Sweet Surrender (Sweet #1)(12)
Author: Maya Banks

Short and sweet. There was an urgency to Mick’s voice that woke Gray from his lethargy. Glancing at the clock, he shrugged and picked up the phone. Mick had said no matter what time it was.

A few seconds later, Mick’s disgruntled voice fed over the phone line.

“I didn’t send you down there to party. Where the hell have you been?”

Gray sighed in irritation. “I was getting the phone tap in place. Can’t exactly do that in broad daylight. Now what is so all-fired important?”

“Samuels was spotted in Huntsville earlier today. Woman was with him.”

“You think he’s on his way here?” Gray asked.

“I think it’s a damn good possibility. Stay close to the girl. I bet anything Samuels and the mother are headed straight for her. They probably set up the meeting when the mom called the other day.”

Gray frowned. Was that what had Faith so edgy? And did she have any idea what her mother was involved in, or was she just acting the dutiful daughter?

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, Mick. You know that.”

“Just wanted you to know,” Mick said gruffly. “Let me know if the tap turns anything up.”

Gray hung up the phone, not liking the implications of what Mick had reported. Was Faith involved, or was she just being used by her manipulative mother?

He scrubbed a hand over his hair and then rubbed his palm down his face. Maybe he’d call in sick tomorrow. That would give him time to slip into Faith’s apartment after she left for work, then he could return home to get some sleep.

He trudged into the bedroom and set his alarm for six. Two hours. He’d sleep for two hours then get up and wait for Faith to leave.

When the alarm went off, Gray groaned and slapped his hand over to stanch the annoying cacophony. After several long minutes, in which he argued the need to get up at all, he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, face buried in his hands.

Knowing that Faith would leave at seven sharp, as she did every morning, he got up and headed for the shower.

At six forty-five, he called Pop’s cell phone and told him he was home sick for the day. After enduring a gruff lecture to get plenty of rest, Gray hung up and nursed his cup of coffee.

At six fifty-five, he moved to the living room window that overlooked the parking lot and nudged the curtain aside so he could see Faith’s car. As expected, at seven, she hurried out of her apartment and got into her vehicle.

One down, three to go.

He kept vigil by the window until one by one, Connor, Nathan and Micah also got into their trucks and headed off. Knowing he needed to be quick, he retrieved Faith’s key from the kitchen table and slipped out of his apartment.

He didn’t waste any time looking around. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion. When he reached her door, he slid the key into the lock and went inside.

As he scanned the living room, he grinned. Weren’t most women supposed to be neat freaks? Clutter abounded, and it looked as though she performed a striptease on the way to her bedroom. Pieces of clothing lay tossed aside, forming a path from the door toward the hallway.

His gaze focused in on her computer several feet away. It sat atop a wooden desk, piles of paper and books scattered across the surface. Her screen saver hadn’t come up yet, and what was pictured on the monitor gave him serious pause.

Porn? She’d been looking at  p**n ? Despite the urgency of the task at hand, he simply couldn’t walk away. The idea that she’d be surfing  p**n ographic websites seemed incongruous with the image she projected.

He walked over and leaned in closer. Hmm, not a  p**n  site, at least not in the typical fashion. The website was actually an informational on bondage and submission. Couples in a variety of poses dotted the page, and Gray couldn’t help but picture Faith in the woman’s stead.

Did she harbor dark fantasies? Sweet, easily blushing Faith with a penchant for kink? The dichotomy turned him on and intrigued the hell out of him.

Then he frowned. Was she just another woman all too willing to give up control in the bedroom, live for the fantasy then forget the whole thing the next morning? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had his fill of those women.

Oh, they were more than willing to play a role, one that only extended to the bedroom, but when it was over with, they became a completely different woman.

He wasn’t into pretend shit. He wasn’t some damn puppet to have his strings pulled then be put back on the shelf until it was time to play again.

He shook his head and smiled ruefully. He was getting worked up over nothing. And letting past experiences color his perception of something he had no idea about. Who knew what Faith was up to or why she was looking at submission sites. It wasn’t any of his damn business.

Remembering the fact that he had a job to do, one that didn’t include figuring out a dozen ways to f**k Faith, he hurried into the kitchen. After arranging the tap, he headed for her bedroom, sure he’d find another phone there, but after a quick search of the house, he only discovered the one in the kitchen.

Quickly surveying the living room and kitchen to make sure he hadn’t disturbed anything, he strode to the door, opened it a tiny crack and peered out. Not seeing anyone, he let himself out, locking it behind him. Then he hightailed it back to his apartment and the promise of a nice long nap.

Faith raised her hand to knock on Gray’s door but hesitated at the last minute.

“Don’t be such a ninny,” she muttered. “Just because you can’t be around him two seconds without blushing doesn’t mean you’re a spineless wimp.”

Shifting the sack she held in her arm, she pressed her lips together and knocked. She waited several seconds then knocked again, louder this time.

Finally the door opened, and she blinked as Gray, a shirtless Gray, stood in the doorway. He leaned against the frame for a minute, and she let her gaze wander down his body. He wore only a pair of jeans, and his bare feet stuck out from the pants legs.

As she glanced back up his body, she stopped at his chest. He folded his arms over his rib cage, and she couldn’t help but admire the bulging muscles of both his arms and his upper chest.

He only had a smattering of hair in the hollow and then a fine line leading downward to his navel. She felt the dreaded heat of a blush as her eyes settled on the fly of his jeans.

Finally she jerked her gaze back up. He was eyeing her lazily, his blue eyes studying her much as she’d been studying him.

“I, uh, sorry to bother you. Pop said you weren’t feeling well.” She thrust the bag toward him. “I brought you some homemade chicken and dumplings.”