Home > Sidetracked (Mindf*ck #2)(5)

Sidetracked (Mindf*ck #2)(5)
Author: S.T. Abby

“Do what I just did. Okay?” he asks, squeezing a hair tighter.

I feign imitation, acting as though I’m struggling to mirror his earlier movements, when I hear the door shut and something drop.

“What the fucking hell?” Logan’s voice has me grinning, but when I try to move, Duke holds me steady, gripping tighter to my neck.

“She needs to be prepared,” Duke says, tightening even more.

When breathing actually becomes difficult, my mind shuts down the little fuse that holds back my reflexes, and my hand shoots up between the stupid gap he’s left between our bodies.

A pained yelp leaves him as the heel of my palm connects with the soft tissue of his throat, and he falls backwards, choking on air as my senses slam back into me.

Ah, shit.

Logan smirks then recovers, banishing the reaction as Duke heaves for air. I don’t think I hit him hard enough to collapse his windpipe.

I hope.

“Sorry,” I say with forced contrition. “I panicked.”

Duke coughs and then a loud sound of an inhale resonates in my ears as he slowly stands. Thank goodness he’s breathing.

He rubs his throat, his cheeks flaming with a blushing hue.

“Good instincts,” he says, swallowing hard. “Just do that if he comes at you.”

Plemmons won’t leave that large space between our bodies. He’s an experienced choke-artist. Detective Duke is not. If you’re going to choke someone face to face, you give them zero room between your bodies.

But I obviously don’t point that out. A good, sane, non-stabby girl wouldn’t know that.

I move to Logan, wondering if he suspects anything, but he looks like he’s more amused than anything as he tugs me to his body, wrapping an arm possessively around my middle.

“You must be SSA Bennett,” I hear Duke say from close behind me, but I don’t turn around as Logan keeps me pressed to him.

With one arm still around my waist, Logan reaches over with his free hand, and I look over my shoulder as Duke shakes it.

Logan’s hand that’s on me slides down to my spandex-clad ass, and he rests it there, as though he’s proving a point. He’s cute when he’s jealous.

“I wasn’t aware homicide could spare someone to help watch after my girl,” Logan says, though I hear the edge he tries to hide.

A slow, calculated grin curves over Duke’s mouth.

“We’re taking the possible threat very seriously, SSA Bennett.”

“I’m sure it’d be a dream come true to get an arrest this high profile, especially in a field that is always overshadowed by the FBI, since we’re just down the road and all.”

Logan is taunting. Duke is arrogant. And I’m worried there’s about to be a sword fight in my living room. And not with actual swords.

“You mean arresting a man you brought to DC? A man who is killing high class residents because the FBI slipped up and let him get away, even after figuring out his name?”

Logan’s jaw tics, and I internally curse Detective Dipshit.

“Logan, I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’d rather not waste what little time I have with you so you can throw down the gauntlet in a pissing match.”

Duke snorts, and I turn and glare at him. “You shut up.”

He grins and walks down the hall, heading to his guestroom.

“Remove him from my house, and that will solve the problem,” I tell Logan, but he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair.

“I have Donny running a thorough check on him, but if he’s as clean and decorated as his file suggests, then he’s the best option for keeping you safe.”

I’m the best option for keeping me safe. I think it’s adorable that he believes Duke to be more capable than me though.

I start tugging at his arm, pulling him toward my bedroom. “You look exhausted. Stop worrying about me and get some sleep.”

His eyes are heavy, and I can tell he’s tired. The sun set a few hours ago, but it’s likely he hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.

He follows me without argument, and I can tell he’s already close to being asleep when he drops to the bed, fully clothed. Grinning, I start undoing his tie, and he smirks as I do.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I say, pulling away the black fabric and tossing it to the ground. “Sleep first. More later.”

“Only if you sleep with me.”

