Chapter Ten

 

Neither said anything more about his career choices or the reality. Instead, Slattery let her rub cream over his irritated stump and taught her how to perform each step of putting the prosthetic in place. Then he filled a duffel bag with clean underwear, clothes, his shaving kit and toiletries, his meds, and two bottles of Jameson’s. He picked up his e-reader and glanced around his small space. “I guess I’m packed,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

Sabetha nodded. “Yes. Are you sure you are up to driving, Slattery? I know you’re hurting.”

Slattery gave up trying to pretend he wasn’t. “Yeah, I am, but I can make it to your place, then I’ll crash for a while. Okay?”

“If you think we can stop at the store on the way,” she said. “There’s some things I want to get so I can cook for you.”

“Sure, just point me to the nearest Ralph’s or Von’s.”

Climbing the stairs almost finished him off but he managed despite heavy protest from his leg. As soon as he sat down in her old recliner, Slattery undid the prosthetic to ease his stump. He’d worn it with shorts, visible to all, for the first time because he’d been certain Sabetha wouldn’t mind, and she hadn’t.

“Would you rather lay down for a while?” Sabetha asked, hovering. “I can turn down the bed if you do.”

He possessed a strong dislike for spending time in bed due to illness or injury. “Thanks, but this is fine. I can get comfortable and get some sleep right here.”

She shrugged at him and smiled.

“Okay, if that’s what you want. Do you want something to eat or some pain pills first?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost six,” Sabetha said. “I can fix you a sandwich or if you’d rather, heat up some soup or something. You probably shouldn’t take the meds on an empty stomach.”

“True. Did I see some canned ravioli in one of the grocery bags?”

“You did. Do you want some?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t go to sleep, and I’ll fix you some.”

Whatever she did to it, the canned dish had never tasted better. Slattery always just warmed up the contents but she’d added some cheese to the ravioli and sprinkled parmesan over it. He suspected she might have added a little Italian seasoning too, because he didn’t remember it having such a rich, robust taste. He ate the portion she brought him and washed down three pain pills with some iced tea since she refused to let him mix whiskey and prescription meds.

Within thirty minutes after he’d eaten warm food, taken the pills, and been fussed over by Sabetha, Slattery struggled to stay awake. She’d tucked a memory foam neck pillow behind his head, a standard pillow behind his back, and covered him with a patchwork quilt she said her granny had pieced together. In the reclined position, he let his tired limbs relax, and as the pain receded, he yielded into sleep. He woke twice, both times with a need to piss. Sabetha appeared both times to help him reach the bathroom and then to tuck him back in place. Until morning, when he woke and realized she slept curled beneath a blanket on the couch, Slattery hadn’t realized she had remained near him through the night. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sat up with him in illness except his mama, and the last time she had, he’d been about sixteen, desperately sick with the flu.

As he roused, Slattery assessed his various aches and pains. When he moved to rise from the chair, his shoulders and back erupted in pain. His chest ached and so did his leg muscles. His stump hurt the worst. He’d known he would be sore, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite as extreme. His headache had vanished, though, and he crept to the bathroom with his cane, in good spirits. His image in the mirror showed a battered man. A contusion on the side of his forehead sported a bruise. In various places he had road rash, bruises, cuts, and scratches. His right side ribs ached and he thought maybe he’d cracked one. All of it would heal, however, in time. For now, though, it hurt like a motherfucker, as he managed to take care of his bodily business, splash through the shower, and wash his face with care.

He emerged from the bathroom to find the couch empty and Sabetha’s blankets gone. He took a few minutes to strap on his prosthetic so he wouldn’t have to use the cane or hop. When he inspected his stump and knee, both were bruised dark. The aroma of coffee wafted from the kitchen, so Slattery followed it and found Sabetha at the table. She glanced up, cradling a cup between her hands, and smiled. “Good morning. How are you? You look better.”

Slattery grinned. “I hurt like hell from head to foot but yeah, I’m not as bad off as I was yesterday. My knee’s the worst, I think. I’m gonna hurt for a while though.”

