A Hand of Spades

Chapter 10. Feverish

I bolt upright with a start. The room is different.  When we got in from visiting the Stella my leg wound was bothering me, itching and warm. I wrapped it up in old bandages and passed out on the couch. 

Now, I'm in a bed in the spare bedroom of the safehouse, tangled up in a homemade quilt I now recognize as Pearl's handiwork. Light streams in from the windows and a quick glance at the vintage alarm clock on the side table informs me I slept until noon. Enraged, I crawl out from the sheets and storm into the kitchen, where Cash has the nerve to be casually reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. If I wasn't furious, I'd be tempted to poke fun of the scary biker leader for his domestic tendencies.

"You moved me."

He doesn't look up. "Seemed like a shame to waste a perfectly good bed."

I fidget with the hem of my t-shirt.  "I sleep better on the couch."

At that, his head swivels my way. He drops the paper and gets to his feet, folding his arms across his chest. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up far enough to reveal the collection of tattoos and it momentarily distracts me. He takes a step towards me and my heart responds by stammering.

"Is that because you're used to it?"

Shit.

"Struck a nerve, did I? I went to help my guys collect your things from the trailer this morning." He gestures to the garbage bags sitting by the front door. I wince, noting that all my worldly possessions appear to be easily contained within two trash bags. I'd be a remarkably easy person to make disappear. "We went to look for your stuff in the bedroom and only found your sister's."

"She gets the bedroom. What's the big deal?"

"That couch is pathetic. X-Ray sat on it and a spring jumped up and bit him in the ass. Bed's not big enough for two?"

"She's twelve, I don't want to crowd her."

"And she gets the good food and the nicer clothes and the new books, right? And you get to maintain your distance."

I scoff, trying to keep my tone even. 

"What are you saying?"

He points in the direction of the bedroom. "I'm saying the bed's for you, sleep in it. The food's for you, eat it. I'll come down here and lay you out on that mattress myself every night if I have to, Sweetheart."

My stomach twists, mind flooding with less-than-modest thoughts at his choice of words. All the heat of my anger drops from my skull to a fast-warming place between my thighs.

"Don't call me Sweetheart." It's all I can think to say.

At some point during our exchange he has leaned in close enough that I am finally able to determine his eye color; a smoky green, not blue. I count the seconds his face hovers over mine, our eyes daring. He smells like coffee. Then without another word, he heads for the door, leaving me to exhale a shaky breath as the door bangs shut behind him.

I turn to see Tex watching me from the couch, smirking.

"What?" I snap.

"Nothin'. I'm just grateful to have you around, Miss Jane. You're an unexpected blessing."

"And why is that?" Dare I ask?

"It's rare to see the boss so ruffled by someone. Humanizes him a bit."

I roll my eyes and sink into the couch next to him. "You're delusional, Cowboy."

"I've never seen that man run from anything." Tex giggles. "But he hightailed it out of here."