Like before, Erin was dressed modestly, although her choice of clothing molded itself to the curves of her body. The black t-shirt stretched tight over her torso, revealing the faint outlines of some abs; jeans, fraying at the bottoms of each leg, clung close to her skin. Ross took a step forward, scrambling to find something to say. Christmas's jaw hardened.
"Never been better," he answered, forcing himself to keep from clenching his teeth.
Erin offered Lee a genuine smile, unnerving him to the bone. Nodding her head, she turned to Ross. "From the way your boys have been acting, Ross," she said, "I'd say they're pretty damn excited to meet the newest member of the team. Am I allowed to thank you? Or is thanks forbidden?"
"It's generally unspoken but acknowledged," Ross replied, glancing with mild amusement at Christmas as he recalled the man's cry from the last mission – 'You could've killed me!' – in which he had offered no thank you for the saving of his life. "Who told you about the decision?"
The men shook their heads as Ross glanced at each one in turn, all claiming to be innocent. Tool just smirked and said, "We didn't have to. She walked right in and said, 'Good evening' – can you believe that? Good evening! Who says that anymore? – and then she sat down and told us she was very excited to be joining us."
Erin gave a small shrug, the hint of a smug smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "You can tell a lot about a situation just by looking and listening. It's something I learned from the best."
Ross and Christmas couldn't help but notice the frown that washed over Erin's lips for a brief moment, nor the pensive and nostalgic look that spread into her pupils. She blinked and shook her head, smiled again and glanced around at the team. She received smiles from each team member – even Gunner, who offered a harsh grin that was more amiable than it seemed – except Christmas, who stared hard at her, fighting the urge to meet her smile with one of his own, and Ross, who struggled with the same but for, perhaps, different reasons than Lee. Erin met Christmas's gaze for the longest time, a tense silence blanketing the room, and shook her head, muttering to herself, "I'm gonna have to work on him." Lee refrained from stepping forward and yelling at the woman. His fury startled him, made him shudder involuntarily. Ross, sensing Christmas's discomfort, approached Erin with powerful strides, gathering about his air of authority and superiority.
"Lee, you're British, yes?" Erin asked, craning her head to look over Ross's shoulder; Ross faltered in his steps.
"Why do you care?"
"I'm met quite a few Brits, and none seem to be so…" Erin searched for a word, one that wasn't too harsh but still bit enough to get across. "I want to say thick-skinned. They've never been hostile, that's for sure. Where do you hail?"
"Fuck off."
"Huh. I've never heard of that province. I'll have to look that up, won't I?" Erin's eyes twinkled.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Tool asked, glancing between Christmas's stony expression and Erin's smirk.
"Of course." Erin rolled her eyes over at Tool. "One must make use of what little pleasures there are left in this world. I believe taunting ranks among said pleasures."
Ross cleared his throat, planted himself in front of Erin. Sensing that the big cheese was about to launch into something grand, Erin stood to her feet and faced Ross, slipping into a modified 'at ease' military position. Toll Road elbowed Gunner, gestured indiscreetly at the action. Yang met Christmas's gaze and arched an eyebrow, giving the slightest tilt of the head towards Erin. Christmas crossed his arms over his chest, safely distanced himself away from the woman and settled down on the tail of Tool's bike.
"We need to get one thing straight," Ross began, fixing Erin with a stare. "You may be with us, but you are not a part of the team. Not until we say so. Understood?"
Erin nodded curtly, all expression falling from her face. "Yes, sir."
"Yang, Lee, and I make the decisions around here. You are not allowed to decide anything without permission from one of us. You're gonna follow all the rules and do what we say."
"As long as Tool doesn't order me to fuck him, I agree to those rules," Erin said. Hale snickered from behind Tool, eliciting a glare from Christmas, whose fierce expression forbade Hale from encouraging Erin.
"For the first couple of jobs, you will follow, but you will not get involved. Understood? We want you out of the way and causing no trouble." Ross felt the hard edge of his voice slipping as he stared at Erin, focusing all his energy to keep himself from wavering in his composure. Speechlessness was a trait Ross prided himself for lacking. Lord forbid he developed speechlessness while addressing the woman. "As of right now, one of us will be with you at all times."
