Banged Up (13 page)

“Mace, I wouldn’t own a gun without knowing how to shoot it.”

She barely caught the roll of his eyes. “Do you know what this world is filled with? People who buy firearms and can’t—”

Colby gave him a quick elbow to the stomach. “Don’t group me with them.”

“All right, show me what you can do, Miss Biochemist.” He brushed a kiss along her temple before backing off.

“That’s
Ms.
Biochemist to you.” She flashed him a big smile before turning to concentrate on her target. She supported her trigger hand and carefully took aim.
Inhale,
exhale all the air out; steady.
She kept an even pressure on the trigger and squeezed. The sound of the shot made her flinch again but when she opened her eyes, she had once again hit her target.

“Nice. I want to see that again. But faster. Who is going to give you time to aim and shoot? A bad guy,” Mace pointed to the target, “isn’t going to wait around for you to shoot him. He’s either going to be running at you, running away from you or blowing your head off.”

Colby smiled wickedly. “Shut up and put your ear protection back on.” He slid his hearing protectors back over his ears as she raised her Glock again. She called the body parts off as she aimed. “Head … heart … lung … trigger arm … groin … leg…” Every bullet met its mark, one after the other, in quick succession. When the target was nothing but a tattered piece of paper, she slipped the clip out and double-checked the chamber was empty. “He isn’t going anywhere,” she stated.

“Damn right he’s not.” He shook his head. “Okay, we don’t need to waste any more time here at the range. Let’s go home, you’re getting me hard.” He chuckled and took off his shooting glasses. “Wow, a woman who can shoot and who’s good in bed. How lucky can I get?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Colby popped out her orange earplugs and put the gun away in its case. “Wait a minute, just good?”

He reached around her to snap the case shut, then snagged her wrists before she could pull away. He yanked her arms above her head, and with his hips he maneuvered her against the concrete wall of the shooting booth. He let her feel how much he wanted her.

She glanced quickly to the opening of the booth. Anyone could pass by at any moment. “Mace, someone is going to see us.”

“Maybe.”

She should be embarrassed at the thought of being caught. Mace pinned her against the wall and thrust against her. But she wasn’t. The possibility of someone seeing them excited her.

He nuzzled up her neck before moving up to ear. He whispered, “I could fuck you right here.” He kissed her, slanting his lips over hers and burying his tongue in her mouth. He tasted so good. He shifted both her wrists to one hand. Drawing his fingers over her breasts, he brushed over her nipples. “Are you still sore?” he asked against her lips, referring to her tender backside, a result from their afternoon delight at the house the day before.

“A little.” She was, more than a little, but it had been worth it—even if she had suffered with a case of discord for a little while afterward. She ended up telling herself to just live for the moment, to just enjoy what Mace offered. Even if it only lasted for a little while.

Mace was not offering, but taking it upon himself to pop open the top of her jeans.

He unzipped them completely, giving his hand enough room to plunge underneath her panties and right into her pussy. Colby gasped at the sudden invasion of his fingers, but tilted her hips to give him better access.

He stroked and tweaked her, playing along her moist labia, inserting a couple fingers before moving on to her clit. Where he started the pattern over again. When she started to cry out, he placed his lips over hers and caught it, muffling it. He kissed her deeply while he played with her, breaking away only to say, “This is my thank you for yesterday.”

He curled his fingers inside her and found her sweet spot, taunting and teasing it. He added his thumb into the mix, pressing and flicking her clit. She could take no more. She thrust her hips against his hand one last time, gasping and groaning into his mouth. He only released her, her pussy, her mouth and her wrists, when she quieted.

He brushed a light kiss against her lips. “Damn, I’ll have to thank you more often.”

Colby pulled herself together while he gathered their equipment. It took her a few minutes to be able to move away from the wall and stand on her own. She had to be wearing the dumbest smile on her face.

On their way out of the gun club, Colby said, “I’ve got to stop and check on the contractor, do you mind?”

