For You (The 'Burg #1)(57)
Colt nodded, Jack opened the door and Colt stood in the frame watching until Jack disappeared in the RV and then watching longer.
Finally he shut and locked the door. Then he went through the entire house, every room, even the second bedroom, and checked doors and windows, making sure they were secure, blinds closed, Feb and him shut in tight.
As he did this his mind scanned the quiet, night streets he’d just driven through.
He’d taken his time getting home, cruising the blocks, round and round, looking for a silver Audi which Denny Lowe drove. This wasn’t the neighborhood for Audis, folks around here bought American made and he didn’t find one. Only when dawn was kissing the horizon and he was far enough out that it’d be tough to get to Colt’s on foot, Colt drove home.
When the house was secure, he went to his bedroom and pulled back the covers. She’d made the bed. He didn’t bother except yesterday when he’d made it up for her.
Then he went to the couch and picked up Feb. She was out, dead weight, didn’t even lift her arms to hold on. He carried her to his bed and set her in it. She rolled to her belly, lifted a leg and shoved her hand under her cheek on the pillow. Colt pulled the covers up to her shoulder.
Wilson jumped up and resumed his position at her feet, not picky about where he got his shuteye, just as long as Feb was there.
Colt found he was growing fond of that cat.
Colt took off his clothes, pulled on his shorts, unholstered his gun and put it and his phone by the bed and even knowing there would be holy hell to pay in the morning, he crawled in beside her. He wasn’t going to be far, not even as far as the couch.
Why he could handle a man travelling the country and hacking up people as some fanatical show of affection for Feb and he couldn’t handle that same man breaking into her house, jacking off and leaving mementos, he didn’t know. He didn’t dwell. She wasn’t going to be far away from him that night.
Once he’d moved in with Jack and Jackie, Colt used to be a heavy sleeper. But after Feb broke it off with him, he started moving in his sleep. He’d had a queen with Melanie and he was always waking her, never enough room. She said she liked it when he woke her. She tried to cuddle which Colt didn’t like much considering his body was active when it was unconscious. He’d bought the king after she left, plenty of room.
Now with Feb so far away, he felt the bed was way too damn big.
He shifted into the middle and pulled her close not worried he’d wake her with his movements; he knew he’d get no sleep.
Her cat started purring for some ungodly reason. It was loud. Now Colt knew how Wilson got his nickname.
He listened to Wilson’s purrs and Feb’s deep breathing and as the light filtered strong around the blinds, he fell asleep.
Fifteen minutes later, his phone rang and he woke up.
Chapter Six
Marie
“Yeah?” I heard and my eyes blinked open.
When they did I could swear I saw the line of Colt’s back, sloped because he was up on a forearm the covers down to his waist. He had his phone to his ear.
I stared as he said, “Right, be there as soon as I can. Maybe an hour.”
He flipped the phone shut and threw it on the nightstand.
Groggy, still partly asleep and fighting it, I got up on a forearm too.
“What are you doin’ here?” I asked, though I kind of wondered what I was doing there too. I’d fallen asleep on the couch even though Dad tried to get me to go to bed. But I was spooked and regardless of the fact I was old enough to take care of myself and had been doing so with questionable success for a long time, I still didn’t want to be far from my Dad.
Colt turned to me and I noticed he looked wiped, his eyes shadowed and tired. I noticed this but I had bigger things on my fuzzy mind.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” he said softly.
“What are you doin’ here?” I asked again.
Wilson, realizing we were awake, decided it was breakfast time and we should be informed of that. He started up the bed toward me meowing.
“Feb, go back to sleep. I’ll get Jack to come in.”
Wilson made it to me and head butted my hand. I automatically started giving him scratches and the meowing mixed with loud purring.
But my mind was still on Colt who was still in bed with me.
“What are you doin’ in this bed?”
He gave me a look before he threw the covers back and got out.
“I got work,” he said, not answering my question. “I’ll feed the cat.”
He started to the door but I threw the covers back too and got quickly to my feet.
“You can’t crawl into bed with me,” I informed him.
He turned in the door. “February, we’re not fightin’ about this, not only do I not have the time, I also don’t have the energy or the inclination.”
I was a dog with a bone. “You carried me to bed and got in it with me!”
My voice was rising. Colt ignored it and walked out the door.
Wilson, feeling this was a healthy indication he’d be getting breakfast soon, jumped off the bed I left him in and pranced out after him.
For my part, I stomped.
“Colt!” I snapped when I hit the hall.
He didn’t reply.
By the time I hit the kitchen he was reaching into the dish drainer to get the kitty bowl I’d washed last night.