The Distraction (15 page)

He spun me around, and placed my hands on the rusty metal. My knees were trembling, but he held my weight, strong arms wrapped around my body.

“No one else touches you,” he said.

I shook my head, eyes pinched closed as one hand reached down the loose collar of my shirt, beneath the tank top and my bra, to cup my breast. He pinched my nipple, rolled it between his fingers, and I slammed my hips back against his pelvis. I could feel his erection, long and thick within his pants. The smell of salt in the air combined with a stronger, heady male scent as he wrapped tighter around me.

I wanted him to possess me physically the way he already possessed my soul. I wanted him to know I would give myself to him, because I was bound to him, just as he'd proven in the bedroom of the apartment when I'd been the one who was vulnerable.

His hand plunged down the front of my shorts, finding me hot, wet, and bare. He shuddered as his fingers traced my slit, and then entered me with a roughness that both shocked me and strengthened my desire. I panted as the coarse stubble on his jaw scraped my cheek.

My fingers splayed out on the metal, turning white with the pressure. I ground back into him, and he responded, aligning his body down my spine, showing me just what he wanted to do to me.

I was flying higher. Higher still.

“Do it,” I rasped. “If I'm yours, prove it.”

He growled in my ear, then in a rush, jerked my shorts down my thighs and freed himself from his pants. His cock brushed against my ass as he bent his knees and lowered, then filled me, first halfway, then out. He adjusted his feet, jerked my hips back, and thrust home.

I gave a hoarse shout as he began to fuck me. Fast and deep. Claiming me. Branding me. And my tender muscles stretched, and then clamped down, sucking him deeper with every stroke. The zipper of his pants bit into the backs of my thighs but I didn't care. I was rocketing higher, about to burst with the sensations pulsing from my cunt.

He reached around me again, over my bare flesh, now sensitized by the cool air. He spread the lips wide, and then grasped my clit with all his fingers, squeezing it in a way that made my knees finally give way.

Voices. Footsteps. They cut in over the crashing in my eardrums.

“Someone back there?”

Alec froze. His hand, previously kneading my breast, clamped down over my mouth.

Two voices were talking. The footsteps were drawing closer.

It was too late.

I couldn't hold back what he'd already started. Bolts shot from my clit across my pelvis. My pussy squeezed his cock. I was coming. Coming. Unable to stop it.

I bit his hand but he couldn't block the sound. He turned my face and kissed me, swallowing my cries of pleasure. He lost himself in it, and soon was fucking me again. One stroke. Two. Two more and his body went rigid, shooting his hot load deep inside, making me his in the most primal way.

He faltered, and then pushed me deeper into the shadows. Hurriedly, he pulled my shorts up, and tucked himself back in. I could still feel him inside of me. The slick fluid, the scoring of my tender walls by his monstrous cock. I was off balance, still flushed and a little dazed, when he grabbed my hand and pushed me in front of him, back the way we'd come.

“This area's restricted!” someone yelled behind us.

As I glanced back, I saw Alec raise his hand to wave, but he didn't turn around. We moved at a clipped pace until I stumbled and caught myself. He wrapped one arm around my waist then, helping me hurry, and he kept it there, all the way until we reached my car.

I
returned to the hotel that night after promising Alec that I would. Amy was probably busy getting Paisley ready for bed, and I didn't want to face my own little apartment alone while Reznik was unaccounted for. Alec had agreed to meet me there when his shift was up, sometime near dawn. I'd offered to bring him back a sandwich, but he'd told me no. Part of him was surely worried that I'd gotten him in trouble, but I think the other part, a small part, was embarrassed that I'd seen him carting boxes into a semitruck.

I gave my keys to the valet, a guy about my age with a jagged pink scar running from the corner of his mouth to his ear, as if someone had sliced him straight across the face. Having caught myself staring, I looked away, but he touched my forearm kindly.

“All alone tonight?” he asked, in a way that made me wonder if he was suggesting something.

“Yes,” I said, realizing he must have seen me with Alec earlier. “For now.” I smiled.

“Will you need the car for anything else this evening?” Despite the scar, he had a handsome face. Hazel eyes and hair the color of nutmeg.

I looked around at the other cars in the drive. BMWs. Limos. Convertibles. And my neon blue Fiesta. A snooty woman carrying a little dog in a handheld carrier walked by, looking at me down her nose.

“Beautiful bag.” She motioned to my red pleather purse.

“Thank you,” I said graciously. “I got it at Target. On the clearance rack.” I leaned closer and whispered, “It was nine bucks.”

