Zero: A protective hero romantic suspense, page 10
Until my use of the stupid ‘date’ word—why the hell did I say that?—we had an understanding. Neither of us are interested in having a relationship or any kind of intimacy. It wasn’t something we talked about but we recognized the signs in each other.
For me, that hasn’t changed but I’m not getting into that with Hazel. No way.
She follows me into the kitchen, badgering me for more details, and I stay quiet, only relenting when I’m near snapping, but only to give her more of the same. I will not explain myself to her.
“You don’t know her.” I grab a water in the fridge, and as if this is her home, she opens a cupboard. “Can I help you? What are you looking for?”
Ignoring me, she presses onto the tips of her toes and reaches for the box of toothpicks. Her hands shake as she pulls out the wooden stick and proceeds to jab the pointy tip into her palm.
“Hazel, what are you doing?” I yank her hand, possessing what shouldn’t be a weapon, away to stop the self-harm.
Pulling from my hold, she glares up at me, lips thin. “Okay, I don’t know this woman,”—a plastic smile springs to her lips—”but I want to. This isn’t an everyday occurrence.”
She stabs another toothpick into her flesh and the wood snaps in two, causing the pieces to fall to the floor. Her fingers curl around her red, blotchy palm and she grabs a few more toothpicks from the box before prancing out of the kitchen.
As if led by a marionette’s string, I follow her into the living room where she drops onto the couch.
“I thought you didn’t date.” She narrows her gaze, fingers mercilessly destroying toothpicks one by one. At least, this time, she’s breaking them, no longer attack herself. “Or have you suddenly become a man-whore?”
“Hey.” I sit next to her. “Chill. Are you okay? You’re still taking your meds, right?”
Resentment at having to ask the question combusts inside me. Razor-sharp and blistering. I don’t want to be this person, but Hazel has left me no choice. I’m all she has, the only one she can depend on, and somehow I don’t get a choice in the matter.
“Who is she?” Snap.
She drops the damaged toothpick into the growing pile on the side table and grabs another from her lap.
Snap. “How long have you known her?”
Snap. “Is it serious?
She’s acting weird, weirder than normal. She must be off her meds.
I lift my hand to touch her shoulder, soothe her, but drop it back onto my thigh. “Haze, I’m tired and I’ve got some work to do. Please take your meds. Then you should get settled and we’ll regroup in an hour or so about dinner.”
I stand, not able to look at her anymore. Her brown eyes are near black and intense, unwavering, but she gets to her feet, trailing behind me out into the hall.
“You can take the guest room.” I point in the direction of the room while approaching another room with a locked door.
A long, deep gouge spans the keypad as if someone tried to get in, pick the lock, and failed. They lost control of whatever they were using when it slipped from the lock, causing a gash along the metal.
I face Hazel. “Did you…”
She pauses in the hallway, only steps from the guest bedroom, and a big suitcase trails behind her on wheels. Way too big for a short stay.
“I’m going to unpack and freshen up for dinner.” Her sharp gaze and crisp tone suggests she’s more lucid, as if I imagined the past few minutes.
I don’t push the failed break-in to my office. It’s clear she tried to get in, and I’m not sure how I’ll react if she denies it. Something’s going on with her.
“Haze, your meds?” I eye her handbag slung over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry silly, I haven’t missed a day.” Her cheery tone reeks of a lie and the thunder clouds from moments ago have disappeared. “Oh, and you don’t have to worry about playing chauffeur. I brought my own car.”
“Okay.” I nod though I’m already worrying and wait for her to move, go into the bedroom.
She doesn’t budge, eyes on me. I’m the first to move, needing space to think, and turn to enter the code to the door, making sure to block her view of the keypad.
“What’s in there?” Her voice grows closer with each word and I quickly spin to face her, using my body to shield the inside of the room.
“Hazel. Go. We’ll talk later.”
She pales but backs away and disappears into the guest room. The door slams shut, and I sigh in relief before slipping into the room and locking up.
I could’ve just answered her question. This is my command center with all my computers, surveillance equipment, and where I work. It isn’t the first time she’s seen my setup, and that’s why her question’s odd. While she’s never been in this room, she knows what’s inside or can guess based on past instances.
A loud bang startles me from the other side of the shared wall with the guest room. The room Hazel occupies.
I should check on her but won’t, not yet. When she gets like this—destructive—it’s best to let her get it out. There isn’t anything of value in the room, and she’ll replace it. She always does.
Another crash bleeds into a woman’s scream.
12
MORGAN
“Two Michelobs and a Bud Light.” I slap the tray onto the bar and stuff the tip from the table that just left into the pocket of my jean shorts.
“Coming up.” The bartender pulls open the door to the beer cooler.
“Hey, Sugar. You’re alive.” Lorna sidles up to the bar and hooks her arm around my shoulder.
“Funny.” I gently elbow her in the stomach. “You just starting now?”
“Yeah. I’ve got closing but told Shug I couldn’t start until nine.” She applies lip gloss to her fresh red lipstick and smacks her lips together. “What are you doing here anyway? Today’s your day off.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to Shug. He called me because Candy and Arissa called in sick.”
