Deadly Chemistry (Entangled Ignite) (11 page)

Mike reached behind him and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. He had to get back on the track of Devil’s Dust, but he couldn’t do anything about it tonight. Not with a glorious, albeit sleeping woman in his arms. In the morning, he’d swallow his pride and check in with Crawford.

Lauren made a cute little snuffle and smiled in her sleep. His breath went a little shallow all of a sudden. He couldn’t get in too deep with her. He wanted to think that it was because he didn’t want to lead her on, didn’t want to break her heart, but thought that maybe the opposite was more likely to be true.

But he was here tonight. In her bed. It wasn’t like he could un-ring her doorbell. Too bad there hadn’t been any condoms…

He lay there a little while longer, feeling her warm, soft body curled up against him. After a few minutes, he kissed her on the forehead, then slipped off of the bed and picked up his boots and shirt. He had an errand to run. And it wasn’t one that could wait until morning.

Chapter Thirteen

The theme song from
The Big Bang Theory
rent Lauren’s slumber, and she jumped from sexy dreams to blind-groping for her phone, hoping to quiet it before it woke Mike.

She didn’t look at the display before she hit the answer button, so she was surprised to hear Alex say, “Hello? Lauren?”

“Um…hang on,” she whispered, then turned to see that she was alone in her bed.

Crap
. Mike was gone. He’d snuck out. She must have misunderstood him. Maybe he hadn’t really wanted to stay with her, and he was trying to be nice until he could escape. She had no idea how these things worked. With Alex, there had been so much negotiating and boundary setting before they slept together, she was amazed they’d managed to actually get tab
A
aligned with slot
B
. With Mike…tab
A
hadn’t even gotten close to slot
B
yet, and…yowza. Oh, well. It was supposed to be just a blip. Ions passing in solution. Not an exothermic reaction of nuclear proportions.

“Lauren? You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, Alex.” She touched Mike’s side of the bed. It was still warm. She shook off her disappointment and focused on the call. “What time is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s midnight. I know it’s late, but I just heard about what happened to your lab and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Lauren did a double take before she moved the phone from her ear and checked the caller ID. Yep. This person who sounded like Alex was calling from Alex’s number. The Alex she’d been involved with would never have called to check on her. He would have waited until it was convenient, and then delivered a lecture on what she could have done differently to avoid her problems. “I’m okay. A little freaked out, a lot mad, but okay.”

“Are you sure? What happened? What was taken?”

Lauren gave Alex a brief rundown of the damage. “And they took that ancient desktop computer and some notebooks.”

“So did they take any of your drug?”

“Um…” How much should she tell him? What did it matter? “They took the step two. And a bag of step one pellets.”

Alex whistled. “Uh-oh. That’s bad.”

“I don’t see how. They can’t know what to do with it. They don’t have my notes.”

“I thought you said they took your notebooks.”

“Oh. Yeah. But they didn’t get the right ones.”

“Thank God. Do you have them somewhere safe?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated, because he would probably gloat about having convinced her to do things his way. “I brought them home to transcribe onto my laptop.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m glad you took my advice.”

Of course he was. She needed to get him off of the phone before he took every detail and dissected it until she found herself defending not only her own choices, but the logic of the vandals and the parents who mistreated them into taking up a life of crime.

“You know, Alex, I’m really not up for talking about this right now. I appreciate your concern, but…”

“Of course. It’s late, and I’m sure you’ve got better things to do right now.” This was said with a tone that Lauren couldn’t quite interpret.

“Yeah,” she said, mentally searching for an excuse to get off the phone. “I’ve got to find my cat.”

They said goodbye, then she hung up. God, why did she let Alex push all the wrong buttons? Probably because when they’d been together, he’d rarely pushed any of the right ones.

Funny how she hadn’t noticed how wrong he’d been for her until she met Mike. What had it been…two days? Three? Except…was Mike better for her, or worse? Her body was definitely on the “keep him around” side, but her brain—and her knowledge of how life worked—said he was just as bad, if not worse, than Alex. Alex had tried to micromanage her life. But Mike? If she wasn’t careful, she’d be begging Mike to take
everything
she was and everything she had, even if he didn’t want it.

