Chasing Silver Part 2

Someone Kirsten could buy without blinking an eye.

She almost fell off the couch as she scrambled for her clothes, her pants slipping through her suddenly clumsy fingers as she tried to put as much distance between her and Nathan as possible. "I can't believe I f.u.c.king fell for it," she muttered, trying to find the bottom of her s.h.i.+rt in order to get it back on.

Nathan grabbed her wrist before she could get far, but he didn't pull himself to his feet. His firm grip didn't give her a lot of options, but she still struggled to pull away. "Fell for what? Is this about those coins? I already told you I don't really care."

It was on the tip of her tongue to make a retort about how she was sure a wad of cash might change his mind about that, but Remy stopped herself in time. The less he knew about her, the safer she was from getting turned in. And the truth of the matter was, he already knew she was on the run. If he wanted to use that to his advantage, he'd had plenty of chances long before bringing her to his apartment.

Plus, Kirsten wasn't here. If Remy really had traveled back in time like she thought, there was n.o.body alive who cared one way or another about her.

Her gaze flickered to the strong fingers gripping her wrist. Maybe Nathan didn't care, but he wasn't indifferent to her either. He was tending to her injuries. He'd insisted on taking care of them.

And he was still holding her.

"If you don't care, then why are you helping me?"

Nathan tilted his head, regarding her with clear eyes for a long beat before he finally answered. "Because you needed my help."

His direct response took her by surprise, and her mouth twitched in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Your Mustang's not exactly white."

Nathan shrugged. "Neither's my hat. But I couldn't have left you alone in that district. Tian might not have been interested, but Cesar would have started circling like any predator smelling blood. Speaking of blood." He looked pointedly at her thigh. "Are you going to let me finish?"

Remy glanced down at the cut only half-cleaned off and tossed her clothes aside. Stretching back onto the couch, she propped her upper body up on her elbows as soon as Nathan let her go in order to watch him work. "You've got good hands."

He glanced at her briefly, something like a smile in his eyes, before diverting his attention back to her leg. "Thanks. I've had years of practice."

The antiseptic stung just as much on her leg as it had on her back, but Remy refused to look away this time, too absorbed in the strong sculpture of his face and the almost caressing dance of his fingers to break the spell. "Guess that means I'm holding aces then. I don't suppose you take personal requests?"

The corner of his mouth lifted as he tossed the cotton ball aside. "It depends." He dug through the white box for more bandages and a small, yellow tube. "There is a basic standard of service I aspire to, but I do aim to please."

"Maybe you should tell me what to expect then," Remy dared. "'Cause the rate you're going, a girl could think she could spend the night if she wanted."

"Do you want to spend the night?"

She decided to be honest. "I don't have anyplace else to go."

Nathan spread a clear gel over the cut and reached for a bandage. "You know, that's actually not the worst excuse a girl has used to stay at my place."

"Should've known a guy like you would have em lined up around the block. Which means I'm even luckier for falling into your lap like this." It was impossible to resist a quick glance at his crotch, and her mouth went dry at the clear outline of his c.o.c.k. "A very nice lap."

Nathan snorted. "I wouldn't say lining up around the block. In fact..." He stopped, offered her a quick smile, and refocused on his task. "But you are welcome to stay tonight. Maybe after some sleep, we'll be able to figure out what the h.e.l.l is going on."

"Thanks." It was a relief to have one less thing to worry about. And maybe the light of day would reveal everything to be either a figment of her imagination or give her new perspective on this whole time travel business. She waited until he'd reverted his attention back to the last of the bandages before adding, "Something tells me I'm either not going to sleep much, or I'm going to have the dreams of the century. One of the two."

"For what it's worth, I doubt I'll be getting much sleep myself," Nathan muttered.

He pressed the last piece of tape down along the edge of the bandage, his fingers straying to the bordering skin. Remy suppressed the s.h.i.+ver his touch elicited, but hiding her soft gasp was unavoidable.

"Is it tender?" He asked, not pulling his fingers away.

