Slick as Ides (36 page)

My hands caress her and as my heart rate slows, so do my words.

“Dena . . . I love you . . . Was I too rough?” God, my heart stops and most likely won’t start up again until she tells me it was fine—that she’s okay.

She chuckles and places her hand over her heart, then exhales with a dopey grin on her face. “When do you ever ask me that?”

“I always ask that at some point. It might be an hour later, but I don’t really wanna hurt you.” I kiss the corner of her mouth.

She still wears a lazy smile.

“It was perfect. You were talking
waaaay
too much, you lippy bastard, but it was fine.” She pants and tries to catch her breath.

I check her body over to make sure, even if she says it was all right. “Sometimes I wonder why you put up with my caveman shit.”

She blinks and cups my jaw, dragging me back up her body. “Because I love your caveman shit. No one goes primal like you do. It makes me feel safe, because then I know you love me and only me, and you’ll do anything to keep me happy.”

I smile and kiss her, because, yes, I do have that shit down.

“Okay, so change of subject,” she says, her eyelashes fluttering for a second and her expression goes blank. “I want to talk to you about something else . . .”

“Oh God, no. That prick blabbed again, didn’t he? Uuuungh!” I run my left hand through my hair. Really need to get this shit cut—it’s too long.

“He did.” She walks her hands up my chest. “What’re you thinking? We’ve only been back together for a month.”

“Five weeks and two days. And before that we talked online for a month, and before that, I obsessed over you for years in high school. This isn’t a brand new relationship. Only the fucking’s new.” I stare at her and convey with my eyes she better not start acting like we’re strangers again. I hate it when she does that shit.

“Does it matter? You know what I mean. We have to keep running and moving around until we figure out what to do about our dads and any other enemies they have that might be pursuing us.” She exhales and her chest rounds, making her breasts look extra perky. “Hillcourt’s been after me for years. I’m sure they haven’t given up.”

I play with one of her nipples and refuse to look at her.

“Jesus—are you pouting?” She runs her finger across my bottom lip.

“Maybe a little.” My heart clenches and throbs. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, if you can’t even discuss this with me like an adult, then there’s your answer.” Her fingers drift through my chest hairs.

I play with her other nipple now and fixate on it. “He shouldn’t have told you that shit.”

“Westin can’t keep anything to himself—you know that. So, if you’re going to tell him something as private as that, then you should expect it’ll get back to me.” She blows across my chest hairs, making them prickle and tingle.

I move up to kneeling over her and still keep my eyes on her tits, since she’s probably frowning or glaring at me. “Please? I really want this—be a good little woman and give it to me.”

“No, Nick—
Jesus
.” Her hands smack on my abs. “You know this would amp up my neuroses and anxiety level so bad, I’d probably stop functioning.”

“I’d help with everything the—”

“I don’t care if you hire nannies and wet-nurses. Do you know how much babies vomit and poop and pee? It’s a germ-fest disaster of epic proportions. I can’t have children. I’d scrub them with iodine solution until there was nothing left of them but bones, and I’d probably bleach those, too.” She smacks her palms once more on my heated skin. “And will you please look me in the eye?”

My bottom lip juts out even further and here it comes.

“Oh fuck . . .” she whispers.

“Yes . . . That’s what we do—a
lot
—and we should make a kid.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “I love you—and this is what people do when they’re crazy in love—they make new people out of that love because their heart’s too big to contain in one body.”

Her eyes soften. “I can’t . . .”

“Or won’t?”

“Won’t. Even if I could get over all my issues, which I probably can’t, our life isn’t conducive to having a family. We’re on the run. We’re not stable, and we . . .” She bucks her hips up into my ass. “I don’t want to be stuck with kids right now. I love that you can throw me down at a moment’s notice and fuck my brains out. It’s shit like that—makes me feel alive and gets me out of my fucked up head. I’m not ready to give that up.”

“Pregnancy is nine months,” I remind her.

She rolls her eyes. “No.”

“Please? God, think about it at least. Just don’t say no.” I settle my body back down over hers and kiss her lips softly. “You’d be an amazing mom, and I’d be a kick-ass dad. We should be a family.”

She stares at me with a far off look and says, “We have time. We can revisit this later when people aren’t after us, trying to steal our ideas and kill us. We’re still looking into Rich Hillcourt. We need to keep an eye on him.”

No one’s succeeded at any of those things yet.

“Paranoid,” I whisper, and she smacks my chest. I laugh for a second, and it feels better, but I’m still breaking inside over the idea she doesn’t want to make babies with me. I love kids.

“Think of the dirty diapers and the smell . . .”

“Think of the amazing sex we’ll keep having and how it’ll result in something beautiful and perfect like you.” I roll her on top of me. She shakes her head and smirks at me like she thinks I’m adorable. “Well, at least ride me to make me feel better, woman. It’s the least you can do.”

“The least I can do is get up and go sanitize. I already feel dirty with all this baby-diaper talk.”

I reach up and fondle her tits.

Nice view, mama. I want them leaking with tittie juice . . .

I lick my lips and let her get me hard again, take me inside, then let me come once more. Need to get her off those damned pills.

* * *

“Hey, babe, I’m heading over to Vaporides,” I say, out of breath. Fuck, I love that name. Can’t get enough of saying it.

“Stop name dropping.” Dena looks up at me from scrubbing the kitchen sink. “I’ll come, too. I’ve got some stuff to take care of there.”

“Westin’s waiting. I’ll just meet you there,” I say, anxious to go.

“Just wait. Give me a minute.” She huffs through her nostrils as she scrubs that fucker like it’s coated with the black plague.

“Okay, fine, but I’m warning you now, I’m about to head in there and show them who’s boss.” I smirk.

