Chapter 28

Lester

"Are you ready to -" Bobby's words abruptly cut off as he stepped into the doorway that leads from the hall to the living room and he caught sight of my predicament. "...go…?" he finished, amusement crossing his features and pulling his lips into a gorgeous grin that made me want to drag his face down to mine so I could kiss him. "What have you done?"

"I'll tell you what I haven't done," I countered, attempting to extricate myself from the mess I'd gotten myself into. "I haven't finished wrapping the present."

His grin grew wider as he sauntered closer. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he surveyed the curling ribbons binding my hands together and the bit of wrapping paper that had attached itself to my elbow via an errant length of tape I'd discarded when it got tangled. I could just imagine what was running through Bobby's head as his gaze grew hungry, roving over my body with interest before locking on where my ass protruded slightly into the air. I'd decided to kneel on the floor to wrap Steph's birthday present on the coffee table rather than taking it to the kitchen to use the much more conveniently sized kitchen table, and had been reaching across the table with my bound hands to grab the scissors when Bobby found me.

"I can see that," he murmured, his voice dropping in pitch, the slight rumbling tone sending ripples of desire straight to my crotch. "You wrapped yourself up instead." He leaned down, nudged the scissors further out of my reach, then stroked his hand under my chin, lifting my face just enough that he could brush his lips against mine. "I didn't know it was my birthday, too."

I wanted to engage with where he was taking this scene, but there was one problem: "We're already running late, Bobby," I groaned, the act of being the responsible party almost as painful as the erection growing behind my zipper. But it was necessary sometimes when Bobby got that look in his eye.

"We're not late yet," he countered. "We deliberately planned to be half an hour early, which means I have -" He looked at his watch and bit out a curse. "You're right. If we don't leave now, we'll be late." Straightening, he ran a hand over his braids, shaking his head. "And I refuse to be the reason Helen starts with the guilt trips about ruining the food."

"Exactly," I agreed. "Now cut me loose so we can get going."

He froze, one hand still on his hair as he eyed me, that all consuming hunger seeming to take over him for a moment before he managed to take control of himself again. Lifting the scissors slowly from the table, he held my gaze almost forcefully. "I reserved the right to tie you up and take you like this when we get home."

Never one to take a moment seriously, I grinned wickedly at him. "I dunno, Bobby. Maybe I should make you wait until your actual birthday."

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he picked up the scissors, tucked them into his pocket, grabbed the wrapped present and started for the door.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?!"

He didn't even pause at the door. Just kept walking as he called over his shoulder, "To Steph's birthday dinner."

I pulled unsuccessfully at the ribbons again. "What about me?"

Bobby's chuckle drifted back from what sounded like the front entryway. "I'll tell her you came down with something and had to stay home," he explained. "If you won't let me tie you up again when we get home, I guess I'll have to keep you here like this until I get home instead."

Dios! The things this man can do to me! He was so hot when he acted all haughty like this and part of me wanted to give in, but a much larger part of me didn't want to miss out on celebrating Steph's birthday with her. She'd neglected to mention it was her birthday last year until a week after it was all done and dusted and even then she refused to let Bobby and me make a fuss over it. Instead, we'd been allowed to pay for her breakfast when we met at a diner one weekend, and that was it.

Well, not this year! Only problem was, Steph's mom had insisted on hosting what was apparently the traditional birthday dinner. And it couldn't possibly be moved to another night. Over the last ten months that she'd been working at Rangeman, Steph had gone from a good friend that I saw once or twice a month, to one of my best friends, a staple in my everyday routine. And if her mother was going to force her to dinner even though she'd already made other plans for her special day, then I was going to be there to support my friend and deflect Helen's nagging.

"Bobby," I warned.

He appeared in the doorway once more, arms crossed, a challenging expression on his face. "Can I tie you up when we get home?"

Say please. I bit back the automatic response that jumped to the front of the cue, and rolled my eyes instead. "You know full well that it was going to happen as soon as you got the idea, so don't try to pull the negotiation crap," I said, shaking my head. "Cut me loose and let's go."

Ten minutes later we pulled to the curb and marvelled anew at what Steph referred to as the traditional Burg welcome: her grandmother with her nose practically pressed against the storm door.

