Instinct Ascending: Rabids Book 2 (18 page)

“Cousin?” That threw her through a loop. Amiel didn’t even know her cousins, or if they were still alive, for that matter. How would Joyce?

“Yeah, you know, the one with the dreamy voice. He called in to tell us what happened with the accident.” Recognition dawned, and with it came the spontaneous blush that always seemed to accompany thoughts of him.

“Oh, that wasn’t my cousin. That was Harley. He was covering for me.”

“That was
the
mysterious Harley?” Joyce’s eyes rounded out like saucers, and she fanned her face. “My, oh, my. Talk about swoon-worthy. That voice could melt butter on an ice cube in the middle of a blizzard.” Amiel grinned, nodding. A mischievous gleam lit in Joyce’s eyes. “No wonder you’re so smitten with him.”

Amiel’s hands stuttered in the process of counting the bills in her hands. “What? No I’m not.”

“And the devil’s a saint.” Joyce snorted. “You’ve been all wound up in that boy since I’ve known ya.”

Amiel ducked her head, but couldn’t deny it again.

“So when do I get to meet Prince Charmin’, anyways?”

Amiel hesitated, twirling her hair behind her back. “He’s picking me up tonight.”

“Pickin’ you up, huh?” Joyce wiggled her cinnamon eyebrows.

“Since my bike’s totaled, he’s been nice enough to give me a lift for a while.” Amiel blushed. A sudden thought momentarily robbed her girlish grin. “Oh, gosh, Joyce! I am so sorry! How are you going to get home? I completely forgot!”

“Hush, now, don’t you go worryin’ on my behalf. My man’s been pickin’ me up every night since you gone and disappeared on us with day shift. That hasn’t changed, now. You just enjoy your little rendezvous tonight!”  She bumped Amiel with her hip, that devious twinkle still taking up residence in her eyes, and Amiel shifted on her seat nervously. Whenever Joyce got that look in her eye, there was no escape until you gave up every detail she dug for. The interrogation was about to begin.

“So… he picks you up… then what?”

“What do you mean?” Amiel pocketed the tips and headed toward the employee lounge.

“What do ya think I mean, girl? Is the man a good kisser or what? How ’bout in bed? I bet he’s amazin’ between the sheets. Would be a cryin’ shame for a man with that caliber of voice to be a limp noodle in bed.”

Amiel choked on the gum in her mouth, and Joyce had to whack her hard on the back a few times before it came back up.

“Oh, my gosh, Joyce!” Amiel gasped, rubbing her now throbbing ribs. “Are you trying to kill me? What kind of question is that?”

“A perfectly reasonable one. I am your bestie, after all, and besties don’t keep secrets.”

Amiel felt a shadow of guilt, knowing there was a good deal she hadn’t told Joyce about herself, Harley, or anything else in her world, really. She ignored the shadow, and quickly moved on.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, because we haven’t kissed, much less… the other thing.”

“My word.”  Joyce blew out a breath of surprise. “Well… that’s… just crazy!” she finished. Amiel rolled her eyes.

“It’s not crazy. We respect each other. And we’re friends.”

“Friends that both want benefits, I’d wager.”

“Oh, gosh.” Amiel smacked her head against her locker door.

“What? All vim and vigor about breakin’ and enterin’, but when it comes to the birds and bees, you’re right back to that timid kitten?” Joyce teased. Amiel grabbed her coat and headed back into the diner.

“Oh, my heck, Joyce. Would you lower your voice?” Amiel whispered, glancing around in embarrassment.

“Why? Ain’t no one else ’round to hear it.” Joyce chuckled. That was true enough, everyone else had already gone home. But as far as Harley went?  Amiel had felt the tingling of the tags around her neck for a good five minutes now, and she really,
really
hoped Hybrid hearing wasn’t powerful enough that he could hear their conversation.  She was pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if he did.

“So, come on then, spill. What’s the real reason you’re not playin’ tonsil hockey with Mr. Mystery? Because I can see plain as day how much you’re into him.”

Amiel sighed. Sometimes, having a blunt best friend with no boundaries was exhausting.

“I don’t know, Joyce. I don’t know if he feels the same way,” she admitted.

“Well, now, that just ain’t possible. Look at ya. You’ve got the figure any girl would die for, the sweetest face, and a beautiful heart to go with it.  What man could possibly resist you?”

“Thanks Joyce. I just… I think he thinks of me as more of an obligation than anything else.”

“Obligation? Now what would go makin’ that man think of ya as an obligation?”

Amiel froze, realizing she’d just let too big of a puzzle piece slip. “Oh, uhh…” She rushed through her mind, staying as close to the truth as possible. “We met when he was hired as my bodyguard.” The blurted-out words caused Joyce’s eyes to pop wide.