And he probably didn’t. He’d sneaked out of her bed in the dark of night like this had been some kind of a phantom booty call or something. She shouldn’t judge him for disappearing. It was kind of surprising that he’d hung out with her. Sitting around on the couch watching movies couldn’t be the most exciting way he’d imagined spending his Saturday night, even if he was distracted with worry over Dylan. And then she’d attacked him, and then when he didn’t have a condom, practically begged him to let her give him a hand job. How pathetic was that?

Just as well that he’d left. She was already thinking about how his boots would look propped up on her coffee table every night. How his laundry would fit so nicely in the hamper next to hers. Something achy and painful bumped around just under her breastbone.

This was better, though. No awkward morning after stuff.

Pulling on her pajama pants, she went to the door to let Kevin in. Except he wasn’t sitting on the stoop, waiting for her. She stuck her head out and called to him, shaking a box of kitty treats, but he still didn’t come. This wasn’t Kevin’s MO. The cat always came back at night. Tension flashed up her spine. Time to go look for the purr-bucket.

She shoved her feet into sneakers without socks. Grabbing the flashlight and her cell phone, she let herself out and locked the door behind her.

Walking down the driveway to the sidewalk, she noticed a dark pickup truck parked in front of her next door neighbor’s house. It kind of looked like Mike’s. Oh great. Now she was going to think every dark truck she saw was Mike. She’d probably start looking for him at the grocery store, too. She rubbed that spot on her sternum.

She vowed to herself and the stars that if she ever found herself driving past his house, she’d check herself into rehab somewhere.

A small, black Honda with shiny silver spinner rims and a broken taillight sat idling a little farther down the street. College kids lived in several houses on her street, and they had company coming and going at all times of day and night.

She strolled along, shining her flashlight at the neighbor’s bushes, calling, “Here, kitty! Come on out, Kevin!” but there was no answering “meow.”

As she came upon the little black car, she glanced through the windshield and then looked away, realizing that the couple inside was in a serious clinch. But before she reached the tail end, she pulled up short. There was something painted on the rear fender. That symbol—the same that had been spray painted on her lab wall and embossed on the medallion Mike had showed her. It was the Devil’s Ranger’s gang sign.

Oh, shit.
She involuntarily looked back at the interior of the car, and the couple inside was staring at her. The guy, whose face was already in shadow, quickly turned his head and slumped down, but the girl stared right at her.

Lauren felt like a rabbit, paralyzed with fear. Okay. She could play the concerned neighbor. Besides, she was holding the world’s heaviest flashlight. If all else failed, she could throw it at them and run. She smiled into the car. The guy seemed to be saying something to the girl, who waved him off and rolled down the window.

The young woman, pretty, with long dark hair and too much eyeliner, leaned over the center console, across the guy’s lap, and returned Lauren’s smile.

“Are we doing something wrong?” she asked.

“Um…” Lauren thought fast. “I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen a cat. My cat. It’s missing.”

The guy didn’t look up at her, which was a little creepy. But if he was her drug thief, maybe he was someone she might recognize from campus. She was relieved to see that his hands were visible, one on the girl’s shoulder, the other elbow on the door of the open window. At least he wasn’t holding a gun on her.

“Nooo…” The girl looked at her like she was crazy, and Lauren supposed she was. What was she doing?

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” The low male voice came from behind.

Lauren straightened and bumped her head on something hard. “Ow!” she said.

Turning, she saw Mike rubbing his chin, glaring at her from beneath lowered brows.

After her heart landed back in her chest, she recognized both relief and annoyance—extreme annoyance—at Mike. “What the hell? What’s up with you sneaking up on me?”

He didn’t answer, instead moved past her to approach the car, which revved and squealed away from the curb.

And as much as the scientist in her recognized the fact that it was probably a
good
thing the car with a gang symbol had left her neighborhood, the other part of her was simply pissed that Mike had chased off what could have been a lead to her getting back her drug.

…

As soon as Mike knew Lauren was safe, his protective instincts were channeled directly into anger. Apparently, that’s where her fear went, too, because suddenly, she was right up in his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “Those were
suspects
! I’ll never find them again!”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he barked. He knew he was being a dick, but damn! What was she doing out here talking to someone in a Ranger’s car? “You look like you’re making a drug deal out here in the middle of the night!”

