A Chicago story
Photo by Etienne Girardet on Unsplash
Her dark eyes scanned the ballroom. Various VIPs and CEOs and other letters of the alphabet paid her no mind, all gesturing wildly with their cigars and glasses of vintage brandy. Their boisterous laughter echoed over the soft sound of the jazz band playing at the center of the room. She hid her red lips behind her cosmopolitan, resisting the urge to look at her watch. Instead, she took inventory of her surroundings for the third time.
Five exits: one behind the bar, two at each end of the room, and two in front of her on opposite sides of the band. At least six security guards, four cameras, and too many ways this could all go wrong.
She sipped her drink, swallowing her reservations along with it. Trust the plan, she reminded herself. Trust your partner.
“You’re worrying too much.”
She glanced at Diesel as he appeared on her left. The black-tie attire suited him - pun intended. The stark white of his dress shirt was the perfect contrast of his suit jacket and his tanned skin. He had a half-empty glass of whiskey in one hand while his other hovered over the small of her back. There was a hint of cigar smoke on his breath as he smiled at her.
“You’re enjoying yourself too much,” she replied, tapping her foot nervously to the beat of the music. She envied the ease in which Diesel slipped into his cover. He was a natural inside man when she felt like anything but. He could blend in anywhere with anyone. She’d protested the job at first, citing how unconvincing she could be in heels, but Blaze insisted. She was the darkest Shadow. The chances of her being recognized and blowing their cover were slim to none.
“You could be enjoying yourself more,” he said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Open bar, a dancefloor, live music, and about four different diplomats eying your tits from halfway across the room.”
She broke into a bashful smile. “Only four?” she asked. She pulled her curled hair over her shoulder, covering her flaring chest. “How insulting.”
“I’m just saying,” Diesel chuckled. “This ballroom could be your oyster if you’d get out there and shake what they’re already gaping at.”
She shook her head at him. “We’re not here to dance, remember?”
“Who says we can’t?” he asked. “We’ve got time, don’t we?”
“Not enough,” Blaze barked through her earwig. She cringed at the volume.
“But some,” Diesel said. He threw back the rest of his drink and set his empty glass down on the refreshment table behind them. He held his hand out to her and bowed. “Madam.”
“Bold of you to assume I want to dance with the likes of you,” she retorted, taking a sip of her drink for courage. Of course, she wanted to dance, if only to ease her nerves. It had been too long since her feet had seen a proper dance floor and it was calling her name.
“What can I say?” He winked and bowed lower. “Humor me.”
She eyed him up and down as he reached closer, making her skin tingle. A smile broke out on her face before she could stop it, and his grew wider. He was too smug for his own good. With a sigh, she set down her glass and took his hand. “If I have to,” she said as he pulled her towards the dance floor.
“That’s the spirit.” Couples gathered as the music flourished and fell into a soft ballad, and he pulled her close, leaning down close to her ear. “Have you ever been swept off your feet?”
She chuckled, resting her hand holding her glittering clutch on his shoulder. “Does that line actually work?”
He shrugged. “You’d be surprised.” His hand at her waist pulled her closer, then pressed flat against the small of her back. She melted into him, resting her head against his shoulder as her nerves subsided. Their feet fell to a familiar, synchronized step, and her eyes fluttered closed. Despite knowing they had familiar eyes on them, she sighed.
“Who taught you how to waltz?” she muttered.
A deep chuckle buzzed against her ear. “Some pain-in-the-ass kid I used to know.”
She looked up and met his smiling eyes with a half-hearted glare. “That’s ‘royal pain-in-the-ass kid’ to you.”
He grinned down at her. “Whatever you say, Princess.”
She tucked her head underneath his stubble-free chin and inhaled him. He cleaned up well, even if he didn’t look like his usual leather-jacket-ripped-jeaned self. No one in the room was any the wiser. In that suit and tie, his tattoos and scars didn’t exist. She often wondered why he’d chosen this life when he could’ve so easily fit in anywhere else.
This life took its toll. The violence, the risk, the constant checking over their shoulders... She knew it had to affect him more than he let on. He had the means to leave but he never did. She did too, of course, but she couldn't leave him. Not after all he'd done for her, and everything they've been through together.
