See Dick Run (6 page)

“To my fishing camp. At least there I know I can protect you.”

“Right…got news for you,
Cher,
everyone knows you have a fishing camp, so eventually people will look for us there.”

“Two questions, Moira. Who is everybody, eh? And do
you
have any idea where my camp is?”

She snorted. “I would think that anyone who knows you would know about your little hide-a-way and I have no clue where it is.” She waved a hand.

“Well, then, let’s hope you’re right. I have every intention of catching my prey while we’re out there.”

Moira snapped her head to the side to stare at Kever’s profile. His words slowly sunk in and the idea turned the ache in her head into a full blown throb behind her eye. “Kever, what exactly are you planning?”

“Protecting you, Moira. I like keeping what’s mine…safe.” He angled his head in her direction and flashed a smile.

“I don’t believe you nor do I belong to you.”

“Ah, but you break my heart every time you deny our love.” Kever took a sharp right, gravel crunched under the Camaro’s tires.

“You’re demented.”

“Maybe so, but you’re alive,” he retorted with a snicker.

Moira grunted. She was never able to get the last word in with the obnoxious man. They fell into an uncomfortable silence that left her squirming in her seat. Without the streetlights and other illumination Baton Rouge offered, the stars shone brightly against the inky sky. They appeared to hover just above the treetops. The cars headlights cut a swath of light through the deep pockets of darkness, occasionally reflecting the eyes of a nocturnal animal that dared to cross the road.

She caught hand movement in her peripheral vision. Zydeco music filled the car’s interior. The swift sounds of accordion and fiddle flowed over her and she found herself tapping her fingers on her thighs to the beat. She leaned her head back on the headrest. The singer’s deep baritone lulled her. His sad song of broken levees and lost love melding into one another. She resumed staring into the night as her lids grew heavy. Rubbing her head against the leather, she moved into a comfortable position and let sleep claim her.

“Come on, babe, I have a nice warm bed for you…” Kever whispered.

The words didn’t make sense. She was in a nice warm bed and not alone. She reached out to rub her hand over Kever’s cheek, his stubble tickled her palm. Moira languidly stretched before leaning forward to wrap her arms around his neck. “I don’t know how this bed could get any hotter.”

His smile revealed white even teeth and a slight indentation in one cheek. Moira traced it with her tongue. He caged her in with his arms, resting his fists on the sides of her body and pressed his forehead to hers. “Wake up, sugar.”

The note of desperation in his voice pulled at her. The sweet haze of her dream-induced world slowly faded away. She opened her eyes and peered into Kever’s blue ones, blinking several times to focus. He stared at her, his eyes filled with mirth and crinkled in the corners. She loosed her arms and released him. At a loss at what to do with them she folded them under her breast. He eased out of the car and instantly she missed the closeness.

The width of his shoulders blocked her view and when he moved she noticed the lighter outline of a house amongst the copse of scrub pines and cypress trees. She sighed and levered herself out of the car. He stepped past her and reached into the back seat to grab the bag she’d seen earlier. Throwing the strap over his shoulder, he placed a hand at the small of her back and urged her forward. Beyond the house she could hear the gentle lap of water and the low shriek of wood as planks rubbed against one another.

She took a step up and felt the ebb as the shanty house floated on the waves. “This is your fishing camp?”

He stepped up behind her and she felt the solid outline of his chest and thighs when he brushed against her back and ass. “Welcome to Swamp Cabbage fishing camp and my personal get away.” His breath skittered over the shell of her ear.

Moira rushed forward and eased to the side to allow him space on the small porch. He reached into his front pocket sliding out a single key that glinted in the moonlight. The door squeaked when opened and he walked over the threshold like a man familiar with his surroundings. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he disappeared into the bowels of the house. Sulfur drifted to her nose then a soft glow blossomed, illuminating the area. Kever stood in the middle of the space with a kerosene lamp in hand. Moira peered around the door jamb and took in her environment.

