The chime of Moon’s phone stops him from answering my question. He places his glass on the small side table, twists up a bit, and takes his cell from his pocket. He checks the screen and like a teenage pro, sends a message. He looks up at me after sending it. “Alex is here with our food.” At the thought of El Tiempo, my stomach rumbles. Moon cocks an eyebrow.
Hell even that’s sexy.
I stand up when I hear a soft knock at my front door.
“Sit. I’ll get it and bring everything over here,” he says as he heads to my door, like he owns it, and opens it for Gomez. Moon takes the food and I see Gomez peer at me over Moon’s shoulder. I can’t identify the exact look he gives me, and I tell myself that I don’t care. So what if Gomez is impressed with the way I handle myself. That and a dollar will buy me an ice-cold Slurpee. Moon closes the door with his elbow while holding the bag in one hand and a six-pack of Corona in the other. It reminds me that I was being observed inside the bar. It’s someone who came in after I arrived. Fuck. Besides Al and the other two cops, only a white guy came in. He never looked at me, scoped the place out, or did anything that would give him away as a cop or a thug. Go figure.
My stomach growls loudly.
“I take it you’re hungry,” Moon says as he places everything on my end table and pulls the first container from the bag. It smells heavenly.
“I’m always hungry for El Tiempo,” I give back grudgingly.
“Sit over here and I’ll move the table in front of us.” He moves my damn furniture without a care that it bothers me.
I want to stay angry, but the aroma of fish tacos overrides my angst. I switch over to the loveseat. It’s no hardship to watch Moon move the table either. His arms flex and the T-shirt pulls across his chest when he lifts the table. He appears relaxed for a change and it’s like he doesn’t run the largest crime organization in Arizona. He’s just a normal guy. Strike that. A normal guy does not have a body cut like Moon’s. More than I want that first bite of taco, I want to see Moon’s abs. My eyes stay glued as he sits and grabs a beer. He twists at the waist and removes a pocket knife from his front jeans pocket. It has a bottle-cap remover, which he uses on first one and then the other beer bottle. He sits them both on the table, which is now in front of us, and hands me napkins from the bag. I wait for him to get situated with his food and hand him back two napkins. El Tiempo tacos are messy, and I try not to salivate.
He waits for me to pick up a taco before taking his first bite. Watching him eat shouldn’t be so sexy. When he closes his eyes and chews, I swear I have a small orgasm. I take my first bite of my taco and then have another. This time I close my eyes; when I open them after swallowing, Moon is fixated on my mouth. I lick my lips and watch his eyes go from ocean blue to sizzling hot subterranean blue.
The last thing I should be doing is sitting here having food sex with Moon. I take another bite and the spicy carne asada hits my taste buds. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and the taco pulls me to the dark side. I also conclude that food sex is a natural wonder of the world.
Moon is the first man in my life to have food and my favorite beer delivered to me. This shouldn’t speak to the inner me, but I feel a crack in the walls I’ve tried pulling up in regard to Moon.
We continue eating and casting fuck-me eyes back and forth. I take notice that Moon doesn’t have a fixation with my tits. He’s an equal opportunity voyeur and never locks his eyes on one piece of my anatomy for too long. I don’t think I can say the same about myself. The arm porn draws my attention each time he takes a bite. Then my gaze travels to his mouth and I want to be his taco. I bite my lip over the ridiculousness of my feelings. I’ve never reacted to any man this way, and, I have no clue how to make it stop.
Moon finishes first and sits back with his beer in hand and watches me eat. For the oddest reason, I’m not uncomfortable. I would love to know what he’s thinking, though. When I’m done, he reaches into the bag, pulls out four wrapped candies, and hands over two. The tacos are great, but El Tiempo is also known for its homemade Mexican candy. It’s dried mangos dipped in chamoy sauce. There is nothing else like it on this planet.
“Any chance I can talk you out of one of yours?” Moon teases before he pops the first one in his mouth.
“I’ll draw my gun if you try.”
He chews slowly while I slide the candy between my lips and move the confection around inside my mouth. My tongue moves across my lips. Moon’s eyes grow unbelievably hungry. If a shark had blue eyes and saw a wounded sea lion, those eyes might come close to the way Moon’s look right now.