She bit the inside of her cheeks as they grew hot. Maybe his reasons were the same as hers. Or maybe it never occurred to him. He’d been a Shadow far longer than her; his roots ran deeper, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. He’d considered it for Ashley.
She shook those thoughts from her head. This wasn’t the time for existential ideations. He pushed his fingers into her back and gazed down at her with furrowed eyebrows. She pressed her lips together, avoiding his silently curious eyes with a gulp. He opened his mouth to prod, but he was too late.
"Enough dancing, you two," Blaze said. "Get ready."
Something shattered near the buffet line and there was a sudden uproar. All the security guards rushed past them.
"Those were the guards from the hallway," Keys told them. "You're clear." Diesel had gradually danced them towards the door nearest the dance floor and now, with everyone's attention on the other side of the room, Diesel took her hand and they fled. Her heart pounded as they raced down the hallway. "The router shouldn't be far from the vent," Keys said as they approached the janitorial closet.
"Shouldn't be?" she asked, checking over her shoulder for anyone tailing them as Diesel bent down to pick the lock.
“Best I can do.”
“Well, your best sucks,” Diesel muttered. Shiloh raised her eyebrows as he struggled to pick the lock. She pushed his hands away, twisted the doorknob, and swung the door open. He gaped up at her and she shrugged.
“No one locks the janitor’s closet,” she smirked.
“Just get in, plant the bug, and get out,” Blaze ordered. Diesel rolled his eyes at her and pulled his hardware from the lock before slipping inside. “We can do the rest from here.”
Diesel shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on a shelf as she shut the door behind them. “How much time we got?”
“Not enough.”
“Ain’t that always the problem?” Diesel asked. He shot her a goofy wink as he dragged the stool over from the corner.
“You really think now’s the time for jokes?” she asked.
“Now or never.” He mounted the stool and held out his hand. “Screwdriver?” She hiked up her skirt and pulled it out from the belt around her thigh. When she looked up, he was grinning at her with a suggestive glint in his eyes. “What else you hiding up there?”
“Nothing you’ll ever find.”
“Ooh—” he took the tool from her hands, “—I love a challenge.” She rolled her eyes as he laughed at himself. He began unscrewing the vent on the ceiling. “Get the drive ready.”
"Okay, bossy." It was his turn to roll his eyes as she dumped out the contents of her clutch on top of his jacket. Some sheer band aids (for the blisters on her heels), lipstick, and the flash drive, hidden in a compact mirror. Adrenaline raced to the tips of her fingers and pinched toes - she hated wearing heels, even though they did wonders for her calves - but she cracked the compact open with deceptively steady hands.
"They're starting their sweep," Keys said. She pulled out the drive and snapped the mirror shut. "They're checking every door."
"Don't need the play-by-play, Keys," Diesel grumbled as he swung the vent down and shoved the screwdriver in his pocket. Shiloh held the drive out to him. He grabbed it and disappeared inside the vent. "Just tell us when to move," he grunted.
"Careful," she said, throwing everything back in her clutch.
"Where's the fun in that?" Diesel muttered. He dragged something that scraped against the ceiling tiles. "Where the f—"
"Ah, ah, language," Keys chided.
"Bite me."
Shiloh scoffed, leaving the clutch on the shelf as she rubbed her arms. As much as she loved that dress - its plunging, heart-shaped neckline, the sexy cutout at the waist - the long lace sleeves made her itch like crazy. She turned around to admire him, even though she could only see his lower half. She liked it when they played dress-up. It wasn't often she got to check him out in slacks and—
“You better not be checking out my ass,” Diesel called. She blushed, thankful no one could see.
“You copped a feel at mine earlier,” she lied. A chuckle echoed through the vent. “It’s only fair.”
“And here I thought I got away with that.” The cheesy grin on his face was evident, even through the ceiling. She shook her head, grinning herself.
"Cut the chatter," Blaze snapped. Shiloh cringed at his tone. "Get it done."
"Ah, relax, Blaze," Diesel said, unperturbed. "When have we ever let you down?" It amazed her how comfortable he was under threat of capture. Throw him in a room with a therapist or a clingy girlfriend, and he'd run for the hills. But leave it to him to keep his cool in the lion's den. "Got it."
"Good, ‘cause they're headed your way," Keys warned. Diesel swore and slid out of the vent.
