Chapter 6

Rhonda struggled with the coffee pot on Monday morning. You’re just going to have to figure out a way to do this. Not only did she want a coffee, now, but she didn’t have Patrick here to lift it for her. Make a few cups, she thought with a grin, then she wouldn’t have to lift the pot when it was full.

Accomplishing that made her feel like she’d just won some sort of race. Such silly things make you happy at this hour.

The knock on the door made her step out of the kitchen and frown at the door. Who would be coming to see her before daylight?

She walked slowly over to the door and peeked through the hole. Smirking she opened the door. “Detective, a bit early for you, isn’t it?”

Stepping back, she watched him walk in. He was wearing tight worn jeans and a very tight black t-shirt. Her eyes moved slowly over the black leather jacket he wore and recognized it to be a biker’s jacket… not one of those cute urban biking types either. He hadn’t shaved since the handfast. Her heart lurched as she looked at his shadowed jaw. Oh, he does very, very bad, oh so well, she thought with a smirk. “I thought you were going back to work today.”

Patrick set boxes on the table and shrugged out of the jacket. “Got cooler out overnight and I am going back today, in a bit.” He looked around at the few boxes sitting on the furniture. “Thought I’d bring you some more boxes and give you a hand if you need it. I don’t have to be where I’m going for several hours.”

She looked at the jacket on the chair and then back to him. His shirt fit like a second skin and clearly outlined every muscle underneath. She smirked. “Where do you hide your gun?”

He looked at her for a moment before reaching down and pulling his pant leg up past the short black boots. Strapped at the top of his boot was a leather holster that held a small gun.

Her eyes lit up. “Well, don’t you just pull off bad…very well?” Her heart was thrumming in her throat, he looked that good.

“I can pull off anything, very well, when there’s need.” His voice had dropped to barely a whisper. He watched her for a moment more then pushed the pant leg down. “Is that coffee I smell?”

“Yes, and you’re in luck I was able to make two cups at a time.” She turned and went back into the little kitchen. She carefully grasped a mug and reached to get the pot off the burner. His big hand reached around her to pick up it while his other hand flipped over another smaller mug. She stood there between his arms and watched him pour the coffee in. “I was trying to prove that I could do it myself.” She sighed and turned in his arms when he had set the pot down.

He grinned down at her. “I’ve no doubt you can do it yourself, but it seemed a good excuse to put my arms around you.” He winked at her. “You should get one of those automatic one cup brewer do-dads. No lifting required.”

“Awfully flirty for so early in the day, aren’t you?” She smiled up at him.

Patrick leaned both hands on the counter caging her in. “Never too early for that.”

Leaning against the counter his face was only a few inches from hers.

“I’m going to miss the sting of that mouth of yours, lass.” His eyes dropped to her mouth as he spoke.

“Oh, I’m sure you can provoke anyone to take a bite out of you.” She searched his jagged features.

He smiled briefly, “But no one does it like you.” He closed the few inches between them and kissed her softly, drawing it out by feathering his lips over hers a few times before straightening.

Reaching behind her, he picked up both cups and turned to set them on the table.

She touched her lips lightly and let out a quiet sigh as she turned to pick up the sugar. “So how long do I have your help today?”

He sat down and sighed. “I’ll have to leave in about an hour, to get where I need to be going.”

Rhonda set the sugar down and carefully sat into the chair. “And I can’t know where that is, can I?”

He paused in blowing on his cup and shook his head. “Better if you don’t know any details.”

She carefully lifted a teaspoon of sugar into her cup. “I understand that.”

Patrick set his cup down and looked at her. “If I didn’t have to be leavin’ you right now, I wouldn’t be.” She offered no comment, just sipped her coffee. “I started this before I was called to help at the gatherings.” He sighed. “I have to finish this, Rhonda. It involves a lot of lives.”

“I wasn’t asking you not to. I understand it’s your job, I’ll just…worry.” She said quietly.

“No need to worry, I’m pretty good at what I do.”

She smiled at him. “I don’t doubt that either.”

Patrick looked around the kitchen. “What can I help you with? I don’t want you doing a lot of bending and lifting.”

“Do I look stupid? I don’t own any of the furniture, it came with the apartment. It’s just a matter of cleaning things out and getting them packed.”

He took another sip then set the cup down. “I’ll go tape the boxes for ya, just finish your coffee.” He paused in the doorway. “How’s your back doing today? I can put some of that goop on before I go.”

She grinned at his words. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“When’s Dade coming?”

