Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [33]
"Where's your gun?"
"I don't have one."
"Marques did."
"I know—in his left–hand pocket," I said, standing next to her, my hand on her shoulder.
She came to her feet, facing me. Without the heels, she was maybe a half–inch shorter than me. Her eyes were set so close together it was hard to look into them. I ran two fingers along her jawline, feeling for bone lost in the soft flesh, cupping her little chin. I kissed her softly, feeling her lips swell. Her teeth clicked against mine.
"How'd you know he had a gun?" she asked, her tongue darting out, whispering into my mouth.
I moved my hands to her waist, and down to her sculptured butt, feeling the soft skin, squeezing the hard muscles beneath the surface. She locked her hands behind my head and fell backward, pulling me down with her.
The bed was hard. No springs squeaked when our weight came down. I landed on top of her, but she slid out from underneath me slick as an otter leaving a rock in the water. She snuggled into my chest, nudging me onto my back with her shoulder, one hand trailing across my stomach, throwing a thigh over mine. She burrowed her face into my neck, her whole body quivering.
"You have to tell me," she whispered. "I have to know those things."
"Why?"
She reached her free hand between my legs, wrapping it around me, rubbing the tip with the pad of her thumb. "You think this is the answer to my prayers?"
"I had hopes," I said.
"Come on, honey. How'd you know?"
"When you walked up with him, he didn't want you on his left side. When you moved away, he was more relaxed."
"So?"
"So either he was carrying on his left side or you were holding a piece for him."
"How'd you know I wasn't?"
"You kept your hands free. The clothes you had on—that sweatsuit—you couldn't get to it in time. Besides, you weren't his woman."
"Because I said so?"
"The way you carried yourself."
She stroked me gently, her mind somewhere else. Mine wasn't.
"What if you were wrong?"
"Huh?"
"What if I was carrying?"
"You're not fast enough to make it work."
"Not fast enough for you?"
"For Max."
"Which one was Max?"
"The guy that didn't speak."
"He was ten feet away from me."
I shrugged.
She shifted her weight, holding her head in one hand, her elbow cocked against the bed. Her breast was an inch from my face. The dark nipple looked tiny against the white globe. I kissed it. Her hand pulled against me in response.
"He's really that fast?"
"Faster."
Belle moved her head into my chest again. Her hand slid down the shaft, cupping my balls, lifting them gently, like she was trying to guess their weight. Her voice was all soft curves, hardness flexing underneath, the same as her body. "Tell the truth. When you saw me in the club—in the play—and you wanted to answer my prayers?"
"Yeah?"
"What did you want to do?"
"I'm not sure…."
"Tell me!" she whispered hard against my chest, her hand closing on me.
"I wanted to rescue you," I said.
She moved her hand back to the shaft, shifting her body on top of mine, fitting me inside her. She was wet—I slid in like a bullet being chambered. Her hands were on either side of me, taking her weight, her breasts brushing my face. I moved my hands to her butt as she started to grind against me.
Her mouth came down to mine. "Rescue me," she said.
36
WHEN I woke up a while later, Belle's face was on the pillow next to mine, her body still covering me. I couldn't see my watch. I flexed my shoulders to see if I could slide from under her without waking her up.
"You want a cigarette, baby?"
"I didn't know you were awake," I said.
"I never went to sleep. I've been here all along."
"How come you didn't get up?"
"I was guarding you," she said, her face close to mine. "I knew the only way you'd sleep is if I didn't move."
She padded over to the kitchen, opened a door next to the refrigerator. I heard water running. Belle came back with a big glass ashtray, cigarettes and matches inside, a washcloth over one