“How close are they?” she asked, cracking the door open. Voices traveled down the hall, coming closer. She swore quietly and shut it.
"Too close. Get out of there," Blaze barked. Diesel screwed the vent back in place as fast as he could. "Get out of there, now."
"It's a little too late for that," she whispered, heat flaring in her chest. She knew how to get them out of this. She never imagined it would happen under such circumstances. But nothing ever happens the way it's supposed to.
As Diesel jumped off the stool and pushed it back into its corner, she unzipped her dress. She slipped her arms out of her sleeves, letting it fall in front of her. She was relieved she'd decided to wear a bra at the last minute. A full-frontal reveal? She'd never live that down. She was mussing up her curled hair as Diesel turned back around. Her stomach flipped as he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide in - what, shock? Desire? She gulped.
"Oh, Princess," he muttered, his voice husky, "I'm too sober for that."
"You got a better idea?" she asked, grabbing his tie and pulling him to her. His lips crashed onto hers, but she resisted the urge to moan as hot pleasure surged through her belly. She'd often dreamed of pulling him close and devouring him in a passionate frenzy. His calloused fingers sent tingles across her exposed back, but she suppressed a shiver and loosened his tie with determined fingers. He pulled his shirt out from his waistband as heavy footsteps approached.
Keys' voice in their ears almost ruined the moment: "Guys, what are you—"
"Shut up," Diesel ordered and kissed her again. He unbuckled his belt and slacks at record speed - Jesus, you'd think he practiced that - and hoisted her up against the shelves. A visceral moan escaped her lips as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. She'd berate herself for letting it slip if he wasn't so dangerously close to the puddle growing between her legs. She hoped he might brush it off as acting, but he smirked against her lips. Her fingers threaded through his hair and he drove his hips up into hers. She moaned again - damn him - as the door opened.
“Hey!” They broke their kiss to glare at the intruder: a burly, scowling security guard. A shorter one cowered behind him, cheeks flushing at their state of undress.
"This closet's occupied," Diesel panted and shot them his famous half-smirk. "You two wait your turn."
Shiloh's chest fluttered against his and her cheeks caught fire. There's no way a simple make-out session could take his breath away like that, not when he had so much... well, "practice". Either bugging that router was harder than it looked, or she caught him off-guard.
Or he was enjoying this as much as she was. The idea made her stomach lurch. One way to find out, she thought, redirecting her attention to his exposed neck. She planted a soft, lingering kiss below the bend of his jaw on his pulse point. He gulped and his pulse quickened underneath her lips. She smiled and kissed down to his collar, pride bursting through her.
"Enough, you two," the bigger guard ordered. "Get dressed."
Diesel's hand ventured farther up her left thigh, his fingers peeking underneath the elastic band of her underwear. Shiloh repressed a moan as goosebumps flooded her skin. Cheeky bastard, she thought. He was testing her, too. He'd caught her red-handed—well, red-lipped. She peeled her lips away from his neck to pout at the guard. "Five more minutes, Dad," she drawled. Diesel swung at the door, shutting it in the guard's face.
His lips found hers as the latch clicked. Her eyes flickered shut and her arms snaked around his neck. For a moment, she forgot they weren't actually hooking up in a janitor's closet. That it wasn't a cover and she was actually brave enough to make a move. She hoped he'd forgotten, too.
But, despite the tingling in her lips and the heat blossoming through her, she knew they couldn’t stay and satisfy each other. Her heart sank as she finally pulled her lips away. His eyes fluttered open; hazy, dilated, and quite possibly a darker shade of blue than normal.
She gulped. “You can put me down now,” she whispered, wary of the eavesdroppers outside. Her cherry lips brushed his with every word, but he didn’t pull back. He smirked and rested his forehead, warm and coated with a thin layer of sweat, against hers.
“It’s not every day a beautiful woman jumps me in a broom closet,” he murmured with that damned smirk. She rolled her eyes, fighting the blush crawling up her already-rosy cheeks. Was the room getting hotter? “Can you blame me for enjoying it while it lasts?”
She bit the inside of her cheeks as he gazed into her eyes. His eyelashes tickled hers, daring her to answer. She couldn’t blame him at all. He caressed the soft skin of her legs underneath her dress and she swallowed the urge to shudder. She brought her hand down to the side of his neck, swiping at the trail of red lipstick with her thumb.
