Chapter 4

“Earth to Bix. Hey, Bix!” Badger snaps his fingers in my face, pulling my attention back to the moment.

I stare at him in confusion. Did he say something?

“I asked if you're gonna finish that.” He points to the brick weight, shit-colored square on my plate, aka Cookie's “good luck” cake. I shake my head with a slight grimace.

“No. You can have it.” I push it his way and he grins in delight, slapping away Gordon's fingers as the kid tries to steal a piece. Don't know why they're fighting over it. Cookie's intentions are good, I'm sure, but maybe she should stay away from baking. Not exactly her greatest achievement.

Don't even know why I bothered to take a piece. Wasn't much of a sweets lover before the world went to shit, but what passed for sweets nowadays was a poor-ass imitation. It’s usually just a mixture of water, artificial sweetener, artificial flavor, and flour. Not exactly gourmet food. But it's the thought that counts, I guess.

This is our last meal before we leave tomorrow. Word had spread of our mission, and this is a kind of going away party. Everyone has shown up in the cafeteria to show their support, and with Cookie's unexpected gift of the cake, there's a sort of celebratory feel to the air. Cake is only made for special occasions, so I guess sending us all off possibly to our deaths falls under that category. All the cake does for me is remind me of Sam. But then again, what doesn't remind me of Sam lately?

Gordon seems to have forgiven us and is back to his old tricks. I watch him reach around and tap Badger on the shoulder to distract his attention. The minute Badger turns his head, Gordon swoops in like a hawk, snagging the cake and shoving the whole damn piece in his mouth. By the time Badger realizes he’s been tricked and turns back, the kid is staring at him with chipmunk cheeks and trying hard not to choke.

I can feel Luke vibrating beside me with laughter. “Good one, kid,” he says to Gordon and the ginger's eyes glitter back, pleased as punch with Luke's praise.

But Badger, not to be outsmarted, places both hands on the kid's puffy cheeks before he can swallow and pushes hard with his palms, forcing the kid’s mouth to pop open and the cake to spill out and splatter across the table.

“Ewww. Gross. Real mature, you two.” I glare at them in disgust, but that just makes them laugh harder at their childish display. Idiots.

“What's the matter, Bix?” Luke stares at me, eyebrow raised. “That was funny, you gotta admit. Or did you lose your sense of humor along with your appetite?”

“Sorry.” I force a grin. “Just a little distracted, I guess.” I don't even realize I'm playing with the dragon pendant hanging at me neck until Luke's eyes drop to it, watching it twist around my fingers.

“Distracted,” he mutters, before averting his eyes back to my face.

I flush under his stare. He knows exactly...or I should say who exactly is distracting me. I'm saved from a lecture as Amy bounds up to our table towing an irritated Liv in her wake.

“Hi, guys,” she waves at the crew, eyeing the masticated cake on the table with a wrinkled nose.

“Hey, Ames,” the gang greets her warmly in return. I'm glad Dom is not sitting with us. He had chosen to sit with his guard buddies instead, so Amy is totally herself. When Dom's around, she clams up, almost like she can tell he doesn't like her. The feeling is quite mutual. Her eyes smile at everyone at the table before settling on me.

“Bixby. Cookie made cake.” Her face beams with pleasure at the rare treat, and her gray eyes, so much like her brother's, sparkle with unconcealed excitement. I can't help the grin it elicits. Amy is the happiest person I know, and her happiness is contagious. Her Down Syndrome only seems to add to her positive outlook. It's part of the reason why most of us at the Grand adore her so much.

“She sure did. It's been quite a while since she made cake. Did you have any?”

Her black curls bob up and down. “Yeah. Cookie gave me a really big piece.”

Liv rolls her eyes above Amy's head. “A big piece? She gave you half a slab. And you ate it all. You'll be so hyped up tonight, you won't sleep a wink.”

“Of course I will, Liv.” She sighs in exaggeration as she points over her shoulder with her thumb. “Liv is such a drama queen.”

“She is, isn't she,” I add in a conspiratorial whisper, trying hard to stop the laughter threatening to erupt. Liv, on the other hand, does not look as amused as I am.

