Page 146 of Ship Outta Luck

A rousing cheer goes up around us, and her hands fist in my shirt. When we pull away, there are a few whoops from the crowd. And Charlie’s grin stretches from ear to ear.

“What I need right now is about three days straight of sleep.”

I raise an eyebrow, a mischievous grin curving my lips. “Is that all you need?”

She stands on her tiptoes, breath ghosting against my ear. “No.”

Picking her up, I swing her against my chest, and she gasps before laughter trickles out of her as I carry her to the Jeep.

CHAPTER

FORTY-THREE

JUNE

I wake,toasty warm, sun streaming through the cracks in the window. The smells of home hitting me, lemongrass and coconut, the tick of the clock on the wall in the living room a reassuring metronome.

Something prickles across my neck and I stiffen, then relax.

Dean.Dean is in my bed, in my house. The fan makes lazy swirls overhead, the white sheers on the widow billowing in the gentle breeze it creates. A large hand on my waist pulls me closer, and I snuggle into the dip in his arm. A strange moment of déjà vu passes over me, followed by a twinge of regret. The last few mornings have begun nearly the same way, and I was too out of my mind with stress and worry to enjoy them.

Not this time though.

“You awake?” His voice is a deep rasp in my ear.

“Mmm.”

Small circles start across my stomach, and I arch into him.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Oh.” Lead fills my stomach, the happy, floating feeling disappearing. I squeeze my eyes shut, as though it can keep me from hearing whatever Dean is about to say.

“Not likethat.”

“Oh!” I gasp, my eyes wide open. Strong hands flip me onto his stomach, and Dean grins up at me.

“You’re beautiful in the morning.” He pushes a wayward lock of hair from my forehead, and I bite my lip. There’s a but coming, I can sense it. And not the butt I want. “You’re beautiful all the time.”

“Dean, if you have something you want to tell me, please say it. I can’t stand this build-up. I’m tired of being tense.” I sag against him, burying my face in his neck, breathing in the delicious scent of him, fighting the thought that it might be the last time I get to be like this with him.

“June, no, it’s not like that.” He strokes the top of my head, the other hand grazing over my ass.

I squeeze my eyes shut even harder, as if that will somehow block the inevitable words from coming out of his mouth.

“It’s about your,” he clears his throat, “your father. I asked a few questions yesterday while I was in the secure area, finishing up the paperwork on what we found.”

My fingers find his biceps, and I pinch a little, opening my eyes. “Get it over with. Tell me whatever it is.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A hoarse laugh follows, his eyes crinkling as he stares up at me. “When we informed them of Pierce’s illegal extracurriculars, the DEA was very interested in what I had to say. In return, my classification was bumped up and I got read-in on the full file on the shipment and the long-term mission down here.”

Anticipation knots my stomach. Sliding off him, I prop my chin up on my hands. Staring into his dark brown eyes, which now track the motion of the fan on the ceiling.

“There was something else I asked for, and Uncle Sam agreed to it.”

“Dean…” Strings attached is the only way the government operates.

“Your dad wasn’t just running drugs.”

---