A part of me deep, deep down, was a little sad that Rabid seemed to dislike me so much. It caused old wounds to open up, and my mother’s voice of not being enough came floating to the surface. I tried to drown out those sounds, to think about something else, but it was always there in the background, haunting me. I didn't want to feel that way here. I escaped that island for a reason, and that was never to feel like I did there.
Here I was, The Songbird, the CIA agent, the sassy girl that never gave up. The girl who enjoyed being taken home for the night, losing herself in the carnal pleasure of being wanted and then leaving them in the morning. I was the Celine that enjoyed home-cooked breakfast and reading a good book outside when it was a nice day. I wasn't the failed princess or the defective daughter. I was strong and independent.
For those reasons, I was going to avoid Rabid and Dino as much as possible. Stick to Bricks and Duce, who seemed to enjoy me enough.
“Come, Celine.”
I looked up to see Gears at the top of the stairs already, this time, with a small encouraging smile, and I smiled back as I climbed the stairs.
Chapter 9
IfollowedGearsupthe stairs, and as soon as I turned the corner, I was met with a few more stairs that led up to a three-walled loft.
While it was quite large for a loft's standards, it was cluttered with different metal pieces. There were motorcycle parts, gears, nuts, and bolts. Half-started projects lined the floor, and even a few mechanical contraptions were on the small architect's desk in the corner.
My feet moved on their own as I walked to his desk, as the drawings caught my eye. I barely registered a faucet going off in the background as I stared down at the sketches of different kinds of motorcycles and the parts that would go with them. My eyes poured over the sheets and sheets of designs. Some with custom handlebars with skulls on the end, some with what looked like hydraulics for lifting a heavy bike to do tricks. It was fascinating sifting through the stacks of pages, seeing what his mind was able to dream up. I lifted up the large paper drawing to see another schematic sketch, but it was for some kind of robotic contraption and not a motorcycle. I tilted my head, trying to read the small print, when I heard someone behind me.
“Please don't touch my things.” I dropped the page in my hand and turned around with an apology on the tip of my tongue until my eyes were met with a dripping-wet male torso. My tongue rolled into the back of my mouth as my eyes feasted on this freshly showered male in only a towel in front of me.
My fingers fidgeted behind me, wanting to trace those long, lean groves of his muscles, right down to that V that was peeking out from the towel. This man may be the quiet one, but he was packing a delicious body that needed to be discovered.
“I..I just like my things put in a certain way, and it…it upsets me when they aren’t.” His words shook my sex-filled brain as I looked up at his face and noticed he wasn't wearing his glasses, and his above shoulder-length hair was down and wet.
I gulped, reminding myself that I looked like an idiot, and replied the best I could, “Got it.” I lifted my hands to show him that I wasn't touching anything, but I had to know. “Are these your designs?”
He nodded, turning around as he shrugged his shoulders. “They are only rough sketches.” He quickly grabbed a white shirt from his dresser and threw it on. I almost pouted.
I pointed to a few of the gadgets around his room as I tried to get his attention. “These look like pieces in the drawings, so it's more than ‘just sketches’. Plus, they are good. The bike with the supercharged motor looked like it would be wicked fast.”
With his back still turned, he nodded at my words, not really confirming or denying anything, which was disappointing. Maybe I was making him feel uncomfortable in his room?
He started to fidget with something on the opposite side of the room for a full minute, still not turning towards me or acknowledging me, and I felt like I needed to give him some space. “I um… guess I will use the bathroom.” He immediately pointed to the door that I already knew was the bathroom, still not looking up at me. “Thanks,” I said before I closed the door.
I felt like an idiot for thinking that maybe I could get along with Gears, too. It seemed like he didn't want me here just as bad as Dino. He was just better at following Rabid’s orders. That was a little depressing, especially since he was so hot.
I sat down on the toilet and turned on my phone, keeping it on silent, when I saw a few messages come in. The first few were Ken sending me a thumbs up and then a phone emoji. Telling me that he was rooting for me as well as to call him when I was done. Then I got a text from Glenn saying that he wanted a report from me ASAP. That was his own way of being a protective boss. Then I had a few more from Ken. An angry face, and then a dead face back to back. I guess he was a little pissed that I didn't call him, but I was a little busy. Then I got a final text from Glenn saying that if I didn't contact him in another five hours, he was going to scan all the coastal cities and find me.
I couldn't have that, so I sent a group text to both of them, telling them that I was okay. Ran into a little trouble, but fixed it, and that I was still working on the intel. As soon as I pressed send, I saw a read notification, and Ken sent me three dead emojis. I have no fucking idea what that meant. Then a text from Glenn asking for the safe word, trying to verify that I am who I say I am. I rolled my eyes and texted back Diet Coke. He immediately said copy that, and that he expected an update as soon as possible.
I was about to tell him not to worry when I had an idea. I asked him to send me an encrypted file on the werewolf gang here. I thought about the cuts they wore and realized that their club name was the Moon Raiders and gave Glenn that info. He said he was on it and would send something over ASAP.
I turned my phone back off, not wanting to trip any of the techs' setup they might have since Gears looked like he was extremely smart in that department. I got up and washed my hands and flushed the toilet like I had just used the bathroom and then looked down. Great. I was going to have to sleep in the revealing an all leather get-up.
I turned when I heard a knock at the door and waited for a voice to say something, but it never came. That was odd. I opened the door. Gears was at the desk, his back to me as he was scribbling away, not saying a word about why he knocked on the door. I was about to walk out and ask him what was up when I heard his even voice, “I left clothes on the floor.”
I looked down at my feet, and, sure enough, there was a white shirt and some black boxer briefs folded and stacked to perfection at the door. I was shocked at his kindness and mumbled, “Thanks. I was dreading going to sleep in an all leather get up.”
He puffed out a laugh. “I could imagine.”
I went back into the bathroom, found a towel on the rack, and decided to shower. I tried to make it a short one as I used up as much scalding hot water that I could and jumped into the clothes he gave me. They were a soft cotton that my skin appreciated as I went braless, and his shirt went down to hit my thighs.
I folded up my leather outfit and put my phone in my shoes as I went out the door. He didn't turn around when I came out, so I bent over to set my clothes on top of a box, remembering that he was a little particular, and I asked, “Is it okay if I put my clothes here?”
Before I could drop the clothes, I heard him raise his voice, “Not over there!” I paused before I straightened up, my teeth feeling like they were going to crack by how hard I was clenching them.
“Then where would you like me to put it?” I huffed out. A little irritated that he was being so hot and cold, and not in a good way.
He grabbed my clothes from my hands and went in circles as he looked for a spot to put my clothes. It was hard because most of his surfaces had stuff on them, but he moved a large motor part off of his dresser and set them on top.
