Fighting (33 page)

"I'm
not usually that paranoid, but we're alone on the road, and I just feel like .
. .  Fuck, it's always something and I don't want to be caught off guard."

"I
know."

He
nodded and murmured, "Trust you, too, Alex."

I'd
take that over chocolates and a bouquet of roses every day of the week.  I
squeezed the hand that was still wrapped around the back of his neck.

His
eyes dipped to my throat and he ran a finger down the column.  "Your
throat okay?"

I
suddenly became aware of how close we were and the fact that I was
sitting
on him
.  As much as I didn't want to, I gently unwrapped myself from him
and slid off his lap and onto my feet.

"Yeah,
it's fine.  You only held on for like, point two seconds."

I
walked to the bathroom and wiped away some of the condensation from the mirror
to inspect the damage.  It was a little red, but I didn't think any finger
marks would show up or anything.  Because that's just what we needed: more
injuries to make it look like I was traveling with an abusive boyfriend.  My
ribs were almost completely back to normal and I wasn't looking for something
new to have to work around.

Ethan
appeared over my shoulder and when I straightened, my back hit his chest.  He
didn't move away.

I
swallowed at the image of us together in the mirror, and said, "See?  I'm
fine.  No damage." 

His
hands lightly gripped my arms right below my shoulders and I figured that this
might not be the perfect time to chastise him for being touchy-feely, but I
took the opportunity when I found it.  I put my hands on top of his and removed
them gently but deliberately.  I let them go and left the room. 

"Anyway,
I was trying to wake you up so you could shower," I tossed over my
shoulder flippantly, trying to restore normal conversation.

I
grabbed his bag and walked back to the bathroom.  He was still standing where I
left him, frowning at the sink.  He didn't look at me as I laid his bag on the
counter.  I turned and as soon as I cleared the door, he shut it behind me. 

I
hated that he felt so guilty.  He would get over it, hopefully soon, and
everything would go back to normal.  I was already in my pajamas, so I pulled
the bed sheets down and crawled inside.  I turned on the TV, which seemed like
an irrationally normal thing to do on the run, but that's why I did it.  That,
and I wasn't ready for sleep yet.  My body was sagging post-adrenaline rush,
but my mind was still wide awake, like usual.

I
was just getting into a cop show when Ethan emerged from the shower.  He was
wearing his long shorts and a t-shirt.  There was no way I wasn't wearing a bra
around him, especially sharing a bed, so I had traded out my normal bra for a
sports bra.  He leaned back against the headboard beside of me and we watched
the show in silence.  During the next commercial break, I slid down and got
comfortable on my pillow, but he didn't. 

By
the time the next episode ended, and he still hadn't lay down, I became
suspicious.  Damn it, I knew I pushed him away too soon. My actions negated my
words.  How could I be so stupid?  Now no matter what I said, he wouldn't relax
about it.  I knew he didn't want me to make a joke about it, and I didn't want
to simply repeat what I said, so I had to show him.  My head was throwing off
all kinds of warning bells, but I ignored them and reached out to him.

I
slid my fingers down his arm and he looked at me.  "It's okay, lie
down," I said.

He
looked ready to argue so I sat up quickly and got in his space.  "You
don't believe me, that's fine.  But when I'm sleeping like a baby, you just
know that the only reason I can sleep is
because
you're here.  You got
my back, I've got yours.  That's how this works between us.  If I didn't trust
you, you would be the first to know and one of us would definitely be sleeping
on the floor."  His eyes lit like that was a good idea and I wrapped my
hand around his triceps and shook my head in warning.  "You leave this
bed, Ethan, I swear to God, I'll pester you to death so that neither of us get
any sleep."

He
glared at me.

"Have
you ever known me to lie to you?" I asked him.

A
muscle popped in his jaw.  "No."

"Then
I need you to trust me when I say that I'm over it, and you should be,
too."

He
stared at me for a moment and I let him, keeping my face intentionally clear of
anything but determination.  He relaxed and had an apology written all over his
face, so I said, "You apologize one more time and I'm going to punch you
in the face.  Or better yet, the kidney.  And guess who's
not
going to
volunteer for a donor transplant?" I sang, pointing a thumb at my chest.

