“What do you think you’re doing?”
His grin is mocking. “Taking my job seriously. I’m not supposed to take my eyes off you while you’re offsite.”
“I’m not taking a piss while you stare at me.”
“Then I guess you don’t have to piss badly enough for this to be worth our time.”
Fuck. This is not the plan. With a flurry, I push my panties down and flip the back of my skirt up, happy the loose fabric covers the important bits. Not that I have any modesty left after last night.
I lower myself to the porcelain, trying not to show just how much this hurts, then sit there, not letting anything happen.
“Fucking liar.”
“Shy bladder.” I say, my glare doing absolutely nothing. “Can you at least turn around? It’s not like I’m going to disappear in a locked room with you guarding the door.”
He pulls his concealed weapon out (in obvious disregard for the stated rules on the doors of the building) and taps it against his thigh. A threat, or a promise. I’m not quite sure which yet. He wants to kill me, but I think he wants to torture me first. So, the gun is probably a warning more than anything. Hopefully.
“Fine.” He whips around, and I count to five as I search the ceiling tiles.
There, in a corner, I see a single green eye, glancing from me to my guard. And it’s all I can do to not cry. Jansen’s here, but there’s nothing I can do about Smith.
So instead, I pull up my dress, showing him the blues and purples across my abdomen. When I lower the dress down, I pee, the embarrassment I should feel missing after everything that’s happened. The tile gets slid farther back, Jansen’s facefrozen into a mask of Nordic vengeance, deep in shadow, but I shake my head with a smile.
“I’m okay,” I mouth. “But we can’t today.” I bob my head at Smith by the door.
My name on his lips is barely visible, and my heart breaks again.
“Soon,” I mouth. And I blow him a kiss, wishing I could give so much more. Wishing I could see more than his dark outline crouched above me.
When I flush, Smith turns back, pointing the gun at the sink. Like I don’t know what to do next. But I do, and I do it, the gap in the ceiling now only wide enough for Jansen to see me, not for me to see him at all.
When I leave, Walker still across the way, I shake my head at him too, wishing I could blow a kiss, that I could rush across and press our hearts together, the need to just exist in the same space as my guys burning across my skin like a fever.
But not today.
Tomorrow, I will get to see RJ.
And on Thursday, I’ll be back here with Walker and Jansen.
We’ll try again.
We’ll try until we get it right.
Chapter 64
RJ
Rushing home from class to find out how Clara is would feel desperate if I didn’t admit full-chest I am desperate for the girl. For the news, too, but mostly for the girl. Only silence greets me as I push through the back door, worry trickling down my spine.
I find Jansen lying flat on his back on the floor of the living room, the cat across him like a blanket, the ceiling taking all of his attention. For one split second, I think he’s dead, before the tiniest rise of his ribs tells me he’s still with us. At least physically.
But it’s clear that mentally, he’s not. “Hey, man,” I say, not wanting him to feel like I’m treating him differently, even if he’s comatose on the floor and unable to respond. “I’m going up to talk to Walker,” I say, pushing out of the living room with my heart in my throat.
We need to get him in, even if he doesn’t want to go. This is so far past what either of us can deal with.
I take the stairs two at a time, unsurprised when Walker’s waiting for me at the top. He leads me to his room, not saying anything, which tells me everything I need to know about today’s touch-base.
The place reeks of wet paint, something dark and angry on the canvas by the window, paint splattered onto his wall, the quiet stilted and unusual. “So,” I start.
