Runaway by JB Schroeder

Author:JB Schroeder [Schroeder, JB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JB Schroeder, LLC and Two Feet Press

Charlie hadn’t set an alarm, yet woke early anyway. She had no Glide shift until lunch on Tuesdays, so she lazed in bed, watching Mitch sleep, her heart twisting with feelings that were foreign to a hardened soul like her. She sought a distraction and slid her palm over his hipbone, cupped him, got a rise out of him almost instantly, then decided he probably needed his sleep more than she needed him.

She tucked her hand back under her pillow and hooked her leg over his, content just to soak up his presence.

Too late. His eyes—heavy-lidded and hot—watched her.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, and rolled over to pin her and capture her lips in his.

And they didn’t, not for quite a while.

Finally spent, they’d considered showering together, but Charlie’s shower stall was like a broom closet. So Mitch had taken a quickie, she went next, and by the time she was dressed, he was out cold again. He’d sprawled facedown on her bed, under the covers this time, the sheet barely covering his rear end. Broad shoulders, smooth and solid, brown hair—darker when wet—curling just a bit over his neck. She’d offered him her razor, but he’d said he was too tired to care.

Out of nowhere—a tune blared. Charlie jumped at the side of the bed where she’d been watching him. Mitch bolted upright, then scrabbled for his cell in the mound of clothes on the floor.

He pushed a button, put the phone to his ear, and faced her. She realized he was sticking up like a tent pole, and widened her eyes at him. He grinned back.

“O’Dell, what’s up?” he said. In mere seconds, his expression turned serious and he looked dark and foreboding again, just like when he’d entered her apartment that first night he’d called her Laura. “Jesus, where?”

He stuck the phone between his ear and his shoulder and shoved his legs into his boxers, then his jeans. His boots were on before he said, “No, she did the right thing calling you first. I’m friggin’ two time zones away.” He got one arm in his T-shirt. “If you find her, bring her in—I don’t care for what, just get her off the streets until I can get there.”

He listened for a moment. “If she’s underground, get a warrant for that prick Weihle’s house.” Another pause. “I’ve got proof. Tell Marcone to trust me.”

Charlie’s heart seized and a rushing filled her ears.

Mitch turned to her as his head popped through the neck hole of his shirt. As he rounded the end of the bed, he shoved the cell phone into a back pocket. She retreated.

His expression darkened. He stepped forward and grasped her upper arms to keep her in place.

“Tiffany’s in Blakes Ridge.”

“I’m glad,” she whispered. “Maybe she’ll go home—to your Mom.”

“She’s already been there. Wouldn’t stay.” He scowled. “You and I both know she’s headed for Weihle, for his drugs.”

She looked away, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to face him.

“Come with me,” he said.

“No.” She shook her head free of his hand.

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