“Yeah, we'll see how much of a drama queen I am when I send her to your room at three am because she wants to talk or play gin rummy.”

“Hey, wouldn't be the first game of gin rummy we've played in the wee hours of the morning, would it, Ames?” I ask with a laugh, but her response chokes off my laughter.

“No. Me, you, and Sammy used to play cards all night long.” She grins at her memory, oblivious to the sharp pain taking my breath away. I envy how her memories of her brother only bring her pleasure while for me they're nothing but pain. Hiding my hurt under a mask of fake smiles before Luke takes notice, I tousle Amy's black curls.

“Hey, maybe we can have a couple of games tonight for old times’ sake. We're going to be gone a while, may as well get an ass whooping from you to last me while I'm out on the mission.”

“Can we?” Her eyes brighten with excitement at my suggestion, and her animated face lightens my mood.

“Hell, yeah. I'll come by about nine. And maybe I'll even bring more cake if I can sneak it without Cookie finding out.”

Liv pins me with a stern stare. “Do not, I repeat, do not show up with more cake. You have been warned. I'll let Cookie know of your intentions if I have to.”

I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “Okay. Understood. No need to do anything crazy, woman.”

Amy giggles at my comment. “Okay, it's a date. I gotta go 'cause Jonesy promised I could pick out the movie for tomorrow night. I just wanted to say bye to you guys before you leave tomorrow. And be careful, please.”

The worry and kindness in her eyes are genuine. She truly cares about everyone here in the Grand.

“What she said,” Liv adds, nodding at everyone before following Amy, who’s practically bouncing out of the room.

“Yeah, she definitely doesn't need any more cake.” Luke’s laugh is gentle as he watches her leave. “I haven't seen her that hyper in a while.”

“Which means I'm going to have to get some cake now, just to make her more hyper and piss Liv off,” I respond.

Luke shoots me a dimpled grin. “You are pure evil...you know that?”

“Yup,” I nod and poke him in the chest with my finger. “And admit it. You wouldn't have me any other way, Whitman.”

Much to my chagrin, he catches my finger in his big hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the tip of it. “I'll take you whatever way I can get you.” Leering at me, he waggles his eyebrows up and down like some perv. I want to be pissed at him for his stupid PDA, but that look on his face just cracks me up, and I let him have my hand a little bit longer.

“Uh, don't look now,” Badger interrupts in a quiet voice as he strokes his scraggly beard with pretend nonchalance. “But you two are being watched very closely. And if looks could kill...oh diggety.”

Immediately I turn my head, looking for the source of the heat burning a hole between my shoulder blades.

“I said don't look. Dang it, Bix.”

I ignore Badger's whine and make eye contact with the Queen Bitch. Robyn is sitting two tables over with her own group of hunters. She's oblivious to the laughter and camaraderie happening around her since she's more focused on us. She doesn't appear to be the least embarrassed at me catching her staring. Instead the corners of her red lips tilt up, like she's amused. What the fuck is she laughing at? Irritated without really knowing why, I yank my hand out of Luke's grasp, practically ripping his arm out of joint.

“Jesus, Bix, take it easy. I may need that arm.” His words are light enough, but he knows something's up. Following my glare, he, too, makes eye contact with his ex-lover. She nods at him, and Luke smiles back. He smiles back.

“What are you doing?” I hiss at him low enough that she can't hear.

“Huh?” His smile falters and he looks puzzled, like he has no idea what I'm talking about.

“Why you smiling at that bitch?”

“I'm not...”

“Yeah, you are. You're smiling at the bitch. Why are you being so nice to that leg-humpin', two timing, bitch?”

His brows rise in mock offense. “Little excessive on the bitch word, don't you think?”

“Hell no. I forgot one. Stop smiling at her, bitch.”

Gordon hoots in laughter, not even trying to pretend he isn't listening. “Four times in one tirade. I think that's a record, even for you, Bix.”