“Would I expect anything else from you? And besides”—she blows some loose hair out of her eyes—“you
are
the boss. They already know that, and our employees will treat you with respect.”

“They’ve never actually met me though. They’ve only spoken to me on the phone and through emails.” I tap my toe.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she says through her teeth, then she finally puts down the goddamn scrub brush, puts her cleaning supplies away and washes her arms like she’s going to perform open heart surgery next.

“Woman, you’re clean. Let’s go.” I point at the door.

Westin comes barging in. “Come on—women are circling your Veyron like vultures. They see me inside, and they need dick. I’m not about to give in to them.” He chuckles. “My new girlfriend, blondie, won’t let me do her if I give in like that.”

I chuckle. “At least she’s sticking around in your igloo with you. What temperature do you keep it at night? Forty-five? If you want her to roam around naked, you can’t go below seventy-eight—trust me. Dena won’t—ow!” Something is chucked at my head.

When it bounces off the floor, I look down and find one of my shoes I’d failed to put away.

I turn to her. “We’re not having this discussion with Mr. Blabber mouth here. He’ll post it on the web.” She pretends to glare while she’s giving me a close-lipped smile.

She puts her shoes on, brushes her teeth, because she always does that before she goes anywhere, and Westin follows us out.

When we step inside the company door fifteen minutes later, my chip activates inside me. I get into any door I choose without having to wear a badge and swipe it through the security scanners like the rest of our grunt employees.

And everywhere I turn, someone’s smiling, greeting me as “Hi, Mr. Vapor.”

I eye my woman. “Mr. Vapor? Who told them to call me that?”

She giggles, covering her mouth as she does, then she tosses her arms around me and kisses me with a freedom I’ve never seen from her in public before. “I did. I thought you’d like it—being the big man and all. They’re showing respect—see? I do listen.”

“Shit, woman, I’ll fuck you right now and show them exactly who has the biggest balls here—so stop tempting me with your smart-ass mouth and hot body.” I kiss her, and hold her tight. “This place is like you—it turns me on.”

She whispers in my ear, “I thought you’d like it. This place always reminded me of that guy Vapor I talked to online. He was edgy, smart, fearless. It inspired me to give my creative engineers more freedoms.”

I kiss her with a hungry growl, grab her hand and we prowl around. Well,
I’m
prowling—
she’s
giving me the grand tour, and when I’m not staring at her ass, then I’m generally impressed with the place and the people she’s hired.

When we get to the final destination, I about lose it. I can barely breathe. “This is what I almost prevented you from doing by allowing my asshole dad to not pay you properly for the pet chipping device?”

I stare at the guns on the table, all of them unloaded of course, and all being tested for DNA sequencing.

She picks up a GLOCK at the end of the table. “Yeah—this is my biggest dream of all—to end domestic violence in some way or another. If my dad’s gun had been typed with his DNA, he wouldn’t have even been able to dislodge a bullet in my direction.” She smiles and her throat bobs as she swallows down all the thick emotions.

“Why the fuck don’t we try this on us? With your own personal gun you carry around in your backpack? Let’s do it now. Let me rig it up for you, and we’ll test it out.”

“I am not going to aim and shoot at you,” she squawks as she sets the gun down.

“Yes, you are. We’ll do something simple, like, shit, I don’t know, I’ll take off my shirt, we’ll hang it up like those practice papers you shoot with, and we’ll see if the gun will allow you to do it or not.”

She nods a tiny bit, but it’s enough that I launch myself at her, and kiss her so hard and so fiercely, that she melts right into me, and kisses me back with equal enthusiasm.

“You think this will work?” she asks when I finally stop shoving my tongue down her throat.

“I know it will.”

“Hey, you guys are so unprofessional,” Westin says, approaching us, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, it’s you.” I roll my eyes back, grinning all the while. “I thought you’d left already.”

“Nah, I wanted see what kind of shit you two have going on here. I’m sure it’s bad-ass.” Westin looks at the guns and damn near salivates “No way. This is you, Ides?”

He drags his fingers over the gun she was just handling moments ago. “Yeah,” she replies.

“I heard about your dad going psycho—was this the gun? It is, isn’t it?” He stares at it, unblinking with his mouth popped open.

“It’s my job to prevent something like this from happening to others if I can.” She steps closer to him. “And this gun, I was hoping would be the first one to fix it—so while it’s not a fancy firearm, and it’s old, it means something to me, because you’re right—it was the gun my dad fired at me. And it’s what made me realize sometimes money means more to people than blood relations, or even love.”

“I’m working on this now. I’ll get it working,” I say, picking it up.

I study the piece. It’s in good shape. Not that I’m an expert, but I’ve been around Dad’s weapons, and he made sure I knew how to handle one and could shoot well, since he had aspirations to be some kind of mafia king.

She smiles at me, hugs me once more, and then dismisses herself to see to some other company matters.

I’m left with Westin, and after tinkering for hours, only stopping to get something to eat, we’ve brainstormed and found an easier way to get this thing to do what she wanted. We’ve also changed some things a little. Not only will the gun fail to shoot at someone with the same DNA, but the owner can also put in the DNA of anyone they choose, so the gun will be blocked from harming that individual. We’ve given it a broader range.

Hopefully she won’t be pissed I’ve made these modifications, along with the way it’s thwarted.

She wanted to use the laser in the weapon to disrupt the weapon’s mechanics. We found something simpler.

Westin helps me configure it so my DNA enters the gun from a saliva sample, being touched to the chip at the base of the handle.

When I aim at my shoe I’ve taken off, and pull the trigger, the safety locking pin drops into place and jams up the gun completely, so they can’t even keep hitting the trigger. I like this idea better, so if the gun decides it doesn’t recognize the DNA of the other person, and loses its intuitive programming, they can’t get around it and shoot the damned thing.