Wild Aces (8 page)

“Garin filled me in on the details and what I’ll need to provide. Whatever it costs…I’m ready.”

“Adrianna will discuss that with you.” I handed him a card from my wallet. Typed in white in the middle of the black card was Adrianna’s number. No name. No address. No title. “Her number won’t show up on caller ID. If you need her after she calls you, this is how to reach her.”

His expression matched everyone else’s whenever I got to this point in the conversation—relief. I understood why. I just couldn’t relate to it.

I used to be surprised by the people who sought me out to become clients. People were in such need, they’d take the risk to do business with me. But then I thought about my childhood. Would people be surprised to hear about my past—the things I’d seen, the words I’d heard, the ways I’d been abused? Nah. There were no surprises anymore. We were all fucked up in our own way, all victims of some kind of tragedy, all trying to make it out alive in a world that got darker by the day.

He slid the card into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t even gotten started, and you’ve got a hell of a long way to go.” I checked the time on my phone. “I’ve got to head back.”

He shook my hand and patted me on the shoulder. “Good luck, Trapper.”

I turned and headed back down the hall.

Adrianna had responded to my text, saying she would be calling Jameson by the end of the day and she wanted me to call her when I was free. I closed out her screen and opened Brea’s. There were two pictures attached. One showed her finger, the pad slick and shiny, with the caption,
What you do to me…
The other showed the inside of her thighs, her fingers resting on her pussy that was covered in red lace. It was captioned,
What I can do for YOU
.

Before I walked out into the main room, I adjusted my dick, trying to hide the hard-on that was pushing its way out of my jeans. That fiery woman was going to get me in trouble. I still had to sit at that poker table for a few more hours. And somehow, I had to keep my mind on the cards and not on her cunt.

Me: Fuck, Brea.

Brea: You like the red lace, I see.

Me: I like it all, especially the wetness I want to lick off your fingers.

Brea: Can I feed it to you?

Me: Hell yes. I want to eat every part of you.

And once I started, I didn’t plan on stopping.

Brea

“Holy fucking shit,” I said to Frankie as I plopped down in the chair across from her desk. “This guy is on a whole different level.”

“And?”

I was sure my smile was as broad as hers. “And…he now has multiple pics of me in my panties and bra.”

Her smile fell. “Brea, you really need to be careful. What if he shows his friends or forwards them to someone else? Your face could become the next viral meme, demonstrating why not to send sexy pics to the man you like.”

It was so sweet of her to worry. “I love you, and I love you for being so concerned about me, but none of the pictures show my face. Just my body. I could have stolen the pics off the Internet, and he wouldn’t have known.”

She looked at me suspiciously.

“Don’t worry; I didn’t do that. They’re me, for sure. All sexed up. And I didn’t even use a filter.”

She took a sip of her water. “You’re daring.”

“Maybe, but there’s just something about him that makes me feel so comfortable.” I still wondered what that was or if it had anything to do with his mouth looking so much like Cody’s. “Frankie, that’s not even all of it. We’ve been sexting, too. And we had phone sex.”

“You’re making me sweat.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been dripping for days.” I pulled my chair closer, so I could lean on her desk. “I’ve never been turned on for this many consecutive hours.”

“Oh God.”

“No, seriously, is it possible to be wet for three straight days?”

She picked up a folder off her desk and used it to fan my face. “This reminds me of someone else.”

I knew immediately whom she was talking about. “Hell yes, it does—you, when things started heating up with Derek.” I glanced down at the phone in my lap and was reminded of the texts Trapper and I had exchanged earlier. “He’s not that much different than the guys I’ve dated in the past—not like Derek was for you. He’s just so much more sure of himself than they were, so confident, but not in a cocky way. And he’s definitely more dominant.” The fanning wasn’t helping. “And he’s obsessed”—I pointed at my lap—“with
her
. He says his tongue is, too.”

“I adore him already. Brea, he sounds kind of perfect for you.”

I let out a sound that was a mix of a giggle and a squee. “I know, right?”

“If you’re building this much chemistry over the phone, imagine how explosive it’s going to be when you see him again.”

I sighed. “Off the charts, I hope.”

Frankie still had no idea that the guy was Trapper, that he was one of Derek’s clients, or that I’d met him at their party. Derek must have considered him a friend, or Trapper wouldn’t have been at their house that night. Still, I wanted to go into this without their opinions weighing on me. Most of the dates I’d been on after Cody had started off that way, and it was all I thought about the whole time I was out with them. I didn’t want that with Trapper. It was fun to keep him a mystery since he was still almost a complete mystery to me.

“How can it not be off the charts?” Frankie asked.

I winked. “Good point.”

“I haven’t seen you smile this hard since Cody. It’s nice to see you so happy.” She paused. “I don’t mean to bring him up again, but should we talk about it? About…him?”

The best way for me to get past Cody was to do less comparing, not more, I believed. Trapper’s style and dominating personality seemed so different from Cody’s anyway.

Cody was so…

“Cody, the water is turning cold,” I said, starting to shiver from inside the bath.

“I forgot we were in the water.”

“How could you forget? We’re in the tub, silly.”

His arms were crossed over my chest, his legs resting over mine. I leaned forward, so I could get on my knees. Then I turned around and faced him. Water splashed over the sides.

“I guess we are in the tub.”

