Rock Chick Renegade
Page 10
This didn’t work.
“Get off me!” I yelled.
“We’re gonna talk,” Crowe replied.
“No… we… are… not. Off!” I was using my Law-at-the-Shelter-telling-off-the-kids voice.
This had no effect on Crowe.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” I warned, mostly for show.
The shit-eating grin spread to an amused smile and that pissed me off.
“Like to see you try,” he said it like he would, indeed, like to see me try.
It was a challenge and, because I was all kinds of fool, I took him up on it.
Heavy and Frank had shown me a number of moves and they’d made me practice them until my body ached. Unfortunately, these moves were mostly done standing up but I used them all the same.
We wrestled and I realized Crowe knew all my moves, knew also how to deflect them and he had far more moves in his arsenal, not to mention he was a hell of a lot stronger than me.
Nevertheless, I pushed him off, got my opening and surged to my feet on the bed in order to run. This was not smart considering the platform where my bed sat had a five foot ceiling.
I slammed the top of my head against it and then went down, hard, on my knees. I saw stars and my right palm went to my head, my left palm came out to steady my body and landed on Crowe’s chest. I settled my ass on my calves.
“Jesus, Law, you okay?” Crowe asked, coming up from his back, taking my hand with him.
I blinked to take the stars away. This didn’t work so I blinked again.
“Jules?” Crowe called, using my real name for the first time. One of his hands went to my hip, the other one was sliding up the arm that was lifted toward my head.
With effort, I focused on him. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
I was sitting back on my calves, my hand still on his chest. He was sitting up, torso twisted to me, hands on me. His face had softened to concern, a look that did something to my heart rate.
I took him in.
He was wearing his clothes from last night, without the jacket, a black henley now untucked and jeans. His feet were bare.
For some reason, I stared at his feet.
Most feet weren’t very attractive but his were somehow sexy. How he could have sexy feet, I did not know, but I figured if anyone would have sexy feet, the unfair laws of the universe that made everything about Vance Crowe sexy, would also give him sexy feet.
This reminded me I was pissed off.
I made a move, hopeful that I’d take him off guard but, alas, I didn’t.
His hand moved from my hip, his arm swept under my legs pulling them out from under me and I landed, head on the pillows again.
He got on top and we struggled. I looked for a chance to knee him in the ‘nads but he got up, sat astride me, making my legs useless even though I kicked out to dislodge him. He caught my wrists and held them down at the sides of my head and loomed over me. I pushed my wrists against his hands and bucked my hips. He didn’t move.
“Get off!” I shouted.
“No. You lose, now you talk,” he said.
“Get… off,” I demanded.
“What were you doin’ last night?” he asked, ignoring my demand.
I stared at him, stopped struggling and kept silent.
“Who was that kid?” he went on.
I kept my mouth shut.
“Is he from King’s?” Crowe continued.
I felt my heart begin to race but I kept my face blank or at least I hoped I did.
“He one of your street kids?” Crowe kept at it and I kept silent.
“This have to do with Park?” he carried on and, I couldn’t help it, my body stilled at his use of Park’s name and my head turned slightly to the side in an attempt to hide my reaction.
How he knew about Park, King’s and my “street kids” I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. But he told me.
“You’re on record as finding Park’s body. You made a statement to the police, told them you were workin’ with him at King’s. Park had a juvie file a mile long, last few years of his life, your name is in it,” he paused, “Jules, your name is in it a lot.”
I looked back at him and frowned but kept silent.
He changed tactics. “Tell me about Cordova.”
I clenched my teeth and just stared at him. When I didn’t speak, he stared back at me.
Then he did the change. I saw it, felt it and was captivated by it.
I watched, enthralled, as his head came toward mine. My racing heart skipped into overdrive and I felt a belly flutter so strong it had to be off the charts.
When his face was an inch from mine, he said, his deep voice silky, “See I’m gonna have to make you talk.”
“No,” I finally spoke but it was too late.
His mouth came down on mine and the belly flutter broke the Richter scale.
You should know about something I hadn’t yet shared.
See, I was not exactly experienced in the boy department. I’d had a few dates here and there, some kissing, some groping but other than that, nothing.
Yes, I was a twenty-six year old virgin.
Many women would be embarrassed by this. Not me. I had no interest in sex, relationships, romance and I had no time for it. I was out to save the world, or at least save a few kids. And anyway, people in my life had sad and awful ways of dying on me, Park being the latest. I had to guard my heart and I did, like a vicious, trained Rottweiler.
My body tensed and I tried hard not to react but the kiss was nice. I liked his hands on me, even if they were holding me down, and I liked his heat.
Then his tongue touched my lips and I felt a strong, pleasant tingle strike me between my legs. I opened my mouth to say something, get him off me but his tongue slid inside. He slanted his head and the kiss got serious.
I was not experienced but I could tell he was good at it, mainly because I melted, my lips fitted themselves to his and I kissed him back.
His mouth disengaged from mine but he kept kissing me, lightly, softly, then he said against my mouth, “I wanna know about Cordova.”
I shook my head, not only in a “no” to his request but also to clear it and he kissed me again. The between-the-legs-tingle strengthened and emanated out through my body and my mind muddled again, focused only on what his mouth was doing to me. My wrists pressed against his, not to get away but so I could touch him.
I wanted to touch him, needed it.
His grip tightened, likely thinking I was trying to struggle even though I was kissing him back.
His mouth came away just a fraction and he spoke against my lips again. “Who taught you to shoot?”
