Sweet Recovery (Ex Ops Series Book 4) (6 page)

Needing to know for sure, I asked, “You don’t remember last night?”

Her straight, white teeth nibbled on her bottom lip as those wheels started spinning in her head again. She looked around at everything—the room, her dress, and even me—before finally shaking her head.

I was disappointed because she didn’t do the one thing I wanted her to do: talk to me. As a result, I tried to engage her again.

“Do you at least know where you are?”

She immediately shrugged her shoulders.

What the hell was it with women and their silent war tactics? I swear even the Nazis would have been driven to madness if they had to face a bunch of silent, angry women.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, woman? You wake up in a strange place, hungover as hell, don’t remember a single thing from the night before, and all I get is a shrug?” I grounded out. Snapping at her probably was not the best tactic for me to take, but it gave me what I wanted from her: a reaction.

Pointing a finger, she snapped back, “You have absolutely no right to judge my life, Lucas Young! I haven’t seen you in five long years—”

Oh, hell no, she wasn’t throwing that in my face.

“That was your choice, Gin. You walked out of my life and told me to take a long walk off of a short pier … literally. Then you just disappeared as if you had never existed at all, and trust me, I know because I looked.”

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, “Right. I’m sure you did.”

I took another step toward her and pointed a finger at her this time. “You’re damn right I looked for you. Everywhere. And when I couldn’t find you, I hired a private detective to look for you. And when even he couldn’t find you, I reached out to friends who worked in security and intelligence, and they couldn’t find you, either! Tell me how that’s possible, Gin. How the fuck does someone just disappear without a trace off the face of the earth?”

Gin jumped up to her feet, closing the distance between us, wobbling for about half a second on her high heels, and then jabbed her finger into my chest. “That is. None. Of. Your. Business. Mister! You’re not my father, my brother, my boyfriend, my husband, my keeper, or anything of the like. You don’t have the right to know where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing.” She jabbed me again with her little finger. “You don’t have the right to get angry because I don’t want to answer your questions.” A third jab, which slipped on some of my vomit soaked T-shirt and caused her finger to slide to the left, forcing her to stumble a bit with the momentum and reminding me that I was standing there, covered in her puke … again.

Pulling her finger back to stare at it in horror, she whined “Ew …” then took off like a bat out of hell for the bathroom, straight for the sink and the hand soap.

I could see now that this conversation was not going to go as smoothly as I had hoped, so I walked quietly over to the bags on the table and took out something I hoped like hell I wasn’t going to regret later.

Handcuffs.

Apparently, according to the sales clerk behind the truck stop counter, it had become quite common for larger truck stops to also contain adult store items: porno magazines, lube, movies, and of course, sex toys. It had not been my intention to buy them when I had walked into the store this morning. I had simply wanted to buy me and Gin something to eat and a toothbrush and toothpaste. Then, as I was walking from the back of the store where the chocolate milk was kept to the front with my basket of items, there they were, on the end of the last aisle. Red “fetish fantasy” handcuffs. Anodized metal made to look like the ultra-unbreakable standard issue police cuffs. My gut told me to buy them, and I always listened to my gut.

Pushing the handcuffs into my back pocket, I grabbed one of the toothbrushes and toothpaste before walking over to the bathroom where Gin was frantically scrubbing her finger as if she were afraid that small touch of vomit would somehow contaminate her. Here I stood, covered in her puke for the second time in twenty-four hours, and she was the one freaking the fuck out. Women.

Leaning against the door jamb, I told her, “I think you got it, babe.”

She snapped her head up at my comment and glared daggers at me through the bathroom mirror.

Ignoring her ire, I held out the items. “Figured, if you were going to flip the fuck out from touching a little bit of your own puke, you might actually want to brush your teeth, too.”

A strangled gasp escaped her shocked mouth, and then she whirled to face me. I was prepared for insults, petty comebacks, and even yelling. What I was not prepared for was to have Ginny snatch the toothbrush and toothpaste out of my hand then slam the door in my face.

