He chuckled, rising up behind her, before entering her in one hard thrust. Her soft cries filled the room, as he picked up the rhythm, until they both crashed over the cliff.
When she could talk, she whispered, “I have to get up.”
“It’s Saturday,” he said.
She froze. “It is?”
He nodded. “It is. You’re off work.”
“Jesus, I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”
“Well, if you would take some of the time off that you have coming and rest a little bit,” he noted, “I wouldn’t have to worry about you quite so much.”
“You worry too much,” she said instantly. The arm around her tightened, and she cuddled in closer. “In that case”—she yawned—“I’ll just stay here a bit. Maybe we can have breakfast for a change.”
“Normally you’re up and out of here before breakfast is even possible.”
“And normally you’re up and out of here buying and selling the world.”
“Foreign markets and stock exchanges open up early,” he explained.
“So, why the hell are you still here now?”
“It’s Saturday. They can go screw themselves.”
She laughed. Just then her phone rang.
He froze, tucked her up closer, and said, “Don’t answer it.”
She rolled over and looked at him. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I know,” he said, with a sigh. He kissed her gently. “Go ahead. Answer it then.”
She grabbed her phone and checked her Caller ID. “What’s up, Rodney?”
“We got a new case,” he stated, his voice grim.
“Yeah, what kind of a case?”
“You mean, outside of dead bodies?”
“Bodies?”
“Yeah, two, on the Stanley Park jogging trails.”
“Runners?”
“Yeah, both women, both early twenties.”
“Shit. Shot or what?”
“No, we’re not exactly sure what happened. But it sounds like something might have been sprayed in their faces. Gassed maybe, but Smidge’ll have to tell us what it was,” he noted. “Anyway I got the first call. I’m here, and I’m tagging you.”
“Great. Simon just told me that I needed to take a few days off.”
“And he’s right. You do. But you didn’t set that up.”
“Nope, I’m coming,” she said. “You know me. Anytime somebody needs me—”