Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (63 page)

“I’m not soliciting you and you can say no. This isn’t about sex, so don’t try anything unless he does… which he won’t.”

“Who?” Fate asks in confusion.

“Stanton,” I breathe. “He’s lonely
, and Gwen did a real number on him. He’s old school, so all the things you hate about yourself, he loves in a woman. You’re soft spoken, pretty, and a real lady. You’ll listen to him and give him comfort. Just befriend him. Don’t betray his trust. I’m not asking you to marry him or whore yourself out. Just contact him and see if he wants to chat.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Fate
almost whines the words. Worry creates fine lines at the corners of her eyes. She has a crush on Stanton. I can see it plain as day.

“I have difficulty with this, so feel free to kick my ass,” I warn
because I’m about to compare Fate with Gwen. “This will help and hurt. Stanton loved our mother. He thought she was beautiful, which means he will find you beautiful. But she hurt him deep, so he will be extremely wary of you. This may take multiple attempts to get him to respond. I can even invite you over to see Bianca as a chance to privately meet him.”

“Why are you doing this for me?”
I hate that she looks at me suspiciously, because I’m her sister and I will protect her. But it makes me happy that she’s isn’t so naïve anymore.

“I’m doing it for him. I love you, Fate, I really do. Sometimes I even like you. But Sta
nton is changing my world and I want him to be happy. I don’t care if Satan himself makes Stanton happy, I’ll drag the devil to Stan if I have to.”

~Chapter Fifty-Three~

“Nervous?” Julio’s full lips pull into a wide grin- the bastard isn’t sweating bullets like I am. Freakin’ figures!

“Of course not,” I calmly assert while wiping my sweat-slicked palms down my pant legs. I shiver when a slight breeze cools the sweat beading on the nape of my neck. Julio’s snicker says he doesn’t believe me, and he’d be right.

I stare up at the big, anxiety-causing brick building that looms before us. Actually, it’s not looming- it’s comforting in a cheery
I’m gonna save your ass
sort of way. It’s the building where Heroes lie in wait to help the misfortunates. The fallout shelter symbol makes me think of Zombies and the Apocalypse. The building will even be your hero if Mother Nature or a warring country kicks our asses- comforting.

Uniformed men and women wander around: Police Officers, Nurses, EMTs, Fire Department Personnal- all looking professional, and not a one of them breaking a sweat. The soccer moms look scared shitless- I feel better now. Everyone is friendly, chatting and smiling- they even smile at the tiny, angry Goth girl and her full-blooded Mexican gangbanger bodyguard. What a pair Julio and I make against the backdrop of heroes and mommies.

“Changing your mind?” Julio teases me. It’s strange, if I closed my eyes while listening to Julio, I would never imagine him in my wildest dreams. Julio’s voice always sounds a bit bland, so you expect this mousy guy. Opening my eyes, I drink in my bodyguard. He’s huge- a foot and a half taller than me with arms banded with thick muscles- he could lift me over his head one-handed. Darkly tanned skin, huge brown eyes, and silky hair makes you gaze at him in appreciation. He can be menacing and scary. But when he smiles and flashes huge white teeth, you can’t help but grin back at him. I hate having a babysitter, but I love Julio- he’s kept me sane.

“I’m more dedicated to this idea that ever,” I answer the question he asked before I got sidetracked by looking at him. “Still dating Hernando?”

“Nah,” Julio groans while rubbing a hand through his hair. “Not my type.”

“What’s your type?” I ask out of curiosity.
I’ve seen many a guy pass through in the past few months. Julio isn’t a love ‘em and leave sort, but his relationships are always fleeting.

“Girly, you think people pigeon hole you… They see me and find out I’m gay, and then they set me up with their gay friends. It’s like they think ‘oh, you’re gay, he’s gay, you’re perfect for each other.’ Just because I like dick, doesn’t mean I like every dick,” Julio growls.

“Sorry, I meant no offense,” I growl back.