Lorna clucks her tongue. “Those two.” She needn’t say more.
Of all the servers at the Lounge, present and past, they’re the worst. One’s boning the boss and the other is his daughter. They both get away with raising hell.
The bartender deposits the beers onto my tray and Lorna rattles off her order, then she eyes me carefully. “What about your date? How did it go?”
“It wasn’t a date. I already told you that, and our meeting was over anyway when Shug called.” My disappointment at the memory of Zero’s harsh “don’t” when I tried to touch him seeps into my voice.
Concerned, she rests her hand on my arm. “Honey, what happened? Did he do something?”
Sliding a hand under the tray, I turn away from the bar and the conversation. “Nothing happened. It was fine. We were done with our business. I’ll catch you later.”
I’m gone before she can ask any more questions, but my escape doesn’t spare me from reliving the abrupt ending to our time on the boat. Even before Shug’s call, I wanted to leave.
Embarrassed and restless.
I don’t know what got into me. I wasn’t making a pass at him, but I felt comfortable enough to reach out to him. Zero interests me in a way that I haven’t felt in a long time despite how I felt about him in the beginning.
Todd intercepts my return to the bar. “Hey, Shug wants us to take a break.”
“I’ve got to find someone to fill this order.”
“I’ll wait.” He shadows me while I ensure my tables are covered before trekking to the employee room.
I’d rather be alone. Being out on the water and in the sun was nice but also exhausting. I wish I’d been able to go home instead of work.
Todd cuts into my wish for slumber. “Lorna says you were out on a date.”
Lorna…I’m going to kill her. I lie on the sofa, taking up the entire thing so Todd has to find somewhere else to sit. “No. It wasn’t a date.”
“Oh. That’s not what she said.” He sounds like he doesn’t believe me and pulls a chair close to the sofa. “Well, if you’re up for dating, I was thinking—”
“Todd, I’m going to stop you right there.” I push onto an elbow and give him my best ‘bitch, I’m serious’ glare. “We’re friends. Good friends. But that’s it.” I pat his thigh and plop back down on the cushion.
At the same moment, Lorna waltzes into the back, pausing to assess the situation. Todd silently leaves.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll come around. He’s dumb that way.” While meant to be a joke, her tone is flat.
“Lor, I’m sorry.”
She has a thing for Todd, from way before I came on the scene, and no matter how hard I’ve tried to make Todd see what’s right in front of him, the man is blind.
Lorna sits in the chair Todd vacated and runs her fingers through her hair. “And if he doesn’t, it’s his loss. He’ll be missing out on one crazy-ass bitch.”
She’s talking about herself and I laugh, more to ease the tension than because it’s funny.
When I get back out on the floor, I spot Zero walking in with a woman at his side. Normally, I’d only have eyes for him especially since I hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. But the woman has my attention.
She’s attractive enough in a simple, uncomplicated kind of way. Straight brown hair, brown eyes, slender though her outfit’s a little outdated or at least, not suited for the Lounge, more church than bar.
“Who is that?”
Hot breath skates across my collarbone and I whip my head around to see Arissa at my side. Like me, she’s riveted on Zero. Her long dark hair is scooped off her face into a high ponytail, and everything about her is pretty perfect. She reminds me of an evil Ariana Grande.
I shrug, trying to pull off indifference. “Dunno.”
“Liar. I saw the way you looked at him. Either you know him or wanna know him.” Twirling in the direction of where Zero and his friend are being seated—thank goodness, not my section—she stares. “Girl, I wanna know him in every way possible.”
Her purr is meant to be sexy but it makes me want to gouge out her eyes. Fuck, Arissa. She’s my least favorite person at work.
“And tonight’s my lucky night.” She bounces on her heels, squealing like a toddler.
“What are you talking about?”
“They’re in my section.”
What?
“But you aren’t working. You’re sick.”
She’s one of two reasons why I had to work tonight.
Ponytail over one shoulder, she twirls the thick mass into a glossy curl. “Now I’m better.”
She trounces off like she’s won the lottery, and I can’t resist—even though I should take the high road—to call after her, “In case you’re blind, he isn’t alone. He’s with someone.”
“Never stopped me before.” She turns to face me, sliding her legs together and bending slightly forward at the waist.
It’s a great pose to show off her curves with just a hint of cleavage. Then her hands shimmy in and out like waves down her body, from her breasts to her ankles. “No one can resist this.”
With a wink, Arissa’s gone, and I’m fuming for no reason other than she infuriates me.
Lorna and Todd are my people. We clicked from the first day at the Lounge, and even with Todd’s recent weirdness—he’s a nurturer and thinks us becoming a couple will fix what has me hurting. He’s misguided but means well—we’re gold.
And all of us tolerate Arissa because she’s evil and ruthless, and Shug’s daughter. We aren’t stupid. We want to keep our jobs.
If any of us snubbed her, excluded Arissa in any way, she wouldn’t hesitate to have us fired. As much as Shug’s a good boss, he doesn’t know how to say no to his daughter.
With my break over, I’m busy with a full section and the Lounge continues to fill as the night wears on. I steal a few glances in the direction of Zero, working up the nerve to go over and say hi, but he beats me to it. When I waltz back onto the floor from a bathroom break, I nearly walk right into him.