“Tonight with Cora, after work.”

He nodded and walked back into the other room. “That’s fine then. You just point and tell me what you want where and we’ll see if I can’t get a good dent in it before I go.”

She sighed. “Has anyone ever mentioned that you are a bit bossy?”

He taped a box together and set it on the table before answering her. “Not that I recall.” He grinned.

Patrick looked around the room now filled with piled up, packed boxes. Well, he’d at least be leaving her with little to do to hurt herself. “I’ve got to be goin’.” He said quietly as she walked back into the room. He had left the room quickly after putting the ointment on her back, not trusting himself.

She struggled with the last button on her top for a moment before looking at him. “All you’ve left me to do is pack up my art supplies.” She walked over and leaned her hip on the chair playing with the collar of his jacket lying on it. She glanced up at him from under her lashes. “So, I’m guessing you won’t be able to keep in touch for a while as well.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he moved and stood in front of her. “It would be best if I didn’t.” He reached out and played with the hair falling across her cheek. “I’ve a rather strange request of you, lass, and I’m not sure how to ask it.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

She frowned. “Interesting.”

He shrugged. “Then again, I’m sure the idea may have crossed your mind from time to time.” He watched the curious expression on her face. “I had to shave and be all clean for the handfast, and when I left, I was somewhat scruffier than I am now.” He looked down at her hand on the jacket for a moment. “I don’t have any nails or I’d have done it myself.”

She looked at her hand then at him with a shocked expression. “You want me to scratch you up, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know if I can.” She looked at her hand again. “Well, I probably can, but I don’t know if I want to.”

Patrick grinned. “There’s only one explanation I could come up with to explain why I’ve been missing for all these months and…”

“And being with a woman was the only viable one?”

He shrugged and gave her a boyish grin. “We’re men, simple reasons work well enough.”

She crossed her arms and looked up at him. “You could have at least asked when I was mad at you.”

“Would you like me to try to get that temper to rise?”

“No, I’d rather watch you walk out the door without wanting to throw something at you.” She sighed, “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” She looked down at her hand again. “You’ll have to help I don’t have enough strength in my fingers to manage this.” She reached up and put her hand gently on his cheek for a moment.

Patrick placed his hand over hers and looked down at her. “Just leave the flesh if you don’t mind. I’m ugly enough as it is.”

“Making me laugh isn’t going to help. Just shut up and help me do it.”

He fought to not smirk at her tone. Gripping her hand firmly, while trying to not hurt her, he pulled it against his face.

He didn’t flinch and the expression in his eyes didn’t change as he pulled her nails across his face. He knew there was blood when she squinted at him like she didn’t want to watch. Closing his hand over hers, he pulled it to his mouth and kissed it. “Does that make it look like I pissed some woman off then?” He didn’t release her hand. She nodded. “Well that’s good then, isn’t it?”

He pulled gently on her hand until she moved closer to him. He lowered his head until he could taste her breath. “Now…for a little something to lessen the sting.” Reaching around with his other hand, he pulled her gently into his body and brushed his mouth over hers, tasting slowly, coaxing until her mouth opened under his. He wanted to swallow her whole to take as much of her with him as he could, but he controlled himself to kiss her with a dizzying slowness. When her tongue touched his he almost grabbed her and crushed her against him.

Her hands moved up his chest and rested against his neck. He pulled her closer with one hand against her tight little bottom and ran his other hand through her hair, gently moving her head so he could deepen the kiss for a few short seconds.

Knowing he had to walk out the door in a moment was the only thing that stopped him from carrying her to the bedroom. Lifting his head, he looked down to watch her eyes open slowly, she looked up with a soft, dazed look. She was so lovely. “Now there’s a sweet image to carry with me,” he said in a whisper.

Holding her for a moment, he straightened completely and a grabbed his jacket off the chair. He turned and walked to the door with long strides.

Pausing as he opened it, “I’ll try to get a message to you if it’s possible.” With a nod, he walked out the door without looking back.

Standing on the other side of the door, he took a few ragged breaths and waited for his head to clear. If so many lives weren’t on the line, he’d turn right around and walk back in. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath.

Get it done and get back to her. With a nod to no one, he stepped away from the door and walked determinedly to the old pickup truck waiting in the driveway.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there and looked at the door he’d closed. She slowly ran her fingertips over her lips. Oh yes, you do other things very well, Mr. Blaine. She let out a slow breath. Well wasn’t that perfect, to kiss like that and then walk out the door without looking back. All this time you’ve been fighting with him you could have been spending it doing much more interesting things you silly twit. She sighed and then smirked, okay with healing and recovering, probably not, most men prefer a woman that was able to move and participate. And she would be participating when she got her hands on him again!