She swallowed. "That's one word for it."

Nathan lingered for another moment before breaking the contact. "They weren't too deep. You should feel better in the morning." The words sounded forced, like it was taking some great effort for him to speak.

Without the excuse of first aid, she felt more than a little exposed lying on the couch in front of him. Normally, she had no problem with her s.e.xuality, but he'd done nothing more than remain friendly with her, maybe flirt a little back when she'd deliberately baited him. He was being a gentleman, and no matter how attracted she was to Nathan, she wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do with that.

"What about you?" Swinging her legs over, she sat up on the edge of the couch, reaching out at the same time to swipe her thumb across a cut on his temple. "You're not the only one with a bedside manner, you know."

Nathan touched his forehead and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm fine, thank you." After a moment of hesitation, he leaned forward and cupped her cheek. He brushed his thumb across her mouth before dropping his head and touching her lips with his.

Her face had been flamed ever since Nathan's first touch, but now, the mere contact of his fingers left her scorched, all the air sucked from her lungs as he surprised her with the kiss. It wasn't hungry, and it wasn't aggressive, and he didn't even part his lips to pursue deepening the caress. But it still charged through her like a jolt of electricity, his hot breath was.h.i.+ng over her cheek as his mouth worked along hers. It still left rampant images of how his sweaty body would feel against hers, how long and hard he would be and how pliantly she could mold around him. It still brought a whimper to the back of her throat.

The moment she reached to satisfy even one of her racing wants, though, Nathan pulled away. His breathing was ragged, his pupils blown with desire, and Remy was transfixed by the sight of his tongue finally darting out to lick across his lower lip, as if chasing the taste of her.

"You win. Your bedside manner is definitely better than mine."

Nathan backed away from the couch and gestured towards the plastic bag. "You can help yourself, if you're hungry. Get some rest." Each word carried him further away, until he was nearly out of the room entirely.

Her mouth slanted into a soft smile before she leaned over to retrieve the T-s.h.i.+rt he'd left for her to sleep in. "I think that might actually happen now. Thanks. Again." By the time she'd pulled the s.h.i.+rt over her head, he was gone.

CHAPTER THREE.

Nathan awkwardly stripped off his clothes, desperate to get out of the tight, sweat-soaked pants. His mind was a mess of incoherent thoughts and vivid images of Remy's nearly naked, ready, willing, willing, body, and he could still taste her soft lips, still smell her sweat, her hair. body, and he could still taste her soft lips, still smell her sweat, her hair.

Nathan stepped into the shower, welcoming the hot frenzy of water against his skin. He basked under the spray for a moment before reaching for the soap with shaking hands, working up a desperate lather before allowing the bar to slip from his fingers to the floor. Nathan ran his hands over his chest, the back of his neck, his arms, and his thighs before finally wrapping his slick fingers around his erection, with a sigh of mingled relief and regret.

What was he doing jacking off in the shower? What the f.u.c.k the f.u.c.k was he doing? She wanted him. She was he doing? She wanted him. She wanted wanted him, and he wanted to do a h.e.l.l of a lot more than just kiss her. Nathan moaned. What was keeping him in the bathroom when every cell in his body was calling for hers? him, and he wanted to do a h.e.l.l of a lot more than just kiss her. Nathan moaned. What was keeping him in the bathroom when every cell in his body was calling for hers?

From the first good look he had of her, Nathan had been attracted to Remy. No, before that. He wanted her as soon as he pushed her against the wall and pressed his body against hers. In his defense, he imagined a dead, blind, gay man would be physically attracted to her. Even when she had her episode in the gas station and insisted her fake identification was real. So, she was a little weird. Maybe a little insane. Nathan didn't know. All he knew was that the heat of her skin had made his head spin, and when he kissed her ... he just wanted to taste her again.

f.u.c.k. When had a girl affected him like When had a girl affected him like this? this? Ever? He had barely touched her; yet, the arousal was something bone deep and excruciating and sweet and very heady. The sort of agony that both needed to end and be pleasantly prolonged. Remy would be good. He knew it. Ever? He had barely touched her; yet, the arousal was something bone deep and excruciating and sweet and very heady. The sort of agony that both needed to end and be pleasantly prolonged. Remy would be good. He knew it.