Her Botox smile stayed perfectly in place, but her eyes rounded with surprise.

It probably would have been funnier if Amy was there to laugh with me.

“I'm good, thanks,” I told the valet, peering through the glass walls into the lobby.

Mandy was nowhere to be seen.

*   *   *

The next morning, I woke alone. I checked my phone but there were no texts, no missed calls. Worried, I called Alec, but it went straight to voice mail. Either he hadn't turned it back on after the gym yesterday, or something was wrong.

I called his father's house, but there was no answer. Hurriedly, I got dressed, my mind shifting from a confrontation with Reznik, to wondering if Trevor had reported him to the police, to something as simple as him picking up another shift or meeting with his lawyer. He'd been a mess last night; this case and the recent strain in our relationship were really wearing on him. It would have been nice if it was ending sometime soon, but the trial date hadn't even been set yet.

If it was simple, he should have let me know. That was what people in relationships did, didn't they?

Unless he'd rethought what he'd seen with Trevor and decided to jump ship.

I wasn't due at the salon for several more hours, so I called for my car in valet, and headed for Alec's father's house.

Thomas Flynn lived on the north side of town, in a crummy neighborhood that hadn't seen a cleanup crew or renovation in years. As I rolled down the cracked street, my vigilance increased, and I reminded myself that no one was carjacking a neon blue Ford Fiesta.

At a stop sign, I looked across the intersection to a dingy strip mall, eyes landing on a slightly more furnished restaurant with white curtains over the windows. The sign on the awning said RAW, and though it was closed, there were three cars in the parking lot—all of them just as fancy as the ones at the hotel where we were staying. No sign of Alec's jeep, to my relief.

“What do you want?” I asked out loud, shivers racing down my spine. I contemplated walking inside and asking, but figured Alec would have had me institutionalized if he found out.

A skinny man with stringy gray hair was approaching my car, preparing to wash the windows, so I gave him a “no, thank you” wave and continued on.

A few minutes later I pulled up on the street in front of Thomas's apartment. It needed a paint job in the worst way; the beige on the outer walls was flaking off, showing the old, sky blue color beneath. A few of the windows were blacked out with trash bags, and on the bottom floor, a woman who resembled a bulldog glared at me from her tiny patio.

I parked and headed up the stairs, taking a left at the top. I knocked twice, and was immediately greeted by a dog's low, lazy bark.

“Thomas, it's Anna,” I called.

A minute later the door pulled inward, and a bell attached to the wall above rang as I stepped over the threshold. The handsome, older man who greeted me looked a little more ragged than usual, but sober. Nothing a shower and a shave couldn't fix. Sitting at his feet was his trusty Seeing Eye dog, Askem.

“Anna, looking as lovely as ever.”

“Ha.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, inhaling, just to make sure I hadn't missed the smell of booze. “How are you, Thomas?”

“Better now.”

“Always the charmer.” He moved fluidly into the kitchen, as if his sight wasn't impaired at all.

“Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a whisky sour? Or a margarita?”

“Nice try,” I said.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “That helpful son of mine emptied out my stash.”

“Poor you,” I said. “Speaking of that helpful son, you haven't seen him, have you?”

Thomas paused, his hand on the refrigerator door. “No. He in jail again?” His jaw clenched, in the way Alec's did when he was angry.

“Geeze,” I said. “So much for the glass is half full.”

He snorted. “My glass is unfortunately, quite empty. Has been for two days.”

I recalled the last time I'd seen him, when I'd sorted through his cell phone to call Mac, his sponsor, because in the midst of his weeklong bender he'd tumbled down the last few stairs outside his apartment.

“Good,” I said. “I like you better this way.”

He smirked in my general direction. “Well, in that case.”

I laughed, and shook my head, but the worry gnawing at me did not subside. Alec was still missing. I thought about calling his apartment complex for Mike, but he didn't come in until the afternoon.

Thomas moved into the living room, and sat in the middle of his sagging couch. He patted the seat beside him, and I joined him.

“I'm worried about Alec,” I confessed.

Thomas scoffed. “Don't be. He's fine.”

“He's not fine,” I argued. “He's trying to do too much.”

“That's how he is,” said his father gruffly. “He's always been that way.”

“Not by choice.” His dismissiveness irritated me. Alec had been caring for a dependent father since he was a child. He didn't know another way to be.

“He made his bed.” Thomas's voice took on a hard edge. “He's the one who has to lie in it. Thought he would have learned that by now.”

I stood up, offended on Alec's behalf.

