Page 34 of Stone Blind

“Oh no you don’t,” he said. “I’m heading into the shop to clock out. I need about 45 minutes before I get home.”

“So, what do you want me to do, pick up something for dinner and wait on the front porch, or are you passing me the keys so I can be ready to welcome you through the door when you get there?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

“My keys are in my locker at the station,” Mustang said, “There is a keypad on the garage. The code is 0624, which is my birthday. Once inside the garage, enter through the door and the alarm for the house is 0612, which is Pops’ birthday. You can pick up dinner, and I’ll meet you there. Again, I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I have two weeks before I have to be in Ohio. Take as much of that time as you want, but it won’t bother me if you have other plans,” she said.

“No, this is perfect,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Absolutely perfect. See you at the house in about an hour.”

Helen sat watching him walk to his squad car. She was surprised at her body’s reaction seeing him in his Trooper gear, the gun on his hip walking all bad ass up to her vehicle. Seeing the back side of him as he headed to his vehicle brought back nasty memories of Mustang being nude and sweaty, making Helen clench her thighs together in the front seat of the rental.

“That man is finer than kitten fur,” she said, grinning as she pulled away from the shoulder of the highway. The restaurant, already added to the GPS, was where she headed after pressing the button, and she was on her way to get dinner.

He didn’t say what to order but based on what she’d seen him eat the few times they shared a meal, she placed the food request. Fifteen minutes later, she had food for two days, just in case they needed more nourishment after round one. Happy with the food, she punched the button saved on the GPS to his home.

Nervousness filled her when she arrived at the mountain chalet style house. As instructed, she punched in the code on the keypad and the garage door went up. Inside the garage was a black Mustang Cobra, a motorcycle, a canoe, and entirely too much fishing gear. The food in hand, she opened the door to thehome to hear the alarm, and she punched in the code for the house like he’d told her, disarming the system.

She wanted to be nosey and ramble through the place. Her first instinct was to go to his bathroom and check under the sink for feminine supplies to see if a chick was attempting to nest, but she stopped herself. Instead, she went to the kitchen to set the table for supper. In a drawer, Helen located a candle with a holder. In the cupboards, she found wine glasses and water goblets. Mustang liked his water with ice, and she preferred hers without, so she prepared them and set both on the table. Another drawer held placemats, and then she found forks and knives. When she was done, the table was set, and then she heard a vehicle pull into the garage.

“Daddy’s home,” she said, checking her breath. She kicked herself for not freshening up first in case Daddy wanted some dessert before dinner, but it was too late now.

“Helen?” he called out as he came through the door from the garage.

“In the kitchen,” she called back as she plated rice, followed by meat and veggies. “I hope this is okay. I know you have wine but wasn’t sure what you wanted to go with the food, so I didn’t open anything. You like?”

“I like,” he said, frozen in place, reeling from the realization of Helen being in his actual home. He wanted to embrace her. He wanted to kiss her. He needed to feel her body next to his. Sighing, he said, “I can’t reach for you and won’t make the first move, but I’m here, you’re here, and if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“Hmm,” she said, standing behind the chair. “What happens when you lose your shit, Mustang?”

“I’m going to eat your sexy ass alive, Helen. I’m trying to be respectful based on what you’ve shared with me and not pushmy will or needs off on you, but I need you. Don’t make me lose my shit, Helen.”

She raised her blouse and pulled it over her head. She came out of the pants next and stood in front of him in just her underwear. To drive home the idea of him losing his mind, she unsnapped her bra and tossed it at him. Helen took her time bending slowly to take off her underwear. She tossed those at him as well.

“I’m not even going to take off my gun,” he said, moving at a clip and reaching for her.

Helen let out a small squeak as the pythons gathered her against his chest. His lips touched her, igniting the fire between them. She wrapped her legs high above his waist, bumping against the gun. In his ear, she cautioned him to remove the hardware. Holding her with one hand, he unfastened the belt with the other and dropped it to the floor.

“Baby, we’re not gonna make it to the bed,” he said, turning toward the dining room table.

“No, nope, no naked asses on the table,” she mumbled through the fevered kisses. “I’m feeling very happy to see you. We’re going to need the bed.”

“Say no more,” Mustang said, carrying her to the bedroom. He had questions, concerns, and more, but right now, he simply desired to be with Helen and show her some appreciation for traveling to the West Coast to spend her time off with him. It would be a lovely two weeks, but the idea of coming home to her every day made him begin to rethink how he was living his life.

Chapter 11- Hound

Lutsen, Minnesota

Imperial, the head of the Chrysalis Organization, received word on Milwaukee. Although it had not been very lucrative and poorly managed, the plan, had they made it to the end of the month, was to install a new team, move the Fields, and scrap the current customer base. The clientele in Milwaukee were animals. The last thing she wanted was a playground full of ruffians.

“This is bad,” Imperial said, picking up her phone. She dialed a number and waited for the voice on the other end. “This is Imperial. You’re aware of what occurred in Milwaukee?”

“Unfortunate, but you’re to blame,” the voice said. “Shitty management of a product that is too delicate for the customer base you have is a recipe for disaster. All of it is distasteful.”

“You never mention taste when I’m wiring your percentage of the profits,” Imperial said. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“A Technician,” the voice said.

“What? That makes no sense; no one was killed,” Imperial said. “The three warehouses were shutdown with only one bullet fired. I’m not comprehending.”

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