Men of Mayhem (16 page)

Then I panicked. This was not the time to get cozy and sleepy. I shook my upper body, sitting up straight in the bed and knocking the TV remote to the floor. I leaned over and grabbed it, finding an old pack of gum in the process. I flipped through the channels for a few minutes, but nothing caught my eye.

“I’ll just try the Calvin Hughes show,” I announced to no one.

Ugh, the current guest on Calvin just happened to be my least favorite retired-athlete-turned-celebrity. Instead of watching another has-been awkwardly deliver pre-written anecdotes, I swiped Betty’s book off her nightstand. Hmm, well, the chick on the cover was hot. Her braided blonde hair and exotic makeup choices portrayed her as a badass too, which was a nice change from the usual mushy stuff Betty reads.

The shower turned off as I flipped open
The Dead Survive
. The story sucked me in enough that I didn’t notice the hair dryer going quiet or the bathroom door opening. The first inkling I received that something needed my attention was when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and a chill rushed down my spine. You know that sixth sense of creepiness you get sometimes when people are staring at you? Yeah, that’s what happened. I folded the book closed, keeping my place with my index finger, and peered toward the bathroom.

Betty stood in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, water still dripping from her hair. “I wanted this to be perfect for you, but, well, I’m afraid if I wait, I’ll lose you as well.”

I recognized the puppy dog eyes she was giving me for what they were, anxious and subservient, and yet my own nerves spiked. Sure, the thought of her and I had crossed my mind—I’m a man—but did she have to do this tonight of all nights?

I put the book back on her nightstand, stalling for time. She didn’t move or speak, so I took a few seconds to take in the sight. Her dark hair fell below her bare shoulders, and her towel struggled to maintain its grasp around her chest. Her legs betrayed her recent dedication to an active lifestyle.

As I peered at her, Betty stepped forward, allowing the towel to drop. She paused again, timid, conflicted, or maybe just enjoying my shocked expression as I registered just how attractive she looked naked.

Sure, I’d spent the past few months with Betty on a daily basis, and we’d shared a bathroom and a closet, but Betty favored bulky, non-revealing clothing to hide the truth of her previous life.

What a knockout bod.

And this is coming from a man who has seen wave after wave of young women throwing themselves at the athletes, crooks, and the rich men I surrounded myself with. Betty had most of them beat with imperfections to spare.

She dipped her head and gave herself a once over. She squeezed her upper arms in toward her body, in turn pushing her boobs together and outward. With her head still tilted, she peered at me and smirked.

Let me tell you, that look right there made it tempting enough to forget the mob, the government, jail-time, and my jogger completely. Betty’s lips are thick and kissable on a normal day, but tonight, they were downright tantalizing. One of her best features, in my mind, is the way her upper lip stretched up in a snarl before spreading into a smile, like whatever she has in mind is dangerous and wilder than normal. It’s easy to see how she got in with some of the high rollers before flaming out with drugs. It’s a shame she feels compelled to appear so conservative nowadays.

I shifted into a sitting position so that my back rested against the headboard. Not sure if she would notice the bulge in the blanket below my waist, I considered covering it with a hand before deciding I didn’t care either way.

Playing back the night’s events, I assured myself that I had indeed freshened my breath, though at the time it had been for very different reasons. Well, for the same reasons really, but for a different person.

“Color me shocked,” I said, guessing that honesty was the best policy in this situation.

Betty pursed her lips. “I was shooting for overwhelmed, but I’ll settle for surprised and work my way up.”

Truth be told, my whole body tingled with anticipation, but one single thought held me back.

How the fuck can I get myself out of this one?

I had about thirty minutes to get dressed and sneak out of the house to meet up with my jogger.

Betty crawled onto the bed, slowly making her way to me. She leaned in for a kiss, but paused just an inch from my expectant lips.

She grabbed at the blanket below my waist. “Well, at least I can quell my self-doubt that you’d find me attractive.”

Wow, could she really feel that way? “But you’re hot.”

Betty gyrated her hips and stroked her hand up and down slowly. “Am I?”

Finding breathing a lot more difficult than it had been a minute ago, I inhaled deeply. “You don’t need me to tell you that. I’ll bet you’ve heard about your good looks from all the guys.”

Betty dipped her head, continuing to sway her hips and shoulders above me. Her hair tickled my belly.

Without her judging gaze, I allowed my face to contort, reflecting the pleasure I felt. I peered skyward, eyes unwilling or unable to focus properly. After a few moments, I realized something had changed. Betty was still dancing to an inaudible song, but her shoulders were trembling and her head was lowered enough that her jaw must have been touching her chest.

Not wanting to stop the momentum of the moment that, until just a few minutes ago, I hadn’t even wanted, I ignored her new posture, but when I heard her whimpering, I gently grabbed her shoulder and used my other hand to raise her jaw.

Her eyes shone, full of tears.

I ran a finger along her lower lip until it rested on the teeth burrowing deep into her skin. “Woah, toots, you better relax that grip or you’ll draw blood.”

As if she had been waiting an eternity to hear my words, Betty’s eyes closed, releasing several tears. Her shoulders slumped forward until her head was buried under my chin.

Shocked by the sudden change in Betty’s mood, all I managed to do was rub her back and whisper, “It’s okay, baby. Let it out.”

And that’s just what she did.

Her sobs grew as her body shook in my embrace. Unsure what had caused the outburst, I remained silent.

As the moment stretched into minutes, my thoughts drifted from the bedroom as I imagined the jogger and myself together.