Standing there, staring at that badly peeling white painted wooden door, I listened to the sounds of her brushing her teeth as I pondered.

Anxious from what I was thinking about doing, I paced back and forth in front of that closed door. On the second pass, the smell of what I was unfortunately wearing wafted up. I pulled my shirt carefully off and wiped myself down with a clean part of it before throwing it into the trash can. Then I started pacing again, my mind racing.

Was I really about to do this?

Do you have any other choice?
my heart whispered back.

One. I was going to give Gin one opportunity before I gave in to drastic measures.

I stopped and stood there in front of that door again and waited for her to open it and come out.

And I waited.

And then I waited some more.

Finally, after five minutes of solid brushing that should impress any dentist, the sound of the water turned off. Except, the door didn’t open.

I was about to knock when I heard the faint sounds of her on the toilet. Well, at least she was flushing the alcohol out of her system. Not that it was awkward for me to stand here and listen to her pee or anything.

I continued to stand there and wait until the toilet flushed, the water turned on again, presumably to wash her hands, and then the water turned off again. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, my angel finally opened the door.

Then she promptly slammed it again in my face when she saw I was still standing there.

Frustrated, I asked the wooden barrier between us, “Are we really going to do this immature silent treatment shit, Gin?”

She snapped back, “No.”

Leaning my head against the door, I tried again. “Then what is it we’re doing here?”

“I’m waiting for you to leave.”

“You won’t talk to me for just a few minutes? Let me clear the air between us?” This was it. I was giving her the shot at sitting down civilly with me before I took drastic measures.

A thump sounded from the other side of the door, and the cheap wood vibrated beneath my forehead. I had a feeling she was holding her head up, same as me, and just didn’t know it because she was trying to shut anything and everything about me out.

“Lucas …” she finally murmured.

“Yeah, Gin?”

“If I promise to talk to you for a few minutes, will you let me leave?”

Anger and frustration roared through me. A few minutes? That was all she wanted to give me? To hell with that. Even if this night ended with me drowning in a whiskey bottle, she was damn well going to give me more than five fucking minutes.

Putting my plan into motion, I started with luring my target into the trap. “Sure, Gin. Five minutes. Just come out of the bathroom so I’m not talking to the damn door.”

The doorknob jiggled as if she hesitated to turn it, and I lifted my head from the door. When it eased open, her big, uncertain blue eyes came into view, and I could see she was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. I was going to have to secure her as fast as possible to keep her from getting away.

Taking a step back, I motioned to the room. “Come have a seat, and let’s get this over with.”

Ginny cocked her head to the side and looked at me inquisitively. There was no way for her to know what was coming, but I needed to keep my face neutral just in case.

Ginny slid slowly from the bathroom, easing past me cautiously, and started to head for the rickety-ass table. Too bad she was never going to make it there.

After she took two steps in that direction, I grabbed her from behind, clapping a hand over her mouth to cover her scream of surprise, and then wrestled her to the bed. My angel didn’t go down easily. She was kicking and screaming like a goddamn banshee, and it would have made me proud as hell if I weren’t the one she was kicking.

Using my weight, I held her down to the mattress and scooted her up as gently as I could until we were lying close to the headboard. Then, as quickly as I could, I grabbed the handcuffs out of my back pocket, grabbed one of her wrists, and fought the little hellion until I had that wrist up by the metal frame of the bed. I snapped one cuff to her wrist and the second cuff to the bed frame. Then, finally, I jumped off the bucking wildcat like I was a rodeo rider trying to get away from a mad bull.

And mad she was. Screaming mad. Therefore, I did one more thing I had hoped I was never going to have to do to her again. I walked over to the dresser, picked up the small red scrap she obviously had not noticed had been lying there, and then walked back over to the bed and shoved the panties in her mouth. I knew they weren’t going to stay, but I just needed her to shut up long enough to make my point.

Holding my hand down over her lips, I grunted when she tried to bite me. “Stop it. If you’d just calm the hell down for a few minutes, maybe what I say next could get through that thick skull of yours.”

