Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 12

  His goddamn motherfucking phone buzzed. He closed his eyes and grimaced. It was barely five a.m., so whoever was trying to reach him was probably calling from the East Coast, where it was three hours later.

  “Your phone,” Summer murmured.

  “It’s fine,” he growled, annoyed by the intrusion of his real life.

  She rolled to her back and looked at him. Her expression was hard to read, but the energy pulsing around her wasn’t.

  “You don’t sound fine.” She bit her lip and watched him closely.

  The phone buzzed again. “Fuck,” he grunted and launched off the edge of the bed with an angry push. Stomping to the pants he left in a pile on the floor, he fished in the pockets, ignored the blindfold they hadn’t used, and found the piece of technological crap messing with his chill.

  It was Dottie calling from a NIGHTWIND line.

  Goddammit.

  He scraped a hand over his face. Responding when contacted by one’s handler was drilled into him so deep there was no way to ignore the command—not even the fact that NIGHTWIND in no way controlled him the way the men in suits once had.

  His eyes shifted to Summer’s face. She was watching him intently. The girl was smart as a whip and had to know a five a.m. phone call wasn’t good.

  “I have to respond,” he told her in a monotone growl.

  She hopped off the bed, having clearly interpreted his statement as a command to clear out.

  “I’ll make coffee or something,” she mumbled.

  He watched her stumble to a clothes tree by the bedroom door, grab a robe, and pull it on. Before he could stop her, she was gone. Speechless, annoyed, and naked, he initiated the return call and barked when Dottie answered.

  “It’s fucking five a.m., Dottie.” His snarl left no illusions about his state of mind.

  “Yeah? So? Treachery doesn’t sleep, Darnell. Now shut up and listen.”

  He sighed deeply and scowled. Using his given name was like pulling the fire alarm. Never had he felt less like giving a shit, but once again, his instincts were ingrained and could not be disregarded.

  In a clipped, businesslike tone, Dottie gave him an unwelcome heads-up that reminded him of a hard fact—the past was also the present, and although he separated from that life a long time ago, it had the power to override everything.

  “It’s a deep insert, Arnie. The boss is hammering out the details with State. They aren’t fucking around.”

  “When?”

  He heard her sigh and got a sense Dottie wasn’t at all okay with the situation.

  “Yesterday at four p.m. Or today at eleven. Or maybe next Thursday. Who knows. They aren’t exactly being forthcoming—which is why the boss stepped in.”

  Kingsley Maddison’s involvement made him pause.

  “I’m a little busy,” he sneered.

  “Uh-huh. And I know how much you enjoy your family reunions.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” he answered without thinking what he was revealing.

  A long silence followed. Realizing his mistake, he mouthed the word, “Fuck,” and shook his head.

  “Well, well, well,” the way too intuitive Dorothea Anders Quick drawled. “What have we here? Hmm?”

  “Shut up.”

  She laughed. “In all the years I’ve known you, Arnie, you’ve never put your needs first, not even once. Yet you say you’re a little busy. With what?” After a short pause, she added, “Or should I ask, with whom?”

  The scent of brewing coffee caught his attention. He frowned and snapped out a reply. The only reason he bothered was because the sometimes irritating woman was the closest thing to a mom he’d ever known.

  “It’s not what you think, and even if it was, there’s no way I’m explaining. Let King know I’m ready when they need me.”

  “What’s your window?” she asked after switching gears back to business. “Realistically speaking.”

  He thought about it for a moment, did the calculations, and said, “I can be at the private airport in ninety minutes.”

  “On it,” she mumbled, and then the phone went dead.

  He cleared the call history and tossed the thing aside. Quickly covering up, he pulled his pants on commando-style and followed his nose.

  She was leaning over the kitchen counter playing one for me and one for the bowl with a container of strawberries. Beside her sat a full coffee pot and a mug. The pot was Summer’s idea of an air freshener, and knowing how she hated coffee, he found it cute that she made it just for him.