But she was probably crazy. Delusional. And her insanity was contagious because he was not the sort to pick up strange girls, bring them home, and kiss them like a nervous teen on his prom date. And he wasn't the type to leave the girl and jack off in the shower.

Nathan pushed those thoughts out of his mind. They were important thoughts he should consider very carefully. In the morning. Right now, the only thing he wanted to consider was the friction of her body moving against his, her soft, soft lips against his mouth, against his skin.

Why am I in here? Why aren't I out there? Why aren't I inside her right now?

Fair questions, all. The answer was not simple. So, she was crazy? So what. Weird? Not a problem. Violent tendencies? He'd ignore them. But she was confused, and for a moment, she had been frightened of him. If he left the shower right now and went to her still wet, still hard, she wouldn't turn him down. But he didn't know if she wanted him, or if she wanted to thank him, or if she wanted to placate him, or bribe him. Or rob and kill him, which he was obliged to accept as a possibility.

Still, Nathan knew how she'd fit around him, how she'd wrap her body around his. He sensed something primal about her, something a little feral. He imagined her shouting his name, imagined her tight muscles clenching around him, her pulse pounding against his lips as he pressed his mouth to her neck.

Nathan even felt her come against his body, pulsating heat around his shaft. The vivid image, so intense he couldn't help but wonder if it had already happened, that pushed him over the edge. The o.r.g.a.s.m rushed through him, something bittersweet. It was enough to take the edge off, but she was still mostly naked on his couch, and he was still hard for her.

Sighing, he rested his head against the cool tile and let the water pound against his back. At least he could think now. Did she have any idea how much, possibly misplaced, self-control it took for him to walk away from her? Did she even care?

Even if she wasn't injured, she could still be crazy.

What the h.e.l.l am I going to do?

He'd start by finis.h.i.+ng his shower. Nathan soaped his body and hair, his mind far from his task. First, he would need to figure out just who this girl was. That should be easy enough if she wasn't giving him a fake name. Next, he would have to find out where she belonged and who was chasing her. Letting her crash on his couch indefinitely was not an option. Finally, he might have to drag her to the hospital against her wishes, because if he couldn't figure out who she was, where she belonged, or who she was running from, then she could be somebody else's responsibility.

Nathan rinsed the soap from his body, watching the suds as they fell from his skin and swirled down the drain.

Remy wasn't even his biggest problem.

Tian had escaped again, but not unscathed. The knife had done serious damage to his shoulder, and he would want a bit of revenge. An eye for an eye, that's how it always worked. And Tian wasn't some punk off the streets. He had fifty grand on his head, and with this most recent failure, the reward would almost certainly go up in an effort to attract every bounty hunter on the west coast.

Nathan resisted putting his fist into the wall as a new, sharp anger sparked. He almost didn't care about the money-though he needed it very much. He just wanted to bring that f.u.c.ker in.

He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed. The air was momentarily cool against his wet skin, and the grit had been washed from his eyes. Slinging a towel around his hips, he stepped out of the bathroom and listened in the darkness for Remy. Her breathing sounded deep and even.

Nathan knew he shouldn't see her right then, but if she was asleep, how much damage could it do? He crept over to the couch, not making even a whisper of sound. Light from the neighbor's back porch filtered through the blinds and fell across her sleeping face. She was stretched out in his T-s.h.i.+rt, a blanket draped over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and another pillowing her head.

Nathan swallowed hard. She looked so soft, so inviting, but he suspected she knew how to be hard, unbendable. Despite her confusion and injuries, she didn't seem vulnerable. She had the look of a hunted animal-but one clever enough to outwit its predator.

Who are you?