What if he was an ordinary man? What if I’d never been a cop?
“Alex gave you to me.”
I start coughing. Moon leans in, puts his arm around my back, and tips his water glass to my lips. I take a sip on reflex. He sets the glass down without removing his arm. Luckily, I’ve swallowed my candy when his lips meet mine. His tongue slides in, tasting me with slow, smooth strokes, and I can’t think past the flavor of the candy mixed with pure Moon.
I squeeze my fingers into fists to keep from clenching his muscular arms. His hand moves to my throat. His fingers are splayed so I can feel the metal of his thumb ring against my skin. His lips tease mine, and my body is amped so high, I sigh into his mouth. He pulls away, but he doesn’t look at me. He grabs his beer and downs it. He places the containers and used napkins into the bag before he stands and heads to my kitchen to toss everything in the trash. I try to stabilize my breathing. I expect him to come back, but I’m stunned when he opens the front door and glances over his shoulder.
“Next Wednesday, same time. I’ll pick you up and take you out. Be ready.” And then he’s gone. No sex on the floor. No sex in my bed. No fucking sex at all. The bastard left me hanging.
I groan into my quiet living room wondering what the hell just happened. I’m a fool, that’s what. A complete… fool.
I stare at the dark television for ten minutes. This solves nothing. I check the sliding glass door that leads to my very small patio. It has a broken broomstick in the bottom rail so it can only slide open after removing it. The locking mechanism, which I check too, is a piece of crap. I head to the front door and lock it. I walk to my bedroom to go through my pre-sleep ritual. After a quick shower, I slip into one of my large shapeless tees. Brushing, flossing and moisturizer are next. I lie down in bed and turn off the lamp. When I close my eyes, I picture Moon—his reticent smile, his intense eyes, and his sexy as hell bod. My girl parts are ramped up and it’s all Moon’s fault. With a groan, I roll over and grab the purple wonder from the drawer beside my bed. I hit the switch and then lift and spread my knees. I place the vibration against my clit. The purple wonder twirls and vibrates, hitting the spot perfectly. I slide it through my folds and back to my clit while imagining Mo
Sweat drips down my brow and my tee is soaked. My brown BDUs are damp too. I need water, so I walk back to Sally for my water bottle. It was completely frozen when I left the apartment earlier. It’s lukewarm now. I take a healthy swallow. I search for Mama Kane for an hour, but I can’t find her. A homeless man I’m unfamiliar with tells me she’s at Veterans hospital. Her goat went with animal control. I head to the hospital and receive bad news. Someone assaulted Mama Kane and she’s in critical condition. A nurse tells me that no one has visited her and that I’m the first to ask how she’s doing. It’s so incredibly sad. As a cop, I was limited in what I could do. The homeless are considered a problem. It was my job to keep them in line. Don’t get me wrong, I helped where I could. It’s never enough, though. The nurse tells me that the cops want to know when she dies. This should make me angry, but I know it means the detectives have a suspect. If Mama Kane dies, the charges will chang
Moon has pulled me so close that his face is inches from mine. “I locked it after I opened the door so it auto locks and I don’t have a key,” I say on a slow breath. “I have a key. Christ, you smell so good,” he murmurs and runs his nose across my cheek. I would tell him the same thing, but the information about him having my key stops me cold. “You made copies of my keys?” I knew he must have, I just didn’t expect him to admit it. His hand glides down my body until he cups my ass. He ignores my question. “I just needed to see you for a moment and do this…” His lips crash down on mine. He isn’t gentle. I forget about the keys. Hell, I forget that I’m outside in my short shorts. The kiss is hungry and wet, dominating and sexual. He tastes so damn good. He backs off and runs his tongue across my lips. “I’ve fantasized for the past two nights about you, like this.” He deepens the kiss. His tongue slips around mine and I moan. He pulls me closer and presses his erection into my lower
