Unmask (Adrenaline Series (Stand Alone) Book 4) (12 page)

Drew

After showing me Eden, Melody disappeared into her room where she's stayed most of the afternoon. Not real sure if it was because she knew I had work to do or because of the package The Devil had delivered to her, so I simply let it go.

I have to keep up my end of the deal or there will be no escaping. No rescuing. Sometimes we have to take orders from someone we never fucking thought we would in order just to make it one more day. It's all good. I'm a McCoy. I'll survive. The Devil will get what's coming and lose one more ally on his side when I take her out of here with me.

While I'm thankful she wasn't around as I toyed with fingerprint making, I have missed her. Just her presence in the room seems to remind me that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. A sweet melody of hope to keep my mind from wandering towards the idea that I very well may die at the end of all of this.

With a melancholy expression on her face, Melody slips out of her room and into the kitchen. Freezing my body in place, I simply watch, curious what's bothering her. Desperation for her to confide in me grows.

I can't blame her for not. She's like watching a caterpillar who bloomed into a beautiful butterfly, all in captivity. Trapped with only her own beauty for so long. Seeing the outside world with all it's splendor and evil revolve around her, all in hope of the lid coming off. Well we're taking that lid off. We're freeing that butterfly. Soon...very soon.

She tries to put on a smile. “Hungry?”

Closing up the last of my materials that don't need to sit out to dry, I shrug. “I could eat.” Hopeful I offer, “Want me to cook?”

She shoves a hand on her hip. “You can cook?”

“Define cook,” I tease, which makes her roll her eyes, a hint of a smile appearing. “I mean I can boil water.”

“That's a start,” Melody replies opening the fridge.

“I can then add the noodles to it.” My playfulness continues as I cross over to her. “I can also stir, drain, and add the cheese sauce making a gourmet dish.”

A giggle reluctantly gets away. She shakes her head and looks over her shoulder at me. “Macaroni and cheese. You can make mac and cheese.”

“I am the reason you get the blue box blues. It's just that great when I make it.”  My fingers lightly touch her arm. The simple action seems to cause her to jump out of her skin and right into my arms. Concerned by her jitteriness I whisper, “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” she lies.

It's that obvious. Hell you can see it too.

“Please don't lie to me,” I beg in a hushed tone.

Her eyes gloss over. “Please, don't make me talk about it.”

I give her a slow nod of understanding. “Dinner?”

“Dinner.”

Reaching around her, I open the fridge once more to peer inside. “Hm...is that...is that steak? We can have steak?”

“That's more for your last night here.”

I joke, “Like a last meal?” When sadness seeps back into her expression, I divert, “What about mac and cheese?”

“You're serious?” She wipes away a tear that's somehow made it's way to her eyes. “You want macaroni and cheese out of a box?”

“Don't knock it before you try it.”

Melody sniffles. “I don't think I have any.”

“Do you have noodles?”

“Yeah.”

“Milk? Cheese?” She nods. “Whatever it is that makes stuff turn to sauce?”

“Flour?”

“Yes.” I point. “Failed home-ec forgetting that shit.”

Almost as if she's impressed, she leans against the counter and looks up at me, eyes shimmering. “You took home-ec?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Any idea how easy it is pick up chicks when you're one of three dudes in that class? Not to mention the hottest?”

Grinning she starts to chortle. “You are unbelievable...”

“I always hoped you'd say that in different circumstances, but for now, I'll take what I can get.” When her eyes flash the passion I'm anxious to see more of, I sigh, willing my hard on away. “Let's make some mac and cheese...”

“Let's do it.”

A lesson to the wise. Do not pop a hard on near an open flame. Burning the tip of your dick is a fucked up thing to have to learn the hard way. Just...take my advice. With that said, don't do something to make your husband or boyfriend pop one while he's boiling water. That's fucked up...

Melody and I work together to make the dish from scratch. She explains cooking fundamentals.

Like why the pasta I felt was done, wasn't actually done. It just would've been a little extra hard. Who's ever complained about an added crunch?

While she stirs the noodles, observing them like a child that needs constant supervision, I grate the cheese, snacking between bites even when she fusses at me not too. Annoyed by my eating she abandons her post to pop me on the hand. As soon as she does, I grab her fingers, angle us so our backs are hidden to the camera and bring her fingers to my lips kissing each individual one. The sweet notion isn't lost. In fact it's rewarded with soft purrs and innocent whimpers.

