In the Shadows (The Club, #10) (7 page)

“You
are
a kinky sex master,” she said.

He chuckled at that and she tried not to whimper in frustration as he withdrew. The emptiness felt wrong. She could hear him move down the hall toward the bathroom. As the water turned on in the sink, she stood on wobbly legs. It was a surprise when she sensed his return, mere moments before he turned her and pushed the scarf up. She blinked and squinted at the unexpected light.

His rough hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “My God,” he whispered, “you are too damn beautiful.”

His mouth crushed against hers with such force that she would have been pushed back a step onto the couch again if his arm didn’t wrap around her waist. He took what he wanted, the long, slow plunges of his tongue making her think of its use somewhere else. Her knees quaked and he made a low growl of approval when she put a hand on his chest, curling her fingers against his shirt.

She didn’t know how long she could last if he didn’t let her come up for air. Then his hand curled around the back of her neck and his thumb glided over that sensitive spot at her hairline and it didn’t matter.

He could do whatever he wanted, as long as his skin didn’t leave hers.

“How long have we got until dinner?” she asked, wondering if she’d ever find a way to get air to return to her lungs while his lips worked their way down her cheek, brushing the corner of her mouth.

He pulled away for a moment to glance down at his watch. “A few hours. Enough time for me to get those alarms up.”

She bit down her smile and slid her hand underneath the hem of his shirt. He sucked in a breath as her fingers slid lower and lower, resting just inside the band of his jeans, curving along the muscle of his hip. “I should probably help you with them,” she whispered.

It was difficult to decide what she liked more: the way his eyes darkened in lust, or the slow, sexy smile he gave her. “Probably,” he agreed, grip tightening minutely.

“I mean, who knows how long it will take?”

He nodded, trying to look serious. The curve of his lips ruined the impression. “It could take hours.”

She dipped her fingers down and caressed the silken crown of his penis. He was already hardening. “Better get started then.”

T
hey weren’t too late to dinner. Granted, Zeke wouldn't have minded if they'd ended up not going at all. But after round three, Vivian had laughed at him and told him she needed to get ready. He should have gone home, but instead he hung out at her apartment, lying in her bed and watching her zip around the room trying to put herself to rights. Only when he had to did he return to his car and bring in his bag, throwing on his work uniform. After all, it was impossible to go wrong with an all-black suit. Vivian had stopped her own preparations long enough to do up his tie.

He hadn't expected to enjoy that small intimacy so much. He hadn't expected to feel so protective as he installed the security measures while he waited for her to finish doing her hair. For the first time since his return home from Syria, emotions were beginning to slip out of that carefully locked box. He hoped John wouldn't notice. He wasn't ready to have that conversation with his buddy yet. Hell, he wasn’t ready to have that conversation with himself.

John rose from the table as they approached, chuckling and wrapping Zeke in a bear hug. "Good to see you, you bastard," he said.

Zeke slapped his back in return. "You look good."

He didn't have to lie this time. When he'd finally left the base hospital, John was still there. They'd met up about six months after John's release. His buddy looked like shit, a shell of the man Zeke had known before their capture. It had taken a long time before John looked normal. Longer before he looked healthy. Tonight, he even looked happy.

Vivian waited quietly at his side. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "Viv, this is John Walsh. We served together in Syria. John, this is Vivian."

Seeing Vivian shake hands with John without reacting to his missing fingers and fingertips eased something in his gut. But there was no time to wonder how she'd react when she finally saw his injuries because John was helping a lovely woman from a chair.

She looked high-class, body toned from what were probably obsessive workouts. Her nails were manicured, her outfit carefully chosen to show off her assets in the best way possible. Make-up impeccable, but hair unnaturally dark for her skin. Her eyes unnerved him. Too focused, too possessive, too entitled. He'd seen women like her before at The Club and he hoped for his friend's sake that his first impressions of her were wrong.

"This is Delilah," John said, kissing her temple. His hand skimmed up and down her arm and Zeke could see that John had it bad. Knowing how important this dinner was to John, he put on his best smile and put out a hand.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "Zeke."