  Arnie wasted no time. He went to her and pulled her against him while he reached into the robe and fondled her boobs. She reacted with a gasp of surprise. Her head tilted back on his chest, and she reached up to put her hand on his neck. The encouragement to keep going triggered an inevitable erection.

  The pull from his primal side won a short tug of war. While his hands caressed her naked flesh, he claimed her delicate neck with his mouth and marked her as his.

  Her responsive quiver made him forget where they were. He ground his hard-on into her ass and grunted like a horny caveman.

  “Day one,” he growled into her ear. “This is when the fucking begins.”

  She wiggled her bottom against his straining bulge, and purred, “Here? Now?”

  That was all the encouragement he required. Whirling her around, he kissed her into stumbling submission while moving her across the room to the kitchen table. He cleared the deck with one sweep of his arm and lifted her onto the wood surface.

  “Lie back, baby, and spread those pretty thighs.” He unzipped his pants and grinned when she giggled, cooed, and sighed at the sight of him handling his cock.

  “Like this?” she asked with both hands drawing her knees back.

  He tore open the robe and stared with longing at her magnificent body. “Shit,” he growled. “I need a condom.”

  “I think we’re kind of past that now, don’t you think?” Her voice was breathless and tinged with lusty need. “It’s not like we’re getting an A for effort anyway.”

  It was the seductive way she wiggled on the table and how beautiful her glistening pussy looked that made the decision of what he should do next.

  Kicking his pants away, he leaned down, inhaled her sexy scent, and kissed her pretty clit.

  Standing over her, Arnie held Summer’s eyes while slowly penetrating her with one finger. She was hot, wet, and ready.

  Her whimper turned him on like nothing else ever had.

  “Do you like that, baby?” He fingered her with increasing eagerness.

  “I do,” she moaned. “Oh, Arnie! Yes.”

  Sliding his free hand up her quivering body, he toyed with her nipples, let her suck his fingers for a moment, and then wrapped his large hand around her small neck. The illusion of power over her had the desired effect. Her eyes turned smokier, then she bit her lip and moaned.

  It took no time to take her close to the edge an even less time to lift her ass with both hands and issue a warning of what was coming before sinking into her luscious body with a lusty grunt.

  She grimaced, and he held perfectly still. He knew her reaction wasn’t from lack of arousal.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked in a tight voice.

  She pulled her knees back and rolled her head from side to side. “No. I’m just a little tender. In spots.”

  Yeah, he bet she was tender.

  “Don’t stop,” she groaned.

  Carefully and with all the tenderness he had at his disposal, Arnie rocked his hips back and forth. Soreness be damned, he thought when her pussy released a flood that dripped onto his balls.

  Unable to stop himself, he reared back and thrust home. Her whole body jolted when he slammed into her.

  She grunted and arched. “Oh my god, Arnie. Do it again.”

  This time when he pulled out, he firmed the grip he had on her ass, and when thrusting forward, he pulled her onto his cock.

  “Yes, yes,” she moaned.

&
nbsp; He repeated the movement. She released another flood.

  “Welcome to the beauty of a morning fuck.” He pulled her onto his cock and leaned down to kiss her so passionately he groaned into her mouth.

  She was hanging by a thread. So was he.

  “Shall we come together, sweet Summer? Would that make your pussy happy?”

  She was breathing heavily. The wildness in her eyes spoke to his soul. He felt mighty pleased with himself when a vise gripped his cock and squeezed. The violent contraction forced a feral grunt from his throat.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes,” he ground out a split second before unleashing a furious pounding.

  Her climax hit first. He gloried in it, groaning when she cried his name and then stroked to a cataclysmic finish. There was nothing left after he emptied inside her. Nothing.

  The resource room at the city college was surprisingly packed despite the early hour and the fact that most schools were still on winter break. Even though she didn’t know many of the people by name, she was certain that, like her, most were adult students who had jobs, families, and other responsibilities that complicated pursuing a degree.