Zero slides into my path. Dark and dominant. A formidable figure that’s hard to ignore.
His intense gaze roams my face, then the wrinkled shirt I borrowed, and the same shorts I wore on the yacht hours ago. My feet stall.
“I’ve been looking for you.” His admission does weird and wondrous things to the sensitive spot at the apex of my thighs.
My leg muscles clench and I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, keeping my thighs tight, seeking a friction and heat that only he can offer.
Not letting my guard down—I can’t have him get the slightest hint of my weakening resolve—I don my most sassy expression.
“Oh, yeah.” I raise my wrist and look at my imaginary watch, then up at him. “Well, I’ve been here all night, and you got here a while ago. Yes, I noticed. You couldn’t have been looking that hard. Or maybe you’re just not as good at tracking people as you think.”
Before I can glimpse anything more than his perennial blank demeanor, he leans forward and dips his chin to his chest. Oh my God, bashful-like, and that in itself is a first.
He’s all timid and awkward.
This guy’s a paradox.
Reserved yet poignant and direct with his words.
Egotistical and altruistic.
Shy and confident.
He jams his hands into the front pockets of his well-worn but expensive jeans and looks up at me. “Just waiting for the right moment. You’ve been busy.”
His usual blunt manner snaps me out of my daze, and I’m done with the banter, opting to steal a page from his book.
Be direct.
“Who’s the woman?” My chin juts in the direction of his companion at their table. Her back’s to us though she seems to be searching for him or something. “A real date?”
“Nah.” And there it is, the hint of a smile.
Though I can’t tell if it’s my mention of our time on the boat earlier, suggesting it was still a date even if not real.
He doesn’t go on, and frustrated, I fold my arms over my chest, deepening my assessment of him.
“And that’s all you’re going to say?”
“She’s a friend. She wants to meet you, that’s why—” He stops talking, clearly not wanting to say too much, though he obviously told her about me, or maybe not wanting to say something he’ll regret.
But it’s too late.
I can already guess what he’s going to say. He’s here because his date wanted to meet me. Not because he wanted to see me. Or better yet, not because he finally has enough to move on Randy.
That’s the only reason why we’re even talking to each other, and I have to remember that.
Randy Poole.
“Oh, I see.” My arms fall casually to my sides and I paste on a small grin. “Well, I’ll pop by when I can.”
Zero reaches for me as I start to walk away, and I jolt though he hasn’t touched me. All of this reminds me of earlier on the boat when I tried to do the same to him.
Do I want him to touch me?
No. No. No.
He steps back like I’ve just sneezed on him and he’s now infected. “Shit, Morgan, sorry. I—”
Zero apologizing.
To me.
We’ve known each other for only days, but I’d have never seen this coming. And what’s even more bizarre, why is he apologizing to me when I should be to him?
How could I forget that?
I cut him off to rectify the situation. “About earlier.” Hot bubbles of shame boil in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I—”
“No. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I overreacted.” He closes the gap between us. “We’re cool.”
“Are we? I don’t know what I was thinking.” My gaze drifts over his shoulder to the woman at the table.
She’s crossing the dance floor with purpose, eyes locked on us. Triumphant, she’s found him but is clearly not amused. She’s coming over, and the need to say what I have to say simmers inside of me.
The need is urgent and uncontrollable like water boiling over the sides of a pot.
“I guess we were getting along, had this shared purpose…you know, Randy.” My hands wave in the air for something to do, and he nods. “And I felt comfortable with you—”
As if trying to save me from myself, the humiliation of reliving the moment, he interjects, “Morgan, you don’t have to—”
We both stop talking the instant she bumps into him and we glance toward her. She’s here. Whoever she is.
A preacher’s wife, that’s what comes to mind because that’s what she looks like. Don’t get me wrong; there’s nothing bad about it. She’s innocent and uptight or maybe uncomfortable. And most of all, she looks lost in a place like this.
Her hand slides into the crook of his arm, and her fingers wrap around the taut muscle of his bare forearm just below where his sleeve is rolled up.
Zero flinches minutely, just what I want to see, but he doesn’t move or push her away. Not like he did with me. All the while, she smiles but it isn’t warm or genuine or ordinary. No, her smile is Heath Ledger’s Joker smile.
Creepy. Over the top, and it gives me a little…no, make that a boat load of chills.
Finally, she speaks and while it’s meant for Zero, she stares directly at me like I’m a specimen to be dissected. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Clearing his throat, he looks from her to me. “Hazel, this is Morgan.”
I plaster on an everyday smile, the one I use mostly for work, and hope she doesn’t want to shake my hand or worse, hug me. When she waves back like a shy child, my shoulders loosen a bit.
“Hello, Morgan. Nice to meet you. I’d like to say I’ve heard a lot about you, but this guy is so secretive.”
Hazel swings from side to side, using his arm as an anchor, and causing the hem of her dress to billow.
Wryly, I nod. “Tell me about it.”
I mean it as a joke and maybe a way to connect, if only superficially. Zero is unreadable—what else is new—and we both have that in common.
