Authors: Wendi Zwaduk
Tags: #Thriller/Men in Uniform/Crime/Action & Adventure
Over My Head (10 page)
“You shot my goddamned hand! Bastard.” With his left hand, he patted his chest. “Ross, Corey, where the fuck are you?” His voice broke and rose two octaves. “I’m bleeding you assholes!”
Astra bolted from the room in a blur of blonde hair. Her footsteps thumped on the carpet. Randy crossed the space to Tiny’s crumpled form.
“I figured a big ass like you would drop because of a little bullet.” Randy kicked the gun from Tiny’s reach. “Don’t bother to call them. You gave Corey the night off and Ross can’t touch me.”
“You’re a dead man.”
“I doubt it.” Gun in hand, Randy crouched beside Tiny. He pressed the barrel of the gun against Tiny’s temple. “The cops know and they are going to shut your drug op down. Mark my words.”
“Where are you assholes? I’m shot,” Tiny growled.
“Leave her the hell alone. You hear me?” Randy nudged Tiny with the barrel of the gun. “Astra and I ran off to Vegas and you’re happy for us.”
“Fuck you,” Tiny spat. He reached for the gun once more. “Asshole.”
“Have it your way.” Randy aimed at Tiny’s other hand and fired, leaving an explosion of blood and tissue on the carpet. “It’s a shitty carpet.”
Randy stepped over Tiny’s bleeding body and made his way from the dressing room. He flipped his phone open and pressed the buttons to make the call. “Done and ready for you to go in.”
Before the person on the other end could speak, he snapped the phone shut. Time to get the fuck away from the Silver Steel.
Randy caught up with Astra midway across the lot and grabbed her hand. No time to fuck around, he yanked her to the car.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The whole thing had been too damn close to disaster for his taste. Forgetting all manners, he gave her a shove into the passenger seat and slammed the door. The faster they got out of there, the better.
“Don’t have to be an asshole.” Astra smoothed her hair from her eyes and huffed a sigh of relief. “Are we really out of there?”
Randy slammed the car into gear. Rocks spewed out from under the spinning tyres. Within minutes, they’d reached the outskirts of town. His heart rate wouldn’t slow until he got to the state line, but he cherished his minor victory.
“Yeah, we are so out of there, but damn. I’m glad Malsam’s on our side. That was too fucking close.” He owed his fellow officer big time once the damn bust went down. “You’re safe, the baby’s safe. We’re good.”
“I may lose my lunch before we get to Cleveland, but yeah, I’m okay and the baby’s safe.” She sat quiet for a pregnant moment, staring out the window. When she finally spoke, her voice was so low he had a hard time hearing her.
“Did you mean what you said?” Astra rubbed the bare ring finger on her left hand. “I need to know.”
“Does it mean I love you? Yes.” Randy wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the steering wheel and placed his right hand on her thigh. “I love you more than I thought possible…and yes, the ring was coming, just not so fast, but hey—live like we’re dying, right?”
“You’re scary logical sometimes.”
“Do you really want to marry me?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and pulled the ring box from his coat. “I mean, I did just about get us killed and I’ve got a track record of things not going according to plan. But you’ll never find another man who will love and cherish you like me. I’ll take care of you and love the baby. I’m over my head in love with you.” He flicked open the jewellery box lid and tugged the ring free. “Marry me, little girl.”
“I don’t know.”
Randy slid the ring down her finger and kissed the stone. “Diamonds look good on you…and I think the baby wants us together.”
She snorted. “Maybe things are going to plan—just not your plan.” She took his hand in hers and ran her tongue over his knuckles. “Who else would put a stripper and a cop together and have the love affair actually last? Someone somewhere wants this to happen, you know?” She placed her other hand on her belly. “The baby’s too small to kick, but I’m pretty sure you’re right. He or she’s good with this.”
Randy grinned and threw his arm around her shoulders, drawing her tight against his side. “What’s that song…hey baby, let’s go to Vegas?”
