Page 27 of Soul Kiss
There’s an electronic beep, and the car alarm shuts off.Johns comes striding towards us.“Had to piss,” he explains.“Typical that it’s at that moment there’s a power cut.”Unconsciously, my gaze strays down his trouser leg.The fabric is black, so I’m not sure it’d show even if he had pissed down his own thigh.
“It’s always a crisis when your pants are down,” he complains jovially.“Every bleeding time.It’s never when you’re poised ready for it.”
I get the impression he’s unaware of the shooter on the loose upstairs.
“You know it wasn’t just a power cut,” I say.
“Can we just get out of here?”Dylan shows his exasperation by wrenching open the car door.He slides his butt onto the back seat.
“Sure we can do that.”Johns shrugs his shoulders at me.What’s his problem?
Where would I even begin?
Before we go anywhere, I check in with the boss to make sure that’s what he wants.Falchard’s relieved to hear that Dylan is fine, or rather, that he’s safe.My boss doesn’t need to know I just made my charge come in his pants like an overeager youth, or that Dylan’s now denying such a thing could possibly have ever happened.I wish Dylan would man up and realise the world doesn’t have to be so rigidly black and white, and that it’s not necessary to fit into only one box.It’s an odd position to be in, considering Dylan’s rainbow embracing portrayal in the media.
Falchard relates that initially indications are that the group who stormed the building are associated with the group of protestors outside the main doors earlier.Their intention was primarily to cause havoc and champion their belief that acceptance is wrong and that persecution is the only recourse for those who insist on defying God’s order.
Twenty people have been injured in the stampede to flee the scene.No one—thank God—was shot.I mention the bullet shaped hole in the presentation cheque, but Falchard’s insistent no actual guns were fired.It seems the noise we heard was actually from a toy, one of those old-fashioned cap guns.I didn’t think they even made them anymore.
“The cops want statements from you all.”
“Not now.”Dylan snarls.
Falchard consults with the police liaison he has with him, while I endure Dylan’s testiness as best I can.He sits with his arms crossed, hands tucked into his pits.
“The police would prefer to take statements from us now, while our memories are fresh—”
“I want out of here,” Dylan snipes through gritted teeth.
“—but, Falchard has arranged that they’ll speak to us at our convenience tomorrow.”
“Oh!”Some of the tension eases from Dylan’s body.“Then can we finally get out of here?”
“Sure.”I slide into the back seat beside him.As on the way here, we occupy spaces as far apart as possible.Johns fires up the engine, and takes us out onto the street.The situation at the front of the building defies belief.People are gathered in groups, some of them wailing, Johns doesn’t slow down.He takes a right at the lights, and once we’re through them guns us back to Dylan’s hotel at top speed.
-7-
-Dylan Drake-
Jeezusholyfuckingchrist!What the shitting hell did I just do?
Why did I?
If there’s a rational explanation for this, then my mind can’t conjure it.Not yet.Not while she’s still a mere arm’s length from me.
My thoughts ought to be focused on the people we left behind, injured, bewildered, dazed by the attack.I should be of sombre mood right now, appalled by the actions of the bastards so determined to create misery.
And I am, only at a deeper level than would seem typical given the recency of the attack.Maybe I haven’t taken it fully on-board yet, or maybe it’s simply that my personal issues carry more weight.
Surreptitiously, I snatch a glance at Kira, not wanting her to be aware of my scrutiny.Immediately the shivery tingles start zapping around my body again.
That’s why.
That there instant reaction is why my world has severely tilted on its axis.Something about this particular woman makes me horny, when no other woman in creation has ever elicited such a response from me.Men—sure, there’ve been dozens upon dozens.I don’t get what it is that makes her different.Part of me insists I need to figure it out, the remainder advocates putting as much distance between us as possible and never thinking about her ever again.
Of course, trying not to think about her when she already has my head tied in knots, and she’s right across the seat from me is damned bleeding impossible.
“This is us.”Johns pulls up at the front of the hotel, rather than in the carpark where we started this journey.He gets out and opens up the door for me.“Good evening, sir,” he says as I pass him and head inside.Kira follows me as I trek straight past reception towards the bank of elevators.