A deep sigh spills from Julio’s lips. “I know,” he mumbles. “It’s not you. It didn’t go so well with Hernando. I… I…” Julio stutters
, and he never stutters. I stare at him until he spills the secret that’s choking him. “I… like white dudes- smart, little white dudes- okay?”  He blushes bright red and I start giggling. “I don’t want to date myself, but everyone hooks me up with guys like me. Opposites attract,” he flashes me a shameless grin.

“Priceless,”
I snort, giggles bubbling up my throat. “It would be Mutt and Jeff.”

“Well, lookie you, Chica- you have a type, too!”

“Do not!” I obstinately hiss.

“Do too!” Julio mocks me.

“Time to go inside now,” I grumble.

Julio’s grin is huge and lights up the area. Several of the people lingering around us look at Julio and smile back. “We’re waiting on someone.”

“Who?” I bark.

“Your only type,” He whispers in my ear, and then laughs
- taunting. Julio’s hot breath feels menacing on my cheek and I cringe away from him.

“Pixy,” calmly flows and soothes over my nerves like a healing balm.
My shoulders relax and my eyelids get heavy. If Wil is here, I can do this. I can walk into the Fire Department and commit myself to being one of their heroes.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe to the God that is getting his jollies off
on torturing me. “Wil,” I say in greeting as I turn to look at him.

Wil: if I close
d my eyes when I heard his voice and then opened my eyes- my vision and reality would be one in the same. Wil is a wild animal. Tightly coiled, barely leashed energy flows off of him in waves- pure potential. Potential for what? Well, now that all depends on you. Light brown hair is shaved off close to his scalp. It feels like a feather-brush upon my palm, and I would know because it was the first thing I touched on him- the first thing that made me curious about him. A hard body that would make Gunner proud is covered by unassuming jeans and a t-shirt. Hazel eyes are fringed in thick lashes.

I whimper because I miss looking
into the paleness of his wintery blue eyes. I hate when Wil wears hazel contacts.

“Well, you two kids have fun,” Julio brightly says. “Stanton says that you can have a snack before you come home. Your ‘type’ is to walk you home and come up to the roof to have a little chat,” he stresses chat in a way that it sounds exactly like the word lecture.

I groan as if in pain, because I am. “Julio, you tell your boss man that I have a surprise for his ass, too. He may even like it,” I threaten in a scathing tone.

Julio just grins and waves as he walks away. A trail of laughter follows in his wake.

“You shouldn’t be doing this for me,” I quickly flip around and accuse. “This profession isn’t to be taken lightly. It’s not a way to get underneath my skin or stalk me,” I growl.

Wil’s lips twitch at the corners- his version of a real smile. He looks proud and happy to see me, and it
vaguely feels like a punch to the gut.

“I’m doing this for me,” he admits and I try to tell if he’s being truthful. I give up. “Stanton and I have talked every day for the past month and a half- every day since the hospital. We’re a lot alike, Pixy. I think this is a perfect fit for me, too- the good deeds to balance out the bad deeds
, and the rush of adrenaline from something that is dangerous. We need to give back more than we take,” the shame in Wil’s voice weakens my knees and stings tears in my eyes.

“I want to know for sure,” I practically whine. “But I can’t trust your word.”

“I’ll earn your trust,” Wil vows. His hands clench into fists like he’s fighting an internal battle within himself. “I’m your partner- that has never changed and it never will,” he bites out with so much conviction that I shiver- little sparks dance down my spine and pulse erratically.

“Okay,” I mumble. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I offer Wil my hand and raise my eyes to meet his. This would mean more if the pair of us weren’t camouflaging ourselves with colored contacts. “Partners,” I agree. “We’ll work on friends from there.”

“Perfect,” Wil purrs, his fingers warmly caress the flesh on the back of my hand. He doesn’t so much shake my hand as cradle it like a baby bird. I can feel how much he misses me, how guilty he feels, and it feeds something inside me- something that is hungry for attention and approval. I hear Stanton’s words in my head, and now I understand why he is scared of Wil. It warms my heart that Stanton is still trying to do right by me by talking to Wil. I can choose to ignore my hurt feelings and broken pride over thinking I had a fairytale future with Wil, but Stanton can’t.