  She restacked her stuff to keep everything from cascading into the workspace of the person next to her and thought about how in her next life maybe she’d get a chance to do college in one four-year, full-time bump instead of piecing together the requirements for her degree over a longer period.

  The struggle was real but worth it because, at the end of the day, she’d have the degree, knowledge, and experience necessary to land her dream job working in the human resources department of a large business. Nowadays, not everyone liked or could manage people, but that wasn’t her. Even the idiots who pissed her off were important in Summer’s eyes. Everyone had value if you took the time to see it.

  The unforgiving wood chair under her butt made moving problematic and offered a sore reminder of her nocturnal activities. So did crossing her legs. And walking. She remembered Arnie’s pleased smirk when she commented how she understood what it meant to be left hobbling by a thorough pounding.

  “You’ll remember me inside you every time you move.”

  It turned out, he wasn’t exaggerating because she couldn’t think of anything else.

  “Concentrate,” she muttered under her breath. The subject of her research was important. If she survived the next semester with flying colors, she’d have one final term to go. A term with a ninety-minute, one-way commute. She was determined to finish with a degree from a big university, and to do that, she’d have to take drastic steps.

  Not for the first time, she contemplated moving to LA. She loved the Santa Barbara vibe, but her future had to be about more than beach life and waitressing. The sprawling City of Angels had everything she needed including, and most importantly, easy access to UCLA.

  She forgot about her research and did some mental gymnastics. She still had a nice chunk of her inheritance earmarked for post-college life. Summer took being responsible with her dad’s modest estate quite seriously. The money wasn’t for cruises or shoes. If she played her cards right, she’d have a degree, the resources to land a great job, plus enough left to invest in a house.

  A firebolt launched from the past pierced her heart with a shard of red-hot animosity for her runaway mother. Turning her back on the boring life of a wife and mother made Marie Warren a stone-cold bitch. Summer yearned for everything her mother despised. A home, a family, a garden, a dog, and a fulfilling everyday career sounded like heaven to her. Money, status, or internet clicks meant nothing to Summer.

  Her pen tapped on the wood surface. She didn’t realize she was doing it till the guy at the end of the table shot her a dirty look.

  What about Arnie? Did her hunky lover fit into the future she envisioned? A chorus of voices echoed through her mind shouting that yes, of course, he fit. He was her destiny. Having a detached, unenthused mother was also her destiny, so there was always that.

  She was going to get nothing done if she didn’t concentrate, but she couldn’t stop wondering what Arnie was doing right this minute. He told her his morning was jam-packed with business. According to him, lunch was an exercise in self-control due to his overwhelming desire to throat punch some of the people he was forced to make nice with.

  Stifling a giggle snort, she imagined his frosty blue stare and found the idea of stern Arnie quite compelling. His affable demeanor was a smokescreen. The man she invited into her body was a million times deeper and more serious than his lighthearted, casual nature suggested. She felt his life force, but for heaven’s sake, don’t ask her how. She only knew it was real and powerful. She also knew he wasn’t what he seemed. The thought wasn’t entirely comforting, but she’d seen no reason to be worried.

  They were meeting later. She had the next few days off before taking on a full week of shifts at the restaurant, so in a way, this was the start of her weekend. The thought was enough to get her mind back into the game. The sooner she finished her schoolwork, the sooner she could relax and let her hair down. With Arnie.

  “Get Stanford in line, Ned, and do it soon. If you don’t, or can’t,” Darnell Senior snarled with contempt, “I will step in, and it won’t be pretty.”

  Arnie held his breath when his grandfather’s warning shot sailed across the bow. He glanced sideways to gauge his father’s reaction and wasn’t at all relieved to find the man grimacing.

  Barking in a tone designed to shrink balls and cause fear, Senior laid down the law. When he thumped his beefy paw on the table for emphasis, Arnie jumped.

  “He took a leak in the fountain. In plain view of several guests. The Wanamakers are now persona non grata at the Four Seasons. This nonsense has gone beyond an intervention. I want him in line! Do you hear me? Get him in line.”

