Dirty Sex (29 page)

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Authors: Ashley Bartlett

Tags: #Fiction, #Lesbian, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: Dirty Sex
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“You. Are. An. Idiot.” Reese started dialing again. “Do you know

any EMTs?”

“No.”

“Anyone who’s pre-med?”

“No.”

“Any nurses? Doctors?”

“No.” I made another grab for the phone.

“Then sit tight, sweetheart.”

After that, I sat still.

Reese moved the phone to her other ear. “Hey, sorry she grabbed

the phone and threw it.” I could hear Kerry’s voice. “No, she’s not

normally like that…So that’s normal?” The more I heard her voice, the

angrier I got. “I’ll check.” Reese pulled to the curb and engaged the

locks. She turned toward me.

“What are you doing?”

“Look at my eyes,” Reese said. I did as I was told. Reese picked

up the phone again. “Yeah, her pupils are uneven.”

“Your pupils are uneven,” I responded like a genius.

“Yeah, she’s acting belligerent.”

“You’re acting belligerent.” I couldn’t stop myself.

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“So I should take her in?” In where? “Is she going to be okay?”

I was fuckin’ fantastic. Except the whole sitting thing was brutally

painful because of my ribs and standing was brutally painful because

of my head thing. “Thanks, Kerry. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

“Did Kerry send her love?”

“She told me you were probably acting like this because you have

a concussion.” Reese could kill with that look.

“Fuck that. I’m fine.”

“I’m taking you to a hospital.” Reese got on the road again. “We’ll

just pay cash so we don’t have to deal, all right? Do you have your fake

ID?”

“Yeah, and I got cash.” Somehow, that seemed helpful. I dug in

my pocket and started pulling out hundreds. One by one, I crumpled

and threw them at Reese while making explosion noises.

“Cooper, I fuckin’ swear…” Apparently, she swore nothing except

empty threats.

I didn’t want to go to a hospital. Reese didn’t seem to care though

so we spent half the night getting my head looked at so they could tell

us my ribs were broken and I was pissing blood. Like I didn’t already

know that.


“Did you talk to Ryan?” was the first thing I asked when Reese

woke me up late the next afternoon. We were in some random hotel. I

remembered that much.

“Yeah. He’s in San Jose hiding out in a motel.” Reese rolled over

to look at me. She very softly trailed her hand down my chest. “You

want a pain pill?”

“Maybe.” It only took one deep breath for me to say, “Yeah, that’s

probably a good idea.”

“I’ll go get it.” Reese threw off the sheet and got out of bed. She

was wearing nothing but a little tiny pair of boy briefs. Very nice.

“Did he say anything? Was he pissed?” I was a little groggy, but I

could remember most of what happened.

“Not at you.” Reese helped me sit up, which felt like hell, and

handed me a pill and a glass of water. “He was ready to kill Vito and

his guys though.”

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AShley BArtlett

“You sure?” That water was fuckin’ ambrosia.

“Yeah, he thought you should have told them sooner to avoid the

beating. Actually, he said, and I quote, ‘You’re not in a bullshit movie

and it’s okay to break.’” Reese slid her cool hand to the back of my

neck and rubbed lightly.

“That feels good.” My chin dropped to my chest and I closed my

eyes. Reese rubbed more. She was amazing. I opened my eyes again

and saw my hands against the sheets. Rivers of rusty red filled the

creases in my skin. Dried blood. It was on my arms too, matting the

pale hair. “Does my face look as bad as my hands?”

“Pretty much.” Reese stopped rubbing, but left her hand on my

neck. “But I still think you’re hot.”

“Thanks.” When I smiled, I could feel the pull of dried blood on

my lips too. “Can I shower? Or is that not allowed?”

“You sure you don’t want to sleep some more? I’ll have to wake

you up again in an hour anyway. Head checks.”

“No, I’m done sleeping.”

“All right. You want help?”

