Shame on You (10 page)

CHAPTER 18

S
itting all alone in the dark on the floor of Fool Me Once at midnight on a Wednesday should tell you just how fantastic I’m doing right now. As soon as I left the shooting range, I sent a text to Alex and told him he was keeping the girls for a few more days because I had work to do.

It wasn’t completely a lie. I did have work to do. But I also had thoughts to think. Lots of thoughts. Important thoughts. Thoughts that couldn’t be thunk with a twelve-year-old complaining that I’m the worst mom in the world and a nine-year-old begging me to send her to military school.

It’s not their fault their father is an asshole. They deserve a man in their lives who will put them first. Griffin would put them first. Griffin
does
put them first. He also manages to somehow put me first as well. How could I have been so blind?

As I continue to beat myself up, my thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on the glass door to the building. Pushing myself up off the floor, I rest my hand on the butt of the gun in my holster as I head toward the door and wonder who the hell would be knocking this late at night. I stop in my tracks when I look up and see Griffin standing on the other side of the glass.

How the hell did he even know I was here?

The streetlight on the sidewalk shines down on him and I cover the remaining distance to the door in a trance, my eyes never leaving his. He
stares down at me as I reach up and turn the deadbolt on the door and push it open for him. I take a few steps back to give him room to come in and he relocks the door without looking away from me.

Why did I never see this before? Why did I never notice the way he looks at me: like I’m the most important person in his world? Why did I never appreciate him and love him like he deserved?

“I drove by your house but didn’t see your car. Took a chance that you’d be here.”

He opens his mouth to say something else and I quickly reach my hand up and place it over his lips. His eyes soften as he looks down at me.

“No more talking. Not right now,” I whisper to him.

Right now I don’t want to argue with him and I don’t want to hash out all of the details. I just want to feel.

Griffin nods his head in agreement and I drop my hand.

Come tomorrow, I am most likely going to do something really, really stupid. Something I swore to Ted that I would let the police handle. Tonight, I want to do something smart.

Standing up on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his head down to mine. When our lips connect, I can’t help but sigh in relief. It feels like forever since I kissed him last and I don’t even care that I’m thinking like a sappy, lovesick girl right now. I
am
a sappy, lovesick girl.

Griffin’s hands grab onto my hips and he effortlessly lifts me up against him. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist as he begins walking us through the office.

I move away from his mouth to pull my shirt up and off my body, flinging it into the middle of the room before fusing my lips to his, our tongues tangling immediately. My back is suddenly slammed against a wall and I don’t even care when I hear a painting fall off and crash to the floor. Griffin leaves me leaning against the wall and sinks down onto his knees in front of me, pushing my jeans, along with my underwear, down to my ankles in one rough yank.

I have just enough time to pull my feet out of my jeans and clutch his hair before his mouth is on me. There’s nothing slow and gentle about the way he delves between my legs and that’s perfectly fine with me. He devours me with his lips, tongue, and fingers all at once, everywhere. With each swipe of his tongue and swirl of his fingers I’m pushed closer and closer into a mindless ball of need. My hips thrust frantically against him as I hold his head in place, aching to reach my release that throbs so close.

With his lips firmly attached to my clit and a thrust of two of his fingers inside me, I explode fast and hard around him, letting my head thump back against the wall while I shout his name. As my orgasm ebbs and flows out of me, his tongue leisurely slides against me until I’m spent. I let go of the death grip I have on his hair and he kisses his way up my body until he’s standing before me.

I love this man. And not just because he gave me yet another mind-blowing orgasm. I love him because he’s Griffin.

Grabbing on to the hem of his shirt, I yank it up and over his head, dropping it by our feet before quickly unsnapping his jeans. Reaching my hand inside his pants, I palm his thick erection.

“Fuck, Kennedy,” he groans as he leans his body into mine and buries his head against my neck. I slide my hand up and down his smooth length, firm and slow. “We need to stop. I am not taking you up against a wall. A bed. We need a bed.”

