Or cuddling.
Talk ceased as he finished cleaning his plate.While it felt incredible to fill his belly, even he couldn’t ignore the trembling his body did as he settled the fork down on the empty plate.Hating the weakness owning his limbs, he took his time reaching for his water.Even now, Jasmine didn’t say a thing, merely observed.
The cold water slid down his throat and he fought off a yawn, stomach full, body exhausted and needing far more sleep to allow recovery.
As if she knew exactly what he thought, her lips curved up in a slight smile.She didn’t speak, merely tipped her head back to the bedroom, and he didn’t have the energy to argue with her.He stood and she mimicked him, swiping up his plate and utensils.Lance didn’t move and when she turned around from setting things on the counter, he held out a hand.
A slight head shake before she took his hand and grabbed their water glasses with the other.Side by side they retreated down the hall and went to bed.
* * * *
For the second time that day he woke alone.A fresh glass of water with ice cubes rested at the edge of the bedside table.Struggling to a seated position, he rested against the headboard and took a slow drink.Whereas before the sun had illuminated the room, now streetlights held that distinction.
Low voices filtered back to him and he instinctively reached for the sidearm beneath his pillow, grateful it was one, there, and two, not so much work to hold it.One more drink of water and he swung his legs over the side of the bed and headed up the hallway.
He recognized Jasmine’s voice, but the other seemed younger.Male, but he couldn’t identify it.At the end of the hall, he peered around the corner and snarled with possessiveness.A tall Black man stood close to Jasmine, too fucking close, while on a stool across from them was a young man who looked like he could be a perfect blend of the two.
“Auntie, there’s a man lurking at the corner.Mostly naked with a scowl on his face.”
“That’s Lance and he’s grouchy when he first wakes up.Usually because he’s hungry.”
The young man looked pointedly at him and Lance drew on years of being expressionless to keep the shock from seeing his face show.He was missing his right eye and had a terrible scar down the side of his face.Part of his jaw was also missing.
He stepped into view, nodding at the young man, flicking his gaze dismissively over the man still too close to Jasmine, and walked to her side, where he drew her nearer to him before settling her on the other side.Keeping himself between her and the man.
Jasmine allowed it, and he understood that.She was a formidable woman even when he wasn’t recovering.But she didn’t fight him on it, simply let it go.
“We should get going.”The man had a deep, graveled voice.
“Jazzy said she was going to play the game with me while you talked.You barely talked.This man isn’t a problem.”The younger one gestured at Lance.“Besides, he came up from the bedroom wearing only his boxers.He and Jazzy are fucking.”
A bark of laughter slipped from Lance and everyone glanced in his direction.He shrugged without shame.“What?Kid’s right.Wearefucking.”
He flexed his fingers into her side and somehow pulled her tighter against him, turning so he could still keep an eye on the unknown male.Lips to her temple, he gazed over her head to find the man watching with a hint of humor and warning in his dark eyes.
“See.Jazzy, you owe me a game.”
“All right, young’un, you seem desperate to get your ass beat.”She patted Lance’s stomach and moved out from the protective circle of his arms.He stared at her as she shimmied over the floor to where the young man fist pumped the air before he bolted to the couch and leaped the back to land on the cushion.
Lance watched Jasmine do the same thing as the young man and soon they were seated by each other, some racing game pulled up on the television.He swung his focus from them to the adult male still lingering in the small kitchen with him.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The mocking grin didn’t ease any concern.
* * * *
The television had some multiplayer shooting game that Den, short for Camden, played.He was playing by himself but didn’t seem to be all that put out by the fact.The volume was low, as were the lights.Evening was upon them, and while the boy played in the living room, Lance sat at the table, his left knee pressing into her right.He had been over-the-top protective since he woke.He’d tugged on a dark blue pair of workout pants but had forgone a shirt.
Mark was across from them, the remnants of their dinner scattered on the speckled tabletop between them.
“Where does that leave us?”Lance’s question was one on her tongue as well and she shrugged, unsure of what the actual answer would be.
Rocking forward until his chair legs hit the floor, Mark rested large forearms on the table, brushing aside the fast-food wrapper before him.“It’s your call, Smoke.”A single shoulder rose and fell laconically.“If it were up to me, I’d dump his ass and let him figure it out on his own.You don’t owe him anything.Helping him puts you in more danger.I still don’t know why you don’t just become a PI.You can move around as much as you like, take the cases you want.Do this, what you do now, but get paid well for it and not be in so much danger.”
Lance’s leg pressed harder against hers but he didn’t speak.He watched.Her.Not Mark, who she focused on.
“You know I can’t leave him to this on his own.They already almost killed him.”
