Not Looking for Love: Episode 7 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (8 page)

My phone ringing in the living room wakes me the next morning, and my heart starts racing as soon as I recognize the sound. I get up slowly so as to not wake Gail, but she's already stirring. I wish whoever's calling would just hang up, so I can lie here waking up next to Gail for a little longer. Enjoy the fantasy that's finally reality again.

The phone does stop ringing by the time I find it, and I call Greg back right away.

"It's a go ahead for the job. There's a meeting at three," he says. I look out the window to try and determine the time, but it's all overcast and dreary so it could be eight AM or noon.
 

"Fine, I'll drive," I say and disconnect. Mainly because Gail is standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing just her matching white lacy underwear, and I want to remember the sight for as long as I live.

"You have to go out?" she asks, her voice still a little choked from sleep. Or maybe it isn't just that.

"Just for a little while," I say, checking the time on my phone. It's only just after ten. "But not yet."

She walks toward me, slowly and seductively, her breasts jiggling each time she places one foot in front of the other. My cock hardens immediately, but the scene would be so much sexier if the thing I had to go do in a couple of hours didn't put such a wedge between us. Whether she admits it or not.
 

She runs her fingertips across my bare stomach up to my chest, leaving a trail of pure fire hot enough to burn away everything else. This is what we have. Making the most of it is the most sensible, the best option. We're no good at staying away from each other anyway.

I take her hand and kiss it, then pull her closer, and do the same to her neck. I love the feel of her delicate skin against my lips, so at odds with the hardness and passion underneath.

I manage to undo the clasp of her bra, and her hard nipples pressing into me after she lets it fall to the ground nearly undo me. I can't stop kissing her, I want to taste every inch of her. We make it to the sofa somehow, and she sighs as my lips find her nipple. Her hands are in my hair, sliding across my shoulders, down my arms, up my back. I could stay like this all day.
 

She smells exactly how I remember it, of roses and a clean autumn wind. I remove her panties and continue my kisses, her moans turning to whimpers. She digs her fingernails into my back as my tongue finds her clit, but not hard enough to hurt. Just hard enough to let me know she wants more, faster, as if her moans weren't clue enough.
 

I love it when she lets go, allows me to make her feel good, holds nothing back. She never held back, not from the very beginning. She's always given herself to me completely, like no other girl had ever done, and I can't believe I've fucked it up so bad until now. Can't believe I can still fuck it up completely.
 

I pull away, trying so hard not to cry my stomach is cramping.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks hoarsely, looking at me with eyes very watery and very soft.

I can't speak, can't even move.

"Oh, Scott," she sighs and lunges forward, hugs me so my face is pressed against her soft breast. "Anyone ever told you that you worry too much?"

"Yeah, all the time," I mutter. Somehow it's easier to keep from crying with her skin pressed so close. Or maybe it's the hug.

She pulls me up so we're both sitting on the couch, my head still nestled against her chest.

"Well, don't worry about this," she whispers. "We'll find a way."

"Are you sure?" The words just come, and I need to know the answer.
 

She sighs again, the sound an avalanche in my ears. "Yes. I don't think there's any other way for us, do you?"

"No."
 

And we stay like that, for a long time, just holding each other, not really saying much. We take a shower later and kiss goodbye when I have to leave at two. Words are wasted beyond this point. We both know where we stand, and neither of us is moving.
 

"You're very broody today," Greg remarks as we're driving. He's smoked two cigarettes already and said nothing either, which suited me just fine since I'm in no mood to talk. If I do, I might just ask him about what he meant the other day when he said I'll soon get what I want. And that might be giving away too much in terms of how bad I want to get out of this life.

"Whatever," I mutter and turn up the radio. "I'm tired."

"From what?" he sneers. "I haven't seen you at the gym at all, and from what I can tell, you've just been sleeping for the last few days."

Despite my nerves a smile crosses my lips. No, I wasn't exactly sleeping.

He's eyeing me with a frown on his face, but this isn't the time to go into all that. Although…

"I've just been enjoying some quality company for a change," I say.

"Right, well, you wouldn't know quality if it smacked you in the face."

We banter back and forth a little longer, but then we're almost at the warehouse, and my heart's beating so fast I'm getting lightheaded. I'd give my fucking right arm right now, if it meant I never had to see or deal with Vlado again.
 

Mike's standing with a group of other guys to the left of the entrance. He raises his arm in greeting when I get out of my car, and starts to walk over. I lag behind Greg, pretending to examine a non-existent scratch on the back bumper.

"Hey," Mike says bending over to my level. "You got a scratch?"