His voice is broken and filled with need and it’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard. Squeezing him tighter and moving my hand faster, I distract him long enough to reach down with my other hand and push his jeans far enough down his hips so that his cock is no longer constricted.

“Fuck the bed. We can do that later,” I tell him as I hitch one leg around his hip and use my thigh muscles to pull him in closer.

I move my hand out of the way as his erection slides against me. One of his arms wraps around my waist and holds me tightly and the other hand smacks against the wall by my head to brace himself. We both let out a groan and he drops his forehead against mine, holding it there while he pushes and pulls his length through my wetness.

“I know you said no talking, and that’s fine. You don’t have to talk. In fact, I don’t want you to say anything,” he tells me as he slides the head of his cock back and forth over my sensitive clit. “But you need to know, right here, right now, that I love you, Kennedy O’Brien. I have
always
loved you.”

It’s a good thing he told me not to speak because I couldn’t say anything right now if I wanted to. I can feel my eyes welling up with tears and I try to blink them away as I stare up at him. Without saying a word, I move my hands up to either side of his face and pull him against my mouth. I tell him everything I can’t say out loud with my lips and tongue. I pour everything into this kiss and I hope to God he knows and can feel it. I moan into his mouth when he pulls his hips back slightly and then slowly pushes himself inside me. The dream I had about this moment the other night pales in comparison to the real thing.

He’s thick and full inside me, his body is pressed up against me, and his hands move slowly over every inch of me that he can reach. I feel him everywhere and when he begins plunging in and out of me, I match his movements thrust for thrust until he’s pounding into me at a feverish pace. We’re slamming against the wall so hard that I’m waiting to feel myself crash through the drywall at any minute. I don’t care if we tear this wall down or the entire building comes crashing down around us.

Another orgasm barrels through me at a shocking speed, this one just as explosive as the first one. I try to move my mouth away from Griffin’s so I can scream and moan my satisfaction, but he keeps his lips pressed to mine and swallows my cries. His tongue pushes slow and deep into my mouth as each wave of my release washes through me. Within seconds he slams into me one last time and holds himself still as he quickly follows me with his own orgasm. It’s my turn to hold his lips against mine as he moans into my mouth and pulses inside of me. He rocks his hips against me slowly until his body sags against mine and he pulls his mouth away so we can both breathe heavily.

I rest my cheek on his shoulder and hold him as tightly to me as possible while I catch my breath and he presses several kisses to the top of my head.

After a few minutes, he pulls out of me, scoops me up into his arm, and carries me into the back room, where there’s a very roomy couch that is in desperate need of being broken in.

No more words are exchanged between us for the rest of the night. We might not have a bed like Griffin wanted, but that couch definitely served us well.

It served us well four more times before we both passed out.

GD man and his stamina.

CHAPTER 19

I
’m a coward.

Go ahead and say it. I already know it’s true, so you may as well validate me. I got dressed and left the office at the crack of dawn. I snuck out of there with Griffin still naked and asleep on the couch.

I know I shouldn’t have done it. I know I should have woken him up and told him I love him. Hell, I should have told him last night before we had sex the third or fourth time. I’m stubborn and pigheaded and fiercely independent. Griffin already knows this about me so when he wakes up and finds me gone, he shouldn’t be too surprised.

All of this dating nonsense revolved around a bet. A stupidly sweet bet that Griffin came up with as a way to get back into my life, but still. A bet’s a bet and I do not lose bets. Plus, if I’m going to date anyone, it’s going to be because I choose to do it and not because I had to do it to hold up my end of the bargain.

In the wee hours of the morning, when I can still feel the scratch of Griffin’s five o’clock shadow between my thighs and every muscle in my body aches deliciously from overuse, I am pulling into the driveway of a farmhouse in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

According to the printout Ted gave me yesterday, this sprawling ten-acre farm surrounded by cornfields on all sides is owned by our very own man of the hour: Sven Mendleson. AKA Steve Lawson. AKA lying sack of shit, bail-jumper-hiding, drug-dealing thorn in my side.