I don’t recognize the voice right away. “Mak, please.” It’s Penny Dandridge. “What’s wrong, Penny?” I ask her softly. She sounds desperate and it helps clear my foggy thoughts. “I need you to pick me up,” she says between tears while gasping for breath. This isn’t good, and I’m rethinking a cement foundation for her soon-to-be ex-husband. “Okay, have you called the police?” “No police.” Pure distress is clear in her answer. “Don’t call them, please. I just need you to pick me up.” Well, hell. I will most likely change my mind and call the police after I discover what condition she’s in. “Are you safe?” “Ye…yes. I’m safe. I’m in Heber. At the cabin in Heber. I need, just need a ride.” “Okay,” I get up and head to my desk. “Give me your address. It’ll take about two hours to get there.” I scribble the address. “Thank you, Mak… I’m so sorry.” She hangs up. Her voice sounded incredibly sad. I, on the other hand, am pissed off. If I had my hands on Harry Dandridge right now, he’d
“Madison?” Moon asks groggily. Relief swamps me and I try not to cry. This does no good and tears of relief fall from my eyes. “I’m hurt,” is all I can manage to say and even that’s shaky. “Shh,” Moon whispers. His voice is my lifeline and I only cry harder. “Where are you?” Another round of trembling hits me. I suck air into my lungs and try to control myself enough to speak. “Between Payson and Heber…” My teeth continue to chatter and once again, I breathe. “I’m about a hundred yards down the side of the mountain.” “Jesus.” I hear movement and then my eyes jump left and right in case whoever did this has decided to come after me. “How bad are you hurt?” he finally asks. The words are filled with concern, though I can hear the suppressed anger behind them. I concentrate on Moon’s question and manage to speak coherently. “Bleeding. It’s a head wound. I went over right after the second s-turn about fifteen minutes or so outside of Payson.” His voice changes from concern to deadl
I wait until I actually hear him. At the sound of his voice, my body goes lax. I need to stand, but I’m unable to send the message to my legs. “Moon,” I groan. Flashlights are fanned out in four directions and they zero in on the sound of my croaky voice. Moon gets to me first and goes to his knees beside me. I wince when the flashlights blind me. “Move the lights off her,” Moon snaps. All but the one he’s holding move away. He tips his down. Bad cop, I want to tell him. Always limit their vision. I’m not a cop, though, and Moon most definitely isn’t either. “Speak to me, baby.” He pushes the hair from my face. I feel nauseated and I only manage to mumble this information. He must understand because he wraps his arm around my chest and keeps me from falling face first into vomit as my guts heave onto the ground beside me. He offers a soothing chorus of words until he calls me “baby” again. “Don’t call me that,” I say stupidly. It’s the shame of him holding me while I toss my cooki
Moon steps back and a middle-aged man with compassionate brown eyes bends over me. I try to look around him to Moon. The man smiles and I forget about Moon. The doctor’s hair is mostly gray and his smile is genuine. “Miss Kinlock, I’m Dr. Santos. Please call me Carlo.” He begins explaining what he needs to do. I’m only half following. The sound of his voice is putting me to sleep. He performs each part of his exam and repeats what and why he’s doing what he’s doing. He shines a light in my eyes and I close them. “I need you to look into the light, Miss Kinlock.” His voice is soft and coaxing. I squint trying to do what he says. I want to please him. It’s an odd sensation because I’m not fond of doctors. I put up with their curt bedside manner through multiple surgeries on my shoulder. I’ve had enough of doctors to last me a lifetime. He puts the light down and has me roll to my side facing away from him. He places his fingers on the base of my skull and manipulates the vertebrae dow
Moon is sitting on the side of the bed where Dr. Santos was seated. His fingers slide across my cheek. The caress feels wonderful on the lower half of my face but the upper half is numb. “Before you answer, you aren’t up for anything more than a bath. You’re on heavy drugs, and I won’t take advantage nor will I allow you to drown. I can stand over you and watch or you can sit in my lap and rest while your muscles get some much needed attention.” Moon watching me in the bath naked seems worse than resting against his body. I’m too drugged and I’m too worn out to think beyond this. “You can be my floaty,” I tell him and giggle. Drugs are such a wonderful invention. Even with my head swirling, I refuse to be carried. Moon protests and tries to lift me, but I bat his hands away. He gives in with a shake of his head. He’s accustomed to getting his way, and I have a feeling he’s not sure how to handle me. We slowly manage our way to the bathroom, which has a separate door for the toilet a