“Wait.” Thomas reached for my wrist, and slowly pulled me back down. “My head's killing me. I'm not myself.”

“Well whose fault is that?” I asked. “You want to talk about making beds, you're the one who made yours.”

“Hell, woman,” he said. “You're worse than my sponsor.”

His shoulders rounded, and he hunched forward, massaging the back of his neck with a wince.

I sighed. “Lean back.”

When Thomas complied, I pressed my thumbs on the pressure points above his eyes, and traced his brows out to his temples. He groaned as the tense muscles in his face began to relax. I pressed lightly on either side of his nose, then followed the lines over his cheekbones, working his jaw with my fingertips. His lips parted with a sigh.

“Drink more water,” I said. “It'll help flush the toxins from your system.”

He garbled something unintelligible in response.

It was impossible to look at Thomas's face and not see Alec. I was already feeling the urge to keep searching for him.

As if summoned by my thoughts, my cell phone rang. Seeing Alec's name on the caller ID, I quickly answered.

“Thank God,” I said. “Where are you?”

There was a lot of background noise, like the sound of a hundred printers hard at work.

“Something came up,” he said, and I could feel his exhaustion reach over the line.

“What's something?”

A woman's voice called his name.

“I'll catch up with you later,” he said cryptically.

“Who is that?” I asked, turning away from Thomas. My chest was growing tight. What was Alec doing with another woman?

“I'll see you soon,” he said.

“Alec?”

He hung up.

“Goddammit,” I muttered.

“I know,” said Thomas from the couch. “He was supposed to pick up dog food.”

“I'm glaring at you right now,” I told him.

“I wish I could glare,” he said. “I'm blind, you know.”

Shaking my head, I gathered my things, and left for work.

“H
e's sort of slim and athletic,” Amy told me the following afternoon in the courtyard outside her apartment. Her day date with Jonathan—the guy who'd introduced himself while scoping out her apartment complex—had gone well. Exceptionally well for Amy, who so far was only able to find two things wrong with him: He didn't eat dessert, and he paid for an expensive lunch with cash.

“There's nothing wrong with cash,” I told her as we set out the potato salad and condiments on a picnic table that Paisley and her BFF Chloe, a pretty little girl with dark skin and about a zillion intricate braids, had staked out for us. Amy had invited Chloe and her grandmother to our barbeque to take some of the pressure off of her daughter, who still had trouble with new people.

“Not if you're a drug dealer,” Amy said. “Or a stripper.”

I wiggled my eyebrows.

“He's cute,” she said. “But not
that
cute.”

We made our way back upstairs to her apartment to get a few more things. Amy had insisted we go ahead with the cookout, despite my telling her that Alec had to work. I actually didn't know if he was working—we hadn't spoken since the phone call I'd taken yesterday at his dad's house—but I wasn't ready to admit that to her.

Not that she didn't already suspect it.

“Amy?” Miss Iris, Chloe's grandmother, called to us from the landing on the third floor. She was holding a phone to her very ample chest to cover the speaker. “You mind if I invite my son? He got off early and was coming to pick up Chloe.”

“Um . . .” said Amy. I could hear her swallow.

I glanced at my best friend, surprised to find her speechless. She didn't seem upset, more like her system had hit a glitch.

“That sounds great,” I called, elbowing Amy in the ribs.

“Yeah,” said Amy. “The more the merrier.” She smiled. All teeth.

“Great. I'll be down soon as I finish the macaroni.” Miss Iris went back into her apartment, her purple summer dress swaying behind her.

“What was that?” I asked as we retreated into Amy's apartment.

She raced to her bedroom, and by the time I reached her she was standing at the counter in her tiny master bathroom applying mascara and heating up the flatiron.

“Iris's son,” she said. “Is
hot
.”

She added blush. Looked down at her T-shirt disgustedly, and then ripped it off, showcasing the rattiest mom bra I'd ever seen. It always made me laugh to think of her wearing that nasty old thing under her sassy clothes at the salon.

“Really?” I said. “You've never mentioned him.”

“Way out of my league.” She stuck a hairclip between her teeth.

“Doubtful.” I glanced out the window to where the girls were now hiding beneath the picnic table. “You're hot.”

“Yes,” she said. “But he's beyond hot. Hotter than Alec.”

“That's impossible.” I felt a pang in my chest at the mention of his name. Where was he now? Who had he been with when we'd spoken last? I didn't think he would cheat, but I couldn't think of a good reason why he'd hang up on me while with another woman. Even sleeping without him was hard in that hotel room, especially after how intimate we'd been the last time we'd seen each other.

