Personal Demon

HOPE: BIRTHDAY PRESENTS

I woke alone, and flashed back to that Valentine’s “morning after.” This had better not be another case of next-day jitters. While his explanation of that next day made the memory less painful, I wasn’t enduring round two.

As I pushed off the covers, the door opened. Karl walked in with coffee. Hot and fresh-from the same place he’d bought it yesterday. Even if there’d been a coffeemaker and supplies, he’d have gone out. Having tasted his coffee, I was grateful.

I took a sip and closed my eyes. “Mmm.”

“I bought a few groceries. Eggs, bacon, bread-presuming there’s a toaster.”

“You’re going to make me breakfast too? Wow.”

He gave me a look. “You know I don’t cook.”

“Well, I sure hope this means you plan to try. Expecting me to cook breakfast isn’t a good way to sell this mate business.”

“Does that mean I should cancel the offer on the cabin in the Poconos?”

I laughed and swung my feet out. “I’ll make you breakfast, Karl, but only because it’s your birthday…and because, in comparison to the cabin and baby-making, it seems relatively benign. First, though, I’m having a shower-” The rumble of his stomach cut me short. “Okay, first breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

I headed toward the closet, but Karl tugged me back. “You don’t need that.”

“If you’re asking me to cook you breakfast in the nude then, yes, it is your birthday, but no. Bacon spatter is very, very hot.”

He handed me the button-down white shirt he’d worn the night before.

“Oh, you want me to wear your shirt. Little show of property rights?”

“You can’t just humor me and put it on without comment, can you?”

“At least I didn’t accuse you of wanting your scent on me.”

He helped me into the shirt. “I believe I’ve already accomplished that.”

“Which is why I suggested a shower…”

“I wasn’t complaining. In fact-”

“Don’t say it. Please.” I looked down at the half-buttoned shirt. “Do I at least get to put on panties?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Gonna milk that for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

“Gonna try.”

I STARTED FRYING bacon and making toast. The toast would go cold before I put the eggs on, but this was only the first batch. Even without Karl’s grumbling stomach, his pacing would have told me he was starving. So I fed him two slices and that seemed to be enough to let him turn his attention to other matters…like getting his hands under my shirt as I stood at the stove.

At first he just moved his fingers over my thighs and rear, stroking and tickling. Then he eased his fingers between my legs. I flipped the bacon and shifted, and his fingers slid in. I stood there, spatula raised, bacon forgotten…until the stink of burning pork reminded me.

“Distracted?” he said as he pushed his fingers in deeper.

I bit back a moan. “Maybe. But you’re the one who wants breakfast, so if I burn it…”

“Not your fault.”

I arched onto my toes and wriggled. Then I felt something that definitely wasn’t his fingers. I leaned forward, lifting up-and caught a spray of bacon grease in the face.

He pulled me back, then leaned down to murmur, “Sorry. It won’t work very well anyway. Not unless we get you a stool.”

“You calling me short?”

“Petite.”

He turned me to face him, and perched me on the edge of the low section next to the stove. Then he slid the shirt up over my thighs, pulling my legs around him, and pushed into me.

I gasped. “Having sex with a woman while she’s cooking your breakfast? Your fantasies are showing your age, Karl.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“An observation.”

“Ah.”

“But if I overcook the bacon…”

“My fault. Risk noted.” He thrust into me. “And accepted.”

OVER BREAKFAST, KARL wanted to talk about Jaz and Sonny’s disappearance. I’d rather have not. The mention of Jaz’s name made my stomach churn. I was worried about him and desperately wanted to find him, to make sure he was safe. And then what? How would I explain this?

Thank God you’re back, Jaz. Er, but about that special night you had planned…

Yes, I’d initially wanted a fling with Jaz because of Karl, to wipe him from my mind, but it hadn’t been a casual hookup. I liked Jaz, cared about him, and that only made it all worse.

But if I did care, then I had to put my own feelings of guilt aside and concentrate on figuring out what had happened to him. Karl raised the possibility that Jaz and Sonny’s disappearance was an inside job. I think he was shocked when I agreed it was a possibility. Did he expect me to jump to the defense of people I’d met only days ago? We weren’t dealing with a Boy Scout troop.

When he told me whom he suspected, though, I did disagree. Could I see Guy killing a crew member to further his agenda? Possibly. But it wouldn’t be Jaz.

We decided the next step was to get into the club and take a look around while everyone else was sleeping off a late night hunting for Jaz and Sonny. It was unlikely we’d find a “why I kidnapped my crew mates” note hidden in the back closet. But if Guy kept any records of those Cabal dustups they’d be at the club.

YESTERDAY, KARL HAD huffed about poor security at the club. Seems that had been his ill humor talking. The security was well above anything I could breach, and even Karl had to work to get us in.

Once inside, we split up to check the building and ensure we were indeed alone. Karl would take the office; I’d look through the club and back storerooms.

Walking through the club reminded me of the first time I’d cut through with Bianca. Now, alone, that unnatural hush and shadowy darkness was even worse.

I felt my way around the pool tables as I circumvented the dance floor. Ahead I saw those floor-side tables where we’d partied after the sweet sixteen heist. I stared at the chair where I’d sat on Jaz’s lap.

If Jaz hadn’t disappeared, would last night have been different? No. If Karl and I had managed to find another route past the anger, I’d be here now worrying about what to tell Jaz.

Had I used him?

In a way, yes. I’d seized a genuine attraction to try and get over Karl.

But that attraction…Part of me wanted to say it was purely physical. He was young and hot and interested-the perfect recipe for chemistry. To admit there’d been more felt like a disloyalty to Karl, that buried romantic in me wanting to say that Karl was everything I’d ever wanted.

But with Jaz there had been a connection. Had there been no Karl, then I think we could have had something.

“How did you get in here?”

I jumped at Bianca’s voice. But when I spun around, I couldn’t see her.

“I asked you a question,” Bianca said.

Her voice was sharp. I felt her anger ripple through me as I peered around the club.

“You have five seconds to tell me who the hell you are, or I’m escorting you to the front door. After I call security.”

A man’s laugh, then a voice, unfamiliar. “There’s no one here but us, Bianca.”

“Do I know you?”

“Don’t you?”

The voice grew closer, and a dash of fear seeped into her anger. I closed my eyes and circled, stopping when I felt a mental twinge that said “this way to the chaos buffet.” When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the door to the stockrooms.

“What do you want?” Bianca said.

“Uh-uh. Keep your distance, babe. Third-degree burns aren’t on my agenda.”

I slid my gun from my purse and hurried to the hall door.