Page 57 of Junkyard Dog

“Yes.”

He frowned and sat up straighter. “More than ten?”

“Seven, including you,” she rattled off, her eyes narrowing as his jaw flexed. “You can’t seriously be annoyed, Mr. Lost Count,” she chastised.

He rolled his eyes and lay back down beside her, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. “That’s like, six more than I like to think about.”

Her post-sex panic over their lack of a condom had evolved into a discussion she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue. Between her birth control and Alex’s insistence he was infertile, the completely unsexy talk about STDs had started, with her nervousness over his extensive experience taking front and center stage.

“Next question,” he stated, folding his arms behind his head.

Thinking about the best way to ask, she pursed her lips. “The, um, tag-teaming thing. I googled it and…” She trailed off, not sure what she was asking or if she wanted to know.

He stared up at the ceiling, his brows knotted until he cleared his throat. “You could probably look up most things, and I’ve done it,” he said slowly. “Usually when Bo and I are in the same area, things get a little out of control since the opportunities just kind of present themselves and…” He paused, tilting his head and locking his eyes on a small flaw in the ceiling paint. “And there’s no way for me to continue talking without burying myself, so I’m going to shut up.”

She swatted him. “I get it. You’ve been there, done them all, got all the T-shirts.”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re such an ass,” she muttered, tossing up a wall to block the creeping feelings of jealousy from permeating the reality of their situation.

He glanced over at her. “Know what I haven’t done?”

She braced herself for an answer she definitely didn’t want to hear. “What?”

“Slept with the same woman more than three times,” he said casually, as though it was completely normal. “Three’s the cutoff. Any more than that, and it’s bordering on relationship territory.”

She sat up and looked down at him, the blanket held tight to her chest. “You’re an idiot.”

He licked his lips and pulled at her comforter. “The bar,” he stated, tugging the blanket down and exposing her breasts to the cold air. “A quickie in the SUV after the bar, which counts as number two even if it was the same night because we switched locations.” He wedged one leg between hers, then the other. “And one official groveling.” He grinned up at her, shifting his hips to punctuate his point. “That’s three. Want to cross over into number four?”

She rolled her eyes, refusing to allow the glimmer of expectation that had risen in her head to take root. “We haven’t switched locations. So technically, this would still be number three by your messed-up logic.” She cleared her throat as it tightened. “Looks like this train’s pulled into the station and you need to get off.”

“Damn,” he grumbled, biting his lip until he broke into a smile. “Want to have a dress rehearsal for number four then?”

*

The incessant buzzingof his phone pulled Alex from a deep sleep, his hand slapping around the edge of the bed for his cell until his fingers found it. He rolled onto his back, glancing over at Charlotte’s empty side of the bed.

Her side of the bed.

Shaking off the rush of contentment the thought gave him, he scanned the litany of incoming texts, jumping out of bed and scrambling for his clothes.

Another dead hiker, and a hell-storm of agents descending on the park.

He pulled up Charlotte’s number as he dressed, putting her on speaker so he could get ready. When his call switched to voice mail, he dialed Bo.

“What are you hearing?” he barked, glancing in the mirror and running his fingers through his hair.

Bo yawned loudly, the sound of rap music playing behind him. “Single male, dismembered, several body parts still missing. Let me get out on the balcony.” The music faded, the noise of traffic taking over. “If the Pirithous is going feral after a handful of kills, we need to call in Ryan. Now.”

He dropped his head. “I’ll do it on my way over. Where are you?”

Bo snorted. “Fuck if I know. I’ll start walking and call you when I hit a street sign.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, he tried Charlotte’s cell again, swearing under his breath when her voice mail greeted him cheerfully. He ran her schedule in his head, calculating her approximate whereabouts if she was sticking to her routine.

Sheep’s Pass.

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