“Kiss this life adios? You bet.” Astra squeezed his thigh and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m yours forever if you’ll have me.”
“Forever’s as far as I’ll go.”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Someone Like You
Wendi Zwaduk
Excerpt
Chapter One
“The wet look. Ancient Greek sculpture features drapery and clothing that appears so body-hugging, scholars label it the wet look.” Professor Reinhold tapped his fingers on the podium top. “I hope you’re taking notes.”
Mindy Dawson rolled her eyes and continued writing in her notebook. ‘Wet look’ her behind.
The professor likes saying wet in front of two hundred horny college students is more like it,
she wrote in the margin of her notes. She glanced to her right. Speaking of horny and college students…
He was there. Golden brown hair, cropped tight to his head. A ring glittered from the upper swell of his ear. He looked down at his notebook, no doubt scrawling every last word Professor Reinhold spouted. She licked her dry lips and shifted. Her mystery man always sat five rows up from the lecturer, at least fifteen seats from her position. Had he ever noticed her?
She should be jotting notes for the upcoming test as well, not drinking in every detail of Mystery Man’s profile. His lips parted and her breath hitched. The guy had kissable lips. At least from the side they looked kissable.
“He’s probably out of my league,” she muttered and forced her attention to her notebook. “With a girlfriend and a happy little life.”
A statue of some headless Greek graced the screen above the chalkboard. Muscled and half-naked. What
did
her mystery man look like under his clothes? What was his name? Being in a lecture hall with a hundred other students didn’t exactly lend itself to learning everyone’s names.
“Our next exam is Friday on chapters sixteen through twenty-four. Remember your blue books.” Professor Reinhold clicked the lights on, temporarily blinding Mindy.
She groaned. Another test.
Not that an exam really bothered her. She loved the challenge of getting the answers right and scoring her best. Besides, it wasn’t like she—Miss Bookworm Extraordinaire—had a thriving social life. Paying the bills to get through college was hard enough work without trying to worry about a man and a love life. And Darrin had helped ruin her in the love department.
Too bad the books weren’t as exciting and warm as a virile college guy with brains and good looks.
She sneaked a peek at Mystery Man. Instead of seeing the side of his head and the breadth of his shoulders, all she found was an empty seat.
Damn.
Mindy snorted. Typical. Pining for a man she didn’t know in a class where she didn’t stand out. At least she had every Monday, Wednesday and Friday with him until June.
* * * *
“She stared at you again.”
Arran groaned. Trust his friend, Sav, to worry about the girl from Art History. “She’s a sweet girl. So what if she wants to look?”
Savion Welles raised one brow. “She’s not your type.” He elbowed Arran and directed him into the school’s sub shop. “She’s a girl.”
“Here we go again.” Arran dropped his backpack onto the nearest table. “What’s wrong with girls?”
“You don’t date girls,” Sav snapped.
Correct. Arran Mayes didn’t date girls. He dated guys. Big deal. He rummaged through the pack for his wallet. “There’s no law saying girls can’t look in my direction, stare or drool. I’m rather likeable by those who know me.”
“I’m your best friend other than Nathan. I know you.”
“So lay off.” Arran stuffed the five-dollar bill into his pocket. “I’m getting a pastrami on rye. Want anything?”
Sav flicked his hand.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Arran rolled his eyes again and strode through the gaggle of tables towards the sub shop counter. As he crossed the room, he saw her. The girl. She sat religiously through each boring art lecture, taking notes and hazarding glances in his general area. Warmth flooded his cheeks. Few women actually looked his way. Most dismissed him long before they got to know him.
According to their banter, Arran had a great style and a nice voice, but their conversations
always
worked around to whether Nate—his best friend—was seeing anyone. Some would be put off with the constant barrage of questions concerning Nate. As long as it wasn’t men asking, Arran didn’t care. He happily directed the girls into Nate’s view and sat back to watch the fireworks.