Pulling up right in front of the huge wraparound porch, I put my Explorer in park, turn off the engine, and step out onto the gravel drive. I don’t see any other cars anywhere and while this should put me a little bit at ease that the place isn’t crawling with twitchy potheads and dealers picking up their stash, it leaves me feeling just a tiny bit uneasy. As I slowly make my way up the steps, I double-check my gun to make sure it’s fully loaded before sliding it into my holster. Taking a deep breath, I reach up and knock on the door, keeping one hand resting on the butt of my gun just in case.

I don’t hear any noise on the other side of the door, and I take a moment while I wait to look around the yard and keep an eye out for any movement. Not seeing anything of concern, I reach back up to knock again when the door is opened before my knuckles can make contact with the wood.

“’Sup,” the twentysomething guy in front of me says with a jerk of his chin.

As I take in his blue Cookie Monster T-shirt, ratty jeans, fuzzy yellow duck slippers, and open bag of Cheetos, I quickly decide this guy is most likely not going to be a threat to me. And going by his bloodshot eyes that he can barely keep focused on me, I’m going to guess the only threat he could possibly pose would be secondhand smoke.

“Hi, my name’s Kennedy and I’m looking for Martin McFadden. Have you seen him?”

He stares at me while he reaches one hand into his bag of Cheetos and brings one up to his mouth, crunching slowly.

“Weird old dude who believes in aliens, about this tall?” he asks, holding his hand up to his chin.

“Yep, that’s him,” I reply with an excited nod of my head.

“Nope, never heard of him,” he tells me, shoveling a handful of Cheetos in his mouth.

Oh, for the love of God.

“Look, I don’t really care what’s going on here—I just want McFadden. Tell me where he is, I will take him with me quietly, and you can go back to eating your way through the junk-food aisle of the grocery store,” I plead with him.

“Steve will be really pissed if I talk. I wish I had some Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch right now.” He stares dejectedly into his bag of Cheetos.

“I promise, Steve won’t be pissed. And I will buy you
twenty
boxes of Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch if you take me to McFadden.”

I find it hard to believe the Steve/Sven I know could seriously get pissed about anything unless it has to do with bad hair, but I’m not about to tell this guy that.

“Peanut butter is delicious. Captain is crunchy.
Crunchy
is a funny word. I think Martin is in the snack making a kitchen,” he tells me with a nod toward the back of the house.

Good lord, this guy needs to be the poster boy for why kids should stay off drugs.

Taking a step past him and into the living room while he stands there licking the Day-Glo orange cheese off his fingers, I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and I stop in my tracks.

“Take your gun out of its holster and toss it onto the couch, slowly.”

It’s Sven, without the accent. I slowly turn around with my hands in the air and see him standing at the opening of the hallway with a .44 Magnum aimed right at my head. Holding that gun at me, he no longer looks like a hairdresser with a poodle named Mrs. Justin Bieber. Right now he looks like he would shoot me between the eyes without even blinking.

With one hand still up in the air, I slowly reach down with my other hand and gradually pull my gun out of its holster and do as he says, tossing it onto the couch cushions.

“Now, toss me your car keys,” he demands.

Have I mentioned yet how stupid an idea this was coming here alone?

Sliding my hand into my front pocket, I pull my keys out and chuck them at him. He easily catches them with the hand not holding the gun and puts them in his own pocket.

“Hey, Stevie, are we all out of mayo? I looked in the pantry and I don’t—”

McFadden walks into the room with Tinkerdoodle under his arm and stops speaking as soon as he sees the scene in front of him.

“What’s going on? Oh my gosh, don’t shoot her!” McFadden wails as he looks back and forth between me and the gun pointed at my face.

“Look Sven, Steve, whatever your name is, I don’t want any trouble. I could care less what’s going on here. I have a cousin who smokes pot for his glaucoma. Great stuff, excellent results. I just want to take McFadden in nice and peacefully so the bondsman can get his money back,” I say.