“Bodyguard? Wow. You really are Miss Moneybags.” She shook her head. “So he’s your bodyguard. That’s kinda hot, really; like that old classic movie, with that singer lady.”

“Who?”

“Never mind that, it ain’t important. So, he’s your bodyguard, and you’ve decided ya might want him to guard your body in a whole lot more intimate way, but he’s still stuck up on the duty mixing with pleasure aspect. Is that what we’re gettin’ at, here?”

“Uh… I guess?” Amiel gulped, face likely the shade of a tomato by now.

“Huh. Well, that
is
a real pickle. I’ll have to think on that one. But off the top of my head, I’d say flat out tell him. Lay everythin’ out on the line, and let him pick it up or leave it.” She shrugged. “A girl can tell a lot about a man by the way he reacts to somethin’ like that.”

“But he’s also my friend, and I don’t want to lose him. If I put it out there like that, I might scare him away. It’s taken me a long time to earn his friendship, and it means the world to me.”

“Well, then, just throw out little hints, see if y’all can pick up on which way the wind blows. Maybe he already feels the same way about you, but he’s afraid to say it ’cause he don’t know which way you’re gonna react.”

Amiel bit her lip. “Well… he did say he had something important to talk to me about tonight.”

Joyce’s eyes lit up. “Ooooh! Details! Was he touchin’ ya when he said it?”

“He was holding my hand.”

“And the eyes? What was he doin’? Was he starin’ at ya real intent like, or was he all over the place?” Again, Harley’s intense eyes floated back into her mind, and Amiel grinned whimsically.

“Intense eyes, definitely.”

“Oh, girl, maybe you’re gonna get your answers tonight after all!” Joyce squealed. A car horn honked outside, and Joyce looked over her shoulder before pulling Amiel in for a hug. “I gotta go, the man’s here. But I want a report of every tiny detail tomorrow, got it?”

Amiel nodded silently, following Joyce toward the door.

“You ain’t gonna wait out there in the dark for him, are ya?” her friend asked in concern.

“No, he’s here.”

“Now how do ya know that from clear in there?”

Amiel gripped the tags fondly. “I just do.”

They walked out, and Amiel’s eyes immediately landed on Harley, leaning against his bike in the same place he’d dropped her off. The breeze sifted past her, and his head jerked upright. He’d caught her scent. Somehow, that really made her heart melt. Joyce followed her gaze, squinting slightly.

“That him?” Joyce released a sigh of frustration. “I can’t see him worth a hoot. Why’d he park so far away?”

“He and Stint don’t exactly run in the same circles,” Amiel hedged.

“Who does?” Joyce murmured. “Now remember, every last detail. And have fun. Take lots of notes. I want to know allll the details.”

Amiel blushed under the significant look in Joyce’s eye. Giving her one more hug, the vibrant redhead waved toward Harley and jumped in the car. Amiel swallowed the nerves that suddenly welled within. Where was all that confidence from earlier tonight when she needed it? With a fortifying breath, Amiel turned on her thousand-watt smile and walked to meet her knight.  

Harley

Her scent hit him like a brick to the head. He might need to look at readjusting his sensory levels, because he could swear her scent was growing stronger. He swallowed hard as his mouth went crazy, saliva pooling like he’d just bitten into a juicy steak. Yeah, he was definitely going to need some serious down-time meditation after this, because he was all kinds of screwy right now.

He rubbed the bump on his forehead. The Rabid must have knocked something loose in his head during their scuffle. Stupid thing had jumped him on his way here: literally jumped on him from the roof of a building as he rode down the street, not ten minutes ago. But at least it was him, and not Amiel.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. He needed to stop thinking like that. If he was going to keep his promise, and he
had
to, he needed to start thinking of Amiel as a fighting partner. It wasn’t that he didn’t know she was strong and capable. But he’d spent the last several months with his mindset dedicated to the fact that she was still a fragile Clean and he was the only thing standing between her and infection. Now, based on what Pell said, they might not have to worry about that so much. And if that was the case, he needed to loosen the reins. A shiver crawled across his skin as the Hybrid within twisted in displeasure. It was going to take some getting used to, for both sides of him.

His gaze turned back to the beautiful, enigmatic woman walking toward him, face alight with an aura of confidence and joy, and something ridiculous happened. His legs went all wobbly. Wobbly! He was glad he was leaning against the bike, because he would have looked pretty damned stupid stumbling to his knees for no reason. The wind shifted, lifting the dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, flicking it about her face. She grinned, hooking a strand of it with one delicate finger and tossing it out of the way.

Unfortunately that little hooked finger couldn’t stop the wind from sending another cascade of her scent slapping into his face. Now in addition to an over-active nose, slobbery mouth, and wobbly knees, he could add shaky hands to the list. Grumbling, he shoved away from the bike and climbed on, head down as he concentrated on not making a fool of himself. She must have caught tendrils of his mood in the air, because she immediately started teasing him.