"At all times?" Erin nodded her head. "Understood. Am I required to spend much of my time here in the shop?"
"What? You've got better things to do?" Christmas called over Ross's shoulder. "If you can't devote time to the team, then don't bother attempting to join it!"
"Oh, no, I have a shitload of free time." Erin brought her gaze back to Ross. "I do have a house a few blocks from here, although I'm sure you guys already know that. The neighbors are suspicious enough as it is; I don't want to be missing from my house too long unless I have to."
"You should be here most of the time," Ross said. "We have business to take care of most the time."
"I'm sure." Erin clicked her low boot heels together, tightened the hands clasped behind her back.
"What did you mean by suspicious?" Yang asked, shifting his weight against the table he was leaning against.
"Oh, the neighbors, you mean?" Erin gave a quiet, nearly indiscernible sigh. "I moved here recently. Neighbors are always suspicious of a new neighbor, especially if that neighbor is a single woman buying a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house. I'd be suspicious if I were them." She pursed her lips, cocked her head slightly. "Then again, I'm kinda paranoid. And narcissistic." She suddenly burst into mild chuckling. "Although," she said, glancing at all the men in turn, "they'll probably think I'm a whore."
"Why's that?" Tool's eyebrows arched high. He moved forward to face Erin. "You don't bring a new man to the house every night, do you? That's kinky."
"You're definition and my definition of kinky are different, Tool; I'm pretty damn sure of that." Erin offered him a smile nevertheless, drawing the familiar wide and toothy grin. "No, I don't bring different guys to the house every night. Not until now." Her gaze drifted to Christmas, held his eyes for a brief moment. "I could care less about the fucking neighbors. I just want to know how all this is gonna work out. Got a schedule or something?"
"Yes," Yang answered, tapping his temple. "But you don't get to know."
"Keep me on my toes, then?" Erin shook her head, a broad grin tugging at her lips. "No problem." She turned to Ross, stared up into his eyes. "Is that all for now? The boys want to talk to me some more, can't you tell?"
Ross glanced away and looked at his men. Hale, Toll Road, Gunner, and Tool seemed all too full of anticipation, the expressions on their faces indicating their eagerness to resume their conversation with Erin. Ross frowned inwardly, disbelieving. The men had only known Erin for ten minutes, maybe more, and yet they had already been enraptured.
Such is the effect of women, Ross thought, forcing himself to meet Erin's gaze again. Though only a foot away, the close proximity made Ross mildly claustrophobic. Knowing that he would have the first shift for surveillance on Erin, he could only imagine the anxiety – something he rarely felt – he would experience. Erin's eyes smiled at him, offering an unvoiced challenge, offering a dare. 'Try me,' they said. 'Go on ahead. It'll be fun – when I whoop your ass.'
Ross nodded his head. Erin followed suit and turned back to the men, rolling her shoulders as if to relieve tension in her neck. Settling down on the edge of Tool's tattoo seat, she propped her ankle on her knee, leaned back, and turned to Tool.
"Heya, Tool, I've been thinking about getting a new tat." Erin cocked her head, thinking. "Don't know what it'll be yet, though. Got any suggestions?"
"Loads." Tool grinned. "For you, I think something sexy's in order, don't you think, boys?" He sized up Erin with his eyes, eyebrows arching. "Mmm, that'd be nice. What do you think about chains? Wrapping are your body – hell yeah. Or spider webs. Spider webs, yes. Tried to get spider webs on Christmas's head, but he wouldn't let me. Would've been fucking sexy, with this big black widow spider stretching down the side of his face and everything. Could've had one of her legs touching the corner of his mouth, too."
"In your dreams," Christmas snapped, although he was unable to keep from smiling.
"Nah." Erin shook her head. "Christmas wouldn't look good with a tat on his head. It'd ruin his pretty face." Erin pursed her lips. "I was thinking something…sexy, yeah, but not slutty, you know? I don't like the thorny roses or spider webs and shit. I don't know. Got anymore ideas?"