“Get off me!” I yelled.
“We’re gonna talk,” Crowe replied.
“No… we… are… not. Off!” I was using my Law-at-the-Shelter-telling-off-the-kids voice.
This had no effect on Crowe.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” I warned, mostly for show.
The shit-eating grin spread to an amused smile and that pissed me off.
“Like to see you try,” he said it like he would, indeed, like to see me try.
It was a challenge and, because I was all kinds of fool, I took him up on it.
Heavy and Frank had shown me a number of moves and they’d made me practice them until my body ached. Unfortunately, these moves were mostly done standing up but I used them all the same.
We wrestled and I realized Crowe knew all my moves, knew also how to deflect them and he had far more moves in his arsenal, not to mention he was a hell of a lot stronger than me.
Nevertheless, I pushed him off, got my opening and surged to my feet on the bed in order to run. This was not smart considering the platform where my bed sat had a five foot ceiling.
I slammed the top of my head against it and then went down, hard, on my knees. I saw stars and my right palm went to my head, my left palm came out to steady my body and landed on Crowe’s chest. I settled my ass on my calves.
“Jesus, Law, you okay?” Crowe asked, coming up from his back, taking my hand with him.
I blinked to take the stars away. This didn’t work so I blinked again.
“Jules?” Crowe called, using my real name for the first time. One of his hands went to my hip, the other one was sliding up the arm that was lifted toward my head.
With effort, I focused on him. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
I was sitting back on my calves, my hand still on his chest. He was sitting up, torso twisted to me, hands on me. His face had softened to concern, a look that did something to my heart rate.
I took him in.
He was wearing his clothes from last night, without the jacket, a black henley now untucked and jeans. His feet were bare.
For some reason, I stared at his feet.
Most feet weren’t very attractive but his were somehow sexy. How he could have sexy feet, I did not know, but I figured if anyone would have sexy feet, the unfair laws of the universe that made everything about Vance Crowe sexy, would also give him sexy feet.
This reminded me I was pissed off.
I made a move, hopeful that I’d take him off guard but, alas, I didn’t.
His hand moved from my hip, his arm swept under my legs pulling them out from under me and I landed, head on the pillows again.
He got on top and we struggled. I looked for a chance to knee him in the ‘nads but he got up, sat astride me, making my legs useless even though I kicked out to dislodge him. He caught my wrists and held them down at the sides of my head and loomed over me. I pushed my wrists against his hands and bucked my hips. He didn’t move.
“Get off!” I shouted.
“No. You lose, now you talk,” he said.
“Get… off,” I demanded.
“What were you doin’ last night?” he asked, ignoring my demand.
I stared at him, stopped struggling and kept silent.
“Who was that kid?” he went on.
I kept my mouth shut.
“Is he from King’s?” Crowe continued.
I felt my heart begin to race but I kept my face blank or at least I hoped I did.
“He one of your street kids?” Crowe kept at it and I kept silent.
“This have to do with Park?” he carried on and, I couldn’t help it, my body stilled at his use of Park’s name and my head turned slightly to the side in an attempt to hide my reaction.
How he knew about Park, King’s and my “street kids” I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. But he told me.
“You’re on record as finding Park’s body. You made a statement to the police, told them you were workin’ with him at King’s. Park had a juvie file a mile long, last few years of his life, your name is in it,” he paused, “Jules, your name is in it a lot.”
I looked back at him and frowned but kept silent.
He changed tactics. “Tell me about Cordova.”
I clenched my teeth and just stared at him. When I didn’t speak, he stared back at me.
Then he did the change. I saw it, felt it and was captivated by it.
I watched, enthralled, as his head came toward mine. My racing heart skipped into overdrive and I felt a belly flutter so strong it had to be off the charts.
When his face was an inch from mine, he said, his deep voice silky, “See I’m gonna have to make you talk.”
“No,” I finally spoke but it was too late.
His mouth came down on mine and the belly flutter broke the Richter scale.
You should know about something I hadn’t yet shared.
See, I was not exactly experienced in the boy department. I’d had a few dates here and there, some kissing, some groping but other than that, nothing.
Yes, I was a twenty-six year old virgin.
Many women would be embarrassed by this. Not me. I had no interest in sex, relationships, romance and I had no time for it. I was out to save the world, or at least save a few kids. And anyway, people in my life had sad and awful ways of dying on me, Park being the latest. I had to guard my heart and I did, like a vicious, trained Rottweiler.
My body tensed and I tried hard not to react but the kiss was nice. I liked his hands on me, even if they were holding me down, and I liked his heat.
Then his tongue touched my lips and I felt a strong, pleasant tingle strike me between my legs. I opened my mouth to say something, get him off me but his tongue slid inside. He slanted his head and the kiss got serious.
I was not experienced but I could tell he was good at it, mainly because I melted, my lips fitted themselves to his and I kissed him back.
His mouth disengaged from mine but he kept kissing me, lightly, softly, then he said against my mouth, “I wanna know about Cordova.”
I shook my head, not only in a “no” to his request but also to clear it and he kissed me again. The between-the-legs-tingle strengthened and emanated out through my body and my mind muddled again, focused only on what his mouth was doing to me. My wrists pressed against his, not to get away but so I could touch him.
I wanted to touch him, needed it.
His grip tightened, likely thinking I was trying to struggle even though I was kissing him back.
His mouth came away just a fraction and he spoke against my lips again. “Who taught you to shoot?”
