She watched his face a moment before she dropped her head and walked out the door. He stood in its frame and waited until she made her way across the yard, got in her car, started it up and drove away.
Then he closed and locked the door, went to his suit jacket, pulled out his phone, flipped it opened and called Feb. He didn’t know if Tina Blackstone or anyone on his street was watching and he wasn’t having that shit hit Feb’s ears before he explained it.
“Hello?” she answered, the bar noise loud in the background.
“Baby, you got two minutes?”
“Everything okay?” The noises were changing behind her and he knew she was on the move.
“In the grand scheme of things, yeah. Just wanted you to know that Melanie was sittin’ outside in her car when I got home. She wanted a few words, I gave them to her and she just left.”
There was no response and then the bar noise significantly muted. She was in the office.
Then, she asked, “Melanie?”
“Yeah.”
“She okay?”
“My guess? No.”
Again no response before she asked, “You okay?”
“Be better around three when you crawl in bed with me.”
His name was soft and sweet when she said it. “Colt.”
He wanted to explore that soft and sweet but she couldn’t and he didn’t want to fall asleep halfway through doing it.
“I gotta hit it, honey, practically asleep on my feet.”
“Okay.”
“Later, baby.”
“Later, Colt.”
He flipped his phone shut, armed the alarm for windows and doors, took his gun and phone to the bedroom, got ready for bed and he fell asleep about five seconds after her cat, laying on his chest with Colt’s hand scratching his ruff, started purring.
*
The alarm beeps jarred Colt awake and he laid in the dark listening to them, instantly alert, his hand moving toward his gun on the nightstand, trying to hear anything that came with the beeps, something that wasn’t supposed to.
Then he heard, “Jesus, Feb, shut it off.”
Morrie.
Then the alarm beeps came faster and louder.
“Fucking shit,” Feb whispered loudly, “I got it wrong.”
“Do it again,” Morrie advised.
There was more beeping and then it stopped.
Colt’s hand dropped and Wilson, who woke up too, got up from where he was curled into Colt’s hip and jumped off the bed.
“You good?” Morrie asked.
“Yeah, thanks for walkin’ me in,” Feb whispered again.
“Gotta make certain my baby sister is safe,” Morrie replied, Colt listened to silence for awhile, the front door closing and then he heard more beeps, Feb pressing the buttons on the panel to re-arm the alarm.
There was more silence then he heard Feb whispering yet again, “Whose belly is that? Is it Mr. Purrsie Purrs’s belly?”
Christ, she was petting Wilson and calling him that idiotic nickname again. Poor fucking cat.
Colt smiled into the dark.
She hit the room and Colt heard the cat’s purrs when she did. He didn’t move as she dropped her cat, walked to the nightstand and he heard the soft thud of her cell hitting it then she went to the bureau and stopped. He heard her jewelry clinking as she placed it on the top and then he heard clothing rustle, more soft thuds as her boots hit the floor, all the while he watched her shadow moving and hopping around.
She nabbed something off the end of the bed and went to the bathroom not turning on the light until the door was firmly closed. He heard the sink go on and off, on and off, washing her face, brushing her teeth. The light went off before she opened the door.
She moved the covers, pulling them back before her knee hit the bed. He was about to turn to her when he saw her shadow didn’t move to lie down, she was on all fours, crawling in a direct line toward him.
Her hand went to the covers at his stomach then down then her mouth was on his stomach then that went down too.
“Feb –” he started.
“Hush,” she whispered against his skin.
He heard her necklaces clink together as she wrapped her hand around his cock and he felt her tongue rolling around the tip.
Jesus, her sweet, wet tongue felt fucking great.
Blood rushed to his cock and he thought he might have made a world’s record for getting hard.
“Feb –”
She slid him all the way in.
His hand went to her body which was now curled on the bed, her ass to her ankles, her stomach pressed to her thighs, him in her mouth while her other hand slid along the skin of his chest.
When he touched her he was annoyed to find she’d left on her underwear and it felt like she had on his tee that she was wearing earlier that day. He slid his hand over the curve of her ass when her head started moving and he wasn’t annoyed anymore. He was something else a whole lot different.
“Baby,” he groaned.
As Feb worked his cock with her mouth, Colt hauled her lower body toward him. He had her underwear pulled over her ass and his hand between the legs she spread for him, she was rocking against his fingers and moaning around his cock when her phone rang on the nightstand.
His hand froze and her head shot up.
“You have got to be fucking shitting me,” Colt clipped and in that moment, he swore to God, if he saw Denny Lowe he’d rip the fuckwad’s head off with his own hands.
Feb still had her hand wrapped around his cock but her head was turned to him and she whispered, “Colt –”
But he moved, yanking up her underwear. She let him go and he reached toward the light coming from her cell display, dragging himself up to sitting once he grabbed it.
When he saw who was on the display he changed his mind about whose head he was going to rip off.
His eyes went to her to see her shadow up on her knees and she looked like she was arranging her underwear.
He flipped open the phone, put it to his ear and growled, “This better fuckin’ be good.”
There was a moment of silence then, “I’m in the hospital with forty stitches in my fuckin’ shoulder, closin’ a fuckin’ hatchet wound, that good enough?”