“What? Are you accusing me of”—she waved her hands around—“being a…a…bad guy? In my
jammies
?”

He almost laughed then, but he was still too pissed off. “No. I’m just saying that car—that was a Devil’s Ranger tag on the bumper. What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Looking for my stupid cat!” She crossed her arms, tucking that ridiculous flashlight against her body.

Oh
. When he’d come around the corner and seen her leaning into the car—for just an instant—he’d thought he was about to interrupt a drug deal. That was just how he was conditioned. When he saw someone on a dark street, leaning to talk to someone in a car, in his experience, that meant there was some sort of an illegal transaction about to take place.

But then he nearly panicked when he realized that it was
his
woman who was standing on the street in silver Converse low tops and pink pajama pants covered with singing frogs, holding a flashlight. Drug dealers might wear their pajamas and stupid shoes outside at night, but they didn’t carry flashlights.

Wait…
His
woman? When had he started thinking that way?

“No, I don’t think that you’re a bad guy,” he finally said.

“No? Are you sure? Maybe I trashed my own lab. Maybe I stole my own drug and then set it up so it would be impossible for me to make more any time soon. Maybe I let a former cop into my house so that I could, what, pretend to be honest? Or distract you with sexual favors so my other posse peeps could do nefarious posse things?”

“You’re not a bad guy.” He was definitely trying not to laugh now, because he wasn’t sure if she was still mad.

She narrowed her eyes, making an exaggerated scowl. “How can you be so sure?”

“You’re carrying a flashlight. Bad guys don’t carry flashlights unless they’re dragging a body through the woods to a shallow grave.”

“How do you know? Is it in the bad guy handbook?” Lauren crossed her arms and pinched her mouth before apparently giving up and letting a smile work its way across her face.

He stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, just looking at her, before he remembered what had started their micro-tiff. “So what did they say to you? Who was in the car?”

“A pretty girl and her boyfriend. We didn’t get to the Facebook friend stage before you showed up and scared them off.”

“I wonder what they were doing out here.”

“Making out.”

Which reminded him of what he and Lauren had been doing less than an hour ago.

She looked at the bag he carried. “What’s that? Where did you go?”

“Uh…” He shoved the bag behind his back. “I just went for a walk.”

“Did you go meet
your
drug dealer?” She was smiling.

Something loosened in Mike’s chest. He hadn’t realized it had gotten tight. “No…”

“What is it?” She tried to reach around him to grab the bag, but he was taller than her, so he held it above his head. “Come on, show me.” She had to lean against him on her tiptoes to try to get it, but she still couldn’t reach.

He liked the way that felt. “Um, I don’t want you to think I’m making assumptions.” He lowered his arm and handed her the bag.

She opened it and looked inside, then handed it back to him. Turning to walk away, she shot back over her shoulder. “Interesting. I’m going back home to bed. Alone. But you hang on to that. You might need it sometime.”

Mike stood on the sidewalk and watched until she unlocked the door. She went inside, turned off the porch light, and latched the door.

He unlocked his truck and tossed the bag containing a box of condoms on the seat beside him. Sure, they hadn’t put them to use, but as he started the truck to head home, he realized he was oddly feeling happier than he had in a long time.

…

Lauren locked the front door and turned off the porch light before peering out of the window. Mike had been smiling as he got in his truck. He’d sat for a minute staring at her house, then shook his head and drove off.

She sighed, doing a little happy dance on her way down the hall. He hadn’t bailed out on her, after all. No, the man had gone off and bought condoms. What did it say that she found a guy making a midnight trip to the condom store the most romantic thing she’d experienced in…ever?

She took off her shoes, put the flashlight and her phone on the nightstand, and crawled between the sheets. She grabbed the pillow that Mike had used for such a short time. It smelled like him. If she was a total dork, she’d put it in a plastic bag to preserve that smell, only getting it out when she needed a fix.

She knew someone who studied volatile aromatics. She could get her to put the pillowcase through her magic sensor machine and break it down to its elemental ingredients and recreate it. She’d probably have to find a way to biopsy Mike to get some sweat gland cells to clone…

Okay, maybe she was drifting into science fiction with that fantasy, but it kept her smiling while she hugged the pillow to her chest and curled up around it.