Raid

Chapter Sixteen Bounty Hunter Language

I pedaled up the lane to Raiden’s den and saw him, arms and ankles crossed, leaning against the side of his Jeep.

At the sight, my thrill went wild.

I smiled huge and came to a stop behind his Jeep. He grinned back at me, his shades moving over me, Spot and my bike before he started to shake his head and pushed away from the car.

I shoved down the kickstand and hopped off. I started skipping to him, but stopped, dashed back and wagged my finger an inch from Spot’s kitty nose.

“Be good.”

He made a kitty face at me, which said clearly he would be whatever the heck he wanted to be.

I ignored him, turned and saw that Raiden had almost made it to me. There wasn’t a lot of room, but still, I ran it, took a leap and landed in his arms.

They closed tight around me.

I returned the favor with all four limbs then dropped my head to his that he’d kindly tilted back and laid a hot, heavy, wet one on him.

One of his hands slid to my behind and he let me.

I broke the kiss, smiled down at him and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Raid said back.

I battled a shiver that one syllable, said in his deep voice, shot through me and went on, “Welcome home.”

“Yeah, baby. You’re absolutely fuckin’ right. That was a welcome home.”

I didn’t bother battling the shiver that time and gave him a four limbed squeeze.

He returned the favor with two arms and a hand tightening on my booty.

“Right. Put me down,” I ordered. “We’ve got to get Spot and go inside.”

His mouth twitched before he dropped me to my feet and let me go.

I skipped back to Spot and hoisted him out of the basket.

“Meow,” he protested.

“Quiet, we have to show Raid his surprise.”

“Meow.” Spot, like most cats, wasn’t big on surprises.

“Shut it, buddy,” I ordered, walking up to Raiden, whereupon Spot made a break for it, a successful one, amassing his considerable kitty bulk and launching it at Raid.

Raiden caught him. Spot shoved his way up Raid’s chest, planted his paws in Raid’s shoulder and started purring.

“Crazy cat,” I muttered.

Raiden chuckled, one arm under Spot. His other hand came out and tagged mine.

“You got a surprise?” he prompted.

“Right,” I replied and bounced in my flip-flops. “Let’s go.”

Up the stairs we went, Raiden in front of me, Spot glaring at me over his shoulder, still purring.

When we got to the top, I shoved onto the landing, took the keys from Raiden’s hand and said, “Let me.”

I didn’t give him a choice.

So excited, I was again bouncing on my flip-flopped feet. I unlocked his door, threw it wide, took a huge step in and cried, “Voila!”

Raiden and Spot followed me. Raid lifting a hand to push his shades back on his head, he shut the door and looked around.

I danced around.

“Right!” I cried. “Starting here!”

I danced to the bed, stopped and looked back at him.

“Your sheets and comforter were nice, honey, but they didn’t match my afghan so I got this!” I motioned to his bed on the floor, the box springs now covered in a gray sheet, the mattress and pillowcases too. The comforter on top was black and gray, and there were two more pillows and some (not too many, only three) masculine but cool toss pillows scattered across the top.

I moved to the head of the bed.

“Mrs. Bartholomew was talking and said her grandson needed a project for Wood Shop. I got an idea, got the measurements and he made this!” I exclaimed, touching my hand to the black painted, low wood shelves that now ran the length of the head of the bed. Raiden’s paperbacks were shoved in the shelves, two attractive lamps on top at either side.

“I got the lamps,” I went on. “And Barry came in and wired an outlet in the floor under the shelves, so no more extension cords.”

Still holding Spot and standing just inside the door, Raiden stared at the bed, but I was so wired, I didn’t take that in and skipped to the kitchen.

“This, I found in an antique shop up Harborough Road. Killer sale,” I shared, running my arm down the front of a tall, wide cupboard against the wall like I was a game show hostess. “Up top, on the shelves, as you can see, cereal, protein powder and foodstuffs.” I bent and opened a cabinet door at the bottom of the cupboard. “Dishes down below.”

I straightened and sideways skipped to touch the range.

“As you know, Rachelle is redoing her kitchen at home and this is her old stove, but it’s only two years old and she’s a cook so she only gets the best, so even used it’s still awesome,” I announced.

More sideways skipping to the fridge.

“Same with the fridge, and look!” I pointed at the water and ice dispensers in the front door. “Hugh came around and plumbed it so it works!”

I threw open the doors, but turned to him, forcing my face to mock grave.

“Now, I hesitate to share with you that I disposed of the lab experiments you were conducting, but Grams got you all this food and all of it is actually edible.”

I was so into my show, I didn’t notice that he still hadn’t moved as I closed the fridge doors, did more skipping toward the table and I threw an arm out to indicate the wardrobe.

“Barry and Hugh fixed that to the wall so it’s sturdier and not in danger of collapsing, and I WD-40’ed the hinges and the hinges on the bathroom doors so no more haunted house sounds.”

Winding it up, I threw my hand wide toward the floors that now had a scattering of rugs.

“More sale items from the antique store,” I grinned at him, “from me. They don’t cover a lot, but they’re better than wood, especially when it starts to get cold.”

I leaned a hand onto the back of one of his kitchen table chairs and kept right on babbling.

“They have a kitchen table at the antique shop I hope won’t sell, seeing as I kinda ran out of money, but it would be great in here, and bonus: no padding on the chairs so none of it can come out. They’re also having a furniture sale at this place in Denver that has fabulous stuff. I almost bought you a couch, but I figured a man is usually one with his couch, so you’ll have to go with me.”

I threw my arms wide and finished.

“What do you think?”

