Chapter 3

Kat woke in the middle of the night, startled. She didn't know if she'd had a bad dream she just didn't remember or what, but she was wide awake. She sat up in bed, stretching lazily, and got up, tiptoeing into the main room, a soft smile touching her lips as she watched him sleep. He was sprawled all over the couch, twitching every now and then before he'd mumble something and shift. Her quiet chuckle made him start, but he didn't wake, and she reached for a blanket thrown over the back of her chair, pulling it over him and tucking him in, just enough to keep him from kicking the blanket off accidentally. He smiled in his sleep and settled down a little, giving a soft little sigh that shouldn't haven't been able to come from a man like him. She shook her head, heading back into her bedroom.

---

"Kat, if you don't keep hitting snooze I'm gonna come in there and make sure you get the fuck out of bed!" She opened her eyes, staring at the clock until the alarm went off again. Her door flew open just as she was reaching to shut it off, and she glared over her shoulder at him before hitting the button and burrowing under the sheets again. "Your breakfast is getting cold," he said quietly, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his ankles. The covers flew back and she sat up, legs sprawled out straight.

"You made breakfast?" He couldn't help but smile. Her hair was rumpled and she wore the grumpiest pout he'd ever seen.

"Yeah," he said through a quiet chuckle. She stood up, shuffling into the kitchen to inspect his work.

"I didn't know you could cook," she commented. She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why is it so fucking cold in here?"

"Maybe because you're just wearing a beater and underwear," he said, his coffee cup poised at his lips as he spoke. She blinked, watching him take a slow sip from the steaming mug. The pout hadn't dissipated, and he found himself smirking again. She glanced down at herself and swore. "Nothing I haven't seen before," he quipped with a shrug, receiving another cranky glare. He bit back a laugh as she spun around, marching back into her room, and hid his smile as she re-emerged wearing a pair of sweats.

"Got more coffee?" she asked, but he was already pouring her a cup. He held it out to her, smirking as the pout continued.

"You're a grump in the morning, aren't you?" She harrumphed at him, taking the cup and sniffing at the steam.

"You sleep okay?" she asked finally, after taking a couple sips from her mug.

"Yeah," he said, turning back to the waffle iron he'd dug out of the back of one of her cabinets. "Thanks for the blanket, by the way." She nodded, settling into a stool at the breakfast bar to watch him play domestic.

"Where'd you learn how to cook?"

"When you eat MREs for months at a time, you teach yourself when you get some down time." She nodded slowly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Mm," she mumbled through her coffee. "Okay." He glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Just okay?" he asked, plopping a waffle on a plate and handing it to her. She reached for the butter he'd set out on the counter, nodding.

"Be nice to James," she said quietly, foregoing the syrup to pick the waffle up and eat it like toast. He turned sharply, eyeing her. "He knows you died, so he might be a little, um…" she trailed off, trying to think of the right word, "flabbergasted." His eyebrow rose. "He's touchy when he gets that way." His brow stayed quirked at her, but he nodded slowly. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind some time off, so you get to train tonight. It'll be one of the slower nights of the week. Easiest to keep your bearings under pressure that way. We'll phase you in over a week or so before I give him a break."

"Bartending," he said slowly.

"Yeah. You bounce, you gotta know how to cover the bar if you have to," she said, punctuating the statement with a bite of her waffle. He turned around completely, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter behind him. Her brow rose slowly to mirror his. "We'll see how it goes and I'll decide when I think the time is right," she said. "But I'm telling you, I'm not giving you a break here. You bust your ass just like me and James do and you can stay. Just because you're great in bed doesn't mean I'll feel obligated to keep you on." A cocky smirk touched his lips, but he squelched it quickly.

"And if I fail the test?"

"You're on your own, sweetheart," she said with a small shrug. "There's a few places around here that might let you bounce without knowing shit about tending bar, but you'll have to find them yourself. I don't talk much with the competition." He nodded, turning back to the sink. She watched him for a while, finally smirking. "Why don't you just go ahead and ask," she suggested. He paused, his head turning toward her slightly, but he didn't look at her.

"What's the verdict?"

"About what?" she asked sweetly, the smirk turning into a grin.

"Jesus Christ," he sighed. "You're giving me a chance to work for you, I get that much. But that don't mean you're gonna keep me."

"Keep you?" she snickered. "Shit, you make yourself sound like a lost dog." He chuckled, shaking his head. Her jovialness faded, and she stared into her coffee cup. "I can't promise anything, Toombs," she said quietly, heaving a sigh. "We'll see what happens." He turned slowly, drying his hands.

"You know what you're doin'?" Her eyebrow rose, and he rubbed his eyes. "You do know you're putting yourself at risk having me here." She nodded, lifting her eyes to his. "I mean, someone walks in and knows who I am, I don't know what's gonna happen."

"That gun's always behind the counter. You carry if you think you need to," she said. "Not many bouncers do. You get in a tussle, and they might be able to get it away from you. Your call."

