Like this picnic.
I couldn't imagine doing something like this... all normal and romantic. It's a completely foreign concept, and yet I'm drawn even stronger to these things with Jane. My curiosity about this laid-back, normal way of life is stirring, and perhaps I'm even remembering a bit how to live this way.
It's hard to describe to anyone what it meant for me to go undercover with Mayhem's Mission. Hell, it's even hard for me to understand it at times. But in order to do it, I had to let go of every bit of my humanity, and I had to embrace a life bankrupt of any morals, decency, or kindness. My Mission brothers were a ruthless gang involved in serious criminal enterprise from drugs and illegal guns to sex slavery. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. It was the "business" part of what they did.
But there was another part.
A darker part.
It was where I had to convince them that I was cut from the same cloth. I had to do terrible things to people that, without the immunity the government has provided me, would land me in jail for the rest of my life. I have so much blood on my hands that it won't ever come off.
So yeah... I get why she was surprised by this little act of affection on my part. Given my past, I'm just as surprised.
But goddamn... she is crawling under my skin, invading my senses, and turning me inside out. She makes me laugh, which is a practically unheard of accomplishment. She's witty and funny and full of personality. Jane is a force of nature that has the strength of a hurricane, and fuck if she didn't roll right over me.
Hell... even sex with Jane is fun. I'd thought she might be a little shy or reserved, but she's not. She's an incredibly sensual woman who perhaps needed just a little encouragement to explore more of that side of herself. Once she understood that I found it incredibly erotic for her to be vocal about what she wanted, the sex became even better.
Not to say she couldn't throw me off my game every now and then.
Just last night, I thought I'd nearly have a heart attack when Jane demanded I fuck her from behind. I think I actually missed a stroke, but I quickly had her flipped over before I plunged back in. It was then that I realized we were facing the large mirror on her dresser and Jane was watching us with dark, lust-filled eyes as I rode her hard. It made my balls tighten and the need to come was almost painful. My hand pushed into her long hair and I gripped it hard, and that got her attention. Her glazed eyes slid to look at me in the mirror, and we held each other's gaze for just a brief moment. Then her lips curled upward and a mischievous glint sparkled back at me. She then turned to look back at herself, and, in an imperious voice--while I was still fucking her hard--she said, "Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?"
I came to a dead stop rooted deep within her, and her eyes slowly raised to focus back on me.
She grinned at me and panted, "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, 1937. Now get back to business, baby."
And I couldn't help it. I fucking threw my head back and busted out laughing. I laughed so hard that I collapsed on top of Jane, and then rolled us to our sides. Jane laughed with me as I wrapped my arms around her tight, that orgasm I was so close to completely forgotten--although, admittedly, I was still hard as a rock.
We started talking about movies.
Just like that, I went from fucking Jane to leaving orgasm city behind and talking about movies.
I was fine with that because it was real, and it was Jane, and just having that with her appealed to me on a level I didn't realize I needed.
The ringing phone startles me awake. For a brief moment, I'm disoriented. Then my eyes land on the mantle with Jane's painting above it, and my heart immediately settles. I sit up quickly from the rust-colored couch where I'd been laying down and immediately grab the burner phone from the oval-shaped coffee table.
"What's up?" I answer when I connect to Joe on the line. I stand up from the couch and walk to the front windows, peering through the blinds toward Jane's house. It's completely dark, but I'm not surprised. She was having a "girls" night out with Miranda, which, according to Jane, meant that she had to make sure Miranda didn't get into too much trouble.
I'm hoping Jane will come over here after she gets home.
"I've got some bad news," Joe says, and my body tightens over the ominous tone of his voice.
Pulling back from the window, I open the front door and walk out onto the porch. I sit down on the top step and stare at Jane's house. "What is it?"
"One of our servers has been infiltrated. The tech team just found the breach, and they were able to shut it down fairly quickly." Joe's voice trails off slightly.
"But..." I prompt Joe, because I can tell he's walked me up to the cliff.