Slowly, Raiden bent, dropped Spot to his feet which caused an audible “thump” when the cat’s weight hit floor. Spot instantly waddled away to start exploring as Raiden slowly straightened again, put his hands on his hips and locked eyes with me.

“My kids are growin’ up in a farmhouse.”

That was what he said.

And that was weird.

It was also disappointing.

I felt myself deflating.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“What’s this shit telling me?” he asked.

My head jerked.

“This… shit?” I asked back.

He threw a hand out to indicate the space. “Yeah. This shit.”

My spirits plummeted.

“I… well, I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Raiden, but obviously I screwed up again and—”

“Plant my sons in you, babe, they’re growin’ up in a farmhouse in the woods outside of town.”

My hand went back to the chair so I could lean my weight into it, seeing as my legs got suddenly weak.

“What?” I whispered.

“The fridge and stove, that’s cool. Gonna rent this place come winter, and decent appliances means we can jack up the rent. The rest, Hanna, total fuckin’ waste of money and time, unless you’re tellin’ me something with this shit.”

I was feeling a lot of things. Some of them I thought were good, others didn’t feel so great.

“Waste of—?” I began.

He took two steps toward me, stopped and put his hands on his hips again.

“What are we doin’ here?” he asked.

“I wanted to show you my surprise,” I answered, my voice growing small.

“No, Hanna. That’s not what I mean. I’m crashing here. You gotta know that. This is no place to live. It’s a necessary evil. I think we both know that Willow is it for us and if I wanted to waste time that at least I thought both of us had no desire to waste, I’d get a condo in Jackie’s complex or somethin’. Seein’ as at least I’d prefer not to waste time, I’m not gonna jack around with a year lease which is the only thing she gives. So what the fuck are we doing here?”

I took a calming breath and stated, “Okay, honey, I think I need a bounty hunter language lesson or you need to revert back to normal people speak because I went all out to make your space livable while you were gone and you aren’t being real cool about that.”

“No?” Raid fired back. “Well I’ve been waitin’ for you to pull your finger out and ask me to move to your space, so you makin’ my space, which is shit space, more livable and spendin’ money until you got no more tells me you don’t intend to ask me to move into your space.”

My fingers curled deeper into the vinyl of the chair.

Raiden kept talking.

“We’re young, we got time and we haven’t talked about this, but here it is. I want three sons. My Dad was a massive dick and I want to erase that memory by havin’ boys and givin’ them what I never got. I also love my sister and always wished I had another one, or a brother, so my boys are gonna have a lot of siblings. The way you’re settled in that house, babe, you’re not leavin’ it, and I don’t want you to. It’s you. It’s the perfect place to build a family. Now, my question, in what I hope is normal people speak, is are you tellin’ me with this shit we’re gonna dick around, or are we gonna get on with it?”

Was he serious?

“Get on with… get on with making babies?” I pushed out.

“No, babe,” he bit out, impatient. “Get on with us so we can eventually get on with makin’ babies.”

“I… uh, you… um, don’t really go slow, Raid, but this is a bigger leap than most,” I told him. “Normal couples discuss this stuff.”

“Clue in, Hanna. I am not normal, neither do I ever fuckin’ wanna be.”

“I think I got that,” I said softly.

“But you’re right. Couples discuss this stuff. And I’ll point out, we’re standing here discussing it.”

He was sort of right.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“So we dickin’ around or what?” he asked.

I ignored my heart hammering and asked, “Breaking all that down, are you saying you want to move in with me?”

“Uh… yeah, Hanna. I decided to have a home again, and after I spend time dealin’ with scum, I wanna come home. Home to a house with a porch swing where I can wash that scum down the drain and climb into bed with a woman who puts an outrageously fat cat in her ludicrous basket on her ridiculous bike. My woman.”

“My bike isn’t ridiculous,” I protested.

“Babe,” he leaned in, “it is.”

I ignored that, too, and semi-repeated, “You want to move in?”

His brows snapped together. “Are you sleepwalking?”

I stared at him.

Raiden scowled at me.

Then I let go of the chair, ran across the room and jumped into his arms.

Again he caught me, but this time he had to plant a foot behind him so we both didn’t go down.

I didn’t care.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, but I placed my hands at the sides of his head and looked down at him.

“They were on sale so no returns, thus the hunters get to enjoy the rugs, but that cupboard will kill in my kitchen,” I declared and the surprise in his face cleared, it warmed and he immediately started walking.

Toward the bed.

“I take it I just got myself a porch swing,” he remarked.

“You so totally got yourself a porch swing,” I replied.

We went down on his mattress, me on my back, Raid on a knee then on me.

“Shame not to break in these sheets,” he muttered.

“Upon your return, that was on the top of my to-do list, after introducing you to your new abode, which kind of went sideways in a happy way, so now we can tick that off and move on,” I returned, and he grinned.

His grin faded and he announced, “That afghan on your bed is gorgeous, honey, but we’re switchin’ it out with mine.”

I loved that.

I trailed my hands up the material of his tee at his back. “Works for me.”

“Am I gonna traumatize the fat cat if he sees me fuckin’ you?”

“As you know, his name is Spot, and he’s immune to trauma. You can’t feel it if your life is devoted to dishing it out.”

Raiden grinned again, then, finally, he shut up, bent his head and kissed me.

Two hours later he left me in his bed and took Spot back to Grams in his Jeep.

Upon return, he reported Spot nearly broke his neck by draping himself on it while Raid drove.

I snuggled into his big body, giggling and wishing I’d seen that.

At that point Raiden rolled over me and we spent some more time breaking in his sheets.