“Bad night?” She stopped beside him, hands falling on her curvy hips in her signature little display of cuteness. Yeah.
Cuteness
. He’d actually just thought that. And even thinking the word made him want to drag himself into an alley and rub his face in dumpster sludge. He sighed. There really was no other way of putting it, though. She was cute. End of story.
Shut up and move on!
He argued with himself.

“Nothin’ I couldn’t handle,” he finally replied, taking a deep breath. At last, determined he had himself under control, he looked up… and got stuck in her gaze as she went all doe-eyed and concerned on him.

“Oh, my heck, Harley! What happened to your head?” Her warm fingertips smoothed across his forehead, lightly brushing the hair out of the way so she could better look at it.

“Rabid fell on me,” he muttered.

“Geez, must have been some fall! Have any more bumps under there?” she asked in concern, fingers riffling through his hair. It reminded him of the haircut she’d given him, though admittedly he’d forgotten just how good it felt to have her fingers digging through it. He’d been giving himself haircuts his whole life, and he still was now. Yet with her hands on him again, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should hire her for her permanent cutting skills. His eyes drifted shut for a split second before he shook himself out of it.

“Uh… no. I’m good,” he said, feeling dumber by the minute. Clearing his throat, he leaned the bike to stand upright, successfully moving out from under her magic fingertips. “Got time for that talk, Thumbelina?” He had to get it over and done with before he wimped out.

“I always have time for you, Harley.” She offered him a soft smile, the connection in their gazes filled with all sorts of hints of things he didn’t even know how to decipher. Clearing his throat again, he offered his hand, ignoring the shivers that followed each touch after that as she climbed on and held him. He took them back to the gym, using the short drive to clear out his muddled brain. Or at least, that was the plan. He wasn’t sure he accomplished anything aside from getting them there in one piece.

She climbed off the bike and stared up at the building, running her fingers through her hair. He made a mental note to grab her helmet next time. He had forgotten: girls were weird about their hair like that.

“We’re training?” she asked, eyes meeting his. He felt her tiredness; yet overpowering it was a need to prove herself. He shook his head, ushering her through the door with a hand on the small of her back. She was a stubborn little thing, always determined to prove she was worth his time, even if it meant hurting herself.

“Not until those ribs heal.” He stashed his bike and locked the door, while she pouted in the stairwell.

“How long will that be?”

“Probably next week sometime.”

Her expression of frustration was comical. “Y’all fell several stories and bounced off a dumpster, Amiel. It’s gonna take some time.” He didn’t bother trying to hide the humor in his tone. The kid had no patience.

“I’ll get all flabby,” she warned. Harley snorted, throwing an arm around her shoulders, pulling her along up the stairs.

“Wouldn’t want that. Put some meat on those bones and the Rabids’ll really wanna eat ya then.” He laughed, pulling away defensively when she elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a comic genius.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “So, what are we here to talk about? Other than my boney self.”

Harley rubbed at his neck, the sudden depth of his next words looming in the distance like an iceberg in inky night. It scared the crap out of him, but it was no longer something he could ignore or put off. 

“You’re almost healed up, so I’m gonna have to make good on that promise I made your other side soon.”

Her eyes widened, and he could feel her anticipation arcing toward him. “We start patrollin’ next week.” The words rushed out of his mouth before he could take them back. Amiel’s jaw dropped. “Provided your ribs are fully healed, that is.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He met her eyes, made sure she understood that
he
understood. “You were right; it’s the only way to keep your other side from runnin’ ya amok all over the city. I ain’t too keen on the danger, not gonna lie, kid.” He rubbed his neck, just the thought of the danger making him squirm inside. “But I’d rather be there to keep ya safe than to have ya runnin’ ’round at all hours of the night gettin’ hit by buses and whatnot.” She stepped forward, eyes soft as she grabbed one of his hands and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you so much for understanding, Harley. You really are the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“Girls make no sense. Tell ’em you’re gonna toss ’em in the fire, and they get all mushy,” Harley teased, equally embarrassed and pleased by the praise.

“It is part and parcel of our ‘mystery and appeal’ package,” she teased back. Grabbing up the ends of her hair, she twisted them back and forth over her fingers in that nervous way of hers that he found oddly endearing.

“I’m not going to lie, either. It makes me more than nervous, Harley.” She bit her lip, meeting his eyes full-on. “It terrifies me.” Her large emerald eyes held his, and he could feel the currents of quivering nerves in the wake of its flow. It made him want to pull her into the sheltering depths of his arms and dare anything try to hurt her. She released a shaky breath.

“But it has to be done. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since I came here. I’ve never been as brave as my brother. But he entrusted me with these tags. I am sure he gave them to me to protect me. Yet… I also wonder sometimes if he didn’t hope I would carry on what he started with them.” Her gaze turned distant, staring across the empty gym at nothing in particular as she thought.