"Your information was in there. New name and current address. It doesn't look like that information was compromised, but we can't rule it out just yet."
"Fuck," I bark into the phone and run my hand over the stubble on my head. "Why the fuck was that in there?"
"Come on, Kyle," Joe chastises. "You know we have to have accountability somewhere. It takes funds to set up this type of thing, and we have to answer for that. But Camden has his top techs working on it right now."
Bart Camden is Joe's boss--and technically mine, for that matter, since Joe and I were effectively partnered up the last several years.
"There is some good news though," Joe adds on. I let my eyes drift from Jane's darkened house over to Front Street where her parents live a few blocks down. Such normal people who have no clue about me.
"What's that?" I ask.
"A few of the Mission higher-ups have reached out to the prosecutor about cutting some deals," Joe says, and this causes me to sit up a bit straighter. This is surprising because there's a code among the members of Mayhem's Mission. You never rat out your brothers, but if you do, be prepared to die for that action.
This is good news indeed. It means convictions will be easier to secure. It could mean a domino effect with the rest of the defendants who were indicted, and perhaps this will go away faster.
"Do I have anything to worry about at this point?" I ask as my eyes cut back to Jane's house. I don't care about myself, but if someone's coming for me, I am not going to put her in danger. I'll pack my shit up tonight and hightail it out of town.
"We believe you're good for now," Joe says. "Like I said... it doesn't look like your information was compromised, but I wanted to let you know because nothing's ever one hundred percent. If you want to relocate, we'll make it happen."
My gut twists, not knowing if I'm making the right decision. I'm hoping to fuck the feds have my back because part of this decision is for my own needs. "I'll stay for now. But if you find out that the breach went as far as my information, you let me know immediately."
"Will do, buddy," he assures me. "Talk later."
"Later," I say before disconnecting the call.
CHAPTER 23
Jane
"Honestly... I just couldn't stand one more night of that snuffling noise he made with his nose," Miranda grumbles as she sips at her coffee across the table from me.
Kyle--who's seated beside me--lightly knocks his leg against mine in solidarity of amusement, and I have to restrain myself from laughing.
Miranda and I didn't get home until after one in the morning, and this came after a very messy breakup with her "snuffling" flame. She was extremely drunk, and well... she was extremely honest with him. She did not let him down gently, but her decision was at least ratified somewhat when he said, "I can't believe you're that shallow, Miranda, as to let something like that bother you." Then he snuffled.
Miranda pointed at him and said, "See. You just did it again. I can't take it."
It was not a fun night for me, not only because of Miranda's drama and drunkenness, but mainly because I would have rather spent the time with Kyle.
Tick, tock goes the clock on our relationship.
We're having breakfast this morning at Tillie's Shiny Diner and at the invitation of Ky
le. He showed up bright and early at my door, waking both of us up--Miranda had passed out on my couch--and offering to buy us breakfast. I was all over that, because even though I'd had only about six hours of sleep, I wanted to spend whatever time I could with Kyle.
He said he was leaving at some point and I believe him, despite the fact we seem to be getting closer.
Tillie's is a popular hangout and is indeed a shiny diner. The outside is done in bright, reflective silver aluminum, and the inside has red vinyl booths, a black-and-white tiled floor, and a long counter with spinning stools. There's a vintage jukebox on one end that carries music from the 40s, 50s and 60s. Tillie serves breakfast at all hours, and she makes a killer fried egg.
"Miranda," I say with a bit of brutal honesty myself. "All bodily noises aside, you need to stop getting charmed by a man's pretty face and take closer stock of what they bring to the table."
"You got sidetracked by Kyle's pretty face," she retorts at me, and Kyle actually snickers even though his head remains bowed over the newspaper he's reading. "Actually, if I recall... it was his body. You were going on and on about how hot his abs were while he was pressure washing the lighthouse."
"Miranda," I exclaim indignantly at the same time Kyle's head whips my way. I don't bother looking at him as I glare at my best friend. She grins right back at me.