“Where did you think you were?”

He shook his head, but I knew an answer was coming. “When I’m with you, the scenery and what we’re doing all blends together. Whether we’re in the tub or shower, at the table or in our bed—it doesn’t matter. You make it all disappear. You bring me to a place…it’s home, Brea. You are my home.”

I took a breath, blinking several times, as I stared at Frankie’s face. Talking about Cody wouldn’t make their differences any more or less true. If anything, it might convince me that I wasn’t ready to take a chance emotionally. And I was. I was…

“Not talking about him is the way I want to go.”

She smiled warmly. “As long as you’re okay, then I’m okay.”

“What does your schedule look like for the rest of the day?”

She checked her computer. “I have a closing, but if you plan on kidnapping me, I can have one of the girls go instead.”

“I’ve done all the talking lately,” I told her. “It’s your turn. Let’s do it over wine.”

“Done. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

I slid my key into the lock on the back door of my parents’ house and stepped inside, blowing on my fingers to warm them. I dropped my bag and jacket at the kitchen table and headed straight for the fridge. My parents always stocked the best food.

“Baby girl,” Mom yelled, “is that you?”

“It’s me. I’m just getting something to eat.”

“There’s a piece of lasagna on the second shelf that I wrapped up just for you.”

I smiled as I took out the lasagna and a fork from the drawer. There were chocolate cupcakes on the counter. I grabbed two before joining her in the living room.

“Don’t come too close.” She sounded extremely nasally and stopped me as I was about to bend down and kiss her. “There’s something festering up there.” She pointed at her sinuses. “And it’s green.”

“Gross, Mom.”

She pulled her blanket a bit higher until it was tucked underneath her chin. “Sit over there. I would hate for you to catch it.”

I dropped into the chair and dug into the lasagna. Even cold, the cheese was still gooey, and the meat was seasoned perfectly. “This is so good.” I shoved another bite into my mouth.

“Now, I know why you haven’t called since the party.”

I looked up as I chewed. “Huh?”

“You’ve been too busy with a new man, haven’t you?”

“How did you know that?”

“You took two cupcakes instead of one and didn’t bother to heat up the lasagna. You eat more when you’re really happy, and nothing, not even cold food, can stop you.”

I glanced down at my plate and laughed.

“So, are you going to tell me about him?”

I shrugged. My mouth was so full that it was hard to talk.

“It’s okay. I’ll wait until you’re high on chocolate, and then I’ll ask you again.”

Mom was one of my best friends. She knew me better than anyone, even Frankie. The reason I hadn’t called wasn’t because I was too busy. It was because the second she heard my voice, she’d know something was up, and she’d start asking questions. I didn’t want to get into all that. Talking about men who didn’t matter was easy. But something about Trapper mattered even if that something was small and just a real heavy spark, and that made him harder to discuss.

“Is this peanut butter frosting on the inside?” I covered my mouth as I talked and chewed.

“You like? I tried something new.”

“Oh my God.” I scooped up a glob of it and licked it off my finger. “With the chocolate frosting on top, it brings this cupcake to a whole different level.”

“Your father thinks so, too.”

I went back to the lasagna, leaving the second cupcake for dessert.

“Have you heard from Cody’s mom?” She knew Cody’s mom still checked in with me pretty often.

“Not in the last few weeks,” I said. “But with the anniversary coming up, I’m sure she’ll be calling pretty soon.”

“Two years,” she said sadly. “It’s hard to believe it’s been that long. It has to be so difficult on her. I can’t even imagine…”

Mom had lived with me for a few weeks after Cody’s death. I hadn’t asked her to, but she knew I needed her. Someone had to take care of me, make sure I was still alive and breathing, because there had been moments when things had gotten pretty dark…

“I can’t feel anything but pain, Mom. There’s so much of it. It’s stabbing me, and it won’t stop. And—” I gasped as the words got stuck in my throat. It was so sore and dry my tongue barely wanted to move.

“I know, baby girl.”

“He’s gone.”

She was rubbing circles over my knee, and I stopped her. The love, the compassion, the understanding—it all hurt.

“He left. He’s…he’s not coming back and…” I wrapped my arms around my stomach because I couldn’t stand it anymore. The pain was unbearable. It pushed so hard into my belly that it made me want to gag. “Ow,” I groaned.

“The doctor says the pain in your tummy will go away if you just eat something. So, you have to eat, Brea. Please. For me.”

As I shook my head, the tears streamed off my chin. “No. I can’t. I…I just can’t.”

“Baby”—her hands cupped my face—“you’ve got to breathe, or you’re going to hyperventilate.”

I cried out from the pain as I took a deep one, and I did it again as I took another. She grabbed something off the floor and held it to my face to wipe my cheeks. It was thicker than a tissue. It was…a shirt.

A red one.

One that didn’t belong to me.

“Oh God,” I whimpered.

I pulled it from her hands and buried my face in it. He’d worn it just a few days ago when we’d gone out to dinner. I could smell his cologne.

I could almost feel him in it.

His clothes were what had sent me to my closet in the first place. To smell him. To surround myself with the only things I had of his. But I had gotten so weak in the doorway, I’d fallen to my knees and crawled under my rack of jeans. That was where I was sitting now in a tight ball with Mom’s face in my neck and her arms hugging my shoulders.