“Just with getting undressed.” We started the slow progression to

the bathroom. Once there, Reese worked the shirt I was wearing over

my head and dropped my underwear to the floor. I wasn’t really paying

attention. I was just looking at my face in the mirror. It was like an

Easter egg a kid would make, all blue and purple and green. Both my

eyes were black. My now twice broken nose was slightly off where

it had once been perfectly straight. A couple butterfly dressings were

holding the cut on my cheek closed. I looked like absolute shit.

“Make sure you’re careful in the shower. Don’t touch your nose.

Oh, and those butterfly things are waterproof.” Reese avoided making

eye contact as she left. Not that I blamed her.

The worst part of showering was getting the blood out of my ears.

Gross. It was caked in the weirdest places, the hollow of my collarbones,

my eyebrows, my fingernails, even some in my bellybutton. All the

places the nurses didn’t clean at the hospital. At least my head was

buzzed. Otherwise, my hair would have been a bitch to get clean.

Reese was staring out the window when I got out, a glass of scotch

in her hand. She heard me and twisted around. The towel hanging off

my hips didn’t do much for me though because she immediately turned

back to the window.

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Dirty Sex

“You okay?” I asked hesitantly. It wasn’t my imagination that she

couldn’t look at me. What I didn’t know was why.

“I’m fine.” Reese sipped her drink then held the glass to her

temple.

“Come here.” I leaned against the couch with my arms hanging

limply at my sides. Crossing them hurt too much.

“You want a drink?” She ignored me and crossed to the bar.

“No. Come here.”

Reese set down her glass and kept her eyes on the floor as she

walked toward me.

“Reese.” I tipped her chin up. “Why won’t you look at me?”

A hint of tears came into her eyes. “I can’t.” She studied the

expanse of windows. When I turned her chin so she was looking at

me again, she broke. “It hurts too much. I can’t believe they did this to

you.” Her fingers traced my jaw. Very, very lightly, she kissed my lips.

That was all it took. The throbbing in my head stopped, the ache

in my chest and ribs faded, and all I felt was Reese.

“Don’t look at me then.” I moved behind her, pushing her thighs

against the back of the couch. My lips found that spot at the back of her

neck that made her shiver and tense.

“Coop, you’re hurt,” came the mild protest.

“I need it.” My voice sounded hoarse and desperate. “I need you.”

“Then I’m yours.” Damn right. Reese stripped off her shirt.

Immediately, I cupped her tits, playing her nipples between my

fingertips. She arched back, filling my hands. Damn, she felt good.

Reese slid her little briefs down, catching my towel along the way.

Her bare ass pushed back into me. That feeling of Reese skin and

Cooper skin all pressed together, it was fuckin’ perfect. Fuckin’ world

peace presented in skin. I gripped her hips, my fingertips dug into that

depression where thigh met stomach, and pulled her tighter against me.

Reese leaned forward, her elbows on the couch, and linked her

hands over her neck. She was waiting.

I allowed myself the luxury of tracing the contours of her ass. Her

breathing picked up. She wanted me to fuck her. What else could I do? I

wet my thumb and pushed into her ass as I slid two fingers into her cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” Reese whispered.

“Okay?” I asked a little late.

“Fuck, yeah,” she gasped and spread her legs further apart.

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AShley BArtlett

Slowly, I built it up, that rhythm that made her groan and twitch

and beg. My hand closed over her shoulder so I could control her

thrusting back. Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades making

my hand slide on the perfect sheen. I couldn’t take it, that image of her

light chocolate skin and my pale hand, thumb buried in her ass, fingers

thrusting into her cunt. Damn.

Vaguely, I was aware of pain in my own body. It was eclipsed

by the low moans emanating from Reese, her pleas that I not stop. So

I didn’t, I went faster. I wanted to, no, had to kiss her. I leaned down.

Kissed across her shoulders. Licked the sweat on her spine. Bit the base

of her neck. She groaned. Reached one hand back and pulled my head

tighter against her. Then, she stiffened, gasping my name, pushing back

one last time so I could fill her all the way.

Then she was turned around, open mouth against my shoulder,

face buried in my neck, whispering, chanting, “Need you. So much.