"Thought I was hot, huh?" Kyle says, and I turn my head to look at him.
"Oh, shut up," I snarl to mask my total embarrassment. "You totally know you're hot."
Kyle's eyes crinkle with amusement, and if I'm not mistaken, a little bit of pride. He shakes his head and goes back to reading his newspaper, but his hand slips under the table to rest on the top of my thigh. It's a bold move, but it's equally sweet, and there's nothing but a gentle intimacy to the action. It's something that Kyle has apparently been getting more comfortable with, as evidenced also by the spontaneous kiss he gave me yesterday during our picnic.
"Anyway," I say as I turn back to Miranda. "Don't you think it's time you started looking at what's underneath the hood rather than the exterior?"
Miranda snickers, totally reading my words as dirty rather than metaphorical. "I can't help it, Janey. I love me a hot man, and it's even better if he's a bad boy. I personally don't care about anything past that other than snuffling. I can't deal with that apparently."
I sigh. I love Miranda so very much, but I don't think she'll ever grow up. I'm pretty confident she'll never settle down, and I'm outright positive she won't get involved with a guy seriously. After what her parents went through and the public spectacle it made, she's about the most anti-commitment person I know.
Well, other than Kyle.
"For example," Miranda says dramatically and nods her head at something behind me. "That guy right there totally needs to be warming my bed."
I roll my eyes but turn in the booth to look behind me. There's a man sitting at the end of the counter, drinking a cup of coffee and looking right back at Miranda. He quirks a pair of sexy lips and nods at her. I can feel Kyle shift in the booth as he looks back as well.
We both turn back, Kyle's head tipping down again to read the newspaper and me rolling my eyes at Miranda. "Seriously?"
Miranda is still staring at the guy and her look is blatantly inviting. Without taking her eyes off him, she addresses me, "Oh, come on, Jane. I get you got your own hottie sitting next to you, but that guy is perfectly delicious. Leather jacket, goatee, tattoos. Total biker badass, and that is right up my alley."
"He's no biker," Kyle says in a low but authoritative voice, never looking up from the paper.
"Excuse me?" Miranda says, her eyes now sliding over to Kyle with curiosity.
He looks up and shrugs. "He's not a biker. Not like what you're thinking. All rough and dangerous and slightly criminal. Sure, he might ride recreationally, but he's not the type of badass you're looking for, if that's really what you're looking for."
Miranda harrumphs and her eyes go back to the guy, not willing to let Kyle rain on her parade.
But now my curiosity is piqued. "How do you know that?" I ask.
He turns toward me in the booth, his arm going around the back where his fingers brush against my shoulders. He gives a slight, nonchalant shrug. "I've hung around my fair share of bikers."
His smile is open and his words are light, but I see something deep in his eyes that troubles me. I have no doubt he's hung around his share based on how confident he sounds and I hear the ring of truth, but I get the feeling that his experience was far from good.
"Did you ride with a gang or something?" I ask.
A dark, painful flash in Kyle's eyes, but before he can answer me, a cell phone ringing pierces the air around us. My eyes immediately drop down as Kyle leans to the side, extends a leg, and fishes a small phone out of his front pocket. It's not a smartphone, not even a flip phone, but a small, plain black unit with a digital screen big enough to only hold perhaps a phone number.
He brings the phone to his ear as he starts to slide out of the booth. "Talk to me," is how he answers.
My hand shoots out and I touch his forearm, my head tilted and my gaze questioning. Kyle tells whoever is on the other line, "Hold on just a sec."
Then he covers the phone with his hand and raises his eyebrows, indicating he's waiting for me to ask a question.
Sliding my gaze to the cell and then back to him, I say, "I thought you said you didn't have a cell phone?"
There's no pause, no stutter, and no guilt in his eyes. He simply says, "Just got it the other day."
"Oh," I murmur, accepting it, but wondering why he didn't tell me or give me his number.
"I gotta take this call," he says, and then leans over and kisses me on the top of my head. "Be right back."