"Looky here!" Grandma Mazur exclaimed gleefully as we traipsed up the front steps to the duplex where she and Steph's parents lived fifteen minutes later. "The boyfriends are here! Hey, I got some new questions I thought up about how two guys work together in bed. Do-"

"Mother!" Helen cried, appearing in the hall behind Edna, hurrying forward. "I told you it's not appropriate to ask those kinds of questions! I forbid you from asking them. Let the boys inside! What will the neighbours think, keeping them out on the porch for so long?!"

If this was any other town, I'd say the neighbours probably wouldn't give a crap what was happening on the Plum's porch, but I'd lived in Trenton long enough now to know that the Burg wasn't like other communities. There was probably some time limit that it was a cardinal sin to exceed.

"Sorry we're late," Bobby said, smoothly changing the topic as we passed through the door, mindful of where Edna's hands were. "Someone," - he jerked his head back at me - "got tangled in the curling ribbons."

I rolled my eyes. "Only because someone," - I mimicked Bobby's head jerking action - "put off wrapping it until the last minute so I had to do it while they showered." Stepping forward, I gave Helen's cheek a peck. "You're looking well, Mrs. Plum," I complimented as Steph emerged from the dining room, seeming at once stressed and relieved by our presence. Don't ask me how she managed it, she just did. "Am I too late to help bring things to the table?"

My charm seemed to calm any ire Helen may have had in her system as she gave me a soft smile and a shake of the head. "You're not late," she assured us, even though it was a boldfaced lie. We'd pulled into the street at exactly seven-fifty-eight, which meant by the time we reached the porch, it was exactly six o'clock, and everyone knows that early is on-time and on-time is late. "But we don't want the food to get cold by delaying the meal any further," she said brusquely, leading the way into the dining room.

Bobby and I followed and as I passed Steph just beside the doorway, she leaned in to murmur in my ear, "Kiss ass."

I grinned, pausing long enough to quietly reply, "Would you prefer I let her work up a head of steam before we even sit down?"

Steph rolled her eyes and shoved me into the room, but I didn't miss the quiet, "Thanks," that trailed after me.

We all took our seats and went through the motions of a fairly civilised dinner by Plum standards, especially considering Steph's sister Valerie and her kids were also present, having moved back to Trenton after her husband cheated on her with the babysitter. The kids were chaos compared to my own nieces and nephew, but that proved to be a welcome distraction for Mrs Plum, preventing her from starting up her usual nagging until dessert was on the table.

As usual, it was all insignificant. We don't see you enough! Maybe you would see more of her if you could go an entire evening without picking your daughter apart. When are you going to settle down and get married? She's literally been dating Carlos for, like, nine months at this point, how about you pull your head in and let her live her life. Why do you spend so much time with the Manosos? They're not your family. We're your family. Do you not love us? Maybe it's that the Manosos love Steph for who she is and don't nag her about her decisions.

Carlos, Bobby and I did our best to divert the conversation away each time Helen sprouted another unwelcome opinion. The last thing Steph should have to deal with on her birthday was a round of maternal disappointment. I could tell Helen was stepping on Carlos's last nerve as he turned his back on her to engage Steph's dad (the more reasonable parent) in conversation. But all attempts to remain nice and neutral were shot down when Valerie decided to step into the fray.

We were talking to Frank about football and the state of the world when Valerie leaned across to Helen and said in a whisper so loud the back row of the theatre probably would have heard it if she were performing on stage, "I heard from Heather that she was seen leaving a bar with a guy that was absolutely not Carlos. Some drug dealer. And then later she was dancing with the black one at a different club. Are we sure she's actually dating Carlos? Because it sounds more like she's-"

That's as far as she got before Carlos, Bobby and I were abruptly on our feet. I know I was seething at the insinuation that Steph was sleeping around with multiple men, but the complete disrespect Valerie showed Bobby by not even bothering to try to remember his name and just calling him the black one was what tipped me over. There was no way I was going to sit here and let this woman insult my friends and family.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Bobby looked furious. My cousin's fists were clenched so tight I thought he was going to pop a vein in his forearm, and Bobby wasn't much better off. In spite of all this, though, it was Steph who was first to speak.