I help him shed his jacket, shoes, shirt, socks, and pants, getting him down to just his boxers. It’s very tempting to run my mouth over all the lines of lean muscle, but I refrain. The exhaustion shining from his eyes curbs all of my other urges.

In my tank and tiny shorts, I snuggle in next to him, and his arms come around me, holding me close. “Wear pants around that guy. No more of this,” he murmurs against my forehead, squeezing my ass through the little spandex shorts.

Grinning like an idiot, I roll my eyes. “You’re a total caveman.”

“Not normally,” he says around a yawn.

He doesn’t even know how saying things like that does weird things to my soul, adding back the lost pieces I thought were forever gone. I feel more human with each passing day. Less like a soulless monster with a thirst for blood.

Not that I want to stop killing; I just want to feel more like the carefree, happy girl I was before they stole it all. Before they ruined me.

“You should stay in a hotel with more security than this,” he says, half asleep already as his body slowly relaxes.

“I’m fine here. You need to stop worrying about me.”

I run my fingers through his hair, and he groans as he leans into the touch, getting even more comfortable as he fights sleep.

“Hadley said you’re loaded. You can afford something with higher security than any law enforcement can offer. I just want you safe, Lana. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

My entire body goes rigid.

“Hadley? What else did she tell you?”

“Mm?” His eyes are closed, and I hate prying right now. “She said you were loaded, and I told her to stop prying.”

Obviously she didn’t stop prying.

“Were…um…you two also involved?”

He release a lazy rumble of laughter as his arms tighten around me. He keeps his eyes closed as he answers.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” he asks in a soft, sleepy tone. “How long before we trust each other?”


Yeah, that’s a whole other issue for another day.

I’m not talking about trust. I’m talking about a crazy girl who showed up with more information than she should have pieced together. I should have anticipated him asking me those questions, but I thought all was clear after the first few weeks.

I never saw her coming.

I hate surprises.

“Well?” I prompt.

He grins, still keeping his eyes shut.

“She’s like a kid sister. I took her under my wing when she first started in our department. Hadley doesn’t date, and when she does date, she doesn’t date men.”

She’s into women? Women only?

A sense of calm washes over me. He’s making me ridiculous. I have a kill list a mile long that could put me on death row—since some of the states still have death row. I’m playing a constant game of life and death.

He snuggles in closer, content to just hold me. Instinctively, I continue running my fingers through his hair, and he moans as he slowly drifts off. When he starts breathing evenly, I know he’s down for the count.

I don’t stop running my fingers through his hair. Something inside of me seems to fuse together, and my heart beats to a steadier rhythm than it has in years.

His arms stay around me, and for once in ten years, I feel safe. I feel treasured.

I feel something other than empty.

I don’t even realize how much time has passed until his phone is going off with an alarm. My eyes dart over to the dresser to see it’s close to midnight.

He groans as his arms leave me, and a chill settles onto every spot his touch has abandoned. He cuts off the alarm, and he rolls back over, wrapping me into his arms again, and kisses the side of my neck.

“I bet you didn’t have this in mind when you signed on to date me,” he says in his sexy, sleep-gruff voice.

“You warned me your schedule was crazy. I don’t mind.”

“I meant all the extra craziness,” he says, running his lips up higher, nipping my ear enough to elicit a small shudder from me.

His hand starts working down my shorts, and I lift my hips, eager to give him access.

Then that damn phone rings.

He curses.

I mutter a few words.

“Everything okay in there?” Duke asks from outside my bedroom door, reminding me he’s in my house.

A serial killer sharing a house with a homicide detective and a FBI agent.

Life doesn’t get more complicated than this.

I just hope it takes Logan forever to find Tyler and Lawrence, that way I have him to myself a little more. He works too much, and I can tell he’s exhausted.

It’s sad that I want to hide my bodies now so that my boyfriend gets a break and can spend more time with me.

How twisted can one person possibly get?

“It’s fine,” Logan calls out, glaring at the door.

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