Take Me To Bed: Bedtime Quickies Collection

2

Deeds

My phone starts to ring and I mentally curse before I hit the stop button on the treadmill and jump off. Cardio. Something I can do along with ab exercises and a few other muscle groups where I don’t need to use my hand. But believe me, when you have something that’s lacking from your normal abilities? For fucking sure you notice that shit with everything you do.

“What?” I bark into my phone without checking who’s calling.

I recognize Archer’s chuckle flowing through my phone. “Well, good evening to you too, Dad.”

“I was doing cardio,” I grunt, as if that’s an excuse for my grumpiness.

And I need to mention it because I’m not even out of breath since my body is trained for endurance.

“Do you know where Ma is?” Archer questions, and this puts me slightly on edge because he never calls to check.

Add the fact the woman was acting all strange when I went into the spare bedroom I turned into a tiny gym when the kids moved out, I’d say it raises a flag or two.

“Tell me right now, what the fuck is going on?” I demand and spin on my heels as I head for the bedroom since I don’t see her in the living room.

I glance around the bedroom and see a file on the bed. Opening it, I quickly glance over all the documents and pictures while Archer says, “She was going through the files on my desk when I came into my office earlier. I’m thinking she’s up to something and is trying to prove some shit. Hell if I know what’s up, but I don’t have to tell you what Ma’s like.”

“Why didn’t you handle it, Pres?” I sneer. “Because I’m staring at a damn file that should be in your office instead of on my damn bed.”

A low growl rumbles over the phone. “Not my job to handle your old lady. And you know damn well there’s only one person alive who can handle her.”

“Dammit, Archer. The file is about an escaped convict. A damn murderer who goes after prostitutes. Motherfucker. She’s gonna draw him out, isn’t she?” I slam the file closed and hiss out my words, “I am going to redden her ass when I drag her back here, so she knows not to fuck with me.”

“And that’s my cue to hung up. Let me know when you guys get back safe. And I need a damn report on this. You have more than one working finger, you ca

n fucking type. No excuses.”

I’m about to reply but he already hung up on me. No need to mention where my son’s fire comes from. Both me and his mother. His mother. My old lady went rogue and now I have to go after her to handle it.

“Dammit,” I roar and throw my phone on the bed as I chuck my shorts and head into the bathroom for a quick shower.

I’m pretty sure the pair of them ganged up on me by the way everything went down a minute ago. But right now, I can’t think straight. Lips. That’s short for “Hotlips,” the name I gave my old lady because of the damn mouth on her. She’s always been more than a handful.

I shake my head and rub a hand over my face to clear the water from my face. Come to think of it…she’s been caring and understanding for a long time. None of the rebel and spitfire she used to be. I swallow hard and suddenly understand the reason for their actions, and it has nothing to do with my fucked-up hand.

I turn the water off and grab a towel as I head back into the bedroom and get dressed. I give one more glance at all the papers to know what I’m going to be dealing with. Yet this fucker is a minor issue and will be handled accordingly. But first I have to find my woman because my hand is itching. Itching to leave a damn handprint on that wicked ass of hers.

3

Lynn

I glance down and adjust the dress that’s showing off my boobs, gotta give these babies some more air for the job I need to do. I’m wearing a short red dress along with black, over the knee boots. I left my long blonde hair down to somewhat hide the large red patch inked on my neck.

Normally I would proudly show it off because it means a lot to me. But tonight, I’m going for the picture-perfect hooker in search of some john to get some quick cash from. Well, not some john…I’ve set my eyes on an escaped convict by the name of Albie Shumberg.

He killed six prostitutes and he’s been on the run for over two months now. Archer obtained an anonymous tip that Albie has been staying in a trailer park nearby and has been seen visiting the local bar. Reason enough for me to put on some hooker clothes and see if I can catch the fucker.

I can handle myself, no worries. Both my old man, and my friend, Blue, taught me how to fight and I hit the gym several times a week. Plus, I’m not a total idiot. I have a tiny gun stashed in my boot and there are two knives strapped on me. One of those is the size and shape of a credit card and can be turned into a deadly weapon in the blink of an eye.

This is most certainly not my first rodeo, but for some reason I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be because Broke, my brother-in-law, is sitting in a corner. He’s wearing a baseball cap and dirty clothes and no one would give him a second glance, but I’d recognize him anywhere.

This was all Archer and I should have known he wouldn’t let me do this without some form of backup. Though, I thought Broke was going to stay in the car. And it aggravates me because if I recognize him…Deeds would too. And I want Deeds to focus on me, and at the task at hand.

I mentally snort. Task at hand. Isn’t this what it’s all about? I grab my tits again and give them one last shake before I let my hips sway overdramatically as I make my way toward the bar.