DARYL
Nothing prepared me for the sight of her in the flesh. She took my breath away from the moment I walked into the diner a month ago. Her natural beauty instantly drew my gaze and her warmth pulled me to her like a magnet.
She’d seemed nervous that first morning and had spilled coffee all over the table while she was refilling my cup, apologising profusely as she tried to mop it up. Her flush of embarrassment and the tremor of her hands had only increased the instant attraction I felt for her.
On impulse, I’d reached across and placed my hand over hers, stilling her frantic movements. I can still feel the electricity that crackled between us as her green eyes lifted to mine, a mixture of surprise and uncertain desire in them at the physical contact. We’d stayed like that, our gazes locked, until another customer asking for a refill had interrupted the moment, causing Trish to tear her eyes away from mine.
I’d asked her to join me for coffee during her break that first morning. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to set the ball in motion to obtain the information I need. Every morning since, she’s joined me during her break and every day my feelings for her have grown.
I keep telling myself that my interest in her is purely professional but the truth is I like being near her. I never imagined how much I would look forward to our time together. I wanted to learn more about her, about the real woman behind the dry facts contained in her file.
The thick folder tells me everything I need to know about her on a professional level but it doesn't reveal the real essence of the woman, what makes her tick. The flat and grainy photographs it contains don’t do justice to the way her face becomes animated when she's excited or the infectious laughter that accompanies her million-watt smile and lights up the room around her.
The file tells me that her name is Patricia Daniels, but not that everyone calls her Trish.
It tells me she’s about to turn forty years old, but not that her smooth, blemish free skin means she could pass for a woman much younger.
I know she has a daughter, Prudence, but the file doesn’t reveal the depth of the love she has for her only child.
It reveals that she helped put two men behind bars, one of which is her now ex-husband but says nothing of the horror she must have felt coming home to find Diego Martinez trying to rape her teenage daughter while her husband cowered in a corner, high on heroin.
No, these are all things I've learned while we've talked and laughed over coffee, and with each day that passes I’m becoming more and more lost in her.
My gaze is drawn to her again as I watch her serve a couple at another booth. I notice how strands of her vibrant red hair have escaped from the loose bun she wears it in and how the curls frame her lovely face. I’m fascinated by the way her eyes crinkle and the little dimples that appear in her cheeks when she smiles or laughs. I want to lick those dimples and claim her lips with mine, open her mouth to my tongue so I can taste her sweetness.
I know she’s been single since her divorce and on first learning this I was surprised to find myself relieved. The thought of another man in her life triggers an unwarranted jealousy. It’s hard to believe a woman like her would still be single, that some man hasn’t snapped her up and made her his in the years since her divorce.
Not that it matters because she’s off limits. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m in no position to make a move on her, that I’m here to do a job, nothing more, nothing less. The problem is, my mission has shifted from business to personal, a dangerous change of priorities in my line of work. I can’t tell her that she’s part of the reason I'm here. Hopefully I won’t have to if today goes as planned.
I've tried to ignore the physical pull I feel toward her but every day the tension between us seems to ratchet up another notch to the point where all I want now is to bend her back over the table, spread her legs and ease the ache she’s ignited in my body between her soft thighs.
I sense her approaching my table now, so attuned am I to her presence. I look up and those vivid green eyes of hers steal my breath. I know I could lose myself in them if I look too long but I can’t tear my eyes away. I notice the increased rise and fall of her breasts, her flushed cheeks, and can’t help the silent satisfaction I feel at knowing she’s as attracted to me as I am to her.
“More coffee, Daryl?”
The sound of my name on her lips is like an aphrodisiac and I wonder what it would be like to hear her scream it as I make her orgasm. The mental image instantly makes me hard and I'm grateful for the table which covers the blatant evidence of my arousal.
I nod in answer to her question and notice again the slight tremble of her hand as she refills my cup, telling me that she’s as affected by our proximity as I am.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Now there's a question and a half. I can think of a whole multitude of things I’d like her to get me right now that aren’t on the menu.
“No thanks, Trish.” I hold her eyes with a smile. I’m not known for my outgoing personality but with her my smile seems to come easily.
“How’s the book going?” Trish indicates the notebook on the table in front of me, referring to my cover story that I’m an author taking time out to write my latest novel.
“Well, as you can see, the words aren’t exactly flowing today,” I grimace, turning the notebook so she can see the blank screen.
“Hmmm. I think we need to get some inspiration for you from somewhere. It’s a thriller, right?” Trish asks.
“Yeah, but nothing particularly thrilling is happening right now, apart from talking to you, of course.” I grin, watching the flush that settles over her cheeks. My eyes drop to her mouth as her lips part and her tongue darts out to moisten them. Holy fuck, that’s hot!
“Oh, I think you definitely need something more thrilling than that for your book,” Trish jokes. “Maybe, I'm really a spy, undercover on a secret operation!” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
My laughter sounds forced as her innocent words hit too close to home. “I think I'll leave the spy stuff to Ian Fleming,” I chuckle.
Trish sighs dramatically. “Oh well, it was worth a try,” she grins. “Just give me a holler if you need a refill.”
I watch the sexy sway of her hips under her waitresses uniform as she walks away. Does she know how perfect her ass is? How much I’d like to back her up against a wall somewhere and sink into her soft body?
Hell! I need to get a grip. I need to get my mind off her delectable curves and focus on the job at hand.
The feelings this woman engenders has me all kinds of unsettled. There's a vulnerability about Trish that brings out a part of me that wants to beat my chest, drag her to my man cave and protect her. I tell myself I'm too fucking old for this crap, that I’ve seen too much of the shitty side of life to believe in the concept of instant attraction or love at first sight.
