“Raid—” I started, but his hands lifted up and gripped me at my hips.
“You don’t f**k with me,” he declared firmly. “She f**ked with me.”
That she did.
I said nothing.
“And she f**ked with you,” he went on. “She saw you were freaked and she went in for the kill. You don’t f**k with me. You absolutely do not f**k with you.”
“Okay, but that led to us—”
“No, Hanna. No.” He shook his head on my pillow. “Love knowin’ you love me, feels good you knowin’ I love you, but that was ours to share and we would have eventually done it anyway. But what I share with you in bed is mine. It’s yours. It’s ours and no one else’s. She watched me take you, and I don’t give a shit she was only there at the end, that’s not hers to have. She doesn’t get to hear the words I say to you when I’m inside you and she doesn’t get to hear what you whisper to me. And no one, but no one, gets to share in you comin’ for me.”
I had to admit, he was right. I didn’t like that she got that from us either.
“So she pays back,” Raiden declared. “She hates her job, she’s not gonna have it much longer. She likes to haunt a certain bar, she’s gonna find herself not welcome there anymore. She rents, her landlord is suddenly gonna rethink her tenancy. Next time she wakes up and feels like bein’ a bitch, she’ll think again.”
I felt my eyes get big.
“Are you seriously going to do all that?”
“I am seriously gonna do all that.”
“Holy Moses. Now I feel sorry for her.”
“You should, baby. She’s a sad, lonely bitch who needs to eat a sandwich and get a life.”
It was mean, but he was funny so I started giggling.
Raiden smiled as he watched, his arms moving to circle me.
When I quit giggling, he remarked, “Speakin’ about people f**kin’ you. You’re gonna be getting a check from Bob.”
I was confused. “Bob?”
“Reimbursement for the sports package he sold you on the Z, but didn’t tell you he sold you.”
I blinked.
Then I shared, “The car came that way.”
“Other Z’s on that lot that come other ways, honey. You drive that Z like it’s your grandmother’s Buick. You need sports shocks like you need a hole in the head.”
I pushed slightly up, or as up as his arms around me would let me go, and protested, “I do not drive my girl like the Buick!”
“Do you know what sport shocks are?”
I could make a wild stab, but the truth of it was I didn’t really know what shocks were.
I decided not to answer.
He grinned at me and ordered, “Cash the check.”
“It’s not Bob’s fault I’m an idiot.”
His grin died, his hands slid up my back, pressing down so I was face to face with him.
“Cash. The. Check,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding.
I stared in his eyes.
Then I said, “All right, honey.”
Raiden looked to the ceiling and cursed under his breath.
I let him and when he looked back at me, I asked, “Do you want a late night sundae?”
His eyes got hot, his hands moved to my behind and he answered, “Absolutely.”
* * * * *
Two days later…
I got the check from Bob.
Then I drove to Bob’s.
We sat down and talked.
An hour later, I signed the check over to the local hospice where Bob’s Mom died.
I walked out to my girl thinking KC was a genius.
Then I called Raiden and asked if he wanted to meet me at Rachelle’s for lunch.
* * * * *
Three days later, early evening…
Raiden walked into the kitchen, came up behind me at the stove and kissed my shoulder.
I twisted my neck to grin at him.
He grinned back.
I turned my attention back to the pan thinking it was awesome Raid had a bunch of cargo pants, a trunk, a weight bench and not much else. It took his Jeep and my SUV, two hours that was mostly packing, and he was in.
And this living together business was the business.
“Babe?” he called and I turned to him.
“Yeah?”
He was standing at the opposite counter where my opened mail was piled. He had a piece of paper in his hand and was waving it.
“The Hospice?” he asked.
Oh boy.
That paper was a thank you letter from the Hospice for Bob’s and my donation.
I said nothing and waited.
“Bob’s check,” he stated.
Raiden had put it together.
I bit my lip.
He shook his head, dropped the paper to the counter and grinned at the floor as he walked to the fridge, got a beer and walked out of the room.
I turned back to the stove.
Absolutely.
KC was a genius.
Chapter Eighteen
I Wake Up Happy
Three weeks later …
I was rushing around my bedroom, getting ready. I’d spent too much time amongst my perfumes trying to pick one, only to go back to Agent Provocateur, the one Raid liked, so I was running late.
I ran to the closet and was faced with another decision regarding flip-flops when my cell on the bed rang.
I dashed to it, saw the display and put it to my ear.
“Hey, honey, I’m running late,” I told Raiden.
“This is good since I am too,” he replied. “You wanna save us twenty minutes and I’ll meet you at Rache’s?”
“Sure, I’ll cycle in.”
“Babe, drive.”
Rough and commanding.
I ignored it. This was my baby. Willow was safe, but my Schwinn spent the night in my garage and nowhere else, except, of course, outside Raid’s den. But Raiden didn’t sleep at his den anymore, so now it was the garage and the garage only.
“That would mean I’d need to leave my Z in town overnight, and Rachelle will let me keep my bike in her back room.”
“We’ll leave the Jeep in town and drive your Z home. We can pick it up tomorrow.”
This idea was a good one so I agreed to it. “Okay, sweetheart.”
“See you there,” he told me.
“Right. ‘Bye, sweetheart.”
“Later, babe.”
I stopped dashing around, which meant I had plenty of time to make the perfect flip-flop choice.
I did this, locked up the house and moved to the garage to get my Z.
* * * * *
“Yo!” Rachelle greeted on a shout when I walked into her café and the bell over the door rang.