Desperately Seeking Epic(9)

“I can’t do it,” she blurted out as she pushed back, away from the door. As she pushed, pain shot up my back as I fought not to let her topple us over.

“Calm down,” I grunted. “Everything is okay.” Drama queen.

“I can’t do it,” she insisted, panic laced in every word.

“I promise—”

“I’m not f*cking jumping,” she hissed, interrupting me. Throwing my hands up, I began unbuckling her.

“We’re not jumping, Sap. Take us down,” I shouted over the engine. Once she was free from me, she plopped down, pulling her knees to her chest and staring off into space. What a f*cking waste of my day. The damn jump was free. Come on, lady.

When we landed, she climbed out of the plane, peeled off her suit, and left it crumpled on the ground. Apparently I was also a maid service. As she marched to her car, she didn’t even bother to say bye or thanks or screw you. She just left.

“I hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her go,” Sap murmured.

Cutting a look to him, I smirked. “You’re a dirty old man, Sap.”

He smirked back, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing. “I’ve been called worse.”

As Clara slammed her car door and started the engine, I said, “She’d eat you alive.”

“Nah,” Sap argued. “A woman like that just needs a man that appreciates her spirit.”

“Is “spirit” a code word for ass?”

He snorted a laugh. “Sometimes they like to hand over the reins.”

“Sap.” I chuckled. “What the hell are you talking about, old man?”

He slapped me on the back, hard, knocking the air out of me. “She needs to rule the world, boy, but needs a man that can rule her.”

I snorted. How wrong he was. “She’d likely castrate any dude that tried to rule her.”

Sap’s mouth quirked to one side. “Paul, for all the women you’ve been with and all the places you’ve been, you sure don’t know much about the opposite sex.”

“I know enough,” I argued as I unzipped my jumpsuit. “And I know she’s a prude that needs to get laid.” That chick was a complete killjoy.

“You see a prude. I see a woman waiting to be unleashed.”

“Oh yeah?” I chuckled. “Saw all that in the fifteen minutes you were with her?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, Sap. We’ll be back in an hour, and I promise this time we’re jumping.”





I’d certainly taken her off guard showing up unannounced. She looks like she’s seeing a ghost.

“Where’s the professional greeting?” I jest. I’m trying to piss her off as much as the announcement of her bullshit meeting did to me. Shit, I’m still pissed. And the Clara I remember would give me an eye-roll and tell me to f*ck off. But she doesn’t do that. She just stares at me, her mouth slightly open. Two people, clients, I assume, sit at the table in the corner filling out their paperwork as Clara and I remain eyelocked.

“Who ready to jump today?” a deep Spanish accent asks. One second later, Marcus rounds the corner, his hair slicked back, wearing a wicked thick, black mustache. His diving suit is covered in Mexican flags, and his front tooth is capped in gold. Grinning, I shake my head. I can see he’s really upped his game since I’ve been gone. As soon as he turns his head toward me, his smile fades and he darts his gaze to Clara.

“Paul,” he intones in his normal voice. “It’s been a long time.” He clears his throat and extends a hand to shake mine. I look at his hand and curl my lips.

“I don’t want to shake your hand.” I smack it away and his head rears back slightly, shock strewing across his face. “What the hell is that?” I grimace. Marcus is my best friend. We don’t shake hands. “Come give me a hug, man.” I grab him in a bear hug and lift him off the ground, squeezing him.

“My ribs,” he groans as I squeeze harder. When I set him back on his feet, his face red as a ripe tomato as he gasps for air.

“You’ve gotten a little soft in the middle since I last saw you, old friend,” I joke. “Guess that’s what old age will do to ya.”

“I’m two years younger than you,” he replies morosely. “I’m also about three feet shorter than you and I still have a bigger dick.”

“Marcus,” Clara shrieks as I laugh.

Turning to the two customers at the table, he waves. “Sorry. But it is big.”

“Oh my God,” Clara sighs. “Let me get Bowman and Larry to finish up in here.” Clara scurries off down the hall and Marcus and I move to the small couch by the entrance.

“She’s still wound up tight,” I comment as we sit.

“She has her reasons,” Marcus argues and my brows furrow. Is he defending her? That’s new. They hated one another when I left.

“Oh does she?” I ask sarcastically.

“Paul,” Marcus says, his gaze fixed on the wall. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

“And I’d still be gone if she hadn’t cut off my money,” I add.

Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “It was the only way to get you to come home.”

“And why did I need to come home?”