“It’s okay. Stevie won’t hurt you, will you, Stevie? I’m finished with my life of crime. I’ve learned my lesson. The life of a thug is no life for me,” McFadden says wearily as he starts to walk toward me.

Before he can even make it a few steps in my direction, Steve quickly reaches out and grabs hold of McFadden’s arm, yanking him back so hard that he drops Tinkerdoodle to the floor. Steve keeps McFadden close to him and brings the gun up, pressing it right against McFadden’s temple.

“STEVIE! What are you doing?! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” McFadden cries hysterically.

“I’m gonna go take a nap,” the pothead over by the door suddenly announces before shuffling off down the hall in his duck slippers.

“I knew letting you hide out here would be a bad idea. Now the fucking cops are going to be swarming this place. Do you have any idea how much product I’m going to lose when they storm in here? How many millions of dollars are going to go right down the drain because you’re a fuckup?” Steve yells angrily.

“Stevie, don’t say things like that! I thought we were friends!” McFadden cries.

“Oh, shut up. We were never friends; I just tolerated you so you’d take the fall for me back in high school. And now look where that got me. A fucking cop here in my living room and thousands of pounds of weed in my basement,” he growls, gesturing toward me with his gun.

I need to get McFadden away from this lunatic and get out of this house. How the hell am I going to do that without a gun?

Tinkerdoodle lets out a small little yip when her stares at McFadden go ignored and a thought pops into my head. It’s not the brightest idea in the world, but I’m obviously not very full of bright ideas today, now, am I?

I’m hoping McFadden is pissed off enough at finding out our boy Steve here was never really his friend and he’ll play along. Otherwise, we’re all screwed.

“Hey, McFadden. Remember that day we hung out at the tailgating party and you made me a hamburger?” I ask him, staring pointedly down at Tinkerdoodle.

Come on, get the hint. Get the hint.

“Remember how
sweet
and
loving
Tinkerdoodle was with me before you left?”

I’m starting to lose my faith in this guy and Steve is beginning to look suspicious when I see the lightbulb go on in McFadden’s brain.

I give him the tiniest of nods. He swallows thickly, squeezes his eyes closed, and screams, “TINKERDOODLE! ATTACK!”

Just like on tailgating day, Tinkerdoodle jumps to action in a blur of fur, snapping teeth, yapping barks, and flying spit as she charges at Steve’s leg and clamps down on his ankle.

“SON OF A BITCH!” Steve screams in pain as he shoves McFadden away and tries to get the dog off his leg.

The pitter-patter of dog toenails echoes around us as Mrs. Justin Bieber
flies into the living room to get in on the action. Luckily, she’s decided to be a joiner, chomping her teeth down on Steve’s other leg.

Without hesitation, I lunge forward, grab McFadden’s arm, and drag him behind me as fast as I can toward the front door while both dogs bite down harder on Steve’s leg and he shouts and flails around the living room trying to dislodge them.

We stumble out the front door and down the steps when it hits me that I don’t have my keys and have no way to escape. I don’t have time to worry about that right now though, because it won’t be long before Steve comes racing out here after us, guns a-blazing.

Yanking McFadden in front of me, I shove him as hard as I can and scream at him to run.

“GO! Into the corn! Don’t stop until I tell you!”

We sprint full speed the ten yards or so across the grass until we burst into the first row of corn, smacking stalks out of our way as we go and hearing the first sounds of a gun being fired in our direction.

I’m too busy running and looking over my shoulder to notice McFadden stop suddenly and I slam into the back of him, both of us stumbling forward.

“What the hell? Why are you stopping? KEEP GOING!” I yell at him as another shot echoes behind us, this one closer than the last.

“A crop circle,” he whispers in wonder. “Oh my God, they’ve been here. They’ll save us!”

Looking around him in irritation, I see a huge, matted-down area of cornstalks directly in front of us.

“For God’s sake, get your shit together, man! We need to get the hell out of here!”

The hard, cold steel of the nose of a gun presses roughly into the back of my head and I realize we’ve just lost our chance at escaping.

GD crop circle.