“Sit down and I’ll pour you a cup,” Sabetha said. She rose in a swirl of a light blue nightgown and waves of lavender scent. “Then I’ll make breakfast. Are you hungry?”

Although he hadn’t thought about it, he realized he was ravenous. “Yeah, I am. But honey, don’t go to any trouble. Cereal or something is fine.”

Sabetha delivered his coffee with grace. “Would you like a bowl of oatmeal? I’ve got maple brown sugar or peaches and cream.”

“Brown sugar,” he said. “But there’s no rush. Sit down and drink coffee with me.”

She smiled. “I’d love that,” she told him. Then she leaned down and planted a light, gentle kiss on his mouth. Then she settled back into her chair across the table. “We’ve got plenty of time though. Are you supposed to work today?”

Until she mentioned it, Slattery had never given work a thought. He frowned. “Yeah, there’s an Actor’s Guild banquet tonight. I’m scheduled to be there. Shit.”

“You’re not in any shape for that, Slattery.”

“True, but…”

“But you’re going to call in,” Sabetha said. “I already did so I could be here with you.”

It took a few seconds for him to process what she said. “You’re not singing tonight?” he asked, surprised. “Baby, you didn’t have to do that for me but I’m glad you did.”

Her hand crept across the table to take his. “It’s my Saturday off anyway, but I did tell the station I wouldn’t be there on Sunday, probably not on Monday either. So, we have all weekend to rest and recuperate. And talk and think. Then Monday you’ll have your prosthetic checked at the VA hospital, and then if you’re up to it, you can think about going back to work.

“Is that as a security guard or a federal agent?”

Her eyes met his, steadfast as a soldier on duty. “That’s up to you, Slattery. You said you had decisions to make and maybe an investigation to finish.”

“Yeah, in theory I do.”

“Meaning what?”

Slattery shrugged. “I never have been able to get any concrete evidence, that’s the problem. Beckett gave me a deadline so it’s doubtful at best. The real decision I need to make isn’t leaving the agency but where I want to live and what I want to do. If I’m no longer with Homeland Security, I wouldn’t have to be in California.”

“You could go home.” She spoke in a hushed tone, and he caught the underlying emotion. “If you wanted to, you could.”

Home. The word conjured images of Shreveport and Bossier City, of the slow moving Red River, of the nearby bayous and backwaters. Slattery thought of the Texas Street Bridge lighting up the night, of the casinos along the water, of the small old-fashioned cafes and the brightly light bars, the malls and the mom-and-pop stores, and of the streets he’d called home. Images of Byrd High School flooded his brain. Silver bridges over the river, fishing down in some rural spot somewhere, the sound of country music and the taste of Cajun boudin sausage returned. His mama’s warm welcome, his brother’s bear hugs, his sister and her brood’s laughter—he wanted it. He longed to sit on a front porch in the evening cool, inhaling the rich smell of honeysuckle, to go fishing on some lonesome stretch of black water bayou, and to drive his old Caddy too fast down some old river road in the moonlight. Community Coffee, crawfish, and RC Cola would be available anytime. Slattery ached to kiss Sabetha under some tall pines and to walk into one of the casinos with her on his arm. He wanted to take her to meet his mama and all that implied.

“I could,” he said. “Maybe I would, maybe I will. What about you, girl, is California home now?”

Her expression changed and became wistful. “Oh, Pride, there are things I love out here, I do. I love the Pacific, the beaches, the weather most of the time, and my gig, but sometimes I feel so out of place. I think about home and I wish I was there. Until I met you, I thought about it a lot more, but sometimes I still do. Wouldn’t it be something if we could make a trip back? We could spend a few days at Rusk, then head over to Shreve. It’d be heaven on earth.”

“So your answer’s no?”

Sabetha smiled. “I guess it’s no, not really.”

Their hands linked tight for a moment, then Slattery released her. She had made him think some powerful, serious thoughts, but he had other decisions that had to come first. “That’s how I feel,” he said. And he did, although it’d taken him five years and one woman to discover it. “I don’t really want to keep working for Homeland Security or stay in LA, but I will if that’s where you want to be.”

