12
Seated on her bed, dressed in a pair of black boy-short panties and a white tee−sans bra−Mac was smokin' with a capital H-O-fucking T. Derk caught himself staring at her a couple of times. Like a fucking ninth grade kid about to spew in his own jeans. It had been two days since she’d taken a header off that damn bar, and she still wasn’t back to normal. He’d often catch her eyes bouncing rapidly, and when she stood to go to the bathroom, he would throw a hand out to make certain she didn’t tumble from an onset of dizziness. Yep, he’d had a couple of concussions in his past and they were not a joy.
A piece of him that he didn’t quite comprehend wanted to take a torch to that dive of a bar since it was the cause of her pain. But the rational part of his brain, the one that rarely appeared, said that’d be overkill.
A pizza box sat opened on the bed with two remaining pieces. A bottle of beer settled between his thighs while he lounged against the headboard. Mac flicked through the television channels to find something decent to watch for the evening. Two hours ago, he’d finished tailing a job for Mr. Murphy, parted ways with Smith, and dropped by to check on Mac. Her blonde roommate…Kim? Karen? Whatever. She’d been on her way out the door when he made his way up the apartment steps. Now, he found himself too relaxed, about to doze in a woman’s bed. Unheard of.
“What do you do for a living?” Mackenzie surprised him with her soft, hesitant tone.
“Huh?” he asked, lifting his head.
“For a living? You seem to have flexible hours. What do you do?”
Well, now, wasn’t this a pickle? Never, had he’d gotten close enough to a woman for her delve into his life. This was new, uncharted, unwelcome territory.
He shrugged. "I freelance."
Her mouth gaped open. "You're a writer?"
Spitting out the swig of beer he just took, he laughed. "Ugh, no. I do odd jobs but enough to keep me busy."
"Like what?"
Naturally she wouldn't let that answer go.
"Research." True. "Debt consultations." A stretch of the term. "Investment advice." Strongly advise to pay up. "Finalize contracts." Wet work.
"Oh," she said, sounding doubtful, but she didn't probe further.
Interesting, he mused. She only questioned to a point. For a woman, that was unusual. Normally when he didn’t answer their inquiries, women would nag the hell out of him. That always sent him packing. Don’t give him the third degree, you get to see him again. It was as simple as that.
Setting his beer on the nightstand, he leaned his head back against the board and closed his eyes. Exhausted didn't begin to describe how his body felt. Smith and he had been chasing their target's reported sightings around for nearly two weeks, hours upon hours crammed into a car, only to come up empty. Who knew where the Western territory leader had taken off with the missing money, guns, and dope? It was a dangerous game the man played, but then again C.D. Maler wasn’t exactly playing with a full deck. The man was certifiably crazy. And apparently had a death wish by stealing from Mr. Murphy. Until the missing man, products and cash were recovered, Derk and Smith remained in the game.
"Do you like it?" she asked, interrupting his silent thoughts.
"Yep."
"That's good."
Opening one eye, he slid her a side glance. "Do you like your job?"
She shrugged but wouldn't make eye contact. "Right now, no. But I do make great money, and when I'm not falling off the bar, it keeps me busy and keeps my mind from my depressing thoughts."
Part of him wanted to quiz her about the numbskull she'd married, but that would be digging too deep into something he didn't give a shit about. Anyway, he knew just about everything there was to know about that marriage. Well, except for the intimate details to answer the question why.
He knew she'd been dropped off at a church at the age of four when her mother no longer wanted the responsibility. No relatives offered to take her in, so to the foster system she went. She was bounced from home to home, but no one took an interest in adopting her. Again, there was no record as to why. She'd been a B student, participated in school activities that didn't require finances, and tried to hold part time jobs when she reached the legal age. She'd been accepted to college but never attended. Derk guessed that was due to lack of money. Instead, she worked relentlessly since the day she graduated high school. He didn't find anything about boyfriends until she reached the age of twenty-nine, when she married after six months of dating. There was no record of a pregnancy. If he was a psychologist, and clearly he wasn’t, he would guess it was a daddy and mommy issue. Which should have him running for the door. But no. Instead, he figured he must have some masochism in him somewhere because he found himself drawn to her. In fact, the last couple of days had been comfortably and disturbingly…domestic. A shudder ran through his body.