She grinned and shook her head. Worse than some animal in heat, aren’t you? Sighing, she walked to the kitchen. Looking down at her hand she saw the blood under her fingernails. That whole scene didn’t make her feel good about his leaving. Destination? Unknown. Return date? Undetermined. She turned on the tap and put her hand under it. You had better bring yourself back here in one piece, Detective Blaine or you’ll be getting more than a rise of my temper.

She shook her head as she dried her hands. So now what was she supposed to do to fill the rest of the day until Cora and Dade got here?

A few hours later Patrick pulled into the parking lot of an out of the way diner. It could be called a bar as well. It was legitimate enough, even if the owner wasn’t.

He climbed out of the truck slowly and stretched. Watching his own breath in the cool air, he took a deep one and then slammed the door to walk slowly inside.

He nodded to the man behind the counter, then walked to the back booth where he knew Dusty would be sitting. Sure enough the long haired, tattoo covered dirt bag was sitting in the booth reading a paper.

He glanced up at Patrick and raised an eyebrow. “Where the hell have you been?”

Patrick shrugged and slid into the booth, stretching his long legs out over the seat. “Went for a ride.”

He set the paper down and studied him. “Must have been one a hell of a ride.” He looked out into the parking lot. “Where’s your bike?”

Patrick nodded to the man setting a cup of coffee in front of him. “Put her to bed for the winter.”

Dusty sat forward and leaned on the table. “Hope you took her for a long ride first.”

Patrick sipped the coffee for a moment before speaking. “Been missing a few months, haven’t I?”

Dusty smiled at him. “Was beginning to think you were rotting somewhere.”

“Not this time.” He looked around the empty dinner. “Where’s Ryan?”

Dusty sat back and ran his hands through his hair. “Got arrested. Dumb fucker. Told him to wait.” He rolled his neck to loosen the tension. “He had to try and rush things.” Picking up his cup he saw it was empty and motioned to the man in the kitchen. “Got caught, doubt we’ll see him for a few years.”

Patrick sat there without expression. He’d have to check into that arrest and see what really happened.

Dusty sat up and looked at him. “You’re looking a little more relaxed. You been holed up with a woman, Pat?”

Patrick shrugged. “Good while it lasted.”

Dusty leaned closer, his eyes moving to the scratches. “I’ll bet it was.” He sat back while his cup was refilled. “So, with Ryan being out of it, we’ll need a hand after all.”

Patrick lifted his cup to his mouth. “Nothin’ better to be doin’ until spring.” He took a sip and set his cup down. He watched Dusty look toward the door with a smile. Turning, he watched two young women come in and sit on a stool by the counter. He watched them for a few minutes in silence. Probably about seventeen, he thought and why they’re coming into a rundown place like this he didn’t want to know. He glanced back to Dusty and smirked. “That right there will get you a cell beside Ryan.”

Dusty looked at them again then grinned. “Might have been worth it, but you could be right.”

Patrick leaned forward and pulled off his jacket. Setting it across the back of the booth, he turned to see the greaseball giving him a strange look. “What?” He asked with an annoyed tone.

Dusty motioned to his arms. “Have never been able to figure out why you don’t have a single tattoo, on any skin I’d ever want to be looking at.”

Patrick sat back and picked up his cup again. “Not too hard to understand. Had a friend once, liked his tats, he was nailed because someone recognized them.” He took a drink. “Got life. So, I decided early on, I wasn’t making it that easy to get caught.”

Dusty sat back and frowned and then looked down at his own arms that were more tattoo than skin. “That’s actually a hell of a good reason.” He glanced at the clock. “Feel like riding along with me? Have a few stops to make to shake up a few losers.”

Patrick nodded and set his cup down. “Nothin’ better to do.” He stood up and shrugged back into his jacket. He smirked at the sleaze standing up. “Do I need to bring a big stick?”

Dusty grabbed his jacket and laughed. “Paddy, I’ve told you before, all you have to do is glare at people and they seem to want to cooperate.”

Patrick turned towards the door and walked behind him. “Sounds fair.” As he walked by the young girls, he sent them both a look that told them to get the hell out here and soon. Of course, the slight suggestion he gave them was on a mental level and not out loud probably had more effect than the glare. The brunette looked at her watch and suggested they get their food to go.