Vivian smiled from his side. "Vivian."

The woman gave a cool smile to Vivian and returned her focus to Zeke. Her hand was delicate, trembling a little when she shook with him. "I've heard so much about you," she said. Her voice was breathy and her eyes flashed with some emotion akin to greed. His dislike rose another notch. "You're the war hero."

He stiffened, casting a frustrated glance at John. His friend shifted awkwardly. "She was curious how I got out," he said by way of explanation. "I told her a bit."

"I can't believe you survived all of that," Delilah continued. "Especially dealing with everything at home. John's been so worried about you. I told him we should have put out a missing person's ad for you." Her laughter was meant to be thrilling, but only grated his already raw nerves. "At least he heard from you before we had to resort to that."

Shit, she wasn't joking, was she? He'd moved to Karim so the freaking press would stop hounding him for interviews. His life had already been a media circus once. Offers from book publishers. Film companies. Military recruiters looking to capitalize on his story. To them, he was just a commodity. But it was his fucking life and he could never escape it. At least, he hadn't been able to escape it until he ran into Mr. Mak. Now that he had his privacy, he wasn't about to lose it, even for the sake of impressing his friend's girl.

“Did you ever get the letter I sent you?” she asked. “I was hoping to meet you and finally learn about this man John always mentioned.” She must have seen something on his face because she quickly added, “I doubt it would have stood out. I’m sure you get letters like that all the time.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t know. I never read any of them.” He didn’t bother to tell her all his actual mail was sent to a P.O. box under a different name to avoid the crazies.

Her smile was brittle. “I see.”

John tried to smooth things over. “I knew if I needed to get a hold of you, I could always call. Del likes taking matters into her own hands sometimes.”

Damn, he hated pretending to play nice. But if it helped John...He turned his body toward Delilah, although he avoided eye contact. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment. I just don’t consider myself a hero and try to avoid all the publicity. I want a normal life.”

“I hear you,” John said.

“Well, is there a better way of contacting you than through John?” Delilah asked. “If we need to send you any letters sometime soon?”

He understood the implication, but didn’t rise to the bait. “Line’s always open for John’s call. That’s enough.”

Delilah pouted at that. Before she could say anything else, John took her elbow and drew her to the side, his voice a low murmur. Zeke glanced around the restaurant, noticing several of the other diners looking his way after Delilah's less-than-subtle comment. A few people were even whispering to each other, probably trying to figure out why he looked familiar.
Oh, God, he needed to get out of here. Screw making John happy, he couldn't handle this...

Vivian's hand slipped into his. She squeezed gently and he took a breath, focusing on her warmth, her skin's smoothness. She didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions—though God only knew she had a million—instead, she gave him her silent support.

It helped.

They stood together until John turned back and pulled out Delilah's chair, getting her to sit down before coming around the table to Zeke. "I'm sorry," his friend whispered. "I swear, sometimes it's like she doesn't even listen to me when I tell her the subject's off limits."

Zeke squeezed Vivian's hand. "It's okay. Look, can we just have a nice, quiet dinner and catch up?"

John nodded. Zeke helped Vivian into her chair and sat beside her, ignoring Delilah while he tried to pull himself together. He was torn between forging ahead and fleeing. He wanted to see John, to catch up with one of the people who could understand what he'd been through, but he dreaded having to explain himself to Viv. She'd said she felt safe with him, that she thought of him as her friend. Once she heard about his past, there was no way she'd ever feel that way about him again. And unfortunately, that discussion was probably going to occur sooner than he'd expected.

*          *          *

D
inner was a disaster, rapidly devolving into a cluster. Vivian could see it in the set of Zeke's shoulders, his clenched jaw. His obvious dislike of Delilah was understandable; she'd run into similar women before and knew their games. She loved a lot about her town, but the women vying for the titles of Real Housewives of Karim had always rubbed her wrong. No boundaries, no ability to read people. Too narcissistic to notice when they'd offended someone.

