Wow! I haven’t had this much hitting and threatening since Mistaken Identity. Don’t make me PPO all y’all, LOL.
My old readers must know me by now, but I think I’ve picked up some new ones who aren’t familiar with my writing ways.
I’m at work, people, and though I only answer the phones, I’m typing the story as I talk on the phone, handle customer complaints, plus I’m doing online interviews, answering emails, answering calls on my cell phone and keeping up with office gossip fodder.
So if i happen to post more than three parts in one day, that’s a blue moon, trust me.
I’m also typing the book LIVE! Meaning as soon as I get it out of my head, you’re reading it. LIVE folks! (which does account for some mistakes and partial inaccuracies which you’ve pointed out to me offline – thank you) but I think i’m doing pretty good cause I got you on the edge of your seat.
BTW, Thank you Janet for the donation to the car/computer fund. That was a nice unexpected surprise.
This might be the last post today. I leave the office at 4.30 EST and with no computer at home I’m unable to do anything until I get back to work tomorrow morning at 8am. I’ll hand write some, but it’s Wednesday and I just bought 4BRothers & Hustle and Flow. I’m getting my Terrance Howard Fix for Wednesday and then I’ll be watching CSI @ 10.
I’m going to write to Oprah, not because I want her to feature my books. But because I’d like her to make my fantasy of a three way hug on nationally TV. I want Terrance Howard in a hug, Michael Ealy in the back and the guy from CSI Las Vegas on the side. Heaven! Heaven! Heaven!
I haven’t had a vacation in 10 years (not even my husband gave me a honeymoon when we were married – ever!!!) and if I got that hug, it would be worth 10 more years of no vacations. Whew!!!!
Anyway, Terrance Howard makes me moist and that’s a double whammy when I get to watch CSI.
Sistah need a man, don’t she? And a life. That’s a shame I gotta get my jollies off of Terrance Howard on screen and Gary Sinese, LOL.
Without further ado…
Tanner covered her mouth in horror at what she had done. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ her mind screamed, but she said out loud, “I’m so sorry.” Forgetting protocol, she rushed over to him and hugged him burying her face in his chest.
Devlin had not expected the abrupt physical contact, but he had not expected to even propose in the first place, but she had forced his hand and Devlin thought there was a terrible possibility that he wouldn’t see her again if she walked out the door. No other person in his life had made him so anxious and nervous at the same time. Nor had he ever felt like he needed someone so much before. Even his fiancée had not gotten him to act so irrational before.
Yet once he had proposed the reaction to the proposal had been a shock to him. The last slap to the face had been from his mother about six years ago. Instinctively, he wanted to emphasis who he was, but suppressed this urge.
Before he really had a chance to feel hurt or pain from the slap, her body was pressed against his and her face was buried in his shirt. She was too short to pull her arms around his neck, but he enjoyed the effort of her standing on her tiptoes, her hands barely able to make it over his shoulders. Looking over her body, he could admire the firmness of her derriere and Devlin found it titillating to feel her breast against his stomach.
She was saying an apology, but Devlin chose not to speak. Since she hadn’t button up her pants yet, his long arms moved around her body to the back and he slipped his hands down the back of her pants. His palms cupped perfectly under her plump cheeks and he wished they could just abandon the clothes. She had to weigh about a good 150, which he could have easily lifted and impaled-
“What are you doing?!” she asked incredulously, looking up at him.
She pushed away from him sharply and narrowed her eyes. “Are you even hurt or angry?”
“Because you slapped me for asking to marry you? Or just the physical act itself?”
“Both.” She massaged her sore wrist knowing she hurt herself more than she hurt him.
He rubbed his cheek where she had slapped him. “I’m not physically hurt? Confused as to why you would react like that. You said before any woman would be honored, right?”
Before she could respond to that her cell phone rung.
Tanner dug in her back pocket where she had pushed the phone.
“Tanner, are you there?” Jamroque asked when she finally found the phone and pushed the speaker option.
“Yeah, I’m here?” she answered worriedly.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Donetello’s… he came over to the bar and demanded I tell him where the john was at that I took you to last night. He pulled out a gun, Tanner. I had to tell, but I thought I should let you know that he’s killing mad…” He winced. “Good thing he’s a bad shot and I can play the fuck out of dead.”
Fear swept through her. Donetello knew. “How long, Jamroque?”
“Few minutes.” He winced. “Need you to come for me…Nina’s. Please Tanner.”
A few minutes? Fuck! She needed to go see about Jamroque and do whatever she could do to help him, but she also needed to get Devlin to safety, although she was positive he had no where else to go locally.
Putting the phone back in her pocket, she looked at Devlin. “Pack all your things, we have to go, now!”
“What’s going on?” he questioned.
“Don’t ask questions, please. We don’t have much time.”
He packed everything – even the hated tuxedo in the large duffel bag he had bought and then followed her outside.
“Do you have a ride?” she questioned.
Tanner couldn’t help at smile at his innocence to her slang. “Do you have a car?”
Devlin pointed to the rented dark blue Impala. She put her hands out. “Keys,” she ordered.
Reluctantly he gave her the keys and followed her to the car. She popped the trunk for him and once he was strapped down in the passenger side, she took off burning rubber.
“Now can you tell me what’s going on?” he demanded very aware she was speeding.
Without taking her eyes off the road, she said, “A friend of mine needs help.”
“I’m well aware from the prior conversation I heard over your cell phone. What does that have to do with me leaving my hotel and why would someone want to come there for me because you were with me? Wasn’t that your job?”
She cut him a look of annoyance on purpose, but she really didn’t want to go into explanation right then and there. It was too much on her mind. Focusing her anger on the road, she put the petal to the metal and took a curve at fifty miles and hour. “Let’s just say you weren’t safe.” She jumped on the freeway and weaved in and out of traffic.
“Damn! You’re driving like a damn ambulance.” He checked his seatbelt to make sure it was secure.
When they arrived at Nina’s, Tanner checked up and down the street for anything familiar. With the coast being clear, she only relaxed a little bit. Looking back in the car, she ordered, “Stay here.”
“No!” he barked adamantly.
There was no time to argue and she allowed him to follow her.
Tanner’s Devil Part 8.1 (c) 2006 Sylvia Hubbard