“Take it easy on her, Gordo,” Luke responds to the kid, trying to be serious, but the grin threatening to burst out belies his sincerity. “Jealous women are sometimes a little overzealous in their attacks on what they perceive as a threat.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “Come again?”

“You're jealous,” he accuses, throwing my words from two days ago back at me. “I think it's kind of cute.”

“You're shittin' with me, right?” My words are icy, even though I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks. But the king of assholes has the balls to bust out laughing at me. It isn’t bad enough that he just totally embarrassed me in front of the guys, but he laughs along with it.

“It's okay. I get it. You're jealous 'cause I'm smiling at my ex. If I'd known that's all I needed to do to make you take notice, I would've done it long ago. But I forgive you for your foul-mouthed attack.”

I shake my head, mouth agape like a fish out of water. “I'm not...whatever...shut the hell up!”

The mocking laughter from the peanut gallery on the other side of the table finally snaps my fraying patience, and I’m pretty sure I bare teeth as I snarl at them. All three of them are grinning like idiots, but it's Cal who gives his two cents worth.

“I don't blame you being jealous, Bix. She's a looker. Awwww, man. What I wouldn't give to be leaving with you guys tomorrow.” He truly does sound disappointed, and I stare at him in angry puzzlement wondering where he's going with this. “To be on the road with Bix and Robyn...traveling together? Man, can you say epic, hot cat fight? I'd pay top dollar to see that.”

This only makes them laugh harder. Unbelievable. Cal actually thinks us girl fighting in this life and death situation is hot? Like we’re going to be mud wrestling on the road, or pillow fighting in our nighties, or some other stupid male fantasy shit? My anger churns in the pit of my stomach and fans out like a wave of intense heat. I can feel it radiating off me like a bad sunburn, and I'm thankful I'm not wearing my knives because I so badly want to yank Cal's idiotic tongue out of his head and pin it to the table.

“Stop laughing,” I hiss through gritted teeth. My threat goes unheeded. My gaze averts to Robyn, and she's laughing at me too. Like she knows exactly what's going on at our table. That's the last straw. Furious at them all I get to my feet, needing to get out of there before I do something stupid and embarrass myself even more. I stride past the table of asshats with my back stiff, but my need for retaliation wins out over my need to leave. I double back and in quick succession, I punch every single one of them in the shoulder blade, right on top of their fresh tats. I know my knuckle finds its mark as they reciprocate with yelps of pain. Gordon's whine of “What did I do?” follows me as I bolt out of the room. Serves them all right.

* * *

“Hey. Hey, wait up.” Luke yells at me down the hall, making me increase my pace.

Why the hell is he following me? Does he have a death wish? Ignoring him, I continue toward the stairwell. I'm really pissed, and the last thing I feel like doing is talk to him.

“Come on, Bix. The guys are only messin' with you. Why you so upset?” My arm is gripped by long fingers, and I'm yanked around.

“Luke, if you want to keep that hand, you'll let go of my arm right now.”

I try to pull out of his grasp, but he doesn't let go. Instead he studies me, his face perplexed.

“It was a joke. A joke. You remember those, right?” I try to free myself again, but he won't let go. “Jesus, I really don't understand you lately. You're confusing the shit out of me. One minute you say we're no strings attached, the next you're acting like some jealous teen.”

“I. Am. Not. Jealous,” I enunciate each word carefully.

“Then why is my being friendly with Robyn making you act like some vamp with a toothache? And don't try to lie, I can read you like a book. You're pissed.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Think it has something to do with you making a fool of me in front of the guys?”

He shakes his head at me. “Nu-uh, this has nothing to do with the guys. It's all to do with Robyn. What was between her and me ended months ago, before I became involved with you. You don't have to feel threatened at all.”

“Hah!” My loud snort draws the attention of the few people passing by. Aware of their curious stares, I lower my voice. “You are so fucking full of yourself, Whitman. You think this is all about you? I just don't like her, okay? And I can't believe you were even stupid enough to sleep with that egotistical bimbo. Boy, you were definitely thinking with the wrong head on that one. And if you're dumb enough to believe it's over on her end, then you're a bigger fool than I thought. She is nowhere near over you.”