"Feels like you're enjoying it way too much," she joked. Her eyes flickered down to his hips, sandwiched between her legs. He pushed into her a little more, and she pressed her lips together to keep from moaning a third time.
He grinned wickedly at her. "That's your screwdriver."
"Are you two finished?" She jumped out of her skin hearing Blaze's voice so abruptly in her ear, gripping Diesel that much tighter. She'd completely forgotten they were eavesdropping, too. Diesel brushed his nose against hers as a furious blush crossed her cheeks.
"Perverts," she muttered as Diesel carefully lowered her to the ground. His hands glided from her legs up her body, stopping painfully close to the exposed skin of her breasts. Even though it felt like her feet were on the ground, she had to keep hold of his shoulders to keep from falling over. He glanced at her nearly-bare chest still pressed against his and licked his lips, which were now stained red. She licked her own as the security guard pounded on the door.
"Hurry it up, kids."
Shiloh rolled her eyes, letting her hands fall. "I knew calling him 'dad' would come back to bite me." She pulled her skirt down and Diesel smirked. He pulled away from her, tucking himself back into his slacks as he shouted something back at the guard.
A chill from the sudden lack of his body heat passed over her. Her heart ached. She couldn't stop the goosebumps spreading over her arms as she slipped them back into her sleeves. Dammit, Shiloh, she cursed as she reached around for her zipper, did you really have to go that far to sell your cover? She fumbled with the zipper, her fingers trembling too much for her comfort. Get it together. You're not some lovesick teenager.
"Let me," Diesel whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her bare shoulder. She shivered again - how did he sneak up on her like that? - but held up her hair and let him take over. His fingers brushed against her feverish skin as he zipped her up, tantalizingly slow. She held her breath, watching him from the corner of her eye.
How the hell did he suddenly have so much control over her? She's always managed to keep calm and collected. Business as usual. Was a single "fake-out make-out" all it took to completely unravel her composure? He finished with the zipper and she turned to face him. He was redressed - if not a little disheveled - and holding up her clutch between them.
"You almost forgot this." His eyes gleamed with mischief. She bit the inside of her cheek, choosing not to reply. She couldn't trust her voice. She snatched it out of his hands and spun around, reaching for the doorknob. She swung it open and flipped her tousled hair over her shoulder.
"All yours, boys." She turned on her heel and walked away, hips swaying with each step.
"How the hell did they manage to get out of that?" Keys muttered, astounded. The pair turned the corner out of sight from the guards.
“What can we say?” Diesel answered, hot on her heels with a shit-eating grin on his face. “We’re pros.”
Who was he kidding? The only thing she was pro at was playing it cool even though she felt so hot. She resisted the urge to fan her clutch in her face. She needed another drink, pronto.
Diesel pulled her closer as they reached the ballroom doors, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “You want this back?” He slipped the screwdriver into her unsuspecting hand as he pushed the door open. Desperately trying to hide the furious blush in her cheeks, she slipped the tool back inside her clutch and rushed past him into the ballroom.
So, it hadn't been her screwdriver. She bit her lip to keep from grinning. She did that to him? She stood taller as his hand returned to its place just south of the small of her back. She shot him a warning glance through the corner of his eye and he chuckled, removing his hand and offering her his arm. "You are enjoying this too much," she muttered, gripping his bicep.
"Don't lie," he whispered, placing his hand over hers. Her stomach flipped. "You are, too."
She gulped, avoiding his inquiring eyes as they approached the exit. Her mouth went dry while he grinned at her speechlessness. "Bite me."
"Again? In front of all these people?" he asked. An embarrassed laugh burst from her chest. She always picked the wrong words. He pushed the door open for her. "Just can't get enough, huh?"
She shook her head and shoved him away as she walked through. "Shut the hell up." She took off down the hallway, heels clicking, and his hearty laugh following close behind her.
Now that he couldn't see her face, she smiled. He had no idea how right he was.
"Have you ever been swept off your feet?"
She placed a hand over her fluttering heart as he caught up to her. She certainly has now.
Wanna read more about Shiloh and Diesel? Check out Hilt Deep here.
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