Her screaming and biting stopped, but if looks could kill, I would have been dead meat.

Ignoring it, I continued, “We deserve more than five minutes, and you know it. And no matter what you think of me, I deserve to shower after you puked on me before we have that talk. So pipe down, let me take a quick shower, and we’ll have our conversation. Do us both a favor and stop being so difficult. If you still want to walk out that door when I’m done saying what I’ve got to say, then you can.”

Ginny was lying stock still on that bed now. Her eyes were still angry as hell, but I could tell she was actually listening to what I said.

I added on the last thing she needed to know. “I promise on my life, angel, that I’m never going to hurt you again.”

With nothing more to say, I pulled my hand away from her mouth and turned toward the bathroom, praying with every step I took that someone above would help me out a little to not fuck up what looked to be my last shot at making things right.

Chapter

4

Ginny

After watching the bathroom door close, I spit the fabric out of my mouth. When it landed on the bed, I looked at it to see what he had gagged me with. Red fabric?

As the air conditioner turned off, cutting the horrible draft to my girl parts, I realized what that red fabric was. He had gagged me with my own damn panties! The jerk!

Looking above my head at the metal encircling my wrist, I rattled it against the metal headboard. It looked like a solid cast-iron frame, even if it was sort of rusty.

Raising my arm as high as I could, I grabbed the spindle and shook it. It didn’t even wiggle. Apparently, crappy motels didn’t care what their carpet looked like, but they made darn sure their beds wouldn’t fall apart. Go figure.

After angling myself into a comfortable position as much as I could, I lay there and tried to think this through a little. Did I think Lucas would hurt me? Not physically, no. But I would have never guessed he would handcuff me to a bed, either.

The sound of running water caught my attention, and I let my eyes stray to door that once again separated us. On the other side of that flimsy wood was a wet, naked Lucas. There had been many times in my life when I had dreamed of just such a thing. Now I was dreaming of the gun Dexter usually carried so I could use it to shoot the infuriating dip-wad.

There was a damn good reason I had not wanted to come out of the bathroom. I couldn’t handle this. Just the sight of Lucas Young brought back everything I had ever felt for him … and more: all the hurt and all the love.

I wanted to slap him as much as I wanted to kiss him. Internally, I was at war with myself, and I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to run away from him, this room, and all of our unresolved issues as fast as I could. Then I wanted to find the nearest liquor store, buy the biggest bottle of vodka I could find, and forget all of this had ever happened.

The sound of the water shut off, and my heart started racing. This was it. He was going to come out of that bathroom, and I would have to deal with this once and for all.

Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe we could put the past to rest, and I could go back to my shitty life in Chicago, knowing I lived in a world where I no longer hated the man I loved.

It looked like absence did make the heart grow fonder, but it also made me more bitter.

He came out of the bathroom with nothing but a flimsy white towel and a big smile. Why he had such a cheesy grin on his face as he stood there, watching me, I had no clue. Did he think it was funny that I was still handcuffed to the bed? Well, I didn’t find that so darn funny. It only pissed me off all over again.

I should cuss him out, tell him to take a flying leap off the rooftop. Instead, my mouth took over, and I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

“Why do you keep calling me angel?”

He jerked a bit in surprise, but then his lips tipped up in a half-grin that I had seen a hundred times before. “Because you’re my angel, always have been.”

I gave him a hollow laugh. “Funny. In all the time I’ve known you, you have never called me angel. Annoying? Yes. Aggravating? Definitely. Angel? Never.”

“Not true. I called you angel last night. Don’t you remember?” His eyebrow rose in a mocking way, and even without him saying it, I knew he was pointing out how drunk I had been. Well, he could suck it.

He stood by the side of the bed, facing me, and lifted an eyebrow. “You know, the last time we were in a bed together, you were the drunk one.”

“True, but I’m not drunk anymore. Unfortunately, I’m very sober. Feel free to remedy that at any time for both our sakes.” Then I promptly and awkwardly rolled in the other direction so I wouldn’t have to look at that heartbreakingly handsome face anymore.