Afraid, I was so afraid.”

All I could do was hold and tell her, “I know, I know.”

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ChApter twenty

We were ready, cashed out, bags packed, showered, and

dressed. I was wearing the H&K P2000 SK Reese got for

me. She said she didn’t want me going anywhere unless I was packing.

I couldn’t really disagree. The .40 cal seemed a little extreme, but Ryan

told her she had to butch up my piece. As if a gun wasn’t butch enough

all on its own.

All I had to do was wait for the twins. They made the decision

to pack the car and leave me in the room with the so-called important

stuff, the cash. It was just an excuse to keep me safe for the ten minutes

it took to come back to The Wynn and check out. How boring. I called

Reese’s cell phone for the second time.

“Are you guys done yet? I don’t want to sit in the room anymore.”

“Keep your pants on.” I could hear the faint echo of the parking

garage they were in. “We have a lot of shit to pack.”

“Let me talk to Ryan.” I unsnapped and re-snapped the holster

against my ribs. May as well have put handcuffs on me.

“No, we’ll be done soon. I’ll call when we’re on the way up.”

“Fine. Hurry, okay?”

She hung up on me.

I paced around the room. I took off my jacket and checked out my

holster in the mirror. It looked good on me. If you liked guns, which

I didn’t. I put my jacket back on. Couldn’t walk around a casino with

heat like that, had to keep it covered. I looked in the duffle bag holding

the cash. Yep, it was still in there. How surprising. I slung the bag over

my shoulder and looked in the mirror again. Yep, it looked like a duffle

bag over my shoulder. Boring.

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AShley BArtlett

The phone rang. Finally. It was the room phone, not my cell

phone. Weird.

“Hello.”

“Ms. Cooper?” a slightly high, but decidedly masculine voice

asked.

“Yes?”

“This is Ricky. I’m one of the valets downstairs.” He spoke rapidly.

“Reese’s friend,” I said.

“Yes. I’m watching one of the monitors for the garage.” It wasn’t

just rushed I decided, it sounded like fear in his voice. “Your friends are

in trouble, I think.”

“What do you mean?” Now I didn’t sound much better than him.

“There is another car, a sedan, two men just got out. I think they

have guns, but I can’t tell. It looks like they’re trying to force your

friends into their car.”

“Fuck. Can you stop them?”

“How?” Damn. Good question. “Do you want me to call the

police?”

“No.” I responded by instinct then thought about it. And then I

thought about why my instinct was to say no to the cops. “I’m coming

down. Have our rental car for me. If they leave the garage before I get

there, then call the cops.” I didn’t wait for a response. I just slammed

the phone down, grabbed the duffle bag, and ran.

Ricky was in the lobby near the valet pickup. Sweat glinted on

his brow, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the heat or nerves. He

followed me to Ryan’s rental while spouting directions to the garage

and trying to keep up without sprinting. That would probably look bad.

I only had one question. “How many exits are there?”

“Two. Back and front. They are kind of in the middle of the

garage.”

“Where does the back come out?” Guess I had two questions.

“Service road behind the casino. Front is on the main road.” He

opened the car door for me.

I dug a couple of bills out of my pocket, hundreds, and pressed

them into his hand. “Thanks, Ricky.” Then I tossed the bag in ahead

of me, jumped in, and gunned that motherfucker. With my free hand, I

dug into the duffle bag and pulled out Ryan’s Glock. Two men, I’d need

two guns.

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Dirty Sex

The tires screeched as I rounded the casino and rocketed into the

parking garage. Once inside, I knew I could drive around for hours and

never find them. That place was huge. I chose a spot near the back exit,

about four rows away, and waited. It was a gamble. Hell, it was Vegas.

After thirty seconds, I was sweating. Gambling is great with

money, not so much with your best friends’ lives. One minute had me

drumming my fingers on the gun pinned between my palm and the

steering wheel. I must have chosen the wrong exit. Three minutes, I

was ready to piss myself. Where the fuck were they? How long did it

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