Page 19 of Colt

“Later, boss,” I said, ending the call.

This was all I needed. I had Freya threatening to enlist while Lucy acted like a stage one clinger. Jesus, why couldn’t it be the other way around? At least Freya could hold an intelligent conversation. I fuckin’ loved our late-night chats about Milton and Shakespeare. Lucy wouldn’t know the difference between Macbeth and Henry V if she got smacked in the face by the books.

I’d call Lucy later. First on the day’s agenda was to get Freya back onside. I didn’t feel right when we argued.

The ringing of my cell pulled me from my thoughts.

I looked at the call display to see the caller ID had been withheld. My skin prickled with an ominous feeling. For a split second, I thought about declining the call, but I knew my OCD would kick in if I didn’t know who it was.

I clicked the green icon and held the cell to my ear. “Who’s this?”

“Colt,” a deep voice greeted. “You don’t text. You don’t call.”

A sharp ache stabbed through my temple. I needed this like I needed a limp dick. “What the fuck do you want, Shepherd?”

A low chuckle came through the line. “It’s Agent Shepherd to you. We need to catch up, Colt. It's been a long time.”

Tom Shepherd was an old military colleague of mine. We were in the same unit and worked together on missions. He was nearly as good as me with computers. I heard he popped smoke about a year after me and immediately got recruited into the FBI.

All the government agencies had been trying to acquire me since I left the army. I joined the Speed Demons and managed to disappear for a while. It was Shepherd who caught up with me eventually. He’d been a pain in my ass ever since.

“We are buds,” I replied. “But you keep buggin’ me to join your pig agency, and it bores me. You need to change the goddamned record.”

“How about I promise to be good,” he offered. “Meet with me. We’ve got serious shit to talk about. You’re in Denver, right? Staying at the Thompson? We can meet up for a drink.”

My gut tightened. “Not meetin’ you for shit.”

“Aww, don’t be like that. Thought we were friends,” Shepherd cajoled. “I’ve got something important to talk to you about.”

“Fuck off, Shep. There’s nothin’ you’ve got to say that I’m interested in. I’ve told you, I’m not an agency kinda guy, never will be. I’m happy where I am, so tell your boss to fuck off.” I disconnected the call and fell back on the bed with a curse.

What a shit show.

The damned Feds sniffing around was all I needed. Shep’s tone made me feel uneasy. Something definitely felt off.

I rubbed at my temple, trying to ease the tension headache forming.

There was no point stressing about it. I had shit to do. Ed needed sorting. I had to call Lucy and tell her to back the fuck off. And I had amends to make with my princess. On top of all that, I had to find the illusive goddamned license plate.

Cell phone still in hand, I clicked on Freya’s name, even though I knew the stubborn woman wouldn’t pick up for me.

Her voicemail came on.

“Freya,” I barked. “I’ll be there in an hour. Got shit to discuss.” I dropped my voice to a deeper tone. “If you’re a good girl for Daddy, I’ll bring coffee.”

My heart lurched.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where did that come from?

Clearing my throat didn’t stop my stammer. “Umm, right, well, I—I—Guess I’ll umm see you soon?” The cell phone almost slipped from my hand as I tried disconnecting the call. I had to scramble to catch it.

What the fuck was going on with me today? Fucking Shep had unsettled me more than I realized.

Cursing out loud, I finally clicked the end call button, my insides cringing at the words I’d just uttered.

One thing was for sure. I needed some fucking sleep. That must’ve been it, overtiredness. Also, I had to end shit with Lucy. My heart wasn’t in it, and it never would be. It started off okay, but over time, it turned into just sex and even that was mediocre. The stuff I liked in bed was reserved for women I cared about, not for randoms who wouldn’t be around for long.

Also, there was the added complication of not being able to get Freya’s kiss outta my head. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about the feel of her lips on mine? Or the way she tasted?

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