“Shit!” She dropped the flatiron. “Jonathan is coming.”

“You really invited him?” This surprised me. Amy never introduced men she was seeing to her daughter. I'd thought she'd been joking when she'd mentioned this at Rave.

“I thought . . . maybe I'd try something new. He agreed just to come as a friend. No funny stuff in front of Paisley.”

I nodded. “Wow.”

She shrugged, then looked at herself in the mirror, probably realizing that she'd been thrown into a nervous mess by a man she wasn't currently seeing. Then, with a dry laugh, she unplugged the flatiron, threw her hair back in a ponytail, and pulled on her T-shirt.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Jonathan's nice.” The defeat in her voice weighed down on me. “I need nice.”

“You need romance, too,” I said.

She smiled wanly. “I tried romance. It wasn't for me.”

There were times I wished that Danny was still around, just so I could kick him in the nuts.

We moved to the kitchen, where she took the burgers from the fridge. I closed my eyes, remembering that she'd told Alec to bring buns.

“I have bread,” she said, reading my mind. “Don't worry about it.”

I grabbed the half loaf from the countertop, wondering if I should run to the store before we started cooking.

“So how are things with Alec?” she asked, grabbing the ketchup and mustard from the fridge.

There wasn't much use lying. Amy would call me on it in a second anyway.

“Okay, I guess. He's very . . . distracted.”

“With the trial?”

I nodded. “With everything.”

She studied me a moment, then kicked the fridge door closed with her heel.

“So un-distract him.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

She gave me a wicked smirk.

“I'm sure you'll find a way.”

*   *   *

Back outside, the girls were making flower chains with clovers and telling each other stories. Paisley was making a princess crown for Chloe. Chloe was talking about how people during the plague wore flowers in their hair so they couldn't smell the zombies.

“That's nice,” I said.

Amy gave me an exasperated look as she poured lighter fluid over the charcoal.

“Need a hand?”

The voice slid over my skin like silk, and despite his recent unexplained absence, my heart leapt. I didn't turn around. I wanted to be mad at him for making me worry, and that was hard when all I could feel was relief that he was here.

His footsteps slowed as he stepped onto the grass from the sidewalk, and I could feel his eyes on my back.

“Oh good, you made it,” said Amy, as if the plan had been for him to show up all along. “Yes. Be manly. Make fire. Cook meat.”

“Hold on,” said Alec. I turned now, and found him just as sexy as ever in jeans and a casual navy shirt, the sleeves rolled up at the elbows. His eyes were narrowed, and he was holding a plastic bag from the supermarket in one hand, which he tossed on the picnic table, as if annoyed.

Resentment straightened my back. He didn't get to be upset with me, not when he was the one who'd disappeared.

“No one told me
she
was coming,” he said.

My mouth had just opened to ask him what the hell he was talking about, when Paisley's friend Chloe jumped to her feet. After straightening her black sleeveless play dress, she cocked her hip out and jutted her chin forward.

“You got
some
nerve, mister.” She tapped the toe of one of her sparkly pink shoes that matched her sparkly pink belt.

Baffled, Amy and I watched as Alec engaged in a very intricate high-five handshake with the little girl. By the end, he'd tossed her over his shoulder and she was giggling hysterically.

“How do you two know each other?” I asked.

Alec's gaze met mine for the first time, and it stung to see some of the joy drain from his eyes. Before he could answer, Chloe's legs kicked out, and he tickled her ribs, eliciting a scream right in his ear. Across the table, Paisley had latched herself to Amy's side, and they both were watching Alec with cautious smiles.

“Daddy!” screeched Chloe suddenly.

From the entrance to the courtyard behind Alec, a familiar figure emerged. A man with milk chocolate skin and a killer smile. He was wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, which showed the definition in his arms. It looked like he'd just finished working out.

I rose from the bench. “Mike?”

“Oh God,” muttered Amy.

“What's this?” Mike asked, grinning. Any tension that had existed between him and Alec dissipated as they shook hands, and exchanged a small nod.
Men.

“I found this thing running around wild,” Alec told him. “Rabid, I think.”

“I'll take care of it,” Mike said. “Come here, thing.” He took the giggling little girl, and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek.

“You're Chloe's dad,” I said, trying to catch up. Now that they were together I could see the resemblance. Same nose. Same beautiful brown eyes.

“Chloe's very handsome, very single, dad,” he said, glancing at Amy.

My brows shot up.

“Who wants mac and cheese?” called Miss Iris, coming down the open stairway.