But with this girl…he wanted to watch what could happen and not with Nate. Arran Mayes wanted the action, excitement…he wanted a girl. At least to get to know her name and find out what the fuss over women was about. Maybe get her phone number. See what made her smile…
Whoa.
He needed a good fuck, that’s what the attraction was. A bodily response to someone good-looking. He shoved the burgeoning desire aside in his mind.
Focus on lunch.
He took his place at the back of the line. What if the attraction wasn’t a lack of sex? He appraised her from afar. Nice hips. Enough to grasp during a roll in the sheets.
Holy fuck
. Where’d those thoughts come from? Blood flowed to his cock and he shifted his weight to relieve the pressure. Shock…yes, she had to be a shock to his system. A glitch.
Thick blonde hair fell to the middle of her back and the fleeting scent of vanilla wafted to him. His mouth watered. Was she into hair pulling?
He shook his head. God, biology was a bitch. Here he was thinking about sex, what to do to make her scream during sex, or whether to just walk away from her altogether. Somewhere between Art History and lunch, something had come unglued. She liked sub sandwiches and that little nugget of info stoked his interest.
He shook his head again. Enough fantasising about things he didn’t want.
A guy behind her struck up a conversation. “What’cha having today, Min?”
Min.
Arran tipped his head. Nice name. He strained to hear her answer.
Please let her be one of those girls who ate, not picked at food.
“Pastrami. Same old, same old.”
Arran chuckled. Simple. He liked simple and wonderful…men. He forked his fingers into his hair. The feelings weren’t dissipating. Damn it. He liked guys, so why her and why now? He tore his attention from Min and glanced in Sav’s direction. He lusted after men—dark men, brooding men. Guys like Nate and Sav. Not women. He loved the feel of a man’s pecs and pebbled nipples crushed against his chest, not the pillow of women’s breasts. Fuck, he’d never even dated a girl.
The scent of vanilla swirled around him. Arran turned as Min strolled past, sandwich in hand. His mouth watered. For the pastrami or her? His brain whirled with confusion and glee. He had to talk to her and get to know the vixen of Art History. As strange as it felt to be intrigued by her, it also seemed…oddly okay. He forfeited his place in line and followed her to her table.
“Hello. Min, is it? I’m Arran. I wondered if I might sit with you?”
Her eyes widened as she stared at him. Her lips parted and crimson infused her cheeks. She waved her hand at the empty seat.
Arran sank down beside her. Instead of the apprehension he always felt when dealing with women—especially attractive women—a calm settled around him. Strange.
“What can I do for you?” She offered her hand. “My name’s Mindy, by the way. Phillip thinks I like being called Min. He’s…Phillip.”
Mindy. The name suited her. “Mindy. We’re in the same Art History lecture class, aren’t we?”
“I’m the one who bores holes into the side of your head. Sorry. I shouldn’t stare.”
She grinned and his heart leapt. What would it taste like to nibble on her bottom lip?
Arran matched her smile. “I don’t mind. And since we’re sharing pleasantries, I’m Arran. Arran Mayes.”
Crap. What was he supposed to do now? Just sitting next to her wasn’t going to be enough. Hell, if he dawdled around too long, she’d tell him to get lost.
“Do you have the notes from last Friday’s lecture on the Lascaux cave art? I missed some of what Reinhold said.” There. That was a good save. Sounded intelligent and made him look like he cared about the class. He did, but sharing that info wasn’t happening right away.
Mindy rummaged through her shoulder bag and produced a notebook. “Want to photocopy them or just fill in your blanks?”
“I’ll copy by hand, if you don’t mind. I’ll get my bag and my lunch and join you. Okay?” He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans legs as he waited for her answer. “I’m having a great time talking to you.”
“Sure.”
“Be right back.” Arran sprang from his seat and practically skipped across the room. She wanted to spend time with him. Granted, it could be her simply being nice to him, but he didn’t care.
Sav glared as Arran gathered his things. “Not your type.”
“I’m getting Art History notes.” Arran slung his backpack on his shoulder and headed back towards her table. “This could be the start of something really great.”