package yet.”

My stomach clenches. He can’t be stuck in it because there isn’t any construction on Biscayne Boulevard right now, as shocking as that is.

So, why isn’t there a package for me?

Trying to appear calm, I let my eyes roam the lobby area, looking for something suspicious. Something dangerous.

Like Jimmy.

Or Sam. Would he break his rule and fly down here for me?

“Maybe. Oh well!” I give my best ditzy girl giggle as I hand him his coffee. What does this mean? I’m sure it means something. Do I still pitch my current burner phone? Do I call Sam? I haven’t spoken to him since confronting him about the real Charlie Rourke and I have no idea what he’s going to say.

Do I run as if the building is about to explode?

Suddenly I feel like an easy target, as if I’m standing in the middle of an open field with a slew of guns trained on me.

Kyle happily takes a sip of his coffee, oblivious to the danger and pretending not to be checking out my chest. I start babbling some nonsense about a party I didn’t go to on Saturday, pretending not to notice.

All I want to do right now is get out of here.

I don’t know that I can last the compulsory fifteen minutes. I don’t know that I can last five minutes. Luckily, I’m not forced to find out, because the trill sound of the burner phone in my pocket starts to ring.

“I’ve got to take this, Kyle. I’m so sorry,” I offer, abruptly turning and heading toward the revolving doors as I root through my purse. The second I step out onto the sidewalk, I’m scanning my surroundings, looking for some indication that I’m being followed. I see nothing. I’ve seen nothing for a week now and I’ve been watching closely for any signs of a tail.

On the fifth ring, I answer, clenching my muscles to avoid peeing my pants.

“Hello?”

“Hello, little mouse. How are things?” His greeting is much more pleasant than I had anticipated. It’s as though our last conversation never happened.

“Fine. Except the delivery didn’t arrive this morning.”

“Yes, I know. I meant to call you earlier about that. I’m sorry if that worried you.” This is odd. He’s acting so . . . considerate. I see flashes of gymnastics trials and school plays, of Sam standing with armloads of flowers, garnering attention from parents around as the doting stepfather. Of hoisting me up onto Black Jack’s saddle with a twinkle in his eye.

The warmth of those memories spreads through my chest, reminding me that there was a time when nothing tainted our relationship. When I thought I was the luckiest girl on the planet.

“There are some issues with competition and we need to lay low for a while. Jimmy will sort it out, but until then, you just enjoy yourself. I see you’ve put a good dent into the money I sent to you.”

“I bought a few new dresses,” I lie. I went back to the bank last week to drain my secret account and a chunk of the one Sam knows about, dumping it all into a safety deposit box that I can access at any time.

“Good. I’ll send you some more money to keep you busy. There won’t be any more deliveries of any kind for a while.”

There’s dead silence on the phone as he waits for my response.

“For how long?” I dare ask.

“Months. Or longer. I may need to find another way in. It’s getting risky.”

Another way in? What does that mean? Another way in that doesn’t involve me, perhaps?

No more burner phones, no more drug drops, no more deceiving Cain?

Could this really be happening? With my free hand, I pinch my forearm. I’m still here. My phone is still in my ear.

In the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else at work. If it’s not this easy, if Sam is in fact reacting to his suspicions about me. Either way, it sounds like I won’t be doing a drop for a long time. Maybe ever again.

That life could truly be part of my past.

And then I could actually look at Cain as part of my future. I’ll have to tell him about this one day, of course. But, by then, maybe he’ll actually love me. Enough to be able to forgive me.

* * *

I don’t walk through Cain’s door.

I float. On a fluffy white cloud of shock and confusion and possibilities and hope that never existed before, I float through the condo, in search of a possible new future. I find it on the balcony, stretched out on a lounge chair with a book.

Cain looks up to see me standing over him. “Charlie?” He watches for a moment and then frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Pushing the book free from his grip, I force myself onto the chair to lie atop him, taking in his bewildered expression.

And the tears begin to fall.