“Sometimes in life we are given beautifully dangerous gifts; it is left to us whether they destroy us or craft us into something amazing. This is my time to decide that fate, I think.” She blinked, shaking herself from her reverie, a timid grin surfacing with awareness.

“Anyways, enough of that.” A delicate hand flicked casually at the air, as though the dense atmosphere surrounding them now didn’t exist. “I have nothing to worry about, not with my knight in leather armor watching my back.”

Harley held up a finger. “Speakin’ of that, hold up a minute.”  He sprinted from the room, returning with his latest invention: something he hoped might give her some hope in this endeavor. “This is for you.” He held up the large, black bag, and her face paled slightly.

“You… got me a body bag?”

His eyes flew wide at her uncertain question, a strangled laugh escaping his throat with a mangled sound.

“Good grief, Thumbelina! What kinda guy do ya think I am? I may suck at bein’ ’round girls, but even I know that’d be a hellish gift to give a woman!” A look of relief shifted across her face.

“You had me doubting your faith in my ability to stay alive, for a while there,” she teased, stepping closer to the bag. Her body was tense, expression wary as she eyed the bag. “There isn’t something in there that is going to jump out and scare the crapadoodle out of me, is there?”

“I’d rather ya keep your crapadoodle contained, thanks.”

She slapped his arm; he slapped hers; she punched him in the chest; he poked her backward with a finger to the forehead. She lifted another hand to assault him, and he lifted one of his own in warning.

“Hey, now. Start that and we’ll never find out what’s inside, ’cause I’ll have to teach ya some manners.”

“Manners.” She snorted. He offered her another playful glare, before gesturing toward the bag still held high in his hand.

“Well, ya gonna open it or just stare?”

Her tongue darted out in a rude gesture that made him anything but mad. He quickly retrained his attention to a safer object than her tongue; he stared at the bag and waited.

He hoped it didn’t show, but he was entirely overeager to show her the two gifts inside. He always got excited when inventing things, but somehow, making this one just for her, he’d felt like a kid waiting for Christmas. Truth be told, he’d been working on it for her for a long time now: from the first night he saw her fighting, actually.

Maybe that was stupid of him; he hadn’t even known her then. But something about the way she’d moved, fluid and grace like oil dancing over water… it had stirred his creativity. A plan had risen to mind, and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. He’d felt like a complete idiot, making something for a girl he didn’t even know and likely never would. But that wasn’t how his mind worked. Once an idea was born, he had to create it or it would thump around in his head until it drove him crazy. Of course, then, he hadn’t realized how close they would become, or that there would be a time that she would need his invention. He was glad now that he hadn’t stifled that creative outlet.

The second part of the gift had come later, after he had realized her interest in it; then, yet again, his mind just wouldn’t leave it alone until it was done. He had only recently finished them both. And now, after all his months of hard work, he waited anxiously for her to receive his gifts.

He watched her face carefully as she held her shoulders tightly, clearly bracing herself for something to jump out at her. He smirked, rather enjoying that he had her so off-balance with his random attacks; it meant she was learning. Ordinary things could easily and swiftly become deadly. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those moments.

The zipper slid down the length of the bag, and she carefully lifted the edges to peek inside. He watched as the light grew in her gaze, understanding dawning, and with it, pure giddy excitement.

“You made me a superhero suit?” She pushed the edges of the garment bag over the hanger arms, eyes finding the second treat hanging on the suit neck. “And my own Aviator Guy glasses!”

He chuckled at that, feeling an odd sort of distortion in time; that night felt so long ago, the night they met and she knew him only as Aviator Guy. It was an odd sensation, connecting the two times to one another. Their relationship dynamic had matured and deepened so far beyond what it was then.

She pulled the glasses out, slipping them up her nose, giggling in delight as she looked around. She looked just as cute in her own as she had in his.

“Now we can be twins!”

He just smiled, not mentioning the fact that he hadn’t had time to fix his own glasses since she’d accidentally broken them. He didn’t want misplaced guilt to ruin her joy. Her gaze fell back on him, and her face took on a new expression of wonder. Harley held perfectly still as her hands rose to his face, fingertips lightly brushing over the colored lines she was seeing through the lenses.

“I don’t know if I will ever get used to that,” she murmured in awe, fingers still exploring. His hands itched to get involved with this whole exploration thing, though he held a firm grip on those adventurous yearnings.

Not the time, never the time.
The mantra began running through his mind on autopilot. Funny thing about that mantra: it seemed the more often he said it, the less power it seemed to hold. His fingers twitched a millimeter toward her before she pulled back, a blush stealing over her cheeks as she quickly shifted the glasses to the top of her head and dove back into the bag. Harley cleared his throat, feeling the foreign sensation of his shirt collar suddenly being too tight. He wanted to yank at it.