Kyle turns and walks out of the diner, the phone back to his ear. I watch as he heads down the sidewalk a bit, one hand tucked in his pocket while he listens to whoever is on the other end.
"Does that bother you?" Miranda asks, ever observant of me. She knows me all too well.
I shrug. "Maybe a little. I wonder why he didn't tell me."
"Did you see how basic that thing was?" she says as she comes to his defense. "He's clearly not a techie type of guy, and I'm betting he prefers to just walk over to your house to talk to you."
That's all true. He comes over whenever he wants to be with me, although I haven't quite had the guts to just meander over to his because I want to see him. Yes, I get that's contrary to the fact that I regularly showed up on his doorstep back in the day when we were first getting to know each other, but now that sex is involved, I guess I'm just being a little old fashioned. I'm not sure I'm ready to march over there with a "do me, baby" type of come-on, although I'm sure Kyle would definitely take me up on it.
"Hell yeah," Miranda murmurs in a low, sexy tone of appreciation. She's looking back over my shoulder. Before I can even turn to see what she's looking at--presumably the hot-biker-not-actually-biker type guy--he's at our table and Miranda's sliding over to let him in.
I try not to let my jaw drop as he turns slightly to face her, completely ignoring me, and says to her, "I'm Steve. And you are too beautiful for me not to come over here and let you know that."
I roll my eyes, which I can do because neither one of them is looking at me.
Miranda flutters her eyelashes and holds her hand out. "Miranda."
Steve pulls it to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, and I shake my head. I've seen enough Sons of Anarchy and I can tell you for sure that Jax Teller would never do that. He's totally not a biker like Kyle says, but Miranda eats that shit up and doesn't see it for what it is... just a way to get into her pants.
To my surprise, Steve releases her hand and reaches across the table toward me in an invitation to shake his hand. He holds it out palm sideways and says in a more businesslike tone, "And you must be the wary best friend. I'm Steve."
I shake his hand, a little mollified that he wants to impress Miranda by seek
ing my approval. "Jane."
Steve gives me a quick shake and lets me go as he asks, "Hope your boyfriend isn't going to be pissed I came over here like this," he says as he nods out the window to where Kyle is still talking on the phone. "Not going to kick my ass, is he?"
This guy Steve has a decent build. Might even be an inch or so taller than Kyle. But if he was truly a badass biker, he would not be worried about anyone kicking his ass. Seems Kyle totally called that one correctly.
I give Steve a reassuring smile. "No ass kicking. He's cool."
Although I know without a doubt that Kyle would not be cool if Steve's attentions were directed my way. Kyle may not be a long-haul type of man--a thought which saddens me with each passing day--but I do know he's proprietary. He's given the evil eye to a few guys who have looked at me a little too appreciatively when we've been out and about.
Steve turns back to Miranda. "I'm in a bit of a rush to get to work, but I was wondering if I could call you sometime?"
Miranda's eyes, which are surprisingly clear despite her drunkenness last night and thanks to Visine, sparkle with interest. "Only if you promise to use it to call immediately. I am on the prowl for my next boy-toy after all."
"Good grief," I mutter under my breath, but both of them ignore me.
I sip at my coffee, my gaze wandering to look out the window at Kyle. His back is to me, but his posture seems stiff and defensive. My imagination runs wild as to who it could be, since while we've been very intimate with each other, about the only real thing I've seemed to glean from him is that he has no real family and no close friends. This should make me happy because I am what I believe to be a friend to him, but I not only find it sad, I find it to be disconcerting as well. I know no one who is that much alone in life.
Miranda and Steve exchange contact information, and after Steve promises to call Miranda that very night after he gets off work, he makes his exit. Five seconds later, Kyle is sliding back in the booth beside me.
"What did that guy want?" he asks as he looks at Miranda, and I'm surprised how keenly aware he must have been of what was going on inside the diner while he was on the phone.
"My body," she says pertly and gives him a wicked grin over the edge of her coffee cup. "And he just might get lucky tonight."