Page 5 of Arm Candy Warrior

I cry out briefly before shuddering, my forehead coming to a rest on his shoulder. Fuck. What just happened? That took zero time at all. I didn’t even have a moment to think clearly.

Johnny moves his hands back to my hips and traces his fingers over my bare skin. I still, wondering what he’s going to do. Is he going to take it further? Is he not? I fear both these paths for different reasons. Tightening his hold, he sinks down into me for a heart-stopping second before crawling backward out of the bed. The pitch in his pants is unmistakable, as is the tortured look on his face. His chest moves up and down as he eyes me in his bed. “This isn’t because of my father. This is for you.” He turns on his heel, leaving me in his bed to retreat to the bathroom.

The shower starts, and I flip onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. My body has that pleasant, hazy after-sex feeling, magnified after a day like today. Maybe that’s why I came so easily. All the stored-up tension in my body. All the wrongness of getting off on Johnny. Whatever it is, I stare at the ceiling and listen to Johnny in the shower. There’s a loud thump like he’s banged his fist against the tiles. Whatever other sounds that might have come afterward are eaten up by the running water until the water turns off.

Minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom with only a pair of boxers on. I look him over and find the same satisfied glint in his eye I’m sure is reflected back in mine. “This should go without saying, but the day I bury myself inside you, it won’t be on the heels of worrying about losing you.”

Despite myself, my heart pitter-patters in my chest. “Are there even any days like that inside the Crew?”

“Of course, there are.” He slides back into bed, moving into the exact same position with his arm under my head and his other hand on my hip. “I’ll show you.”

I don’t know if I want him to or not. If this is how I react to a softer Johnny on a bad day, what the hell would a good day look like?

3

In sleep, Johnny looks like an angel.

I’m not kidding. He’s gorgeous enough, to be sure, but in the midst of rest, his face takes on a relaxed, peaceful look that isn’t there when he’s awake. Do all bad guys look like this while they sleep? Innocent. Trustworthy. Like more friend than foe.

Why do I think Big Daddy K looks the exact same asleep or awake? Like he’s two seconds from putting a bullet between someone’s eyes.

The sun’s rays stream through the ends of the blinds like a square halo. If I ever find Big Daddy K sleeping alone in the dark, I don’t care if he does look like this, he’s dead. Not only for what he did to my parents, but for what he did to me, and Oscar, and Brawler, and fuck, even Johnny. He’s going down for it all. No one deserves to be mixed up in this kind of bullshit.

Because I don’t have any clothes here, I find a discarded pair of joggers in the closet and pull them on. Coupled with Johnny’s too-big-for-me t-shirt, I won’t be winning any beauty contests, but fuck if that’s the reason why I’m here, anyway.

My shin aches, so I’m careful about putting too much weight on it as I walk out to the living room, and there’s a tightness in my shoulder blades I need to work out from the fight. All in all, I fared pretty well from the events of last night. The scrapes on my stomach barely hurt anymore. It’s just my heart that holds the worry and ache over not knowing what happened to Brawler and Oscar. If I had my gun, I’d think about sneaking next door, but then…I don’t know if Brawler or Oscar are alive and I need that information. I can’t leave without knowing. I can’t disappear without them.

I’m curled up on the black leather couch when Magnum walks in. He stops in his tracks when he notices me there alone, and then looks around the suite, gaze stopping on the halfway open door that leads to Johnny’s bedroom. “He’s in there,” I say.

He takes in my appearance with his eagle-like gaze. I run my hands through my hair, hoping to tame the mess it’s probably in. I’m not used to seeing so many people this early in the morning. Hell, I’m pretty much used to being alone.

Magnum shuts the door with a soft click. With his eyes trained on the open door, he sneaks toward me, even though God knows he doesn’t need to sneak. He’s one of the most silent people I’ve ever met. He could creep up on a frightened animal. “Oscar checked in.”

I cover my mouth after a loud intake of breath that hangs heavy in the air.

Magnum nods.

“He’s okay?”

He nods again. “He’ll probably show up later today. We’ve had eyes on the perimeter all night. We don’t see anything.”

I take a deeper look at Magnum next. He still has on the bandage from last night. His skin is pale, cheeks sallow with dark bags under his eyes from a full night of staying on duty rather than getting much-needed sleep. I mean he was shot for Christ’s sake.

I rub my own eyes. They’re not scratchy or heavy. In fact, I slept well. Too well for being in a man’s bed I once thought of as an enemy. But there’s a heat behind them now I want to hold back so it doesn’t betray even more of the thoughts Magnum’s already begun to tease out.

“It looks like you need some sleep,” I say instead. “Maybe even a shower. Some food?”

I get up from the couch like I can do any of that here. I don’t know where anything is, and with the bedroom door open, do I really want to make a racket trying to feed Magnum, essentially distracting myself from the news I’ve just received? Johnny would be up in a heartbeat if he heard me moving around out here.

“I need all that,” he says, “…but there’s no time right now.”

“Bullshit,” I say, my voice rising above the whispered tones we’ve been talking in. “You’ll miss shit if you stay on duty any longer. Isn’t there someone else who can take over?”

My gaze darts around the apartment looking for something to focus on. Maybe a cereal box, so I can eat and force-feed Magnum at the same time. Or a cell phone to call Oscar. Or—

“Hey,” Magnum says, fingers wrapping around my forearm. “It’s okay.”

I take a deep breath, gaze dropping to his touch. Instead of pulling away from me, he keeps his hand steady. Magnum and I are in the same boat with one another. He offered me a way to get out last night. He offered to help, and I could just as easily turn him in as he could me. What does this mean though? Are we friends? Allies? None of those seem like the right label with how he looks at me.

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