Chapter 10
Don had hardly gone when Charlie hurried into the garage. Amita followed him, frowning. With over- enthusiasm, he started to move boxes back and forth.
"However, that's definitely not my understanding of a romantic evening," Amita sighed, leaning against the wall.
"Excuse me," Charlie said, "but I knew I have copies of Craven's case someplace here. I know I must destroy the files but in this case I thought it might be useful ...," he apologized, and gave Amita a brittle smile as he discovered her reproachful look.
He was really sweet turning "the little eccentric professor" to the outside, a little clumsy and chaotic. She simply could not resist, approached him from behind and pressed herself against him while he already was thinking about the Brute-force method and rummaged about in an old carton for documents.
She tenderly nibbled at his earlobe and neck. Tickles ran down Charlie's spine, but a part of him still struggled to give in the feeling she caused.
He turned his head a little and mumbled, "Stop it Amita, I really have to concentrate."
"But you promised something to me before Don arrived. Don't you remember?"
"Er, no, I haven't and ..." he turned around annoyed, "it's just I can't concentrate on my work if you..."
"Keep groping you?" she finished the sentence mischievously and started to strip off her shirt, slowly.
Charlie swallowed hard, "You're not about to ... I mean, you mean, I think ... I mean you're not going to do what I'm thinking you're going to do?" he stammered.
"You are so sweet … stammering like a teenager on his first date," she gave him a loving smile and dropped off her jeans.
Then she got close to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a promising kiss that made Charlie's body straining for release.
"Amita, what, if Dad and Millie ..." he mumbled between two breathtaking kisses.
"They won't be back soon, don't worry," she said, wiping his doubts away.
"But ..."
"Charlie?!"
"What?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
Charlie Eppes wasn't resistant to female attraction, so he decided to give in.
He nevertheless hesitated, "And you really wanna do it, here in the garage?"
Amita grinned from ear to ear, "The old couch looks very invitingly, don't you think?"
Before he could answer she'd sealed his lips with another heated kiss, which turned him in to wax in her hands.
Don dropped off his car, totally exhausted. After he had left Charlie and Amita, he'd gone back to the office once more, to speed him up on the latest news. And what had he learned? Nothing, nada. It would definitely become a problem to justify Charlie's and Alan's observation over a longer time period. Pissed, he went to his apartment. He locked the car and went over to the entrance. What was this?
Had his tired eyes played a trick on him or had there actually a dark shadow darted over the forecourt and disappeared into the staircase? Don's nerves were on edge. He pulled his gun and followed the unsub. The entrance door hardly felt shut as he heard the clicking of heels heading up the stairs toward his apartment.
He gave a quiet curse and switched on the light. Had Craven sent a female killer after him? Or was this guy just wearing a pair of bloody expensive Italian shoes? Don was prepared everything, almost everything. He carefully worked his way forward from floor to floor, with the gun in an aiming position and released the safety catch. Don was afraid his own heartbeat might tell the intruder where he was.
The blood was pounding in his ears like taiko drums. He heard the clicking again. Don held his breath when the automatic timer switched off the corridor light and it went pitch-black around him.
He nervously licked his lips and hissed, "SHIT!"
He did not wear a Kevlar vest either. It was in the trunk of his car together with the radio and all his other equipment. An assassination in the staircase of his own apartment complex? The thought was totally absurd.
But one could never know and now there he stood alone in the dark, and he could only guess where the intruder was hiding. As he approached the landing, he made the perfect target. As quietly as possible, he crept over to the elevator and jabbed the button. With a deafening "ping," the door slid open. Don jabbed the button with his floor number on it, but he didn't enter. He was sure if the elevator reached its destination the assassin would turn his full attention to the door for certain.
It was all a question of timing. The sweat beaded on Don's forehead and ran down his spine, he huffed out a breath. A bead of sweat got into his left eye. It burned, but he ignored the pain. His muscles were tensed and all his senses were on high alert. The elevator arrived. Don jumped out from his cover at the same time he heard the "ping."
He took two steps at once. In front of him he discovered someone whose shape stood out against the pale moonlight.
"FBI, freeze," he hollered out and felt kind of stupid. This was like a bad B-movie. The door of the elevator went shut. Darkness returned.