"Ooo, I could paint a big-ass panther on your body," Tool exclaimed, the excitement creeping into his voice and eyes. "Like that actress – what's her name? Oh, yeah, Jennifer Aniston – in that movie Bounty Hunter wanted. Tail down one leg, face between your tits, paws on the ass, paws near your vagina…it'd be my masterpiece."
Erin shook her head. "I doubt you'll get to see anything but my back. Nice try, though. What else you got?"
As Erin and Tool tossed around ideas, Toll Road, Gunner, and Hale chipping in and getting just as excited – and, albeit, turned on – as Tool, Ross turned to Yang and pulled him aside. The Asian beckoned Christmas over, too, noting the painful look that crossed the Brit's face as Tool painted vivid images of what he wanted to do with the canvas that was Erin's body. Even Ross fought to ignore Tool's comments and the images that followed of Erin. Only Yang, gifted with a sexual interest toward Asian women alone, avoided all arousing feelings.
"What's the schedule?" Ross asked, tempted to shove earplugs into his head so as to drown out the laughter from the rest of the team. "I'm first, then who?"
"I wasn't sure whether you wanted me to make a daily schedule or weekly one," Yang answered. "I ordered it like this: you first, then Christmas, Hale, me, Toll Road, and Gunner. I didn't include Tool because of what might happen if he and Erin were left alone." His gaze involuntarily flit to the older man, who was clearly aroused as he imagined all the things he could paint on Erin's body.
"I think daily would be best," Christmas said. "I don't want to spend a whole fucking week following her ass."
"Oh, I'm sure you'd like it, Lee," Erin's voice spoke up behind Christmas. "It's wonderful being British, isn't it, Christmas? No matter how many people are in a room talking, somebody can always pick out the British voice from the crowd, unless he's whispering."
Red flushed up Christmas's neck and face, partially embarrassment, mostly anger and frustration. Ross planted a hand on Lee's shoulder, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "We'll do daily for a week or so. Then we'll switch to weekly."
"If she lasts that long," Christmas muttered, clicking his heel against the ground. "How're we gonna do this? We just literally follow her ass wherever it goes?"
"Wherever it goes," Ross repeated. "It's the best way."
"Best way my ass," Lee growled. "I still think this is a bad fucking idea."
"It will be if you kill her while she's sleeping, Christmas." Ross stared hard at the younger man, daring him to argue. "Whatever your problem is with her, put it fucking aside. You'll just have to deal with her, understood?"
Christmas exhaled heavily, nodded curtly. He glanced over at Erin amidst the men, noting the ease at which she made the men laugh and how she appealed to them in more ways than one. She made a snappish remark at Hale, eliciting guffaws from the other men, Tool especially so. As she smirked, her eyes wandered over to Christmas, made eye contact. Her brown eyes revealed nothing aside from a flintiness that hardened her face and deepened the faint lines around her mouth and on her forehead. Christmas kept the eye contact, stared as hard and fiercely as he could. Erin looked away first, drawn out of the fierce gazing 'contest' by Gunner, who had made some obscene joke that required a response. Her face turned almost to profile, Christmas looked at her for the first time. He frowned, feeling his stomach flip as he realized he was admiring her features: the soft contours of her face, the glow of her skin underneath the harsh lights, the angular lines formed by what seemed to be age. The shadows on her face lengthened, stretched down her graceful neck, touched the top of her t-shirt. Christmas shivered not unpleasantly.
"Listen, boys," Erin said, climbing to her feet, "I'd love to stay and chat, but it's getting late, and I had a rough night last night. I need my sleep. I'll see you all tomorrow, right?" The men nodded their head unanimously, disappointed that Erin was leaving so soon. "Tool, you keep on thinking about ideas for a tat, 'kay?"
"All night, baby. All night."
"I was hoping you'd say that." Erin gave a coy smile to the men and sauntered over to Christmas. He tensed as she drew near.
