Head Above Water (Nightshade MC Book 4) (11 page)

“It's comfortable, and I think it's sort of cute,” Drea said defensively. “I need to get my phone and set my alarm.”

“I'll be your alarm,” Monroe promised. “And when you go back to work, I'll go and take a look at the warehouse.”

“Thank you,” she said, her expression suddenly serious.

“You're welcome. We're wasting resting time.” Monroe watched her step away from him. Her hands went to her belt. “Whatcha doing, hon?”

“Do you know how wrinkled this dress will get if I try to sleep in it?” She smirked as she removed the belt and placed it on her desk. The last thing in the world on Monroe's mind was rest when she slipped out of the dress. Underneath she wore a black set with lace edges that perfectly showcased the curves of her body. “You still only thinking about resting?”

“No, but it's all that we've got time for unless you can carve out a couple more hours.” Monroe toed off his boots. “So, I'll just have to show you my appreciation for those panties later.”

“We could...”

“Nope. Not happening.” Monroe moved over to the couch. She settled down next to him with a sigh. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Surprise me,” she replied as she snuggled herself against his side. “Maybe shutting my eyes for a little while isn't the worst idea ever.”

“Good to know,” Monroe answered. He stroked his hand over her arm. Silence fell, and he was almost sure that she was asleep when she stirred.

“Monroe?”

“Yeah, hon?”

“I'm starting to feel like this is something, something real. And that scares the shit out of me a little.”

“Me too,” he said softly. She didn't respond, just nuzzled closer to him, so he wasn't even sure that she'd heard him.

<#<#<#<#

Monroe walked the length of the warehouse twice. It looked like the other construction company had only torn out some walls. The damage from the fire was more extensive than he'd imagined it would be, or maybe squatters had come in and done some of it.

“Better off burning this place to the ground,” Train grumbled as he joined him. “And what the fuck was Drea thinking, telling Meg about all this shit?”

“We were talking, Meg overheard us. It wasn't intentional.”

“Intentional or not, if Meg goes all dark side over this, my foot is going up Drea's ass. I don't care if you're fucking her. She had no right to get Meg upset, not when she claims to be her friend.” Train was pissed. Of course, he was pissed. Train loved Meg and their boys fiercely. Monroe knew the levels that he would go to in order to make sure that they were safe and happy.

“She is her friend,” Monroe replied. “And if it makes you feel any better, she feels like shit that she hurt Meg.”

“Yeah, well that's not much. And I was serious about the whole better off burning this place down thing,” he said dryly.

“Maybe you should have thrown a couple of more grenades and brought the whole place down. I'm thinking that we might actually have to go with a demo and full rebuild.” Monroe thought it would be the least expensive option for Drea. It would still be expensive, though; there was no way around that. With what she was expected to pay to clear the debt, he wasn't sure that she could actually pay them for the work.

“You look at the upper floors yet?”

“No, just down here.”

“I'll go check. You can see what's in the basement, that should be fun.” Train headed towards the upstairs without a glance back over his shoulder. “Watch out for rats.”

The basement was flooded on one end, there was a clogged drain. Aside from that, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but he still felt like a demo was going to be the best bet. Monroe didn't see any rats, but there were bugs and a dead lump of something underneath the stairs. Monroe headed back to the main floor. “Train?” He called up the stairs. “You good?”

“This place is fucked. You've got to see the way something fell through the ceiling, something heavy, all the way from the third floor down. You remember seeing something really heavy and solid?” Train poked his head over the railing. “Get your ass up here and take a look.”

Monroe looked. The hole did suggest that something had gone straight down when the explosion rocked the third floor office. “I remember that there were a lot of filing cabinets, they could have been heavy. Does it really matter?”

“Guess not, it's just odd. How many files could one man have? Anyway, from what I can tell, this is actually all pretty solid. You're wrong about the demo. This can be salvaged.” Train took a notebook out of his pocket, began to scribble away. “Here.” He ripped off the page and handed it over. “Take this for when you do the estimate. This can be your client. After all, you talked her into using us.”

“Except that I didn't, it was her idea. She asked before I could even bring it up,” Monroe admitted. He glanced down at the paper. “I can't read a word of this. Can't you just email it to me?”

“Yeah, I'll get right on that.” Train snatched the paper back from him. “Oh, and it'd be nice if you showed up for dinner tonight and surprised Meg. The boys keep talking about you, too. Been a while since you've been around.”

“What time is dinner?”

“Six. You know Joshua likes to eat at six.” Train shot him a look.

Monroe felt stupid, and guilty, for asking because he did know that Joshua liked to eat at six. The boy thrived on routine; it kept him settled and even. No matter how much progress he made, the need for routine was constant. “I'll be there.”

He stayed behind to take a few pictures after Train left. He locked the building up tight when he was done, for all the good that it would do, and pocketed the key. As he walked over to his bike, he saw clouds that indicated approaching rain. Monroe headed home instead of the clubhouse because it was closer, and he could write his estimate in peace and quiet. There'd be no pass-around, most likely Claire, hovering over his shoulder to make sure that he needed anything. If he was lucky, he could get the estimate done before he headed over to have dinner with the Grimes family.

<#<#<#<#

The meal was delicious, but Meg iced Monroe out for the duration of the meal, to the point where conversation became strained between everyone. It was a relief when they were done. Meg rose immediately, stiff as a board, and began to clear the table. Monroe rose to help her, and everyone else took the opportunity to get out of Dodge.

“I can handle the dishes. You should go and spend time with the boys. Leo has a new game that I'm sure he wants you to play with him.” Meg didn't even bother to look over her shoulder at him.