Everything was encompassed in one room. She looked up, confirming there were no holes in the roof. The log tresses were exposed and the top was covered by corrugated metal. The walls were rough in drywall that nobody bothered to paint with two windows parallel to one another in each wall giving her a view of the front yard or the bayou. There was a back door, which she presumed led to the river and next to it was a cross bow and below that, a quiver of arrows. Displayed on the adjacent wall were various guns, a couple of rifles, shotgun and a forty five. Shoved into the corner was a small table with two chairs and above the furniture was shelving filled with canned goods. On a counter next to the table was a camp stove next to a tiny sink and beneath that was a huge white cooler. Pots and pans hung on nails behind the stand. In the opposite corner was a full-sized bed on a wrought iron frame. Mosquito netting was draped over the wood above it and fell across the bed pooling on top of an old quilt that covered the mattress.

He walked up to her, tangled his fingers with hers, and pulled her into the room. Dropping her hand, he threw the duffle bag onto a chair and grabbed another lantern. She glanced up when the sizzle of the match head igniting reached her ears. He set the lamp on the table.

“I guess this is home sweet home.” She sighed and waited for his response. Swirling around to ask him again she noticed she was the only one still in the house.

“Take the matches off the table and light the rest of the lanterns,” Kever called out from the darkness.

Moira scratched her head. Something was missing. She slowly walked around the space. Kitchen, bedroom, bath…
Oh, hell no
. There was no bathroom. She stomped to the doorway and yelled out to Kever. “You don’t have a bathroom, and have you never heard of a damn flashlight?”

He wasn’t there. No lamp light, the man had literally disappeared.
What the fuck
.  A creak had her squinting in the direction of the noise. “Yes, I have heard of flashlights, but kerosene burns longer and I don’t have to worry about replacing batteries. There are emergency supplies in a trunk under the bed just in case.” He appeared out of nowhere.

Moira jumped back, reached for the gun at the small of her back and grabbed a fist full of material. He reared back, pulling her little twenty-two from his back pocket. “You looking for this, sug?”

Frustration washed through her, she ground her teeth together. She watched through narrowed eyes as he entered the house and placed her small semi-automatic weapon on the counter when he passed her. Catching her off guard, he snatched her by the waist, twirling her around to face him. The warmth of his skin and the rumble she felt in his chest as he spoke made her nipples pearl under her clothing.

“I am not the enemy here, Moira, and I do have a bathroom. It’s outside to your left and you will be happy to know it’s free of snakes. I just checked to make sure.” He let her go.

“I really don’t like you right now,” she muttered, turning away from him to escape his perusal of her body.

“Get in line, sugar. So do you want to sleep in the bed or on the back porch?”

***

The breeze off the water rocked Kever in the hammock he rested in. The netting swathed around him kept the insects from attacking him. He took a sip of his beer and stared into the black depths that his shack gently bobbed on. Frogs serenaded him while calling out to mate. The moon’s reflection was almost perfect except for the slight ripples from the slow current. He rubbed his chin, the scrape of his whiskers making his burgeoning beard itch.

After getting the remaining items out the Camaro, he filled the chest with the ice he purchased at the bait shop. His camp didn’t have electricity and he liked it that way. It also didn’t have a lot of the amenities people had come to expect like a bathroom, but it was the only place he could think of where he knew she would be safe. Only those closest to him knew about Swamp Cabbage and of those people only a few could actually find it. He stretched his neck to peer behind him into the window and briefly wondered if she knew that she snored. Her slight snuffle and snort was keeping him awake and his dick hard. He grazed his palm over his shaft to adjust himself and released the top button of his jeans for relief. The idea of crawling into bed with her occurred to him more than once.

Kever scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned. Really, what was the worst that could happen? He had her gun. She could put him out, but then he’d only be back where he started. No harm, no foul. After all, she’d been spitting mad at him before. He set the beer on the floor and swung his legs out of the hammock to place his feet next to it. His shirt was draped over the end of the rope holding his bed up and he thought about slipping it on. Nixing the notion, he stretched when he rose and eased away from the insect protection. His footfalls were quiet as he moved across the wood floor, careful of the loose plank in front of the back door.