For a moment, nothing but silence filled the space between them. Erin searched for some truth in Lee's gaze, for some kind of information that could help clarify all that was going on. She received nothing and sighed inwardly, knowing that, for Christmas to trust her, she'd need to work hard on him and do all that she could to make him believe she was okay. She offered him her hand. Though not necessarily a gentleman's gentleman, Christmas nevertheless took it and gave her a firm shake. She gripped his fingers just as firmly, but with a softness somewhere in between the handshakes of men and women. She dropped her hand, but not before Christmas agonized over the feel of her skin against his.
"I hope," she said, "that things'll turn out okay."
As for what she meant, Christmas hadn't a clue.
"Ross." Erin tapped the leader on the shoulder. "Can we go home now? I'm practically dead on my feet."
Ross nodded, cast a glance at Yang, then Christmas. Christmas nodded his head, his eyes following the two as they headed over to Ross's motorcycle in the back. Ross swung his leg over, started up the 'cycle, and centered his balance as Erin hopped onto the back. She grabbed the edge of the seat rather than his waist. Surprised, Ross kicked the motorcycle into gear and guided it out of the shop, acutely aware of the unnerving stares that followed him as he left. The night air enveloped him, sending shivers down his spine. Erin gave him directions, and they were soon at her house.
Located in a quiet neighborhood, the home, medium in size, did not stand out amongst the others lined up on either side of it. Erin directed Ross into the garage, where she waited for him to kill the 'cycle's engine before climbing off. She wove her way to the door connecting the garage to the house, navigating her way through the near darkness with ease. Ross followed close behind, glancing around quickly, wary. The garage door rattled shut behind him as Erin flipped on the light and stepped into her home, boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. Ross trailing a yard behind, the woman made her way through the house, checking in on each and every room – bathrooms included – before stopping in the kitchen.
"Hungry?" she asked, throwing open the refrigerator door and glancing through its meager contents; she didn't wait for a response. "Me neither." Letting the weight of the refrigerator door shut itself, Erin faced Ross, amused by the tense sinews in his neck as he scoped out the house in his own meticulous fashion. "I know you don't sleep much, but the guest bedroom's always available. It's next to my room." She beckoned above her and approached the stairs. "If you're that paranoid about me, there's a comfy chair – come on, I want to sleep; let's get up there! – for you to sit in and doze, if you need to."
"I doubt it." Hesitant, Ross took the steps two at a time and paused by Erin's bedroom door, peering into its bland interior. Bare, aside from a couple of tattered boxes, a bureau, a desk, the comfy chair, and a bed, the room offered no sense of hospitality or warm welcome. It seemed just as lifeless as Erin's throwing knife.
"You can keep the knife, by the way," Erin said, tugging out some clothes from underneath one of the bed's pillows. "I figured you kept it, since you haven't given it back. I've got plenty of others. You could give that knife to Christmas, if he wants it. I'm sure he'd be happy to mess with a new blade."
Ross, who had glanced into the adjoining bathroom, turned to address Erin and was shocked to see the woman removing her shirt. Back facing him, she tugged the t-shirt off, revealing the backside of her black bra. Somewhat flustered, Ross couldn't force himself to turn away. His eyes settled on Erin's left shoulder. A small three-by-five tattoo had been etched into her skin. A gray wolf bared its teeth at him, eyes flashing dangerously, as another gray wolf stretched its head to the sky, muzzle opened in a howl. Small, indiscernible writing scrawled beneath the tat, half hidden by Erin's bra strap. Before Ross could step forward and inspect closer, Erin tugged on a thin tank top. Slithering out of her pants, she slipped into extremely thin, holey basketball shorts, the name Frey scribbled on the bottom of her right hem.
"Tool will be disappointed when he finds you you've already got a tattoo," Ross managed to say.
"Yeah, well, I don't think I'll be getting another one. Not for a while, at least." Erin's voice was curt, her tone clipped. She tugged back the cover sheet of her bed violently.
"What's it represent?" Ross dared to ask, settling down into the comfy chair.
Erin sighed, threw herself onto the bed. She clicked the lights off, letting nothing but murky street lights enter the room through half-slatted windows. She finally answered, "It's a logo."
"For what?"
"An old team."
Ross heard Erin roll over and tug the blankets over her body.
"Goodnight, Ross," she said.
An old team, Ross thought, leaning back into the chair, hand on his gun. An old team?