He heard the words exit his mouth with disbelief. I’ve never been one to wear my heart on my sleeve, he thought, never. But he did now and his sore body trembled with a weird combination of trepidation and delight. Sabetha’s eyes remained intent on him, her posture demonstrating deep interest. She kept silent for a long moment, then her lips slanted upward in a radiant smile. “We have time to figure it out,” she told him. “First, you need to make your work decisions and be sure it’s what you want either way. Then sometime I’d like to hear about your life undercover, not now but when there’s some distance and we’re safe, maybe somewhere else. Is it dangerous, though?”

Slattery opened his mouth to say no but stopped. He remembered the last time he’d visited the laundromat and how the guy called him out as a cop. Dread crawled down his spine with cold claws. Sabetha saw the shift in his face, the change in his posture. “Slattery, what is it? It is dangerous, isn’t it? Oh, God.”

With effort, he cleared his throat. “As long as I’m undercover, as long as nobody knows, it’s not.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

With a sigh, he told her what had happened at The Swan on Thursday, about Pedro and Diego. She listened, then rose to pour them both more coffee. “Did they believe you?”

He shrugged and spread his hands wide, suppressing a groan. Movement made the sore spots notch into pain. “I think so,” he said. Slattery wanted to cross his fingers but didn’t because she’d notice. “I hope they did. It’s probably over and they’ve forgotten by now.”

A cold, sinking feeling in his gut didn’t think so, not at all, but he wanted to reassure her and he wanted to believe it too.

Sabetha appeared skeptical but she nodded. “Well, that’s good, then. Are you ready for some oatmeal?”

Her practical nature combined with nurturing brought a smile. Slattery said, “Sure, I’m hungry.”

They shared a leisurely breakfast of oatmeal and toast, then at Sabetha’s urging, Slattery took his meds, including a couple of pain pills. She insisted on viewing his knee and stump. Sabetha fussed over both when she saw how bruised they were.

“You need to stay off that as much as possible,” she said. “It looks like so painful.”

He didn’t need much urging because he hurt enough to retired to the recliner without any protest. Despite the fact he’d slept most of the night, far more than he usually did, Slattery dozed a good part of the morning, waking a few times to see Sabetha glance up at him with a smile. At lunch, she warmed some canned soup and served it with grilled cheese sandwiches. The simple fare tasted very good to him.

He still suffered enough not to mind taking things easy. They spent the afternoon watching old movies and classic TV through whatever subscription service Sabetha had, things he probably wouldn’t have watched on his own but that Slattery enjoyed. He hadn’t seen some of the programs in years, and despite how corny some of the comedy could be, he laughed too.

They cuddled together on the couch, his arm around Sabetha’s shoulders and her head nestled against his shoulder. Slattery found the position comfortable, although sudden moves sent sharp twinges through various parts of his body. In the late afternoon, Sabetha made a few noises about cooking supper. “I can make chicken and dumplings,” she told him. “Or a gumbo, but if we’re going to eat tonight, I need to get started soon.”

“Gumbo sounds good,” he responded. “My grandma, Odile, made the best gumbo I ever put in my mouth, but save it for tomorrow. I’ll be happy with just a sandwich or something.”

She snuggled tighter against him. “Are you sure? I figured some home cooking would cure anything that ails you.”

“It’ll help, but sitting here relaxed and cozy helps a helluva lot, honey.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, Slattery.”

“It’s just the truth,” he said.

Sabetha raised her left hand and cupped his chin in it, then swiveled his head in her direction. She stretched so she could kiss him. Her lips touched his and heat flared between them with a burst of power. Although her mouth moved in gentle motion, Slattery turned and gave back the kiss with intensity. Exquisite pleasure rocketed through his veins and his cock hardened with need. He wanted her, hard, fast, and now. The kiss continued until they broke apart breathless. Slattery snatched her hand and put it between his legs.

“I got a problem,” he said.

“If it hurts too much to kiss right now, I under…oh!” Her voice shifted when she realized he had a hard on. “Pride, I want it too, but I’m afraid it’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care, baby. I need you.”

“I don’t know…”

“You can be gentle, go easy on me.”