"Stay where you are," Don ordered, "hands up where I can see them, c'mon."
Suddenly the door next to him flew open; Don almost pulled the trigger but stopped in the very last moment. He recognized old Murphy, one of his neighbors.
"What the fuck is going on in here?" he snarled.
His breath stank from whisky; the old man was obviously drunk, "Why the fuck are you fumbling around with a gun in front of my nose?" He looked at Don as if he was E.T. on a stopover on planet earth.
"Mr. Murphy, would you please be so kind and close your door?" Don muttered and remarked to his horror that the dark shape had disappeared at the other end of the hall.
Murphy scratched his ass, "No way. This is more thrilling than fucking CSI on TV."
Don had lowered his gun, "Mr. Murphy, please, it is for your own safety."
The old man mumbled incomprehensible things. The guy smelled like a brewery and could intoxicate the whole building for sure.
Furiously he slammed the door in Don's face, "Thank you," Don muttered then drew his attention back to the end of the hall. This time he took care that the light remained on.
"Don?" he heard a female voice. "Don? Can I come out without being shot?"
"Dear Lord, Ivy!" Don's physical strain had disappeared with a blow.
"Yes, it's me, Goddamit." She stepped out into the light.
She wore a black trench coat, black stockings and high heels. Smiling, he hurried toward her and pulled her in his arms.
"Never ever do this again Ivy, I'm begging you, never ever do this again. Especially on a day like today," he mumbled and pressed his lips hard on hers.
"What is wrong with you? I have left a message on your voicemail," she said.
He sighed holstered his gun and took the keys and the cell from the inside pocket of his jacket.
He held the cell in front of her eyes, "I'm sorry I forgot to charge it. The battery's dead."
"Well then you have to think about a fair compensation. You scared the shit out of me," she teased him while he was unlocking the door of his apartment, "and you almost killed me."
When they were inside, he gave her a smack on the bottom, "I would never do this," he said tenderly and wanted to help her with her coat.
She escaped him and went into the living room.
"What about a drink?" She already had her fingers at the light switch and the lights dimmed.
When Don came back with two glasses of red wine, Ivy stood there, her back to him. The trench coat was gone. Don was amused, because he'd expected something like that: Apart from a bra, a string holder, less stockings, and high heels, she was naked.
"Wow, the Victoria's Secret latest autumn collection," he said in a husky voice.
"Oh, a man with taste," she turned around and took him into her arms briefly.
Shortly afterwards, she lifted her head to look him into the eyes and wrinkled her cute snob nose, "the man with taste could really use a shower."
Don smelled at his shirt and nodded, "Yes, he could. Stay where you are, I'll be back in a few minutes."
She already had other plans. Don stood under the shower for hardly two minutes, soaked from head to heels as she joined him. She'd left the lingerie in the living room.
"What a surprise," he said his voice like soft silk.
"I can scrub your back if you want," she said and winked invitingly.
He washed the soap from his body and pushed her gently against the tiled wall covering her face with kisses and followed the path down her neck. He bit her slightly into her neck. She moaned out loudly. Then, he returned back to her mouth teasing her with fake kisses, which made her furious.
"Don, you're driving me insane," she mumbled and felt the pounding between her legs.
Her body was yearning for him and so she pushed herself against him.
The hot water drummed down on both as Don lifted her up and pressed deeper as her muscles contracted around him. He moaned quietly. She called out his name buried her face in the curve of his shoulder.
He set their bodies in a rhythm and as he thrust again she cried out, "Oh God. Yes. I want you so badly."
At some point, he'd lost the thread of conversation. There was a muffled cry in the distance and he felt her body contracting around him. Her pleasure finally catapultated him into his own. He'd practically had heart failure toward the end so hard was his pulse.
Later, they lay in bed, Ivy steeping in the kaleidoscope of sensation which he'd gifted her. She pressed a gentle kiss on his hairy chest and settled her head back on his arm. Since this whole nightmare started Don hadn't felt so good. He rolled them to their side, grabbed her buttocks, and pulled her close, so they remained as one.
A long time later after she'd thought he'd be asleep, she felt the rumble of his voice against her cheek, "You are the best medicine for me." Then he kissed her good night. tbc