  Ugh. Aggression and confrontation made Arnie edgy. Being pissed off rarely improved a situation, but he couldn’t fault his granddad for the anger. Stan was an alcoholic asshole with access to money and privilege—in other words, an out-of-control mess.

  “You want me to clean his clock?” he asked with an abundance of menacing snark in his tone.

  His dad’s head swung, and Arnie found himself trapped in a ferocious glare. “I will handle your brother. Is that clear?”

  Oh, snap! Cringing from the smackdown, he offered a lame smile and waved off further input. He was going to keep his mouth shut. After all, the only reason he was even in the room was because Senior liked having an audience.

  “Ned, this has gone on long enough. It’s not just an upset hotel. Add the entire city of Cincinnati. He dropped the ball on a community project that was a condition of a development contract. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Oh god, Dad. Really?” His father sounded gutted.

  “The cars, the whore wife, the drinking, the public buffoonery—enough! I’ve had enough.” Senior wagged his finger and went the one place that would always be his dad’s weak spot. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. He’s just like his mother. Selfish, manipulative, and worthless.”

  The dramatic spit of disgust followed by the family patriarch rising from his seat to hover over them had the intended intimidating effect.

  “This is on you, Ned. Either get Giselle and Stan in a box or be prepared for me to take drastic steps. Steps you will not like.”

  Senior marched from the room.

  For two long minutes, he and his dad sat in silence while anger hung in the air.

  “What’s your play, Dad?”

  “Divide and conquer. Giselle is working overtime to keep control of the money. This is all my fault,” he somberly admitted. “Sleeping with the young nanny turned our lives into a train wreck.”

  Arnie turned and rubbed his dad’s shoulder. “You’re human, remember?”

  “I should have known better. I should have seen how she was setting me up. I should have …”

  “Enough,” Arnie grated. “Enough, Dad. Every time you do the mea culpa, her claws sink de
eper. Move on. Fuck her. Family lasts longer than money, even with a smarmy lawyer and an undeserved divorce settlement.”

  “You’re right. Fuck Giselle. She’s a manipulative cunt, and it’s time to shut her gravy train down.”

  Arnie could feel his father’s thoughts swirl. He watched as the energy field around them turned from cloudy to brilliantly clear—a good sign his dear ole dad was operating from a positive place. Thank god.

  Stan was a piece of shit, but he was still his only brother, and Arnie didn’t want to see the guy cut down to ribbons—not if there was a chance to pull back on the stick and stop the impending crash landing.

  “That little turd Giselle keeps on a legal leash? What’s his name? Bruce something? Yeah, him,” his dad muttered. “I think he can be turned.”

  “Really?” Hmph. This was news to Arnie. Good news because there was nothing better at delivering a hearty fuck you like weaponizing a confidant who switched teams.

  His dad slapped Arnie on the knee. “Come on. Let’s go scare the shit out of somebody. If we’re lucky, some of your cousins will cross our path. I wouldn’t mind giving one or two of them a few gray hairs.”

  “Bwah!” Arnie boomed. “Let’s!”

  They headed to the door, telling jokes when all of a sudden, his dad stopped and turned.

  “I’m glad you got out, son.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You took your own road, Arnie. What you do is a little unorthodox, but it’s authentic. Your mom would be damn proud. She wasn’t at all about the cachet of the Wanamaker name. The money had nothing to do with how I managed to land a girl far too good for me.”

  He smiled. “You landed her,” he said with air quotes, “because you put her on her butt with a beach ball and a pitcher’s arm.”

  “God, that’s a great memory. She was hella pissed and almost neutered me in front of my friends. Called me a moron.” He chuckled. “I knew she was the one for me when the contact phone number I wheedled out of her turned out to be the local mental hospital. Lianne never failed to make me laugh. Thankfully,” he drawled, “we had friends in common, or I would have been shit out of luck.”