"You know what I'm talking about," he said quietly.

"Yeah, I do," she said, standing. He took the plate she held out to him and ran water in it. She watched him produce a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and light one. His eyebrow rose as she reached out and plucked it from his lips, taking a long, slow drag, expecting her to cough.

"When did you learn to smoke?" he asked. She shrugged, but the tug of a smile at the corners of her lips made him note to press her about it later. He quickly replaced the cigarette she stole, watching her slide her makeshift ashtray a little closer to him.

"You're talking about a situation where a former pay day walks in and says, 'Hey, that's Toombs. I thought he was dead. Mother fucker took me in and made my life a living hell,' or a situation where a former team mate comes in and says, 'Hey, that's Toombs. I thought he was dead. Mother fucker took me on a run and left me out there without a fuckin' penny'." His eyebrow rose. "What, you thought I didn't know that happened? Christ. I'm a fuckin' bartender. People talk too much when they're shitfaced."

"And yet here I am asking you if you're sure you want me to stay here," he said slowly. She tilted her head to the side.

"I knew you were a merc when you walked through my door the first time, darlin'," she said with a small smile. "I've served some of those former team mates you left behind. And yes, here you are. What's so hard to understand about that? It's the nature of the business." He blinked, and she sighed, scratching her head. "I've never pretended the world was a nice place, Toombs," she continued, pausing for another quick drag. "I grew up on these streets here in New Harlem. I know what it's like to make due with what you have and fight to keep it. I know street justice just as well as you, and I know survival just as well as you."

"I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into," he said quietly. "The risk you're putting yourself and your bar at."

"It's the same risk I put myself at the first time I let you keep my bed warm. Just a little more visible," she said, watching the wheels turn as he mulled that over. "You wanna argue about this some more?" He held his hands up in mock surrender and smiled.

"Ground rules?" he asked with the most charming grin he could muster.

"Don't bring anyone up to my apartment, especially your whores," she said, holding his gaze and watching his smile fall. "No drugs, no drinking on the job, and keep the back door locked unless you're walking through it. Touch my safe and I'll kill you myself."

"Is that it?"

"Think you can handle it?" she asked, cocking her head.

"I've got a few rules of my own," he said with a smirk. Her eyebrow rose.

"This is my apartment. You want to pay rent?" He chuckled, but she didn't smile.

"One, come up with something else to call me that I can remember. Two, learn to trust me completely. Three, if you want to make this just a business arrangement, make some room for a cot or something. That couch fuckin' kills my back." She smiled a little. "Four, read up on the cases I've handled. I mean pictures and everything. I want you to be able to recognize someone as quick as me. And five, learn how to wake up when your alarm goes off the first time." She snickered at the last rule, shaking her head. "Deal?"

"Deal," she agreed, still laughing. "I just thought of one more." He crossed his arms over his chest. "We're not together when we're working," she said slowly. He took a step forward, and she tilted her head back a little to look up at him. "That's just askin' for more trouble on your end."

"I don't know if I can do that," he said, glancing down at the smile playing on her lips. "You might have to switch up some of your clothes if you expect me to keep my hands off you." Her smile deepened.

"I keep forgetting you're not exactly the poster child for self-control," she said, tilting her head a little to the side as she took a step toward him. His eyebrow twitched upwards a little.

"Might be a liability having me as a bouncer then," he said, his own smirk surfacing.

"You're right," she said, spinning away from him and walking away. "You're fired." His hands went to his hips, and he shook his head, licking his lips.

"Damn," he whispered, closing his eyes. When he opened them, she was leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom, eyebrow quirked in a challenge.

"We open late on Sundays," she said quietly, glancing behind her at her alarm clock. "Three hours before we start prepping." His eyebrow rose as well, but he didn't move. She rolled her eyes, stomping across the floor toward him.

"I take it you decided against the business arrangement?"

"Don't make me get violent to get what I want from you," she warned, mustering the most menacing glare she could, but only getting a chuckle. "I will."

"By all means, baby," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bring it on." Her eyes narrowed, and she just stared at him for a while. He reacted quickly, catching her wrist as she threw a punch, and twisted her arm, slamming her against the wall. The breath left her in a grunt, and he jammed his knee between her thighs, sliding her up the wall. Her other arm swung, but he caught it as well, pinning both of her arms above her head. She wrapped her legs around his waist, still glaring down at him. "You really think you could get away with that?" he growled, lowering his foot back to the ground once he was sure the grip her legs had on him would hold her up.

"Maybe I just wanted to provoke you into being the aggressive one," she hissed, still slightly out of breath from the impact with the wall. He chuckled, shaking his head as he released her arms, prompting a moan as he pressed his hips against her to keep her against the wall. She laced her fingers behind his neck, pulling him toward her, but he only let his lips barely brush hers, fighting her attempts to tug him closer. She let out a growl, her head falling back with a quiet thunk against the wall. He chuckled again, moving his lips to her throat and torturing her with light kisses and nips. By the time he pulled her away from the wall, she'd given into letting him have his way with her.