Cain is beside himself, his body going rigid. “What’s wrong, Charlie?” His hands, his eyes, begin searching my limbs as if searching for a physical injury. And still I cry, only now my laughter begins to weave in, sending me into a borderline hysterical fit of sobs, as I choke back the tears enough to say, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Cain must think I’m insane.

Maybe I am.

Or maybe this is what happens when you break free of a trap.

Whenever I look at her, a hot burn fills my chest.

I don’t know how I ever lasted a day without Charlie. Both work-wise and life-wise, I’ve never spent this much time with another human being. Not even Nate, who lived with me for several years.

I don’t even mind coming into Penny’s anymore. The place feels different. It’s not just me anymore. Now I have Charlie at my side. And those knots in my shoulders that never go away?

Fucking gone. Like magic.

Charlie magic.

She never explained what happened that day she came home and fell into a fit of tears on top of me. It took me a minute to accept that she wasn’t hurt and she was actually happy, but when I tried to get answers out of her, she quickly shut me up by sliding her tongue in my mouth.

“Anything else you think we need?” Charlie asks, finishing off another week’s schedule at my office desk. “I put the supply orders in as well. And we should have a beer delivery coming within a few hours.” She knows the distributor customer service reps by name and we’re somehow getting better service because of it, without any more of Ginger’s shows.

All in all, Charlie is a quick learner and a hard worker. Fortunately for me, she hasn’t learned not to wear dresses to work yet. “Perhaps.” I dip down to close my mouth over that long, delicate neck.

“What ever happened to your rules?” she teases with a giggle, throwing down her pen. “For such a stickler, you sure have done a one-eighty.”

“New rule,” I murmur. “You’re not allowed to wear this yellow dress in here.” It’s the same one she wore the day of her interview, when she let it drop to the floor in front of me. From where I’m standing, I have the perfect view down the top of it. I’d rather have the full view. Before she has a chance to object, I have the straps pushed off her shoulders and her dress and bra pulled down, exposing those flawless tits of hers.

“Cain!” she exclaims as I reach around to cup each one, their weight perfectly balanced within my hands. I know her body very well.

“You shouldn’t wear dresses if you don’t want me to do this. Or this.” In seconds I have my hands at her waist to hoist her out of her chair, kicking it out of the way. I press into her, letting her feel me so she knows exactly what’s coming. “Lean over,” I whisper, pushing all the paper on my desk to one side with a sweep of my hand.

“Everyone’s waiting for us out there,” she whispers breathlessly, but she follows orders and stretches her bared top half over the cool wood, looking over her shoulder at me with that devilish smile of hers that I love. Though she has accused me of being insatiable on several occasions, she never denies me. “Did you lock the door?”

“Of course,” I mutter, hiking the skirt of her dress up around her waist. Round, muscular cheeks meet my gaze. I only lock it when she’s in here with me. And when she’s in here with me, it’s always locked.

I hook a finger around the thin material of her thong and pull until it slides off and drops to the ground. Slipping a hand in between her legs, I offer her a smirk, which she accepts with a dark smile of her own. She’s always ready for me.

I don’t waste another second, unzipping my pants as I reach into the top drawer for a condom.

“Fuck,” I mutter, slamming it shut.

She frowns at me.

“We’re out.” I can’t believe I didn’t notice that. I’m going to be left with a raging hard-on unless . . . I haven’t been inside a woman, uncovered, since I was an idiotic seventeen-year-old. Feeling Charlie, skin to skin, would be ecstasy. Right now I’m thinking I don’t give a fuck. But I know I will after. On my desk isn’t how I want that first to go. “We need to get you on the pill.”

I catch the wary expression flash over her features. It’s the same one she gave me when I suggested she give up her apartment. I understand it. She wonders if I’m crazy. If we’re moving too fast.

In my eyes, though, there’s only one speed with Charlie. Now.

Standing, she turns to face me. Her fingers push their way down my hips, snaking under my briefs to chill my bare skin. She pulls everything down, letting my erection spring free. “It seems you have a problem, then,” she says with a smirk. “Sit.”