Melody slides away from me to return to her task. Eventually, we combine everything, create the sauce between playful kitchen duels, and toss it in the oven creating more of a pasta bake than boring mac and cheese.

For the record, nothing wrong with boring mac and cheese. It is the perfect solution when all your favorite fast food joints are closed at 3 a.m. And you need post sex sustenance.

While waiting for it to finish cooking, Melody hops her body up on the counter. Unable to stay away like some sort of bug to a bright light I know could be my demise, I move myself to her. Standing between her spread legs, I gently stroke her calves.

I know I shouldn't, but I love touching her. Her skin is soft and sensual. Flawless.

With her eyes lingering in mine she asks, “What do you miss most besides your family?”

There's no hesitating. “Bertha.”

“Bertha?”

I nod.

“Is that...Is that a girl you slept with regularly?”

Chuckling I help fleeting tension by continuing to rub her lovingly. “Bertha's my bike.”

“Your motorcycle?” When I nod she lifts her eyebrows. “You named her Bertha?”

“Don't judge...”

You either.

Melody covers her giggles with her cupped hands.

“Bertha is a beast,” I explain. “She's been my old lady for a while. Daniel, Destin, and I got matching bikes at the same time. Spent late nights customizing them so they were perfect fits.”

“How'd you pick the name Bertha?”

I give her a short shoulder shrug. “She spoke to me. Gave her one look when I was finished and I heard a voice in my head say Bertha.”

Melody giggles harder. “That's pretty funny.”

“Bertha can handle some of the craziest tricks. Always cradles me perfect when I stand on her.”

Shock shoots out of her. “You stand on her?”

“Oh yeah,” I casually inform. “Stand. Pop wheelies. Burn outs. Some crazy shit you wouldn't even believe me if I told you. I don't do it much anymore, that's more Daniel's scene, but I
can
and Bertha takes good care of me when I do.”

“That’s insane...”

“Tell me something about being a McCoy that isn't?”

She smiles sweetly.

“What about you?” I redirect the question. “What do you miss?”

Her finger slips into her mouth.

Can my dick switch places with it?

Casually I adjust my crotch.

“Holidays.”

“Holidays?”

“Yeah. They were one of the only times in my house where I really got to spend time with my mom. Most places were closed or gave her the day off, so they didn't have to pay her time and half. We'd bake cookies for the occasion. Cuddle on the couch. Drink milk and eat them while watching a holiday special. It wasn't ever anything extravagant. When my dad overdosed, his side of the family alienated us. Some blamed my mom. Some blamed me-”

“You were just a kid.”

“I was 'too much' work for him.” Her fingers roll around the end of her braid. “Anyway, my mom was an only child, my grandparents were in Canada. Outside of Christmas they rarely spoke. We couldn't afford to go see them, so...we made due with just the two of us.”

Offering her a faint smile I say, “If it makes you feel any better when I was little there were tons of us and never enough presents.”

She sighs, “It wasn't about the presents. It was about having family. I wished for a bigger family, but made due with what I had. I guess, I don't miss holidays themselves as much as family.”

I press both my hands on the counter, one on each side of her legs. “With me, I promise you'll always have family.”

Melody fights against her instinct to deny. “Promise?”

“Promise,” I repeat. “They're loud. Pushy. Obnoxious as fuck sometimes. Invasive. But they're loving. And they'll learn to love you just like I'm learning too.”

Panic soars into her eyes.

Oh no. Shit! Shit! Shit! Is there some sort of I love you rule? Why are you laughing at me? Do I look like I know this shit? I haven't even been on a date that didn't end in sex in...you know what? Never mind. Ignore that. How bad did I just screw this up?

The oven timer dings and grabs our attention. Taking a couple steps back, I move out of her way. Tempted to say something else, I rub my mouth instead, preventing my foot from further going into it.

She pulls out the dish and allows it time to cool while settling the plates with the fresh cut cucumber, tomato, and feta cheese salad she made.

It's not that Knox doesn't cook shit for us that's impressive, it's just impressive in a different way. More like a mass production sort of way. When you're feeding six boys...eventually six men, it becomes more about mass quantity first, high quality second.

I insist on filling the water glasses while she carries our food to the patio area where the cameras are easier to hide from.

Even left my mess all over the table to insure we could have some alone time. Crafty I know. Remember that when it comes time to escape
.