In the past, my personal relationships have been few and far between and although I’ve wanted women, I’ve never needed them. Any intimacy with the opposite sex has been for the sole purpose of scratching an itch, nothing more. I’ve managed to reach the grand old age of forty-two avoiding any form of emotional commitment, no major love affairs, happy with my own company for the most part. Not to mention it would take a special kind of woman to accept the work I do, the risks involved and the kind of people I have to deal with.
I glance down at my watch. I need to get going. The diner has been ideal place to gain Trish’s trust as well as familiarize myself with the area. There’s a lot riding on the success of this latest deal and I can’t afford any fuck ups.
I toss a twenty on the table and stand to leave, pulling on my leather jacket. My movement catches her eye and I can feel the heat of her gaze as she looks at me, taking in everything from my booted feet and low-slung jeans to the black t-shirt beneath the jacket. It’s all I can do to control the reaction of my body to her curious gaze. Whatever this thing is with her it's messing with my head and I can’t afford the distraction. I need to keep my wits about me.
I quickly make my exit and head down the alley that runs alongside the diner, pulling up the collar of my jacket to keep the chill autumn wind at bay.
As I round the corner, I see the two men already waiting for me. There’s an air of menace about them which others might find intimidating, but I can hold my own. I’m no lightweight at six three and two hundred pounds and I keep myself in good shape. I have to, because in my world, it could be the difference between surviving and not.
“I’m glad to see you are a man who values punctuality,” the larger of the two men says with a thick Spanish accent.
“Guillermo,” I nod, reaching out to shake the hand he extends toward me. Although we’re similar in height, he’s built like a brick shithouse, all heavy muscles and swarthy complexion. His dark hair is slicked back from his face, his expression guarded as his eyes narrow on me.
“Make sure our guest isn't carrying, Rodrigo.”
I hold my jacket open as his colleague, a shorter guy with dirty blonde hair, steps forward to pat me down. I’m relying on him not doing a thorough job because I have my HK45 stashed in my boot.
“You have the money?” Guillermo asks.
I pull the wad of used bills from the inside pocket of my jacket, holding it up so he can see but not handing it to him. “I wanna see the goods,” I demand.
Guillermo doesn’t move for a full minute as he looks me up and down and I’m just starting to think we may have a problem when he gives a brief nod to his companion.
Rodrigo reaches into the car and pops the trunk open and I walk to the other side of the car, keeping my back to the wall behind me and my line of sight open so that no one can come up the alley without me knowing about it. Why the fuck Guillermo wanted to do the drop here I'll never know.
“It’s all there,” Guillermo assures me as I reach in to unzip the black holdall. As I’m lifting out one of the packets, the sound of a door opening causes all three of us to whip toward the source of the noise.
Shit! Trish exits backwards through the service door of the diner, struggling with a large bag of garbage. She doesn’t see us straight away, absorbed as she is in her task, but as she turns, she stops short, her mouth making a silent ‘O’ as her eyes round in surprise.
“What the fuck?” Guillermo comes toward me, snatching the package from my hand and dropping it into the trunk before slamming it closed. But it’s too late. She’s already seen enough and I know that she’s figured out exactly what’s going on.
“I’ll deal with it,” I growl, putting an arm out to block Guillermo, who’s about to move toward Trish.
I stride toward her, the fear I expect to see in her eyes absent. Instead, her expression is one of disgust and ... disappointment, which makes me feel as if I’ve somehow failed her in some way despite her not knowing all the facts.
Before she can move, I’ve gathered her up against me and my lips come crashing down on hers, my tongue pushing into her mouth. I tell myself that it’s got to look convincing, but the truth is, it’s all too easy to get lost in her sweet mouth, the softness of her lips.
I tangle my hands through her hair and press her back into the wall behind her, my body covering hers protectively as I deepen the kiss, almost forgetting where we are.
I tear my mouth from hers, moving my lips to her ear. “You need to do exactly what I say. Go back inside, close the door and stay there.” My words are a caress that only she can hear and as I draw back to look into her eyes, I see shock, and now the fear, that was missing moments ago
For a few, agonizing seconds, she doesn’t move but then she gives a jerky nod before making a hasty retreat through the door she came out of, closing it quietly behind her. I release a breath and turn back to face Guillermo.
“She your woman?” Guillermo asks in his thick accent, his eyes unusually intense. His mouth lifts in a smirk as I nod abruptly. “Shame. Would’ve liked a little piece of that pussy for myself, know what I mean?”
I grit my teeth at the thought of him touching Trish in any way. “Let's get this done,” I growl, ignoring his words and moving back toward the car. I pull the money from my jacket and hand it to Guillermo and Rodrigo opens the trunk again.
As I bend over to retrieve the holdall I feel the cold metal of a gun muzzle pressed against the back of my head.
“Do you think I was born yesterday you stupid fuck?” Guillermo’s voice is heavy with anger. “You think I don't know a cop when I see one? The fucking stink is all over you!”
I curse inwardly, knowing I've just made a mistake worthy of a rookie, that I've allowed myself to be distracted by certain redhead and put us both in danger.
My mind goes into overdrive as I consider my options. I need to stall for time but my odds are not good. Even if I can take Guillermo out, that still leaves his companion. I don’t have the option to call for backup, not in my position.
“Put the gun down, Guillermo. Whatever the fuck you think you know, you really don’t!” I have no choice but to try and bluff my way out.
“You think you’re the first pendejo that’s tried to take me down? No me jodas, motherfucker! Nobody shafts me, you understand? Nobody!”
I hear the click of the gun cocking and close my eyes, knowing I’m about to become another statistic with a bullet in his brain.