“But, just to say,” I kept gabbing, “the fact you went for an Airstream already made it total cool.”
My smile got bigger as I indicated the space with a sweep of my hand, at the same time biting back the flinch that motion gave me because after the nap, my body made it clear it was protesting against nearly being strangled to death.
It had survived, that was the good part.
But it was reminding me of the toll that took.
I ignored the pain and finished, “It’s just that with all this, you made it infinitely cooler.”
Deke made no comment to my compliments.
What he did was take the skillet off the burner, go to the fridge, grab a bottle of brew, uncap it and open a cupboard. His hand went up and came out of the cupboard with two white bottles.
He then moved to me, handed me the beer and ordered, “Give me your hand, palm up.”
I lifted my hand palm up.
Deke opened the bottles and tapped out two aspirin and four ibuprofen.
I was not averse to the power of legal pharmaceuticals.
However.
“Deke, that’s a lot of pills.”
“Take ’em,” he commanded.
“But—”
“Take ’em or I give you your sandwich then put your ass in my truck and take you to Carnal Hotel. They got tubs. You can’t even wave your goddamned hand without wincing. You need ibuprofen or you need a soak. Your choice.”
Okay, I had to admit that, after all the cuddling, I had a feeling sex with Deke would be freaking astounding.
Still, his brand of friendly that included looking out for me in his badass way, I’d definitely take, even without the sex (though that last was given up begrudgingly).
“Leave your kickass trailer before I’ve read all your stickers?” I asked, lifting my hand and popping the pills in my mouth. All of them. I sucked them back with a tug of beer, and after I swallowed, unnecessarily gave him my answer. “I pick Airstream. And just to say, if I have a choice of here or pretty much anywhere on earth, except the room at my dad’s house where he keeps his guitar collection, I’d pick here.”
Something slid over his face that I really wanted to decipher but at that moment, my phone rang.
I looked down at it on the couch beside me and saw it said Mr. T Calling.
I looked back up at Deke. “Mr. T.”
His eyes went from the phone to me. “Yup.”
He started moving back to the kitchen (this journey taking Deke all of two steps) and I hit my screen to engage the call and put it on speaker.
“Hey, Mr. T. You’re on speaker,” I greeted.
“And who all would I be speaking to?” Mr. T’s voice came back at me.
“Me and Deke.”
“Deke Hightower?” Mr. T asked and my gaze shot to Deke.
His last name was Hightower?
Of course it was.
It was a cool-as-shit name.
But how did Mr. T know that?
“Uh…yeah, uh…” I stammered.
“I’m right now on my way from the Carnal Police Department, heading to the Carnal Hotel,” Mr. T broke into my thoughts to say. “I’ve spent the last half an hour getting briefed by the mercifully capable-sounding Lieutenant Keaton. And Lieutenant Keaton informed me that you’re currently in a Mr. Deke Hightower’s charge.”
In a Mr. Deke Hightower’s charge.
Mr. T was hilarious.
“That I am,” I confirmed, trying not to giggle at the look on Deke’s face as he stared with unhidden irritation mingled with equally unhidden surprise at my phone. These saying he was not a big fan of being called “Mr. Deke Hightower” and he was a little shocked (and appalled) Mr. T was so snooty. I then asked Mr. T something that was also unnecessary, “So you made it to town all right?”
“Indeed, Justice.”
“Deke’s making us dinner,” I told him. “When we’re done eating, we’ll come into—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Mr. T interrupted me brusquely. “Fortunately, as you informed him I would be arriving and gave him leave to speak to me as a member of your family, Lieutenant Keaton was rather forthcoming about your ordeal. You need to stay put and rest. In fact, you should be quite careful with all activity for the next few days, giving your body time to heal as well as the energy to do so.”
I tipped my head to the side, a silent question to Deke.
I hoped he got my silent question because he nodded back.
“Do you want directions to come out here?” I asked. “Dinner isn’t lobster but it’s yummy.”
“No, thank you,” Mr. T answered, and even though I wanted to see him, especially in a time like this when he was at his best, the competent and capable calm in a storm, I was kind of glad.
I had my calm in a storm.
Deke.
And anyway, Mr. T would definitely not want bologna sandwiches.
“I have calls to make and things to see to,” Mr. T went on to explain. “We’ll schedule a time for the morning after you’ve had some rest. However, I need to speak with you now about a few of those things I’m seeing to.”
“Sock it to me, Mr. T,” I invited.
“Right,” he stated, all business. “I’ve been in touch with Kai Mason. He currently has no openings on his team to send bodyguards. He’s suggested a firm in Denver that he highly recommends. I’ve done some research on them and I’m in agreement with Mason. And this could be a multi-tasking opportunity because, although this firm does provide security services, they mostly do investigations. They’re very good. And although her parents informed me they’ll be looking into securing their own investigators, I’d like your approval to engage them to find Bianca. They can coordinate efforts with Constantine’s team or Constantine, as he should, can employ this Nightingale Investigations directly.”