He
cracked a smile against his will and I let out a relieved breath.  He finally
dropped down and got comfortable on his pillow.  I wanted to show him I was
okay with his touch, because I felt like an asshole after I shunned him after
he basically strangled me.  I didn't want him to think I didn't want him to
touch me because of
that
.  I absolutely refused to snuggle with him and
there was no way I was kissing him, even on the cheek in a platonic, comforting
way.  So I settled for leaning over him and sliding my hand on his chest.

I
looked into his eyes and promised quietly, "I'll remember next time."

He
didn't touch me but he did open his mouth to speak.  I looked at him sternly
and said, "I'm not kidding, man.  I will shiv you in the kidney."

He
chuckled and said, "Simmer down.  I was just going to say good
night."

"Yeah,
it's a good night for a hospital visit," I muttered as I settled down and
checked the time on the TV.  "It's after midnight.  You want to watch some
more TV, you can, but I'll probably fall asleep soon," I said. 

I
handed him the remote and turned over so my back was to him.  True to my word,
I felt comforted that he was with me, and I fell asleep within minutes to the
sound of bad late night comedy.

I
woke up before Ethan and was happy to note that he was asleep and not awake and
stubbornly staring at the wall.  I got up, careful not to wake him, and slipped
outside to the balcony to watch the sunrise.  I was feeling more optimistic
than yesterday now that we had a set destination and some money.  I sat on the
balcony chair and wondered about Brooks and the others.  About where they were
and what they were doing and more importantly, if they were all okay. 

Comforted
by the fact that it wouldn't be long until we could check in with them, I
slipped back inside and I decided to try some yoga.  My ribs were healing, so I
felt okay stretching out the muscle there.

I
put my hair up in a knot on top of my head, changed into tighter pants and
moved some furniture out of the way.  I started out with a few basic stretches,
focusing on my legs and arms and then torso.  When I moved into some of the
more difficult poses, that's when I started to really feel the burn.  I bent at
the waist to let my hands touch the floor inches in front of my feet, and then
I switched my weight from my feet to my hands, so that my feet dangled by my
face.  I kept my thighs pressed together and very slowly pushed my legs away
from my torso and toward the ceiling, finishing in a vertical handstand.  My
arms and my torso were a getting serious workout positioning and holding my
balance, which felt awesome.  I pointed my toes to the ceiling and scissored my
legs to stretch those, and then brought them together again to bring me back
down to my original position and land on my feet.  I stretched my legs and then
did it all over again.  I heard Ethan's sheets rustle mid-handstand.  He must
have moved in his sleep because he didn't move again or say anything.  I held
my handstand and focused on deep breathing and controlling my balance and
muscles. 

I
came down again and wanted to bend the other way, so as slowly as I could, I
did a backbend and held that for a while before walking my legs over and
landing on my feet again.  I dropped to a position to use my legs, but since I
wanted to focus on my ribs, I did another handstand.  I did it just like the
first time; I bent at the waist and very slowly lifted both of my legs toward
the ceiling and stopped when I ended in a handstand. 

I
held that for a few seconds and heard Ethan say, "Walk across the room
like that."

I
smiled even though he couldn't see my face and said, "Good morning,
buttercup."

I
took a slow, deep breath and then did as he said.  I walked from where I was to
the sliding door on my hands before doing a front walk over and landing on my
feet again.  He was lying in bed, watching me with sleepy eyes and I felt what
was probably a visible shiver.  This seemed really cozy and intimate, which was
both what I craved and what I ran away from, because it was making me slowly
lose my mind. 

"Why
are you up this early?" he asked in a voice still raspy with sleep.  Damn,
I liked the sound of that.

I
glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost eight o'clock.  I shrugged. 
"Woke up, felt restless.  Wanted to watch the sunrise."

He
yawned and rubbed his eyes.  I went in the bathroom to let my hair down and
change back into my loose sweat pants and then fell onto the bed on my back. 

"Now
that you mention it though, I am still a little sleepy," I said.  I yawned
because he did.  "That shit is contagious."

He
turned his head on his pillow to look at me.  "Yeah.  You sleep
okay?"

"You
mean did I sleep okay having to share a bed with Handsy McGee?  Yeah, I slept
great."