He watched her for another moment before bending to scoop up her discarded pants. Once again, he was struck by the oddness of the material, but he didn't linger on that. He rifled through the pockets, ignoring the coins in favor of her fake card. He thought the card might tell him more about the creator than the girl sleeping on his couch, but it could still be useful for Isaac. If anybody could figure out who this stranger was, it would be him. And it was Nathan's good luck that Isaac never slept. He padded back to the bathroom and fished his cell from his pocket. Isaac's number was at the top of his address book.

It picked up on the first ring. In the background, a slamming door cut off the low hum of the police station, and then there was only quiet until a baritone came over the line. "McGuire."

"Isaac, it's me. I've got bad news and a favor to ask. Which do you want first?"

A stream of low curses whispered under Isaac's breath. Nathan pictured him running his hand over his closely shorn hair. "The day I've been having, make it the bad first. Unless your favor means I have to do some a.s.s kissing, in which case, the order doesn't f.u.c.king matter."

Nathan sighed inwardly. Of course, he'd caught Isaac at a bad time. But then, maybe the possible wild-goose chase would raise his spirits. "Bad it is. Tian got away. But," he added before Isaac interrupted him, "That's not the bad part. Apparently, he's armed with grenades now. And he's not shy about using them."

"Where the h.e.l.l did he get grenades? I thought we cut Cesar off at the knees when we locked up the Vasquez brothers."

"How should I know? You're the detective, you tell me. But if you check out the warehouse on Center and 10th in Culver City, you'll see the evidence for yourself." Nathan slapped his palm against his knee. "I almost had him, Isaac. He was mine."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get him next time. You're not the best for nothing." Though the words were meant to be rea.s.suring, the tone was not. The creaking leather of Isaac's chair came over the line as he got more comfortable. "What happened? Did you lose him because of the grenade?"

"No." How to explain the next part without sounding like the crazy one in the story? "There was a girl. She, well, she came out of nowhere. At first, I thought she was an accomplice, but I didn't recognize her name. In fact, that's the favor."

"You want me to tell you who she is?"

"And if she has a history of violence or psychotic behavior." He held the card up to the light, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "The name on her identification, which was probably fake, is Remy Capra. Date of birth is March 15." He paused, staring at the unexpected numbers. "I don't know the year."

He heard Isaac scribbling down the information. "Anything else you can give me? Age, stats, something actually helpful?"

Nathan searched his memory for any details he could recover from the strange night. "She claims she's from DC. Mid-twenties, perhaps. Brown hair, dark eyes, maybe five and a half feet. She's the sort of girl you'd remember seeing."

"Pretty, huh?" He was tapping away at his computer; Isaac was one of the few cops Nathan knew who didn't have to hunt and peck. "Just give me a sec. If she's with Tian, she'll come through here pretty quick."

"I don't think she is. I hope she's not." He trusted his gut on this one. Despite the initial suspicion, it seemed her arrival was just a remarkable coincidence, not a conspiracy. "I think somebody is after her, but she wouldn't give me any details, or let me take her to the hospital."

Silence filled the line. Nathan patiently waited for the question he knew was coming.

"So ... where is she now, Nathan?"

He hesitated a moment before answering. "On my couch."

"Are you out of your mind?" The sudden switch in his friend's tone had Nathan rubbing at his eyes, wis.h.i.+ng he had avoided this entire line of questioning. "You're not even sure if she's not psychotic, and you're putting her up on your couch? Since when did you start thinking with your d.i.c.k instead of your brain?"

"If I were thinking with my d.i.c.k, she wouldn't be on my couch, couch, now would she?" Nathan considered explaining his heroic and n.o.ble sacrifice, but decided that wouldn't make Isaac feel better about the situation. "What was I supposed to do? Leave her bleeding in the warehouse?" now would she?" Nathan considered explaining his heroic and n.o.ble sacrifice, but decided that wouldn't make Isaac feel better about the situation. "What was I supposed to do? Leave her bleeding in the warehouse?"

"Well, no." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just been a h.e.l.l of a day. I know you wouldn't do anything so stupid if she was a real threat." Chuckling, he added, "I mean, it's not like you f.u.c.ked her, right?"

