Thursday, June 25, 2015

Walt Murphy – PI – 23

The second time involved a missing person who didn't want to be found. He figured if he got me out of the picture he'd be home free. So he tried to stab me. I tried not to get stabbed and ended up with a slashed forearm before I managed to disarm him. That didn't make Ricky too happy, and sometimes when he's feeling pissy about what I do he points out the scars and says I wouldn't have them if I was in a less dangerous line of work. He's right, but what can I say. I like helping people out of the troubles they've managed to get into. Usually by no fault of their own.

Back to what I was saying.

Ricky re-bandaged my arm and then I got dressed in clean jeans and a shirt which were stored in my quarter of his closet.  While I did, he fixed us breakfast, after calling in to say he'd be late for work. It might be a Saturday, but it was tax season and the end of his company's fiscal year so he was putting in a half day of overtime.

All the time we were eating he kept an eye on me.

"What?" I finally asked.

He smiled. "Just thinking."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Despite everything, I'm glad we're together."

I chuckled. "Everything meaning the fact I seem to get into trouble on occasion?"

"Yeah. It scares the shit out of me but still, being scared is better than never having had you in my life."

"I don't mean to…"

"I know. It's just…what you do. What you are." He got up, came over, and when I looked up at him he kissed me, murmuring, "And despite what you might think, I wouldn't change you for the world."

Wrapping my good arm around his waist, I pulled him onto my lap. "The same goes for me because without you in my life… well… hell…"

He laughed. "You never were good with telling me how you feel, but I know."

He was right. Telling? No. Demonstrating? Yes. And I was about to drag him back to the bedroom to do just that when he kissed me quickly, said with a knowing look, "Not now", and pointed out he was going to be late enough as it was. "So I'll drop you off at your place or your office, whichever you want."

"I need my car," I replied before finishing the last of my coffee.

"That works."

Fifteen minutes later we parted company. He headed to his job; I got into my car after doing a quick check to make certain no one, meaning the goons, had done anything to it that I wouldn't approve of.

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