And despite our talk last night I still have to force a smile.

"No, it was just some dirt," I say and straighten up. "Maybe we should just go in."

I can see Greg talking to the guys now, and the warehouse door is still shut.

"Vlado's not here yet," Mike says.
 

"Strange that he's late," I mutter, just as his black Mercedes pulls into the lot. Vlado gets out before it even stops completely, clutching a briefcase. He barks something at the guys waiting for him, and one of them runs up and unlocks the doors.
 

"I guess that's us too," I say and start walking. My legs are all stiff and heavy, and I’m getting nauseous.
 

"Just don't let him suspect anything," Mike whispers, catching up.

I have no intention of doing it, and I'm already schooling my face to be as blank as possible. I’m pretty good at it, and so far, Gail's been the only one who can really see through it all the time.

The conference room is stuffy like no one's opened a window in years. I sit in the chair I usually occupy all the way at the end of the table. Mike takes his seat on Vlado's right.

Vlado gets up and focuses a piercing gaze on Greg, which is totally at odds with the serene half smile he’s wearing. "The job is going ahead just as we planned it. I don't want to hear any more objections. Next Friday night. Get the cars, or you better hope I don't see you again."

Greg shrugs and breaks eye contact with Vlado. The rest are murmuring their agreement, some shooting Greg black looks too. I focus my eyes on the wall right above Vlado's head.
 

"We will go over the plan again now," Vlado says and reaches for his briefcase, pulling out his laptop. The only sounds in the room are the fans kicking in as the laptop powers up, the shuffling of feet, and the creaking of chairs. Judging by the stiff faces of most of the others I'm not the only one dreading this job. Mike cracks a grin in my direction, but I ignore him, focusing on the screen as Vlado turns it towards us.

"These are the cars," he says, pressing play on a grainy black and white video. On screen each car is examined by a guy in a dark suit, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. At least ten guys loom around him, each wider than the last. The video ends when the last car is driven into a warehouse that looks more like a hangar.

"And that's where you want us to grab them from?" Greg breaks the silence once the video ends.

Vlado casts him an angry look and clears his throat. He walks over to the large map that's already pinned to the whiteboard today, and points to something I can't quite make out.

"They will be transporting the cars here and load them on a ship."
 

A rattle of chairs scraping against concrete fills the room as almost everyone gets up for a closer look, me included.
 

"That's only two miles from his warehouse," one of the guys whines, then turns white as a sheet as Vlado fixes him with a cold gaze.

"The closer the better," he says. "This overpass looks like the best place to hit them."

"Or the harbor gate," I volunteer. "That's the real bottleneck."

Though how we'll maneuver all those cars out is another question.

Vlado scratches his chin and looks from me to the map. "That is a point. There are five cars and ten of you. Five to take the cars, five to create the distraction. Any ideas?"

Vlado's still studying me as the rest start speaking one over the other. I join the planning, mostly to get away from under his gaze. After two hours of yelling, arguing and cursing, during which they need multiple warnings to speak English, we have a plan that might just work.
 

We'll set up a roadblock claiming a gas line broke, followed by a few explosions.
 
Then, in the confusion, we’ll steal the cars while they're stopped in front of the harbor entrance. There are eight days to plan it all, get the uniforms and the gas company trucks, practice the scenario.

I talk myself into being one of the drivers, since I want to be as far away from the harbor once the owners of the cars are notified. Given the short distance from the warehouse it should only take them minutes to arrive.
 

I have a pounding headache by the time the meeting's over and I'm waiting for Greg outside so we can go home. The humidity is not helping. All I want is to fall asleep in Gail's arms.

"You did good," Mike says to me as he passes on the way to his car. I shrug and nod. Good will be when we pull this off. I want to run after him, beg him to just make his play before this job, but that's crazy thinking, and I manage to stifle it before any more emerges. Home and to Gail.
 

Next Friday is only eight days away. If we fuck it up, I'll probably never see her again. The thought alone is enough to send shooting stabs through my temples and make nausea rise in my stomach. We better not fuck up.

Most of the sadness clouding the apartment leaves with Scott, but I can't shake mine completely either. I start unpacking my suitcases as soon as he leaves, though I first have to organize all his stuff, which is basically strewn all over the closet like he just put it back where there happened to be some room at the time. At least it saves me from thinking too much, and from wondering if moving into this strange apartment with him is anything but total insanity.
 

But I can't picture going back to my house in Connecticut alone now, and only see him a couple of nights a week. In fact, I'm not even sure I could spend one more night away from him, and that scares me, but the prospect of never leaving him again is so sweet, so all-consuming, the fear has no hope of lingering.