Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(30)

“I went to a diner and had chocolate chip pancakes with Polly, who I think maybe has a secret life after dark. One that involves glitter lotion. After that, I took the bus to the mall and carved my initials into a tree waiting for it to open.” Connor knew what she was doing, and it made his chest hurt. Feeding his need for control, for peace of mind, simply by telling him where she’d been since leaving him. It comforted him like crazy. “I shopped in the junior’s section of Macy’s and rode the kiddie train because the girl running it gave me the evil eye. You would have been so proud.” She planted a kiss on his neck and inhaled deeply. “I’ll see you in an hour, baby.”

She slid down his back. He groaned at the feel of her breasts dragging over his muscle, needing to breathe deeply and get a handle on his desire before facing her again.

But when he turned around, she was gone.





Chapter Ten


The first time Erin was in Dade Correctional, one of the guards had taken a shine to her. If groping her every time he did a bed check counted as “a shine.” Greasy Gunther, the other inmates used to call him. It would have eventually gone further if she hadn’t blown that Popsicle stand when she did. Gunther had even warned her he would find a way to get her alone. That warning had been an impetus for her to plot escape. She hadn’t known how she would react if a man forced himself on her. Would she freeze up at the sensation of hands on her body? Would her fight-or-flight instinct kick in? The unknown wasn’t good enough, so she’d gotten out of Gunther’s reach before he could extend it.

Even the other guards had been aware of his fascination with her. They would rib him every time she passed by in the yard, elbowing him and reminding him he was married while he ogled her, adjusted himself in his trousers. One afternoon in the cafeteria, Gunther had gotten bold and pinched her ass while she stood in line for food. His guard buddy had come up behind them and muttered, “Man, you’ve always had a thing for crazy *, haven’t you? It’s going to get you into trouble someday.”

She hadn’t been offended, mainly because she’d erected a shield that caused everything the guards said to bounce off. But she’d never forgotten that statement. She’d let it settle in her mind and she’d played with it, wondering if it were true. If her personality, which seemed to send most men packing with a quickness, could attract a different type at the same time. If a certain amount of them sensed something inside her and were attracted by it, rather than repelled. When she’d experimented with sex before…before she’d been cast into the darkness…she’d learned the answer quickly enough. Three men had approached her at a bar, one asking if he could buy her a drink. Her reply had been, “Sure. Petrol, please. Unleaded.”

Two had walked away laughing and shaking their heads. The third had stepped closer.

She was still waiting for her Nobel Peace Prize to show up in the mail.

The handful of men she’d tested herself with hadn’t been turned off by her strict instructions not to touch her during sex; they’d been turned on. There wasn’t anything too odd for these guys. They soaked up crazy like a sponge.

There had been a brief moment when she met Connor where she wondered if he was one of those men. The kind who seemed to get off on the experience of a girl who could either blow your mind or blow you away, depending on her mood. She hadn’t wondered for a second since. Connor didn’t look at her as if she were an exhibit at the zoo. A strange and exotic bird. No, he looked as if he wanted to climb into the exhibit with her, find out how to adapt.

Erin felt a sudden dose of yearning as she approached the entrance to Hanover’s Tavern. She wished she’d been strong enough to walk into the prison with Connor. Wished he stood beside her now, warm and steadfast. Instead she was getting ready to go another round of testing on her Crazy * theory by walking into a bar and seeing what information she could glean through the prison workers she’d been told frequented the place. Being that Hanover’s was only four blocks from Cook County DOC and screamed dive with its neon beer signs and rickety awning, she knew the type who would be on the other side of the door. Greasy Gunthers aplenty.

She took a deep breath before opening the door, focusing on the smooth feel of the switchblade in her high-top. The matches in her pocket. If she concentrated on those comforting objects, maybe she could block the foreign guilt over walking into a room very likely full of other men. Men she would flirt with to get information. Connor’s head would explode. But she couldn’t sit around and be useless to the squad. If she didn’t have the steady job and Derek to vouch for her sanity, her stepfather would pounce. What Connor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Erin ignored the certainty that he would somehow know what she’d been up to and pushed open the door. Every head in the place turned in her direction before she’d taken two steps inside. Oh yeah, she’d come to the right place. Half of them were still in their uniforms, nightsticks and all. The other half had the tired, jaded look sported by most corrections officers. If anyone knew how Tucker May had escaped Cook County, these guys would. Secrets didn’t stay secrets over too many beers and a desire to stay away from their wives, lives, and responsibilities.

Lights, camera, crazy. She giggled and ducked her head, beelining for the bar. The bartender froze in the act of changing the channel on the ancient television over his head and looked her over with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She hooked her foot in the rung of a stool and leaned over the bar, knowing every set of male eyes was trained on her ass. “Hey, mister.” A Southern twang, huh? Why not? “I got separated from my tour group. Would you let me use your phone? I left my purse on the bus. As far as tourists go, I’m hopeless.”