"Right. Anything come up yet?"

"No, not yet. There are Capras in DC, but none matching your girl's description. Hang on. If she's running, there might be something in missing persons." More beeping from the computer. "Nope. That comes up clean, too. Huh. You sure on the name? If her ID's fake, the name might be, too."

"I can't be sure about the name. Do me a favor and keep an eye out for anything matching her description." Nathan paused for a moment before explaining, "Her ID looks all wrong, of course, but the year of birth was 2058. Shoddy work."

"Probably some new game cooked up by the college kids. See how bad they can make their ID's before someone notices and they get busted. You wouldn't believe some of the s.h.i.+t they've been trying to pull." Isaac's chair groaned under his weight again. "The only thing I can tell you for sure is she's not part of Tian's gang. Unless it's a dye job and she's not a brunette. He was banging this blonde named Josie a few months back. Think it could be her?"

Nathan snorted. "No, Josie is sucking c.o.c.k for money in TJ." Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his damp hair. "I'll let you go. But I'll be sure to keep you posted on any new developments with my mystery girl."

"Thanks, but ... your your mystery girl? Just how pretty are we talking here?" mystery girl? Just how pretty are we talking here?"

"She's an eleven."

Isaac whistled. "She would have to be. I don't think I've seen you notice anybody with b.r.e.a.s.t.s since before we broke up Parker's gang."

Nathan winced. The mention, or thought, of Parker was enough to make bile rise in his throat. Shuffling over to the bathroom, he pulled the chalky antacid tablets from the medicine cabinet. "Yeah, it's been awhile. Hopefully this one doesn't plan to kill me."

"Crazy never strikes twice in the same place," Isaac a.s.sured. When he next spoke, his voice had grown contemplative. He was s.h.i.+fting out of cop mode and into his friend shoes. "You want me to come over and check her out? I'm going off-duty anyway, and if there's one person's judgment I trust more than yours, it's mine. I could even get her set up someplace else if you want. Get her off your couch."

He knew, based on the still present ache in his groin, he should accept Isaac's offer. But he also knew Remy would react poorly to the presence of a cop, even if he a.s.sured her Isaac wasn't a threat to her. Nathan didn't know why, but the thought of her panicking and fleeing was not an appealing one. "I appreciate it, but not tonight. Maybe if she's still around tomorrow."

"Well, offer's there. And if something comes up on my end, I'll let you know." He paused. "Just be careful. Brains, not d.i.c.k, okay?"

"Right. Thanks." Nathan disconnected the phone, placing it on the charger. "Brains, not d.i.c.k," he muttered, stretching out on the bed. "Easy as that. No problem." He stared at the ceiling, considering the wisdom of the simple statement. It was the best advice he had ever heard. He pushed the towel away, running his palm over his shaft before gripping it lightly. Brains, not d.i.c.k. Right.

It felt like she'd been dragged t.i.ts first through an electric socket. Kirsten decided then and there the first thing she would do when she got back home was give her father a piece of her mind. Easy, my a.s.s. Easy, my a.s.s.

The coin had, however, worked as he had said it would. Pus.h.i.+ng up from the rough concrete, Kirsten stretched the kinks out of her still-humming muscles, scanning her surroundings at the same time. The smell of rotting garbage coated the air, making her nose wrinkle in disgust. A green-and-red sign glowed against a night sky lightened with the orangey illumination of lamps on tall poles. Heavy dumpsters overflowed in wait of garbage day. It was some type of uninviting store. Kirsten wondered why in h.e.l.l Remy would want to go to it.

Her hard-heeled boots clicked against the concrete as she rounded the corner of the building. The darkness sucked away the red taillights of a vintage Mustang as it pulled from the lot, but other than that, the place was deserted except for another old-fas.h.i.+oned car. Her head swiveled toward the brightly-lit store. Through the windows, she spotted an older woman behind the cash register and some customers milling around, but none of them looked like Remy Capra. That didn't matter. Kirsten knew the coin wouldn't have brought her here without a reason.