Instead of denying my accusation, the jerk-off shoots me a stupid grin. “Really? You think she's still got the hots for me?”

“Oh, my God. You fucking cockalorum. You think that's funny?”

His grin is replaced by puzzlement. “What the hell is a cocka-lorrie...what?”

“A cockalorum. A self-important, little jerk. That's you.” I poke him hard in the chest to emphasize my point, not even realizing my voice has risen again until I notice the two girls that had passed by earlier, lounging at the end of the hallway and watching us intently but pretending not to. Luke must take notice of the curious onlookers as well, since his fingers dig tighter into my arm and he starts dragging me in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” I try to jerk away in protest, but his grip is like a vise.

“We need to clear the air on this, and we don't need an audience.”

We round the corner, away from the prying eyes, and he yanks open the door to the supply closet. Shoving me inside the darkness, he flicks on the lone bulb and locks the door before turning my way.

“Seriously?” I fume at him. “You locked us in a supply closet. You think that's going to help, how?”

He shrugs. “It's privacy at least. Now, you wanna tell me what the hell is eating at you? These past few weeks, you've been a bitch. Wait. Let me rephrase that. Bitchier than usual. You've no sense of humor, snapping at the guys and me for no reason. And now Robyn. We're going to be all together on the road, and I need your full concentration. Your mind needs to be clear of all distractions or else you will just be a liability on this mission. So whatever is annoying you, get it out. Why is she bothering you all of a sudden?”

I stare at him, the denial on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I let loose a deep-gutted sigh of exasperation.

“Gah! I don't know.” I run a hand over my shaved head. “She just does. Maybe it's because we've been stuck inside for the past four weeks and everything is getting on my nerves, including her. I don't usually get to see this much of her since our groups have opposite schedules. When we're here, she's not. But with us being on R&R, she seems to be underfoot. She's everywhere. Watching us. Stalking us. Like she's waiting for us to fuck up or something. Don't you feel that way?”

He crosses his arms and winks at me. “To be honest, I haven't noticed. Believe it or not, I only have eyes for one woman. And since Cookie doesn't even know I'm alive, you're a close second.”

I narrow my eyes at him, hoping he doesn't notice the grin threatening to break through my anger. How does he always manage to talk me off that ledge?

“Have I ever told you what a dick you are at times?” I ask, trying hard to hold on to my annoyance.

“Once or twice.” He closes the small gap between us and taps me on the nose. “Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're jealous?” His words are filled with amusement.

I punch him non-too-gently in the arm. “Fuck off. I'm not jealous. And you're really starting to irritate me with that shit.”

“No worries, darlin'. I've been known to irritate you before, and I'm not going to stop now. Just remember, this cocka-lorrie-thingy is all yours.”

I can't keep it in any longer and the grin escapes. “Sometimes I really don't know what I like about you.”

In one fluid motion, he pushes me firmly against the wall. His hands grab both of mine, pinning them above my head. His hot breath fans my face as his velvety brown eyes stare into mine. “Ditto. So maybe we need to remind each other,” he whispers against my ear before his lips slide across my cheek and onto mine, demanding entry. His tongue delves past my lips in a bold stroke, tasting me. Claiming me. The possessiveness of it should fuel my anger, but instead his tongue dancing with mine causes tingles to shoot over my body, awakening every nerve ending with desire. A slight moan sounds in the back of my throat, and I know he realizes the moment I give in since he releases my hands and grips the back of my neck.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” I whisper against his lips. Even though there's nothing I want more than for him to continue what he's doing, I can't help but play devil's advocate.

“We are talking,” he growls back. “Just not with our mouths. Now shut up and talk some more.”

“I like this conversation then.”

“I thought you would, you little perv.”

My hands move of their own violation, sliding up the rock-hard chest and gripping his shirt tight, trying to draw him closer. His lips taste sweet like the cake, and I suddenly find my sweet tooth craving exploding and going into overdrive. I feel bereft as he pulls away, whimpering in protest as his lips break the exquisite contact.

“You want me to stop, just say so,” he whispers against my mouth. “As badly as I want you right now, this isn't exactly a room at the Ritz.”