Their feet crunched along the graveled lot, and she took note of the cars parked around her. There were at least a dozen. How could they have gone undetected? Maybe they hadn’t. She had been so caught up in the pleasure there could have been a huge audience and she wouldn’t have even known. Or cared at that moment.

“No.” He unlocked the truck and opened the door for her. “I want to meet him anyway.”

She gave him a funny look. What was with the sudden testosterone surge? “What for?”

“Why not? I can’t meet the man who’s doing the majority of the work on your house?”

“Well, I didn’t think you were so interested in my house. I know how atrocious you think it is.” She climbed into the passenger seat.

“Maybe I just want to meet my competition. I know how much a man with a paint brush excites you.”

Only you
, she thought. She tried not to laugh out loud. Wait until he meets the contractor.

When they drove up to the house a crew of men was busy at work on the porch.

Colby’s eyes widened. She hardly waited for Mace to stop the truck before leaping out.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he called out.

“My porch! They’re working on my porch!” She smiled at him through the windshield, and laughed. She practically ran up to the front steps. The hammering was loud and glorious. She loved it. The sound of those busy, busy hands pleased her.

“Hi, Ben!” she yelled over the racket.

The older man turned to give Colby a slight wave. “Hello, Ms. Parks. Things are going real good here.”

Colby was so excited she hopped in place and wrung her hands together. She was doing the happy dance. “I see! You’ve got almost all the floorboards replaced.” She probably looked like a crazy loon, but she didn’t care.

“Yep, soon you’ll be able to paint.”

Music to her ears. Colby heard a groan behind her. But not to someone else’s apparently. “Did I hear the ‘P’ word again?”

She turned and trotted up to Mace. “Hurry up, Mace! Look how far they’ve got.” She grabbed his arm, tugging hard.

Mace slowly trudged up the overgrown walkway in mock misery. “I see. That’s nice.”

She tugged harder on his arm, to pick up his pace. “Ben, this is Mace Walker. Mace, this is Ben Fine, he’s my contractor.”

“Oh, hell, I just thought he was collecting scrap wood for his fireplace.” Mace turned to eye up the gray-haired man. “Hello, Ben.”

Ben had deep creases surrounding his eyes and mouth; his skin was weathered from age and years of working in the sun. Colby watched Mace’s expression relax, almost as if he was relieved. Why he would find her contractor a threat was a mystery to her.

Mace extended his hand and the older man shook it firmly while returning his hello.

“Is the bedroom finished yet?”

The hammering stopped dead, and the crew’s heads, all five of them, spun in unison to look over at Colby. Her face burned hot and she turned on Mace. “Stop it,” she whispered fiercely.

“What? I was just asking a question.” He smirked, draping an arm around her hips and drawing her to him.

Colby jerked away impatiently. Men!

Deciding to ignore him and his childishness, she wandered around the outside of the raised porch, eyeing all the new repairs. The crew had replaced broken spindles and rotted posts. The floorboards would eventually all be new. The steps still needed repair, but it looked like they would be finished by tomorrow. She hugged herself, hardly able to contain her delight at the progress, and thought about how it was going to look with a fresh coat of paint. And the new porch swing she wanted.
Oh, God, soon. Soon.
She’ll be swinging on her own porch, with a glass of lemonade, reading a novel and listening to the birds chirping, and the…

A hand on her shoulder startled her. “Come back from wherever you are,” came the low murmur next to her ear.

Colby blinked twice, coming back to reality, and turned to look at the man next to her. Where did he fit in the picture? “Oh, I was just doing a little imagining.”
Did
he fit into the picture?

“Yeah, I could see that. You went off to Never Never Land.”

“Mace, you just don’t understand. This house is everything to me. It
is
me.”

Mace laid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I believe it. Now, how soon do we need to start painting?”

———

Mace wandered around the back of the old house. Colby was still talking excitedly to Ben in the front, so he decided to get a little work done. He had borrowed a carpenter pencil and measuring tape from one of the men and snagged a scrap of paper out of his truck. He needed to measure the rear entryway to the kitchen since Colby wanted to order a new storm door.