Even now, after finishing off the appetizers, the woman was still prying for information about Zeke's time in Syria. Granted, Vivian hadn't talked to him about it, but he'd made it clear he would only discuss the subject on his own terms. Delilah couldn't take the hint. Vivian wondered if somehow she was fishing for more information about John, details that she was too chicken to ask for herself. There wasn’t any other explanation for her curiosity. Meanwhile, poor John tried to play mediator between his friend and his lover and looked more and more miserable by the second.

With Zeke giving Delilah the silent treatment, Vivian decided to try to put John at ease. "So John, what do you do now?"

"I'm finishing up my degree," he said. "One benefit of serving, I guess."

"That's great. What have you been studying?"

He relaxed a little bit, eyes still darting back and forth between Zeke and Delilah, but less often than before. "Massage therapy. It's a little harder because of my injuries, but I'm interested in working with active soldiers and teaching them how to use the techniques when they're in the field."

She didn't have to fake a smile when she heard that. "I think that's an incredible idea. I'm sure you'll become a role model for other men who are struggling to find out how to adapt to civilian life."

John grinned back at her and dug into his pasta. The warm weight of Zeke's hand giving her knee a quick squeeze underneath the table meant that he too had noticed John's reaction. She glanced over at him and caught the warmth in his eyes. For the first time during the dinner, a hint of a smile played over his lips.

They finished the main course in a more comfortable silence. When the dessert menu was brought, Zeke waved it away and asked for the check instead. John didn't protest, clearly aware that prolonging the awkward encounter would be worse than arguing for them to stay for a final course. He and Zeke briefly argued over who would cover the bill, which left Vivian and Delilah sitting across from one another in silence.

Delilah broke it first. "I love your hair."

"Thank you." Damn, she was rusty at playing these games. "Yours is beautiful. I love the cut and the color."

She didn't really. It was almost the same shade as hers, which was far too dark for Delilah's skin, especially with all her make-up, although the cut was enviably chic. Still, she wouldn't have to play nice for much longer before they could leave and she could finally talk to Zeke.

"You own that bakery downtown, don't you?" Delilah asked.

At least this was a subject she was comfortable about. "Yes, Divine Twins is mine."

"I love that place," John said, easing back into the conversation after he'd given Zeke some cash to add to the check holder. "Is that how you two met?"

Zeke added some more cash to the holder and set it aside. "No. I work near there and we pass each other in the mornings. Took her forever to ask me out," he added with a sly grin at her.

"So...you two are together?" Delilah asked. John watched Zeke, an amused expression on his face.

"Well..." Vivian said at the same moment Zeke said firmly, "Yes."

Suddenly it didn't matter that they were sitting in a busy restaurant after the dinner from hell. Vivian's heart tripped a little when she turned to face him and saw the look on his face. "Oh?"

He didn't say anything, just lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Yep.” He glanced back at his friend. “And I’m about to go enjoy that fact. Talk to you later, brother.”

“Course,” John said, rising to give Zeke one final hug.

Vivian accepted a hug from John as well and managed to murmur a quick goodbye to Delilah before Zeke pulled her with him toward the exit. She kept up with him through the door and onto the sidewalk, but when he kept his frenetic pace, she dug in her high heels. At her resistance, he glanced back, confused.

“What?”

She gestured at her feet with her free hand. “Heels. And I didn’t expect to go for a late night jog after dinner.”

He frowned. “Damn. Sorry, Viv.”

He looked so unhappy that she stepped closer and brushed a hand along his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“John’s important to me. It’s the only reason I agreed to meet tonight. But that woman...” She felt more than saw his shudder. It was quick, brutal, and she wondered what brought on the severity of the reaction.

“She was a little heavy handed, sure,” Vivian agreed. “But why are we running away from her?”

“I’m not running away. I just don’t want to run into her when she and John leave. Besides, there are some other things I'd like to try that we didn't get to this afternoon.”