Turing the knob, he gently pulled on the door, stopping when the hinges started to squeak. He turned his head to make sure he hadn’t disturbed her. She wore one of his T-shirts and it was rolled up exposing the soft curve of her breasts. The sheets were tangled around her ankles. His breath hitched and he felt his heart speed up. She lay on her side, her hair was splayed out over the pillow and she’d pressed her palms together and had them tucked under her cheek. The other pillows had been pushed off the bed. Kever ran his tongue over his teeth to work up some moisture in his mouth.

He stood in place watching her, debating with the devil on his shoulder who was egging him on. He strolled toward the bed, stopping abruptly every time she moved. His toes grazed the pillow and his foot got tangled in the netting that pooled on the floor. He lifted his leg and the material tightened around his ankle. With a grunt he bent to free himself. When he straightened he was looking down the long barrel of his colt forty-five.

“Where the hell did you get that?” he questioned. Clearing his throat, he tried to wipe the aggravation from his voice.

“Your wall.” She angled her head toward his collection. “I thought I needed a weapon. You know, just in case. After seeing what you were packing I thought my gun was a bit too small.”

“Put it down before you accidentally shoot me. Mind if I sit?” He nodded at the bed.

“If you were to get shot, believe me when I tell you it wouldn’t be by accident.” She laid the weapon down between them. “Feel free to sit. It’s your place after all. And can you tell me why I can’t use my phone?”

“No towers for miles. You might get lucky and find a bar on your cell in places, but it’s spotty at best.”

“Hmm, okay, so explain to me why you’re in here.”

“I could no longer resist your undeniable charm.”

“Try again.”

“Do you know you snore?”

“Excuse me?” she squealed.

“It’s cute the way you sniffle and snort.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“I’m trying. You won’t let me.” God, he sounded like he was whining. The demon on his shoulder poked him with its pitchfork
. Man up
. “Listen, meet me half way
. At least
let me hold you.”

He watched as a myriad of expressions crossed her face. She lifted the gun that lay between them and placed it on the small table hidden on the side of the bed. Moira grabbed the pillow he still clutched in his fist and tossed it behind her. She fell back and looked up at him with a smirk while patting the spot next to her.

Not one to overlook an opportunity, he leaned back. She moved in next to him, slipping under his arm and resting her head on his chest. He slid a hand along her curves, stopping at the dip in her waist. She stroked her cheek against his skin and he felt the sizzle roll down his spine. She shifted to get comfortable and skimmed a hand over his belly. His stomach muscles contracted in response to her touch. Kever swallowed. He was in heaven and hell and needed a diversion badly. “Talk to me, sugar.”

“What do you want to talk about?” She yawned.

Her warm breath drifting over his nipple made his cock hard to the point of pain. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “I, uh, know you’ve been working on the Marks case. Find anything interesting?”

No answer. He flexed his torso. Moira snuggled closer to him and moved her hand to his other side. “Go to sleep, Kever.” She hesitated. “Thank you for keeping me safe,” she murmured before burrowing her nose in the crook of his neck.

Kever moved an arm under his head. He stared at the ceiling and wondered what was worse. Knowing she was around and not being able to touch her or having her in his arms and not being able to act on his desires. He couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere his ancestors were laughing at him.

Chapter Seven

Kever turned to his side and tugged the warm body closer, curling around it. He slid his lips over her temple and skimmed a hand under her shirt and up her rib cage. Moira turned her head and strands of her hair caught in his whiskers, making his nose twitch. He opened his eyes. Fractured light filled the room through dirty windows and filtered through the netting surrounding them. Dust motes danced in the air highlighted by the sun’s rays.

She moaned and it was muffled by the pillow she pressed her face into. He moved his mouth across her skin, dropping tiny kisses on her spine. He pushed a hand further up, grasping her breast and rolling her erect nipple between his thumb and index finger. She shifted, pushing more of her orb into his palm. Kever flexed his hand and pulled it away. He pushed up on his knees and placed his hands on her back urging her down. She moved to lay flat and turned her head to rest her cheek on the pillow. Her eyes remained closed.