He
looked mildly offended.  "What do you mean,
handsy
?"

I
pantomimed choking someone.  "You know, handsy."  His eyes bugged out
and I laughed out loud.  "Too soon?" I asked, still laughing.  He
nodded his head and looked at me like I was crazy.  "As the victim, I feel
I have the right to make that call, and I figure that eight hours is a long
enough period of time for all parties involved," I said.

His
expression didn't change and he didn't say anything.

"You're
looking at me like I'm not right in the mind," I said.  I scrunched up my
nose in anxious speculation.  "You think you did some permanent damage? 
Constricting my airways like that, I think maybe you beat up my brain
cells."

"Who
jokes about this?" he asked the ceiling, perplexed.  "Who doesn't
freak out about their partner almost killing them?"

"Oh
my God!" I said, acting like I was stricken with grief.  His head whipped
back in my direction in alarm.  "You've injured my brain!  Who's going to
come up with snappy one-liners next time we have a hostage to interrogate? 
Who's going to strike fear into their hearts with threats and mild challenges
to their manhood?  Not you!  You intimidate them, and it's my job to toy with
them.  That's our game!  What the hell are we going
to do
?" I cried
desperately, throwing my arms out to my sides in exaggerated distress, one of
which smacked against his chest.

I
was finally getting him to laugh openly and everything clicked back into place,
where it should be. 

"And
the award goes to . . ." he said, still chuckling.

"Hey,
man.  These are serious concerns.  I can't believe you're making light of such
a dire situation."

"I
apologize -- Ah!"  He suddenly cried out and tuned toward me with his arms
stretched out defensively after I jabbed him in the ribs.  "What was that
for!" he cried out, sounding a lot like Spencer.

"I
told you that I would punch you in the kidney if you apologized again but I
couldn't get to your kidney so I settled for your ribs," I said
nonchalantly.

"I
wasn't apologizing for choking you.  I was apologizing for joking
around!" 

I
relaxed and then so did he.

I
looked at the ceiling and hummed at him in contemplation.  "I accept your
apology.  Maybe if I get more sleep, my brain will reboot and we won't have to
worry about psyching our future victims out."  I turned to him and said a
touch sarcastically, "Jeez, I wonder if I'll be able to sleep with you
here?"

He
smiled and shook his head.  "I don't know how you do it, but you always
manage to make it okay for me."

"I
got skills.  Anyway, if you don't mind keeping the chatter down, I'm going to
attempt to nap so keep your twitching fingers to yourself, please."

He
wiggled his fingers at me and I felt a happy trill at witnessing a playful
Ethan.  I tuned my back to him and yawned again.  I pulled the covers up and
over my shoulder and settled in.  He got up to use the bathroom and I was
asleep before he came back.  When I woke up hours later for the second time
that day, I felt tremendous heat soaking into my back.

Damn
, I thought. 
I've ended up snuggling
him in my sleep, anyway
.

But
when I moved slightly to look, he wasn't wrapped around me.  We were in the
center of the bed and his back was pressed up against mine, like we met in the
middle.  That, I was actually okay with so I repositioned comfortably.  I
stayed still and watched the rain splatter onto the balcony floor.  The longer
I watched the rain, the more I wanted to hear it, so as quietly and slowly as I
could manage, I slipped out of the bed and opened the sliding door.  Ethan
didn't wake up so I crawled right back where I was, gently pressing up against
him.  I let the combination of Ethan's heat and the peaceful sound of the rain
falling soothe me as I got lost in my thoughts.

We
needed to make sure that we had this room for another night and then we needed
to contact Brooks and Spencer.  We definitely needed to lay low while we were
here, and then make the five hour drive to the coast to stay at Brooks' safe
house there until the others joined us and we created a battle plan. 

I
didn't like running and hiding.  I wanted to face this guy straight on and
fight, but Brooks was right.  We needed to regroup and find out exactly what he
wanted before we charged in with guns blazing.  He was also probably wasting
time and money searching for us.  Unless he had already given up the hunt for
us, but he went to the trouble to kidnap us, so I doubted he would just forget
about us altogether.