Stop? Oh, hell no.

“Come on, Whitman,” I whisper back. “Isn't it every girl’s dream to get shagged in a dirty supply closet?”

He grins as he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with excitement and desire. “Not any girl I've ever known.”

“Then obviously you've been hanging out with the wrong kind of girls.”

“Obviously,” he agrees.

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” I growl, this time claiming his lips with my own. He doesn't need any more encouragement. His hips grind against mine, making no apologies for his arousal in the least. I reciprocate back, every inch of me lit up with a burning, urgent need to possess him.

His grinding connects with a sensitive spot, and I moan in delight as I arch my back. His hands slip to my waist, fumbling with my belt. He tugs and pulls a couple of times, but the damn thing refuses to let go. Muttering in impatience against his hot lips, I push his hands away and do it myself. In one swift movement the belt and button are disengaged, and he yanks the jeans down over my hips. His calloused palm glides along the inside of my thigh and heat jolts my abdomen, fanning out and down my legs. I whimper in excitement as I feel him toying with the worn cotton of my underwear. He answers my wordless request by tearing away my undergarments with a loud rippppp.

“Dammit, Luke,” I break contact long enough to complain. “Do you know how hard it is to find decent underwear...OH!”

My complaint is quickly forgotten as his searching fingers find their intended mark and I gasp in delight.

A breathy, “Fuck, yes,” escapes me as I close my eyes and rest my head back against the wall, letting him work his magic and not giving a shit about my destroyed panties anymore. Who the hell needs underwear anyway?

My moans of pleasure as I writhe against his hand are swallowed up by his mouth as he claims my lips once again. His fingers increase in their intensity and as much as I want to reach that finish line, I prolong it, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and stopping him.

“Not like this,” I whisper, and he knows what I want. Impatient now, I attempt to remove the jeans puddled around my feet with frantic hands, holding onto him for support.

I tug at the pants, trying to get them over my boots. They don't want to cooperate, and I grunt in frustration, hopping on one foot trying to get them off and nearly tripping over the broom leaning against the wall. Finally, they come loose, and I kick them out of the way, along with the broom. They both land on the opposite side of the small room with a loud clatter.

“As you were,” I order, and he grins at my impatience. But he does as I say. His mouth goes to my earlobe, biting playfully, before skimming his teeth down over the pulse in my neck. I shiver in anticipation and close my eyes as the rustling of his own jeans tells me his intent.

I gasp as I feel his hard heat between my thighs, begging for entrance. I position myself just right, giving him his answer.

His strong hands grab my bottom, lifting me up, and I wrap my legs around him. With one single thrust he enters me, and my cry is visceral.

“Shhhhh,” he scolds me in amusement, but at this point, I don't give a rats-ass who's outside the door listening. If they want to be that pervy then let’s give them something to talk about. I don't care about anything other than the man in front of me and how he makes me feel so alive and complete. And the fact that he is all mine.

Crap. Where the hell did that thought surface from again? My eyes pop open and study Luke’s face, wondering if I said anything out loud, but he’s oblivious to my mental admission of possessiveness. His eyes are closed as he moves inside of me, his face a canvas of carnal pleasure. It excites me beyond measure and forces those appalling thoughts to the back of my head. Locking them away behind the pleasure zone. The sex takes priority at the moment.

My fingers trace the lines of his lips and his chin as he withdraws and enters me again.

“Look at me,” I whisper, and his eyes flicker back open. His gaze is almost black, and my breath catches at the naked emotion evident in his face. I arch against the wall, meeting his next thrust and wanting the intense delight to last forever. His breathing becomes more erratic as I keep moving against him. Meeting his thrusts and holding his gaze, pinning him with our intimacy.

“Bix,” he groans, digging his fingers into my hips as he burrows hard and fast inside of me. Hearing him say my name sends my emotions spiraling out of control. I can feel the wave of ecstasy mounting, threatening to explode.

I cry his name on my release, ripples of pleasure wiping out any other coherent thought as we both fall over that precipice into oblivion.