She cocked her head, considering, and then her blue eyes flared into sapphires forged in unholy fire. “I do believe I could be,” she said in a husky voice, thick with desire and emotion.

“Let’s go see, then.”

Without waiting, Sabetha leapt to her feet and grabbed his hands. She pulled Slattery up with strength but without force. Taking the lead, she led him into the bedroom where she undressed him with slow hands. Slattery had never experienced such an erotic rush as the one sparked by Sabetha’s boldness. He’d always been in control and set the pace for sex, but this delighted him.

Her cool touch contrasted with his warm body, her soft fingers brushed like whispers against his flesh, each touch trailing ripples of delight afterward. Slattery shivered, his cock harder than stone, craving completion, and yet he wanted to stretch the experience out as long as possible to savor every moment.

When he reached to remove her blouse, Sabetha caught his hands in hers and stayed them. “No,” she said. “Let me.”

He yielded and let his hands dangle, idle. She removed her garments with swift motions and stood before him, bared and beautiful. Desire spread from his loins through his body and he wanted her, needed her in every way possible. When she offered him her hand and led him to the bed, he followed willingly.

Slattery climbed onto the bed and assumed the position she suggested, on his back, head and shoulders banked with pillows. Sabetha hovered above him and kissed his mouth. The earlier gentleness became savage and fierce. He gloried it in and gave her back the same. From his mouth, Sabetha traveled down his throat, kissing and nipping as she went. He lay passive while she made love bites at the base of his throat, on his chest, and even one on his belly.

When her heated breath wafted against his thighs, Slattery moaned. Anticipation brought an ache he wanted relieved. When Sabetha stroked his cock with one hand, he groaned loud with pleasure. He thought he’d burst or die or both when she wrapped her mouth around his stick and suckled, as sweet and gentle as if she enjoyed a frozen treat on a summer’s day. Just when he reached his limits and thought he couldn’t stand any more, Sabetha changed positions and lowered herself onto his dick. She fit, like a pistol into a holster, and he pushed up, deeper into her.

Delicious sensation after sensation shot through him as she rode him hard and fast. Slattery’s breath caught in his chest and he bucked upward to get the maximum pleasure. He thrust into her depths and she cried out with wordless pleasure. Her noise fired him to pump harder, and he lost all control. He’d been holding back but he gave it all up to hit the erotic jackpot.

He shuddered hard as he came, body quivering with the intense pleasure, and Sabetha climaxed too. They quivered against each other, bodies straining, and rode the wave until it subsided. Slattery groaned as she detached from him and rolled beside him with a long, luxuriant sigh. She stretched into a position beside him and curled up against Slattery.

Slattery stroked her cheek. “Honey, you turned me every which way but loose.”

“That’s good, right?” Her voice emerged a husky whisper.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied with feeling.

“Was I gentle enough? Did I hurt you?”

“Yes and no, although you like to have killed me,” he told her with laughter in his voice.

After that encounter, he had something he needed to say. “Sabetha?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, woman.” God, he’d said it. He never said it to women, never felt it like this before. When she didn’t say anything, his heart constricted into a pretzel knot and halted within his chest. A hurt not connected to his physical injuries stirred, and so did he.

“Oh, Pride,” Sabetha breathed. “I love you too, so much.”

He relaxed and the hurt vanished in a warm glow of contentment. “Yeah? I don’t know why you would, but I’m glad you do.”

“Good, ‘cause I do. I thought I’d die when you were being a hero yesterday.”

Hero. The word made him squirm. He didn’t think he was one and said so. “All I did was what had to be done, baby.”

“You saved that little girl and her mom,” Sabetha said. “While everyone else gawked, you acted.”

Slattery hitched one shoulder up in what was meant to be a shrug. “I reacted like a soldier, because I couldn’t watch them die without trying to save them.”

“I call that being a hero,” she told him. “You’re a hero. Most important of all, you’re my hero.”

Her words filled some emptiness in him, and although he started to protest again, he didn’t. Instead, he took the compliment from the woman he loved and kept it, something worthwhile to have and words he’d remember forever.