“I'll play with Leo after I help you with the dishes.” Monroe set a stack of plates next to the sink. “I'll wash and you can dry.”

“I'll wash,” she corrected. “Let me guess, you want to plead Drea's case. Don't bother. I don't like people who say one thing and then do another. I don't trust them. End of story.”

“Things aren't always black and white. Drea had her reasons, Meg. Maybe you should let her explain it to you.

“I'm not interested in anything that she has to say. You shouldn't be either.”

“A few hours ago, you were almost doing the Snoopy dance because she kissed me and now you're telling me to back off? Come on, Meg. She's the same person she was yesterday.” Monroe wasn't sure that he'd be able to make her see that, but he sorely wanted to. He cared about Meg, and about Drea; to see them both so upset didn't sit right with him.

“When she talked to me about the videos Carlos made, she told me that they disgusted her and she'd destroyed them. Then she told me that GP was never going to see the light of day again, that it was dead. And now it's not, now it's alive. How do I know she got rid of everything with me?”

“She said she did, Meg. She wouldn't lie about that. Like I said, she had her reasons for opening GP again.”

“How do you know what she could or would lie about, Monroe? You hardly know her.”

“I know her enough,” he answered.

“Are you sure about that?” Meg stopped washing dishes, turned to face him. “The two of you looked pretty comfortable with one another earlier. How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long,” Monroe replied.

“Just because you're fucking her, doesn't mean that you know her, Monroe. And no offense, but your judgment when it comes to women hasn't been so good as of late. “I know what you wanted with Maggie. I know that you want to have someone, to be settled down. The way that you are with the boys shows me how great of a father you'd make and that you wanted that with Maggie and her boys.”

“Maggie has nothing to do with this,” he answered through clenched teeth.

“That's bullshit,” she shot back. “You're looking for someone, Monroe. And that makes me scared you're setting yourself up to get hurt again with Drea. Do you really think that she wants what you want? She's going to be running a porn empire! Does that sound like a woman who wants the whole white picket fence life? I don't think so.”

“I don't know what she wants, Meg. We haven't had the white picket fence conversation yet.” Monroe kept the annoyance out of his voice with effort. “What we have is new. I can't tell you much more than that. You know, I tried to warn you off of Train. I didn't think that he could be who you needed, but I was wrong about that. Isn't it possible that you're wrong with the way you're thinking about Drea?”

“It's possible but I doubt it,” she replied. “You know where all the dishes go, don't you? Can you handle finishing up yourself?”

“I can,” Monroe confirmed. He didn't try to stop her when she walked out of the kitchen; they'd said enough for the night.

Meg had hit the nail right on the head when it came to what he wanted with Maggie. Some of it was from things they'd talked about; she had a good listening ear. She knew him well enough to connect the dots, and she had a point that he really didn't know Drea yet, regardless of what he felt for her. Was he only setting himself up for another fall, or was it real?

“You're still doing the dishes!” Leo exclaimed as he came into the kitchen. “I thought that we were going to play.”

“You want me done faster? Get over here and help,” Monroe suggested. “Otherwise, shut it up.”

“You're just procrastinating because you know that I'm going to kick your ass,” Leo said smugly.

“Keep dreaming,” Monroe advised him with a laugh. “Don't you remember what happened the last time?”

“That was a fluke. You're toast, old man. You just don't realize it yet.” Leo said with confidence only a twelve-year-old boy was capable of. “I'll be waiting upstairs.” He left the room at a run, which seemed to be his only speed these days.

“I'll be right up,”

Monroe spent the next hour barely beating Leo at the game until Meg knocked on the door and said that it was time for Leo to get to bed. On a normal night, Monroe would have joined her and Train downstairs for a drink, maybe played cards or something. Tonight, he knew that he wasn't welcome.

The rain from earlier was gone, replaced with a humid heat that made him feel sweaty before he'd even gotten on his bike. Tonight was the sort of night when it would still feel sticky even with the air conditioner on. It made him restless; he didn't want to sit at home, so he just rode. Even with the heat, there was something about being on the road that calmed something in him. It was the motion, the feeling of the bike beneath him and the blur the other lights became that let him for once clear his mind.

Monroe wasn't sure how far he'd gone when he turned back around, but by the time that he was nearly home, the restless feeling had started to creep back in. It took him not to his own place but to Drea's. Even as he walked up to her door, he wondered if he should have called, but before he got to the porch, the front door opened.

“I heard you pull up, it's pretty quiet here at night.” She stepped out onto the porch and ran her hands through her hair. “It's disgusting out here. I already feel like I need a shower. Come on and get inside.”

Monroe closed the distance between them, pulled her close. “I remember this nightgown from the shop.” It was a silky material, dark green, that fell nearly to her knees and was held up by impossibly thin straps. She'd left her hair down and it was all over the place. “Were you sleeping?”

“Not yet, maybe I was dozing off a little.”

“You want me to go?”

“No,” she answered. “I want you to come inside. Do you want something to drink? A shower, maybe?”

“You joining me in that shower?”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink as they stepped inside.

Monroe watched as she shut and locked the door. He caught sight of a gun on the table near the door. “Were you expecting trouble from someone?”

“Frankie,” she answered. “I still haven't told him that he's cut out of everything. When I do, he's going to be a problem. I'm not really worried, I can handle Frankie.”

“You don't have to handle him on your own,” Monroe offered. “He gets out of hand, you call me.” His eyes narrowed when she laughed. “What's so funny about that?”

“Not you, you're being sweet, but the day that I can't handle Frankie and Matt on my own is the day I let them put me out of my misery,” she explained. “I can handle Frankie. He's not the bad ass he likes to make himself out to be.”