As he climbed the two wooden steps to the small covered entrance, he paused.

Something wasn’t right. Instinctively, he froze, searching his surroundings. Muddy footprints came from the overgrown bushes to the left of the house. Not from the right, where the driveway was. And the empty paint cans he had stacked in a corner of the porch were scattered. The knocked-over cans he could attribute to a curious, wild animal.

But the footprints were definitely human. And fresh.

He would have to ask the crew whether any of them had been doing some exploring of their own. But a niggling feeling at the back of his neck told him something was off.

He was letting his past experience overrun him. It could have been just a teenager looking for an empty house to party in.

Just like it was kid’s prank calling the house.

He finally moved, opening the outer storm door to inspect the inner wooden door carefully. He looked closely at the small rectangular windowpanes. There was no doubt there was a handprint on one of them. Like someone had been peering in the back door, looking for something or someone.

Teenager, crewmember or not, he had a bad feeling about this. But he wasn’t going to jump the gun and tell Colby. He didn’t want to frighten her without reason. He would just keep a close eye on her and her house.

———

Colby glanced at her watch. 1:13 a.m. She never meant to stay this late at work. But she had gotten involved in an experiment and had wanted to finish it. She hated leaving ends untied. As it was, she wanted to make up time for leaving early last Monday to go with Mace to the shooting range.

She expected Mace had probably had gone to bed a few hours ago.

Her house keys jingled softly when she inserted them into the door and slowly turned the doorknob. She didn’t want to wake him if he was asleep. The foyer was dark; the only glow came from one of those lighted plug-in scents she had stuck in one of the outlets.

She slid her hand along the wall by the door until she found the switch. She flipped it.

A small, surprised cry escaped her when she turned to find Mace sitting at the top of the stairs in only sweat pants. How long had he been sitting there?

Okay, there wasn’t a problem
.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to be quiet. Sorry.”

She was whispering, but it wasn’t necessary; there was no one else to awaken. The only thing she could think of was to ignore whatever problem he perceived. She was an adult and she was single and she had a job. She was allowed to work late without feeling guilty.

Closing the front door behind her, she locked it and carefully put her briefcase on the foyer table. Slipping her feet out of her shoes, she straightened up to face him. His eyes were narrowed and dark. Colby cringed.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Damn it, she didn’t have to answer to anyone. “Oh, do you want some tea? I’m going to make myself a cup of chamomile.”

She headed into the kitchen, listening for his bare feet to pad down the stairs. But she didn’t hear anything and assumed he just went back to bed.

She grabbed a mug and a box of herbal tea bags out of the cabinet. After putting the kettle on the stove, she turned to take a seat at the table. Mace was already there. Colby jumped, her hand clutching her chest. “God, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.”

When her heartbeat slowed, she grabbed another mug and tea bag and placed it in front of him. Then she settled into a chair across from him, waiting for the water to boil … or the other shoe to drop.

But,
there was no problem
.

“Do you know what time it is?” His voice was low and grumbling.

There was no problem.

“Yes, unfortunately, I do.”

She pulled her hairpins out, letting her hair fall around her face and down her back. It felt good to release her hair out the braid after a long day. She combed her fingers through the thick mass, untangling some snagged strands. “I’m beat. And to think I have to get up in a few hours and do this all over again.”

“Do what?” His eyes pinned hers and she felt like a moth caught in a flame.

“Do what? Work, of course.” She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.

“You were working?”

Colby stood to get the whistling kettle, breaking his eye contact.
There was no
problem!
She filled both of their mugs with the steaming water. “What else?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

She put the kettle back on the stove and turned to him. Okay, there
may
be a problem. “Mace, what are you getting at?”

“I was just a little worried about you.”

“Why? I’m a big girl.”

“It was getting late, or should I say early. I thought you normally didn’t work this late.”

Colby stirred a little honey into her tea. “I don’t. But, Martin and I…”