Chapter 69
Ten minutes later we collapsed, still naked, onto his bed with wet hair and damp skin. He was sprawled on his back, and I was cuddled up next to him, with my head on his shoulder, and my hand resting on his chest.
The air was cool, but my skin was warm. I sighed into his shoulder. "Best Thanksgiving, ever." I winced. "I mean aside from the thing at my dad's. Um, and the hospital. And losing your keys." I lifted my head. "You know what? I'll shut up now."
"No. Don't do that," he said in a sleepy voice. "I love to hear you talk." He pulled me closer. "It was the best. But you know what?"
"What?"
"Next year, it'll be even better."
"How do you know?" I said.
"Because we'll make sure of it."
I smiled into his shoulder. "Yeah," I murmured, feeling myself drift. "I can see that."
I woke in the darkened room to find myself wrapped in Lawton's arms and covered with a soft fleece blanket. I glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite nine.
The night was still young. I'd slept barely an hour, but felt wide awake – no surprise, given the fact that for someone like me, who worked nights, this was practically the middle of the day.
Gently, I slid out of Lawton's embrace and got out of bed. I spotted Chucky, curled up near the footboard, with a furry paw resting on Lawton's ankle.
Smiling, I made my way to the bathroom, and returned to the room a couple minutes later for my overnight bag. Determined not to wake either of my two favorite guys, I lugged my bag into one of the spare rooms. Quietly, I dug out some casual clothes, got dressed, and ran a brush through my still-damp hair.
It was a big house, so there wasn't any shortage of things to do, or places to do it in. But what I really needed to do was figure out what to do about the Parkers. It was beyond obvious that things weren't exactly what they seemed.
I had received no returned calls, no replacement checks, and no instructions from the financial guy or anyone else. Planning to check my phone, I went to retrieve my purse and stopped, confused, when it wasn't in its usual spot. And then I remembered, I'd left it on the Parkers' kitchen counter when I'd gone there earlier with Lawton.
"Oh crap," I muttered, suddenly feeling very naked – and not in a fun way – without my purse and everything it contained, my phone in particular. I glanced toward the quiet stairway and considered the timeframe.
It was still relatively early. If I knew Lawton, he'd be awake in an hour or two and ready to make up for lost time. Now was probably the perfect time to make a quick dash back to the house. I could grab my purse, maybe throw in some laundry, and be back before Lawton even noticed I was gone.
A minute later, I was lacing up my tennis shoes and shrugging into my jacket. I grabbed Lawton's spare house key, along with my own small ring of keys, and shoved them into the front pocket of my jeans.
I walked out Lawton's front door, feeling happier than I had in forever. My job stunk, and my career was going nowhere, not to mention my house sitting troubles. But somehow, I was having a hard time caring. All that stuff, I'd work it out somehow.
Walking down the quiet street, I thought of how much had changed, not just today, but over the past few months. No matter what, I vowed, I was going to be myself from now on. If people didn't like it, well, then that was their problem, not mine.
I was still smiling when I opened the front door and went inside the darkened house. I turned toward the side table and reached for the lamp.
From somewhere in the darkness, an unfamiliar male voice said, "Touch that light, and you're dead."
With a gasp, I whirled toward the sound and spotted what I should've seen earlier. The hulking figure of a man, standing near the far wall of the front room.
I couldn't make out his features, just his clothing. Black pants, black jacket, black shoes. Or maybe it all just seemed black in the shadows. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I noticed what I should've noticed earlier. Upended plants and bare walls where the shadows of framed artwork should have been.
Slowly, I backed up until my backside hit the easy chair near the front window. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
"Where's our money?" he said.
My heart raced, and my hands grew clammy. In a strangled voice, I said, "What money?"
"The money you owe us, bitch."
"I don't owe you any money."
The hulking figure moved closer. I looked wildly around. I needed a weapon. A baseball bat, a lamp, something.
And then I heard it, the click of a gun.
Shit.