by Davis, Jen
The pound of his pulse picked up as he covered the short distance to Mandy’s space. Ignoring the small, gold knocker, he rapped his knuckles against the wood.
A hundred times he’d fantasized about being here, his imagination filling in the blanks of her life. After today, he’d never have to wonder what her private space was like. When he closed his eyes and his traitorous mind conjured her drifting to sleep on the sofa or the satisfied smile she made with the first sip of her morning coffee, he’d picture her in this place, in her real home. Not the hazy construct his mind had cobbled together.
His breathing stopped when she opened the door. There was no sign of the sharp business clothes she normally wore. No high heels or closed expression. Instead, she was the Mandy of his past. Soft T-shirt and jeans. Bare face. Bare feet.
She reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside.
From the corner of his eye, he noted an immaculate living space in shades of cream with a lot of glass, but his curiosity about her home paled with Mandy right in front of him.
The door swung shut behind him with a gentle snick, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the loveseat, Mandy only inches away. His hand was still in hers.
He was in Bizzaro World. “What am I doing here?” A hundred scenarios shuffled through his head. Had Mike taken a turn? Was something happening with the company? Did she—miss him?
Her eyes flicked away from his face to stare at their joined hands. She didn’t let go. “You need to watch your back. Whatever your club is doing right now, it’s made you a target.”
The club? The Skulls had nothing to do with her; she’d made it clear a long time ago it was how she wanted it. He tugged his hand away and immediately wished he hadn’t. “What do you know about my club?”
Her gaze lingered a moment on her empty hand, then clenched her fingers into a fist. Her green eyes sharpened when they locked with his. “I know you’re turning into drug dealers.” Her nose wrinkled.
Shame tickled his gut, as he knew it would, but he hardened himself against it. What business was it of hers? She had all the money she’d ever need. She never had to worry about making her rent. Her father was the mayor for fuck’s sake.
The surge of righteous anger was almost enough for him to ignore he had wanted nothing to do with the plan to move in on Sucre’s turf in the first place. “Your point?” he ground out.
If she noticed his ire, she didn’t let on. “Do you know a guy named Bennett?”
He stilled. “David Bennett?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I only heard his last name.”
“Blond guy? Always has on a Christian Soldiers cut?”
Mandy waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t see him. But listen, whoever this guy is, he’s gunning for you.”
There was no scenario he could imagine where David Bennett should be in Mandy’s orbit.
“He is working with my father.” She shuddered and reached for a half-filled wine glass on the glass coffee table in front of them. The burgundy liquid disappeared in two gulps. “I heard them talking at the house today.”
Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the stem of the glass. Gently, he pried it from her hand and set it on the table.
She took a deep breath. “He said a bunch of racist shit, but the bottom line is Bennett wants his club to take over for Sucre de la Cruz.”
No surprise there, but… “What do his lowlife ambitions have to do with your father?”
Swiping the glass from the table, she stood and carried it to the adjoining open concept kitchen area where a wine bottle sat on a shiny dark countertop. She poured almost to the brim, then promptly drained half of it into her mouth. “Bennett offered my dad a percentage to help clear the way for him.”
His stomach clenched. “Your father said yes.”
Mandy pursed her lips. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, but yeah. He didn’t say what he was planning, but whatever it is will happen in the next few days.” Draining the rest of her glass, she left it on the counter and returned to her spot on the loveseat. “I guess I’m not helping very much.”
He hated the tightness around her eyes, the strain in her voice. His protective instincts now in the driver’s seat, he pushed his concerns about her father’s threat to the back of his mind. “You are. At least I know we need to be on guard.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, rubbing at her right temple. “My family has brought you nothing but grief.”
Even though her words were pretty damn close to the truth, he couldn’t let them stand unchallenged. “It wasn’t all bad.” The memories rose, flooding him with images of her flushed cheeks as she rode him and her lips swollen from his kisses. Her laughter still echoed in his ears; the silky softness of her bare skin tingled on his fingertips. No matter how many years passed, it was all still there, right beneath the surface.
Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. There was nothing hard in her expression, only a softness he hadn’t seen in years. It was the same look she’d given him when he used to tell her about how he’d grown up. None of the earth-shattering stuff. Just the uncelebrated birthdays or the TV dinners he had to cook himself. Things like that. He’d tried to tell her it wasn’t so bad. He liked frozen nuggets fine. But it was never fine with her. She’d tell him how she loved him and how he deserved better, and somehow, she was the one who hurt over things he chalked up to reality.
It always ended with him kissing her, trying to replace her sadness with something else. Showing her he was happy and whole in her arms. Watching the sorrow in her eyes give way to pleasure untangled knots inside him he’d never realized were there.
He wanted to do it now. He needed to.
Honestly, he’d never stopped. She’d been the only force in the world capable of keeping them apart. Anything else was a lie he told himself so he could live with her decision.
Without even thinking, he reached out and tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull back.
He palmed the back of her head right where it met her neck and pulled her toward him at the same time he leaned toward her. Making his movements slow and deliberate, he gave her every opportunity to stop him. Her absolute stillness told him everything he needed to know. He kept his eyes locked with hers until the moment their lips touched, then his lids squeezed shut, and his other senses took over.
Traces of wine teased him as his mouth moved over hers, and he breathed in her familiar scent, the lavender from her favorite soap. The one from Before. It was like coming home.
His left hand glided up her arm, and she shuddered beneath him. Then she wrested control of the kiss, taking it deeper. The sharp bite of the zinfandel bloomed stronger as he slid his tongue against hers.
Crushing Mandy against him, his heart sang with the rightness of having her in his arms again. It was as if the past thirteen years had never happened. All those times he’d tried to convince himself it hadn’t been as good as he remembered, there had been a reason he hadn’t been able to let go.
Nothing had changed in all these years.
She was everything. The sun in the sky. The air he breathed.
Her arms were around his neck, and she moaned softly against him. Every cell in his body screamed to feel her skin-to-skin—to strip her bare and plunge his aching hard-on into her wet warmth.
It could be like it was. She could be mine again. We could go back and get it right this time.
Only, he had no idea where it had gone wrong before.
Digging deep for every drop of self-control he had, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re killing me, Mandy.”
She choked back a small sob, sending him on instant alert. He pulled back to see her face, which she immediately buried in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” His heart raced. “Did I—”
Her hands dropped to her lap, revealing green eyes shining a little too bright. “You didn’t do anything wrong.
I—nobody’s called me that in a really long time.”
He doubted it was the name so much as the possibility she was drowning as much as he was right now, though he could be wrong. She’d never stopped being Mandy in his mind, but he couldn’t remember the last time he said it to her face.
A lock of hair fell over her left eye, and he itched to reach out and smooth it back again. He stifled the urge, rubbing at his beard instead. The culprit behind the now scraped, tender skin around her mouth, a telltale redness left in its wake. She’d always hated beards. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to shave.
What the hell was wrong with him? Nothing had changed. She was still the woman who broke his heart, and he still had no idea why. He took a deep breath. “I was going to buy you a ring. The day it happened. The day you left.”
She swallowed, then wrapped her arms around herself.
“Scott offered me a ride to the mall, but he took me to the apartment building instead. It was a set-up, my brother and Sucre changing the balance of power.” He scoffed. “I see it now, but back then, I had no idea. I put myself in front of a knife to save Scott. I almost died. Then you damn-near finished the job when you left me broken in my hospital bed.”
“I’m sorry.” She curled into herself, getting smaller before his eyes.
He didn’t like it. His Mandy was tough as nails. She could look a tiger in the eye without blinking. “Don’t be sorry,” he said gruffly. “Tell me what happened. I deserve the truth.”
“You do.” She straightened.
Finally. He was getting an answer to the question haunting him for more than a decade.
A beat of silence. “I did it to save you.”
He stopped breathing.
To save him? Of all the possible explanations he’d considered over the years, that had never been one of them.
“Someone threatened to have you arrested for killing those people in the fire. It was a dirty cop; he blackmailed my father, knowing about the connection between you and me.”
He heard the words she was saying, but they didn’t make sense. “I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t even know about the fire until after you left me.”