“Just friends,” I reiterate, more to me than him- because if Wil pushed, I’d bend for him.

“I promise, Pixy, just friends. If you want or need more, I’ll give you whatever you want,” his voice delves deep, husky. I can feel his shame, and it hurts me. I won’t ask him even if I want or need more. It’s wrong because Wil would give it to me even if he didn’t want to, just to lessen the guilt he feels. It’s no different from the reason we are walking into this Fire Department to be instructed on how to become Heroes.

“Welcome,” the paramedic that I met the night Roman was shot announces to the crowd of more than one hundred people. He’s in his late thirties or early forties. He’s a nice looking man, calm and happy. I can tell he has a lot of patience. Maybe I’m not fit for this job- I have no patience.

“I’m instructor Rob Daley, and these fine gentlemen are Tim Gibbons and Ken McDonalds,” he gestures to a pair of opposites- Tim is ready for retirement and Ken isn’t much older than me. “Tonight is class one of our two-part CPR course. For the majority this is just a recertification, but a handful of you will be with me for the long haul. EMT training is structured on a series of courses. Some of you may come and go, and pop back up weeks from now for recertification in a specific area. So after class you may want to get to know one another better. For the few of you that will no doubt get sick of my ugly mug, after the courses are completed, you will test. If you pass, we will work on becoming paramedics and getting you jobs. This is a tough road to tow.” The instructor’s happy demeanor changes to disappointed and wary. “I have twenty-two signed up, but no more than five of you will actually succeed- don’t prove me right!”

Two hours later my brain is bleeding, but it’s soaking up the information like a sponge. I want Instructor Rob and Stanton to meet. I think they could give each other a run for their money in the lecture department. I found out that the soccer moms are actually moms and day care providers learning CPR. The uniform
ed professionals are all recertifying because you have to every two years. The twenty-two of us that signed up for EMT training are now down to eighteen- just as Instructor Rob had predicted.

Classwork, which is lecturing and reading
along in our study guides, is the first half of the class. Practical, which is where you get down to business, is the second half of the four hour class. This is why I am lying prone on the floor with three of my classmates- all men- scowling down at me in concentration. I didn’t want to play the helpless victim, but I got out voted. Wil is trying his damnedest not to laugh as I pretend to need resuscitated.

Cory:
a cute, red-headed kid from my neck of the woods- the Gates, not the ‘hood- has been a perfect gentleman. He hovered over me, never actually touching, with a severe expression of concentration on his face.

Phillip reminds me of Cortez, so na
turally I don’t like him. He’s being extra handsy while pretending to do compressions. His thumb lightly, and with faux-innocence, brushes my nipple. But before I could kick his ass, Wil is pushing a pressure point on Phil’s neck. The twenty-year-old blond falls lax and collapses to the floor. I grin up at Wil and tell him that I can’t wait for him to meet Caleb.

“We having a problem here?” Soon-to-retire-Tim asks, glaring at Wil like he’s going to be a problem. Wil never looks threatening,
so that means that Tim saw the maneuver Wil pulled.

“No, no problem at all, Tim,” Phil says, his teeth gritted.

“You sure?” Tim asks, being a hero again, checking Phillip for injuries.

“Actually, there is a problem,” Wil smoothly and calmly states. “Phillip molested Cynthia during compressions. It wasn’t an accident. Sorry if I overreacted, but I don’t take kindly to men who prey upon women.
What would he do to an unconscious patient?”

“He did,” Cory eagerly
sticks up for Wil. “I wanted to kick Phil’s ass, but Wil beat me to it. But I think she was going to really put a hurting on him.”

“Is this true?  If I were to do a background check, what would I find Mr. Conners?” Tim tightly asks
Phillip.

“Um… you should do those first,” I grumble. “Seriously.”