"You know you're gorgeous when you're pissed off?" he asked against her skin, his voice a low rumble in his throat as he walked her back to the bedroom. She chuckled, twining her fingers in his curls and jerking his head back.

"You want me to get pissed off again for ya?" she asked, poising her lips just above his in the same barely-there kiss he'd tortured her with. He let out one of her favorite laughs, but she quieted it, claiming his lips in a frantic kiss, quickly making up for two years lost. The kiss was only broken by his dumping her on the bed, quickly kicking off his boots and joining her there, pulling her under him by her hips.

"Just to warn you, this is gonna be quick," he whispered, his hands sliding up her sides, nudging her shirt up.

"We've got three hours," she panted, ripping her shirt over her head before going to work on his. "You're not quite old enough yet to worry about not being able to bounce back fast enough."

"Oh, ouch," he chuckled, shifting to let her tug his shirt off and toss it somewhere on the floor. "Low blow. I'll get you back for that one." She chuckled, lifting her hips up to let him wrench her sweats from her.

"Look forward to it," she replied, groaning and arching into him as he let his weight press her into the mattress. "Guess we'll just have to see if my calculations about your refractory period are correct, though, won't we?"

"You're cruisin' sweetheart," he growled, fighting with his jeans. She sat up, watching him with an amused smirk.

"For what?"

"A serious bruisin' if you don't cut that shit out," he said, sending her a wicked grin. Her smirk fell slowly, and she tensed.

"You're not serious," she said slowly. His smile fell, his expression softening a bit as he moved to hover over her again.

"I'd never hurt you, doll," he whispered. "But I'm hoping the threat will be enough to drop the age jokes."

"You know I'm kidding," she replied, sounding too hopeful for him to not feel guilty about calling her on it.

"If I didn't, you really think I'd still be here?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her face. She blinked. His lips met hers gently, and it took her a moment to respond. When he pulled back, she still had that apprehensive expression, and he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "Let's get one thing straight here," he said quietly. "We're both here because we want to be, so I seriously doubt you'd really have that much of a problem with my age and still be a willing accomplice." Her arms tightened around his shoulders, back arching as he pressed into her, his moan vibrating through her and sending chills up her spine. "When I'm serious you'll know it," he continued breathlessly, pausing to press his lips to hers with another gravelly groan. "And if I can't take your cruel teasing you'll know it."

"Is that the bruise part?" she asked, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades with a whimper.

"I think that's the only empty threat I've ever made," he said breathlessly. Her teeth sunk into his lower lip as he started moving, no more words spoken. He found himself concentrating intently on holding off, trying to make the most of it for her, but she pulled her lips from his, gently nipping at his ear.

"Make it up to me later," she whispered, grinding her hips against his as he slowed to keep his control in check. His grunt sounded like he was in pain, and she glanced up at him, watching him let his control slip. She stroked his back as he shuddered, holding him tightly as he trembled against her, marveling in the weight of him. He shuddered again as she pressed her lips to his temple, another raspy moan rumbling in his chest. His head settled against her chest, his nose resting in the hollow of her throat, and she ran her fingers through his hair. He stared at the clock, and when everything registered, he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Fucking pathetic," he muttered, turning away from the clock. She glanced at it and chuckled, prompting another guttural moan from him.

"How long has it been?"

"Too long," he mumbled.

"Like I said, you can make it up to me later." He sighed heavily, lifting away from her and settling back down, sliding his hands under her to grasp her shoulders. She dropped another kiss on the top of his head. "Get up and get in the shower," she commanded quietly. "We gotta get moving if we're gonna explain this to James and have time for him to adjust." Toombs only grumbled, tightening his grip on her. She let out a laugh, trying to sit up.

"Gimme a minute," he said, his weight keeping her from sitting up all the way, and she flopped back into the pillows with a lazy sigh.

"You really think you can give it up?" she asked quietly, toying with the curls sprouting from his head.

"What?"

"Bein' a merc." He lifted his head to look at her, eyebrow poised into a question.

"You don't believe me," he surmised, eyeing her carefully. She sighed, letting her eyes close.

"It's an addiction," she said softly. "You're used to the adrenaline, the hunt. And you won't get that staying here."

"And?"

"And I don't know what you're thinking, trying to give it up. It's in your blood, Toombs. Why are you starting this when you know you'll want to go back to the life eventually?"

"I'm getting too old for it, Kat," he grumbled quietly, shaking his head as he relaxed against her again. "Reflexes are slower, need more sleep. I can't do it forever, and I've always known that."

"But…"

"But nothing," he insisted with a small shrug. "It was great while it lasted but keeping it up is just asking for it." She nodded slowly, and he didn't see the pained and concerned expression in her eyes. She continued playing with his hair, letting him fall into a light sleep.