Page 141 of Terror Tuesday
I nod. “Sometimes, he seems to help, and others, not so much. I have a suspicion he’s playing some other game. One I don’t know the end goal of.” I put down my cup and place it to the side. “Tonight, when you turned your back, he switched the flutes like heknewyou’d poured something in them.”
Her lips purse as she thinks it over. “That’s a pretty big leap.”
I kick my feet up next to her underneath the table and lean my elbows on the top. “He’s not with the president. Or...I assume he’s not. Had you seen him before?”
Her eyes flick upward thoughtfully, searching her memory. “Not before that party I met you at. Well…metElliotat. Helookslike he’s our age. Except with a bad attitude.”
Remembering his snide remarks from our first meeting, I nod. “Yeah. I’ll ask my father to look into his background. See who employs him and what his name is. We’ll go from there.”
“Do you think he’ll alert the president about what we tried?”
“I’m not sure… If the man hates rich people so much, why would he?”
“But then why would he work for them?”
“Unless…” I reach across the table and stroke the back of her hand.
She cocks her head slightly. “Unless what?”
“Unless we stole his kill.”
Her face draws a shocked expression. “Well…maybe we should let him take it.”
“We, unfortunately, are in even more of a hurry now.”
With a delicate shift, she rises from her seat and rounds the table, then sinks onto my lap. Her fingers slide through my hair as she presses a kiss on my forehead. The gesture is small, but it makes my heart soar.
Maybe I’d be more frustrated. Maybe even terrified. But not with her in my life.
Drenched in love chemicals, I can almost believe in redemption. In purpose. Without her, I don’t think I’d have the nerve to do any of this. Because without her…what’s the point?
She’s given me a reason to save someone other than myself.
With her, I don’t have to choose between Vanquish Veil and who I really am.
“Yeah, we are,” she whispers. “So what do we do?”
“We come up with a better plan.”
thirty-nine
Watchinghis forearms flex every time he grinds the coffee beans makes me want to pull him back in bed.
“What?” he asks with that sluggish grin.
I tug the covers up to my nose to shield his eyes from the blush in my cheeks. “Put a shirt on. You’ll freeze to death.”
He glances down at his abs, hands out wide, asking what the problem is. “I think you’re just too sore to go again.”
“Listen, I know I popped your cherry, but…you have to slow down.” I’m lying. I don’t want him to slow down at all, but after the car hood, then the kitchen table, and in the middle of the night, I do need to shower and recuperate.
“I’m taking a break for coffee. Then…breakfast.” The way he licks his bottom lip makes it clear food isn’t what he’s hungry for.
His scent envelopes me as I toss his hoodie over my head. Summer and wildflowers. The reddish tint in his sandy hair gleams in the winter morning light. Warm slippers caress my feet before I slide over to him near the kitchenette in the parlor.
“Hey,” I say, pressing my chest to his back. “Even when our bedroom is finished, can we keep the coffee stuff up here? I like waking up to the smell of it.”
He swivels around to kiss the top of my head. “Of course. Why do you think I left the kettle and French press on the table? I got you.”