Ethan
was even more confrontational than me, so I knew it was eating at him, too.  He
moved against me, stretching his legs against mine and then froze.  He seemed
to have been surprised at our positioning as well.  I pretended to be asleep
and felt him carefully disengage our legs and slip out of bed.  He went to the
bathroom and came back in the room to stand in front of the dresser.  His back
was to me, so I watched as he placed his bag on the dresser and become
distracted by the rain that was still falling onto the balcony.  He moved to
stand in front of the open sliding door and leaned a shoulder against the
frame.

I
swallowed at the view I had.  He had changed into his jeans in the bathroom but
hadn't put a new shirt on yet.  The diffused lighting from the overcast sky
filtered through the room and made the muscles in his back more striking. 
There was something magnificent and peaceful about the way the soft morning
light grazed his back muscles, highlighting the swells and swimming around the
dips and curves.  I wanted to trace all of them with my fingers and take my
time memorizing them with my eyes.  My eyes got stuck on his broad shoulders and
the two little dimples just above the waistband of his jeans.  I wanted to walk
up behind him and wrap my arms around him, but I just lay there, content to
memorize the image of him relaxing against a backdrop of angry storm clouds and
falling rain.  He crossed his arms and ankles and when he turned his profile to
me to look across the road, I saw he was wearing a slight scowl and had a
toothpick in his mouth again.  I'm not sure what was so sexy about that, but it
was.  Probably that it drew my attention to his full lips that were so freaking
kissable. 

I
was just straight up torturing myself, now.  He was right, I was his girl for
an hour the day before, and now I was craving more.  I was glad I didn't kiss
him because that would have been a nightmare, knowing what he tasted like, how
soft his lips were, knowing they'd never be mine to taste whenever I wanted. 
God, I made him sound like a four course dinner I couldn't afford.

Pathetic.

He
straightened and spread his feet to steady himself as he spanned his hands over
the top of the door frame, making the muscles in his back stand out even more
and highlighting the swell of muscles in his arms, too.  Good God, that was
sexy.  I sat up and leaned against the headboard and he turned just his head
toward me.  I checked my wrist watch to see it was almost eleven o'clock and
then climbed out of bed use the bathroom.  When I came out, I had changed into
my jeans and a tighter shirt.  I grabbed a towel and my bag and sat down at the
desk.  I laid the towel across the table and took out our weapons. 

I
counted and wiped down my knives and then took apart our guns and checked the
clips to count ammunition.  I didn't have proper cleaning equipment, but I
wiped everything down as best I could.  Ethan walked over and sat on top of the
table just beside of my towel.  He reached down and picked up a knife and ran
his finger along the edge. 

Fuck,
was he
trying
to be sexy? 

I
ignored him and refilled all the magazines with extra bullets and made sure the
safety switches were on the guns before I tucked them strategically back into
our bag.  He continued to watch me as I got up and grabbed my boots.  I sat on
the edge of the bed to slip them on and tuck my jeans inside.  The only
drawback of wearing boots like those was that I couldn't sling them on and
leave at a moment's notice, so I had to be prepared.  I flicked my eyes to him
as I laced them up my shins.  He was leaning back against the wall and his eyes
were riveted on my moving hands.

"What
are you thinking about?" I asked him.

He
met my eyes and said, "How much I like you boots."

I
smirked.  "The bad guys hate my boots.  They tend to do more damage when I
kick them."

His
eyes caught on my quirked lips and I felt a strange feeling slide through my
body.  I stood up but his eyes didn't move, so now he was looking at my
stomach.  I walked toward the kitchenette and grumbled about how hungry I was. 

"There's
a vending machine in the hallway.  I'll go get us some crackers.  Chips.  Shit
like that," he muttered.

I
turned back toward him just in time to watch as he brushed by me and pulled out
his wallet.  I followed behind him and he waited while I pulled the batteries
and business card out of the radio so he could leave without alerting our
neighbors.  The door clicked shut behind him and I took that brief respite to
bang my head against the wall lightly.  I needed him to put a shirt on but
couldn't ask without sounding either like a prude, which he knew I wasn't, or
like there was a reason I needed him to be clothed.  It was culturally
acceptable for him to go shirtless, so what reason did I have to ask him to
cover up his delicious muscles that he displayed willy-nilly?  But it was like
if the tables were turned and I was walking around in just a shirt and
underwear.  Walking temptation.