Lance dipped his hand between her legs and gently slid his soaped-up fingers over her sensitive pussy lips. He massaged the skin in a way that sent pleasant tingles through her, but had her melting into a relaxed state more than spiking into another wave of arousal. When he finished his work there, he finally stood. And cupped her boobs. “Jon probably did enough to break up the protection the Sheriff’s Department might’ve been providing for them,” he said as he lathered up her chest. “But the cartel’s still here.”
She blinked as his eyes met hers.
The cartel was still in the area. Meaning so was the threat.
Lance leaned in to ghost his lips over hers, then turned her around to lather up her backside. “We don’t know if they’ll linger or flee,” he said. “It’s been a couple days. If they’re smart, they would’ve gone to ground regardless, to avoid catching any restless eyes. But we need to move now, to be out there and snatching them up the way they snatched up those innocent women.” His fingers dug into her shoulders and she moaned immediately. He brought his lips to her ear. “We have to do what we can to keep our home safe. And this place is our home now.”
Warmth flooded her, her heart fluttering like it had grown fairy wings and was dancing behind her ribs. She melted into him. “This is your home now, hm?”
“’Course it is.” He circled his arms around her. “As long as you’re here.”
She smiled and made no effort to straighten, to finish rinsing off the soap, or take her turn lathering him. Although she fully intended to. “You plan on setting off to be a hero tomorrow, I take it?”
“That’s the plan, yeah.” Lance kissed her temple. “We’ll be as fast as we can, but I need you to be safe, and smart, in the meantime.”
Lynnette pulled one of his hands into hers and squeezed. “I will if you will, boyfriend.”
Chapter eighteen
New, Different, & Uncontainable
Boyfriend.
Fuck.
No one had ever called him that before. He felt a little ridiculous to be getting hung up on that word at thirty-fucking-five, but none of the casual relationships he’d had over the years had been serious enough to slap a label on. He didn’t care that they hadn’t. But damn did he like the way that word sounded on Lynn’s lips.
It made him hungry for an upgrade.
In his defense, Jon had gone from eternally single to fiancé all while Lance had been hospitalized. So, Lance now had some catching up to do to keep things balanced between them.
Lance blew out a breath and drummed his fingers restlessly over the steering wheel. They were headed to Jenna’s, which Lynn had said was halfway across town. And in Misty Glades, that was about a five-minute drive. The rain had let up, though the sky was still overcast and the roads were wet, and beingthat the town was nestled in a mountainous area, the roadways weren’t exactly flat. None of that was a problem for him. He doubted it was an issue for Lynn, or Jenna’s SUV. They weren’t driving unreasonably slow … by civilian standards.
Which I am now.He really needed to learn to think like one. At least after the manhunt he was preparing to embark on.
He cracked his neck as he followed Lynn’s taillights through the gently sloped roads, past a taped-off bakery he remembered in brighter lighting, until they finally pulled up to a less-than-impressive apartment community. A scattering of spread-out, single-story buildings, nothing gated or otherwise protected from passersby in any way save for the thick row of trees at the back that seemed to delineate a borderline. There was a narrower, unlined roadway system for residents and vendors to traverse, and apparently space to park at the curb in front of the unit they needed. Lance almost didn’t recognize Jon’s new, dark green truck in the driveway.
He did recognize Billy’s rental parked a few paces ahead.
He took a moment to grab what he thought he’d need from the trunk, then rounded to meet Lynn at the bottom of the driveway and held out his keys. “She’s all yours. Drives like a dream. And there’s a handgun in the glovebox if you need it, fully loaded.”
Both of Lynnette’s eyebrows arched up her forehead as she accepted the keys. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who might need a gun.”
Lance chuckled and looped an arm around her. “Sweetheart, please don’t tell me you think one pistol is the only weapon I was carrying.” At the side-eye she gave him, he laughed harder. “I love that you went there, but no, I wasn’t talking about mycannon.”
Lynn groaned and shoved him off her.
He snatched up her hand. “In addition tobeinga weapon,” he reminded her calmly, “I’ve got more.” He jostled the bag he’d slung over his shoulder for emphasis.
Lynn sighed and bumped her shoulder into his as they approached the door. Voices drifted out from inside, so she lowered hers. “And you’re sure your leg is okay?”
Lance smiled. He’d explained the normal side-effects of his power, and even told her how some crazy might-be goddess had put a slow-release dampener on them. He was pretty sure she hadn’t totally accepted that story, and he didn’t blame her, but she hadn’t been able to deny the proof of his visibly healed leg when he’d unwrapped it after their morning coffee. He'd wrapped it back up after she fell asleep last night, even though it was almost completely healed then. It didn’t ultimately matter whether or not she accepted the goddess bit—he wouldn’t have bought that, either, if it hadn’t happened directly to him. It only mattered that she understood he wasn’t rushing off injured. He didn’t want her to sit with that worry hanging over her head, on top of everything else.
Aloud, he said, “I’m sure, Lynn.”
The door swung open moments later and Jon ushered them inside. “Morning,” he said.
“Perv,” Lance greeted.