We held hands, her wearing an evening gown of the darkest green, me in a tux, my orange bow tie matching my hair. We strolled hand in hand into a grand ballroom, the piano playing something by Strauss, Probert, or maybe that amorous rogue Philouza. Not wasting time with the offered hors d’oeuvres or drinks, we made our way to the center of the dance floor, where we struck a pose. The waltz ended and an atmospheric take on a decade old pop tune began. Swaying back and forth, enveloped in ourselves, we stepped slowly in circles. Just a few inches shorter than I, the jogger reached out, grabbed each side of my face, and shook me gently.

“Delvin?” Betty asked.

Back in the bedroom, I froze my daydream-induced gyrations and focused on the woman still crying in my arms. “Sorry, I…”

Betty wiped away tears and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I…do you think we’re allowed to love?”

My cheeks burned. “Like, you and me?”

Betty grinned, but I saw no humor in the gesture. She raised her hand, looking away, and then dropped it back down into her lap. “I mean, you’re a career criminal, I’m a lifetime junkie, do we deserve to feel love anymore?”

I squinted as my mind raced. A huge chunk of my sports-betting career depended on my ability to anticipate how people responded under high stress situations, but this whole conversation had blindsided me. “Where’s this coming from, doll?”

Her lips trembled.

Not wanting to break anyone’s heart tonight, especially when I planned to be flirting with another woman behind her back as soon as she slept, I fumbled for comforting words. I slid my hand from her shoulder up to her chin. “Hey, if you want to talk about us sometime—”

“Talk about us?” Betty said, jolting upright and leaning away from me. “You don’t even know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.” Her tone and body language pitched toward hysterics the longer she talked and confused me further. “I just don’t know how I could’ve been stupid enough to trust him.”

Betty blushed. She rubbed her arm where the track marks had been thickest. I noticed a fresh wound that hadn’t scarred over yet.

I scowled and clenched my fists. “Who? Betty, what have you done?”

She dipped her chin lower, angering me further.

I snarled, harsher than I intended. “Betty, look at me. What is going on?”

Finally she mumbled something. Her voice was thick with mucus.

I leaned in. “What was that?”

Betty’s breath came out ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her tears returned. “I think I love him.”

She buried her face in a pillow as the sobbing continued.

I stood and paced around the room. Betty was in love, and obviously something recently led her to believe that wasn’t such a great thing. I thought back on the day, searching my memory for anything out of the ordinary besides receiving tantalizing and discreet messages via my potato chips, but things seemed normal.

Wait.

Stroking my close-shaven beard, I spoke aloud, but the words were meant mostly for me. “They reassigned Hadley.”

I turned to gauge Betty’s reaction, but now that I thought things through, it all made sense. We’d had the same crew with us since we came to town, and out of the blue the head of our security didn’t show.

Betty reached over to grab a couple Kleenex from the box on her nightstand. I noticed her rubbing around her old track marks again.

She must’ve guessed where I was looking, because she said, “It’s not like that.”

I raised my left eyebrow.

She held up a hand, and nodded. “Okay, yes, it’s like that. I used again, but I’m not hooked, I just needed to feel it, one more time. Feel something real, that is. Not this weird, make-believe fantasy we’re pretending to live out.”

I punched the wall, hard. My pinky finger caught the edge of a stud and I felt my bone snap. “So you have something going with a federal agent, and at the first sign of trouble, you juice yourself up to the eyeballs?”

The fear in her eyes faded into a flash of anger. “What do you know, you—”

“Don’t you dare,” I interrupted. “My life is on the line just like yours.”

I attempted to point an accusatory finger at her, but my pinky was throbbing.

We fell silent, catching our breath, but composure had flown way out the window.

Betty stood, shook out her stress, and returned her glassy-eyed gaze to me. I quickly raised my attention from her naked body to her eyes. If she did have something serious with agent Hadley, he was a fool to leave.

“I’m sorry for…” I gestured at our surroundings. “Hell, for all of this.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I’ve dug myself into enough holes to know when I should just keep my mouth shut.”

I smiled. “Tell me about it. My own wife only comes on to me after she’s spurned by another man, and she gets all hopped up on—”

I cut my joke short as Betty’s expression appeared exposed, embarrassed, and genuinely pained.

I stepped toward her. “Too soon? Sorry, I have a habit of doing that.”

I was relieved when Betty stepped close to me and allowed me to embrace her. Damn, I knew this was serious, but she felt amazing pressed up against me. I looked down over her shoulder, admiring her backside.

Before I could weigh the consequences of sliding my hands down from her shoulders, Betty asked, “But if he didn’t truly care for me, why would he go through all the trouble to ask me about my favorite dealer so he could get me the best stuff?”

My head reared back as panic and surprise took over. I studied Betty’s face. “Wait, what do you mean, he wanted to get more drugs for you?”

Betty shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Yeah, I dunno. He said it was no biggie.”

I gripped her shoulders and shook. “Betty, are you fucking nuts? He’s a federal agent tasked to protect us from the very people you sent him to buy drugs from. Doesn’t that ring any sort of alarm bells for you?”

“But he’s not like that. He caught me using about a month back and instead of turning me in, he’s been listening to me, helping me straighten shit out.”

I rolled my eyes. “How many times since we’ve been here has Hadley not been tied to our hips?”

“Never.”

I paused, hoping she could work it out on her own.

Her eyebrows creased. “Up until I spilled the beans on my life, where I bought drugs, who was after me—”

“Us, who is after us.”

She pushed away. “Yeah, yeah, okay, after us. But who cares? He’s not assigned to us anymore. He’s a lying prick who claimed to love me just before disappearing, like every other asshole in my life. Now all I have is a fake husband, who happens to also have a secret or three that he wants to use against the mob to save his own neck.”