Page 22 of Babydoll

Before I can decide my next move, she reaches up, knocking my hand from her chin and grabs me by my collar. I open my mouth to speak but she yanks me down to her. And her mouth, that hard angry mouth, turns soft as the plump of her lips finds mine.

Damn.

Double damn.

Lu can kiss.

My walkie chirps, startling us and breaking our contact. I curse, lowering one of my arms to grab it off my belt.

“We need the janitor on four. Have you seen her? Her walkie’s off.” I glance down at Lu still leaning against the wall looking part lust-drunk, part pissed off. “The cooler tipped. There’s a damn flood up there.” It’s Brad’s voice and he sounds frustrated. But the way I feel, staring at Lu’s well-kissed mouth, he has no clue what real frustration is.

“I’m with her now. Her walkie isn’t working. I’ll send her up and bring her a new one,” I say before signing off.

Lu ducks under my arm and walks away before I can even clip my walkie back in place.

“Hey, Grizz” she says, glancing back over her shoulder at me. “I’m used to losing, but I won’t lose this one.” She turns back, her strides purposeful. “Thanks for the kiss, though.” And she leaves me standing there with a waggle of her fingers.

I spend the rest of the night in the office, looking through my notes while simultaneously watching Lu on the monitors. I need more evidence—I want solid proof of what Satan’s Ransom are up to before I make my move. But Lu’s in more trouble than I thought. Something’s going down and I no longer have the luxury of time.

She’s been on her cell a lot tonight, which isn’t normal. I need to know what the Ransom asked of her, what she promised them in exchange for my safety. But I know I won’t get it from her.

“It’s fucking snowing out there,” Bale says, walking in and plopping into the chair next to me. He’d relieved Johnson so he could go for a break, temporarily taking over perimeter duty. “I’m glad Johnson’s back. Supposed to drop well below freezing tonight. Did you know he grew up in Whitehorse? Fucking guy’s built for this shit.”

I grunt a reply, because Bale’s not really expecting one, he’s just bitching. And now my mind’s on another immediate danger for Lu.

She sleeps in her car. And she won’t accept help from me or anyone else. Damn stubborn woman would rather freeze to death in her car overnight than take a handout.

Fuck.

“Bale?”

His head pops up from his phone where I know he’s chatting up some girl from Tinder.

“What’s up?”

“I’m taking your night shift.”

“Sweet. Got a honey on the hook here.” He nods his chin at his phone before he turns it to me so I can see. A brunette with brown eyes, a wide white smile, and a killer rack stares back. “She says the only strings required are the G kind.” He laughs, tipping back in his rolling office chair.

“Just your type then,” I say absently, but in my head I’m thinking she’s got nothing on Lu. Only that’s not really the case and I know it. When Lu was healthy it would be no contest, but now? Well, the brunette had never known trouble like Lu, and hopefully never would.

I size up Bale. “You ever see these women more than once?”

He looks up at me, a leftover smile from his chat still hanging on his lips. “Huh?”

“Never mind. I’m going to grab some coffee, you want anything?”

I take coffee requests from both Bale and Johnson and head out to grab food for Lu. She won’t outright take it, especially now that she’s called my bluff on getting her fired, but I have a plan.

I pass the line at the punch clock a few hours later, where most of the employees, including Lu, are waiting for the final two or three minutes to tick by so they can clock out. Most of them are bundled up in winter gear and carry lunch bags. Not Lu though. She’s removed her coveralls and is wearing a baggy, threadbare hoodie, and too-loose jeans. Jeans that were tight only a few months ago. And even though her shoes are an expensive brand, they’ve seen better days, much better days, and they’re not winter wear. It’s like a damn ice rink out there and the property management crew hasn’t been by yet to plow and salt the lot.

“Careful out there, everyone,” I say as I take my place by the punch clock. “Plow and salter haven’t been through yet.”

“I bet it’s slicker than a dolphin’s cunt out there,” the head mechanic pipes up.

I groan. “Thanks for the visual.”

“And you know all about dolphin holes, too, huh, Donnie? Worked on a fishing boat out east for a while, didn’t ya?”

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