“Iris!” The smile returned back to Alec's eyes as he met her at the base of the stairs and took the foil container of pasta. She said something to him that I couldn't hear, then patted his cheek and kissed him right on the mouth. My mind was spinning at this point. I glanced at Amy, who was staring, openmouthed, at Mike.

“Isn't this nice?” said Iris. “So good of you to get everyone together, Amy.”

Amy made a noise that sounded like something was caught in her throat.

“Didn't know you'd met my mom.” Mike set his daughter down to give me a hug.

“I didn't know she
was
your mom,” I said.

He chuckled. “Small world.”

“I guess so.”

Mike turned to Amy, who was still holding the lighter fluid in one hand, and clutching her daughter against her side with the other.

“Amy, right?” He reached out his hand. “I'm Mike. We haven't met.”

She held out the lighter fluid, which he took with a gracious, if somewhat confused, smile.

“Oh boy.” I rushed to her side, skirting by Alec, who was still talking to Iris.

“Mike is Alec's friend,” I said, inserting myself on the other side of Paisley. “They go way back—as far as you and me.”

“Oh.” Amy nodded a little too vigorously. I'd never seen her this way with a man before. Even when we were in high school she was always very assertive.

“Amy and I met when we were fourteen,” I told Mike. “We work together at the salon now. Amy's a stylist.”

“I cut hair,” said Amy.

“You have any suggestions for me?” Mike asked, running one hand over his smooth, shaved head.

She laughed, and finally relaxed a little.

“You did a good job with Chloe's mop,” said Mike, glancing at his daughter affectionately. “You were all she talked about for a week.”

I was impressed; I didn't know Amy had done all those twisty braids. It shouldn't have surprised me though. She was enormously talented when it came to hair.

I glanced from Mike to Amy, and then back. There was a clear connection between them. Mike wasn't hiding the fact that he was checking her out, and Amy was alternating between doing the same, and staring at her feet.

Alec's best friend with my best friend. Both of them with girls the same age. Regardless of what was going on in my relationship, the thought of Mike and Amy together nearly made me giddy.

“Can I borrow you?” Alec was standing close behind me, and as I turned, my pulse kicked up a notch. I blushed, remembering the feel of a shipping crate beneath my flexed hands.

“Sure.”

We walked toward a pond in the center of the courtyard. It was a nice day, and a few other families were out. People were laughing, children were playing, all of them oblivious to the uncertainty rolling through me.

“I owe you another apology.” He walked a foot away, hands in his pockets. He was tired, I could see that now. He could put on a show in front of the others, but not for me.

I didn't want to be that person to him, the one who made him feel like he couldn't do anything right. But I was mad. It wasn't the first time we'd done something intimate and then he'd gone AWOL.

“I'm sorry,” he said, tilting his head to meet my eyes.

“Who was that woman on the phone?” I asked. “I heard her call for you.”

He turned to face the pond. “She's with the FBI. They'd asked me not to contact anyone.”

The air whooshed from my lungs; I hadn't even been aware I was holding my breath.

“What did they say?”

“Same stuff. More questions about Max. Things I saw. Things he asked me to do. I told them about Reznik, and they're going to keep eyes on him for a while.”

“That's good.”

He nodded.

“I thought you might have been with her. The woman on the phone.”

He reached for my hand now.

“Anna,” he said, letting my name linger. There was disappointment in his tone, but I knew it was more for him than it was for me.

He wove our fingers together, and lifted them to his lips.

“You never have to worry about that,” he said.

I moved closer, relieved, but I still felt like something was off between us. Maybe it was just my imagination.

“I don't want to feel far away from you,” I said. Ever since he'd come back we'd had moments of closeness, but they only seemed to kick us farther apart.

He took my hand and wrapped it around his back, pulling me to him.

“I don't know how to hold on to you,” he admitted.

Behind her came a shriek of joy. The girls were chasing Mike around the picnic table while Iris and Amy prepared the food.

I pressed my forehead to his chest, wrapping him tighter in my arms.

“Yes, you do,” I said. “You just don't let go.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“So,” he said. “Mike and Amy, huh?”

I smirked, relieved that he'd taken off some of the pressure.

At that moment, Chloe and Paisley came bounding over the grass toward us. Paisley's expression changed in stages. She was having fun, pure childhood delight in her eyes. Then they landed on Alec, and they turned cautious, and then wary. I'd warned Alec she might be this way, but was sad to see it happen.

“You must be Paisley,” he said, crouching down before the two girls.