"Thank you for dinner, but we'll be leaving now," she said, much more calmly than the three of us could have managed. "And we won't be returning any time soon." Steadily, she rose from her chair, avoiding looking at her mother and sister, and started for the door. She paused briefly to drop a kiss on her father's cheek and have a quick whispered exchange that ended in headshakes and sad eyes.

Although I wanted nothing more than to give Helen and Valerie a piece of my mind, I decided to follow Steph's example and trail out quietly. Bobby was right on my heels, probably eager to make sure Steph was okay, but Carlos apparently had other ideas. As we collected our coats in the front entry, I heard the telltale murmur of my cousin lowering his voice to a threatening tone as he gave Steph's family a piece of his mind; something he'd been longing to do since the moment he met Helen and had to sit silently through one of her nag sessions while Steph squeezed his hand, forbidding him to defend her. Whatever he was telling them now had been brewing inside him for months.

When Helen's raised voice spoke out in retaliation, Steph's carefully calm expression broke, and so did my heart. Gathering up her purse and the bag of presents she'd received, I wrapped my arm around her and guided her outside while Bobby backtracked to retrieve Carlos. I was sure whatever he was saying was what Helen had needed to hear long ago, but prolonging the moment was hurting Steph, and she didn't deserve that, not on her birthday.

I looked at my watch as we paused beside Carlos's Porsche. "You know, it's still early," I pointed out. "We can still salvage this by going to the club." A night of dancing with friends had been Steph's original plan for her birthday. Caliente was loud and boisterous and it had done wonders for distracting each of us when we'd come home from a mission with too many thoughts in our heads. There was no room for thoughts when the bass was thumping through your body, and it was my hope that it could do the same for Steph.

She seemed to think about it for a few moments, then a shrill yell followed Carlos and Bobby out of the house and down the front path and her mind was made up. "Caliente," she said firmly as the other two joined us on the sidewalk. "Let's salvage what's left of my birthday."

My cousin looked concerned, but could do nothing to deny his girlfriend whatever she wanted or needed, so with a nod and a set jaw, he helped Steph into the car and we were off.

*o*

The heat, light and sound of Caliente washed over me like a warm hug as we entered, and I took a moment to close my eyes and just experience the atmosphere. When I opened them, though, Jenny was eyeballing us from the bar and I instinctively tucked myself behind Bobby. I would never admit that I was afraid of her, because I wasn't, but she'd managed to seize my balls in a vice-like grip once when she caught me hitting on a woman who clearly wasn't interested in me, so I liked to keep a good distance and a blockade between us wherever possible.

After scanning our group, she locked eyes with Carlos and nodded, disappearing to the other end of the bar while we trailed through the crowds to the booth that always seemed to be free for us. When Steph realised where we were heading, though, she shook her head, tugging on Carlos's arm and simply requested, "Dance."

It made sense. She'd just had to sit through dinner, she probably didn't want to sit and let her mother and sister's words seep into her brain past the music.

They were two songs in, bumping and grinding erotically on the dancefloor while Bobby and I manned the booth, his tongue doing exquisite things to patch of skin just below my ear when Jenny arrived with a tray of drinks and a grim set to her mouth, a look that was mirrored on Munroe's face as he slid into the booth opposite us, the scars on his face making the expression even more sever. Instantly, I was on red alert. Nothing good had ever come from that look.

Munroe had been the top ranking communications expert in the army, a trusted ally that Carlos routinely picked for his teams until the mission he was tortured and had his tongue cut out of his mouth when he refused to divulge the information the enemy was after. He'd barely survived long enough to get medical attention. Thus began the long road to recovery and his swift discharge from the military. What good was a communications expert who couldn't speak? Well, Munroe had certainly figured out how to put his skill set to use without the use of his voice in the intervening years, and had continued to prove useful to Rangeman as well. The army's loss was our gain.

Slowly, he held up five fingers on his left hand, putting them down one by one until finally there was only one left which he used to point toward Steph and Carlos on the dance floor just as Carlos's watch lit up with an incoming call. We all watched as he twisted his wrist behind Steph's head, stiffening at what he saw on the screen there, frowning for a millisecond before his blank face fell over the expression.

Fuck.