“You think I didn’t see him?” Creed asked, sounding insulted.
“I think I didn’t see him since my back was to him and I had other things occupying my attention like, say, the gun being held to my head,” I retorted.
“And I think I got a partner who knows what the f**k she’s doin’ so even though he nailed me, Sylvie, clue in, two dead guys are lyin’ on the floor ten feet away, one with his face blown off. I knew, I covered you, you’d cover me and I was right. I covered you, you covered me.”
Wow, that was nice.
I didn’t say that.
I said, “You might want to use your words like, say, calling, ‘Shooter!’ You think? Maybe?”
“I reckoned, when he shot me, you’d get there was a shooter.”
Oh my God!
Really?
“When did Grandpa turn into Take His and My Life in His Hands Maverick Hot Guy?” I asked.
“When I took my first job, and Sylvie, warning, another Grandpa crack and your bare ass feels my hand.”
Shit, that got a tingle.
I ignored the tingle and snapped, “Get shot again and you won’t see me na**d for a week.”
“Baby, it was under control,” he replied.
I pointed at the blood dripping into his suit coat and shirt. “Yeah? Really?” I asked mockingly then went on to inform him, “This I know, I’m not taking that to the dry cleaners and I do not sew buttons back onto shirts.”
“Seriously?” he asked back. “Are we having this conversation?”
“Yes, we seriously are,” I clipped my answer.
“Yo, Bogey and Bacall, it may be a flesh wound but it’s still bleeding so will you two wind up this bullshit bickering and maybe we can get our man some medical attention?” Hawk asked fake politely and I turned my scowl to him.
Hawk withstood my scowl with no apparent effort so I gave up, crouched down, unbuckled one shoe, stood up, slipped it off and threw it overhand into the warehouse. I repeated this maneuver with the other shoe but grabbed Creed’s gun on the way up.
Then I cut a frown through all the men and started to stomp away.
As I stomped away, I heard Creed say, “Favor, Delgado, send a man after those shoes. I’m gonna need them later.”
To which I heard Hawk reply, “I hear you, man. Consider it done.”
Which meant, as I stomped away, I did it rolling my eyes.
But I also did it thinking Creed would probably get creative, me in those shoes and, on my back or knees, they probably wouldn’t hurt too much. Or, alternately, me lying over his thighs getting my first spanking.
Then again, if any of those scenarios occurred, I’d be feeling other things so my mind wouldn’t be on those f**king shoes.
This meant, my thoughts having turned pleasantly, when I exited the warehouse at the same time I felt Creed’s big, warm hand catch mine and hold tight, I wasn’t pissed anymore.
I was smiling.
Epilogue
Dreamweaver
Present day, two days later…