Releasing her death grip on her arms, she sagged against the back of the loveseat. “I never thought you did it. But seeing you there was a win-win for the cop. Either he got the glory of making a major arrest, or he could take early retirement with my father’s money.”
“What reason could I have for setting a fire? It takes more than one cop’s word to put someone away.” He pushed off the seat and started pacing the floor. None of this made sense.
Her gaze tracked him as he walked from one side of the room to the other. “My father said it benefited your family. Something about the drug trade. I didn’t know it then, but later, I figured out it was the night Sucre de la Cruz came into power. What I don’t understand is what it had to do with the Skulls.”
He put one foot in front of the other. Moving helped him think. “It never made sense to me either.” Why they’d helped Sucre take over. He’d asked his brother—even his father once—but they’d only say he was better off leaving it alone. It was need-to-know information, and he didn’t need to know it. Who cares if it ruined his fucking life? Of course, now it was as plain as the nose on his face.
Money.
There was no level they wouldn’t sink to for money. For fuck’s sake, look at what they were doing right now.
Whether the fire was intentional or not, he’d probably never know.
“I never thought you were a part of any of it,” she said quietly. “Doubting you never came into the equation.” She climbed to her feet and moved toward him, blocking his path. Her fingertips ghosted over his cheek, touching him, but not. “I couldn’t take the risk your life would be over.”
He clutched her hand, holding it firmly against his face. “But that’s exactly what happened. My life—was over.”
Her eyes searched his, and he let her see the truth in his words.
“I would have wanted to deal with bogus charges a hundred times over before facing a future without you.” He released her hand. “You didn’t give me the choice.”
“Because I knew.” Her voice cracked. “I knew if I told you, you would have said to ignore it. You would have put yourself in front of a moving train to keep us together. I loved you too much to let you do it. No matter what it cost me.” She whispered, “They could have locked you up for the rest of your life.”
He tried to make sense of the distant look in her eyes. There was grief there, the kind he knew all too intimately. It may have dulled over time, but it never truly went away.
Good God.
She’d never wanted to leave him.
His heart stuttered. His chest literally hurt. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but his mouth couldn’t form the words. Hell, his brain couldn’t even line them up into coherent thoughts.
There was only want. Need. Mine.
Who needed words? It was just time wasted when he could be kissing her.
Maybe something gave away his intention in his eyes because she moved at the same time he did. They met in a clash of teeth and tongue. The softness of their kiss on the sofa was gone, replaced with desperate greed impossible to satisfy.
He wanted to consume her or burn her alive with the same kind of fire scorching his soul. Growling, he tangled his hand in her hair, holding her to him.
But Mandy made no move to get away. Instead, she gripped his shirt so fiercely her knuckles dug into his back.
His body was as tight as a bowstring ready to pop. With two steps, he had her crowded against the wall. He released her hair to lift her up, and she wrapped her legs around him, pushing her core against the almost painful ridge of his erection.
Only some denim and probably a tiny scrap of lace separated him from her pussy. He groaned, now obsessed with the idea of seeing what kind of panties she wore. Would it be a thong? Black? Pink? Would it be soaked with her want?
Did she need this as much as he did?
He pulled back. The answer would be in her eyes.
Sure enough, her gaze mirrored the hunger driving his every move. Her mouth was slightly open, and her chest rose and fell quickly as she panted for breath. The skin around her lips, darkened further from the scrape of his beard.
Yes, her body wanted his. But did she want more? Gone was the man he’d been when he’d dreamed of making her his wife. Could she want this Kane? Or were they both chasing a dream better left dead in the past?
The default chime of a cell phone sounded nearby, but she made no move to answer it.
As he released his grip on her thighs, she slid down the front of his body until her feet hit the floor. The need to touch every part of her consumed him. Starting with her hair. He’d always loved her beautiful hair. He ran his hands over it gently, sliding over the thick locks to her shoulders. He feathered his thumbs over her collarbone before continuing his path down her arms.
The phone rang again, and he fought the urge to grab it from the table and toss it against the wall. He kept his focus on the prize in front of him.
Where was he? Oh yes. Now to her hips. Her tiny waist.
The phone rang again. And again. And it suffocated the fire in her eyes.
“Ignore it,” he gritted.
She shook her head and tugged his hands away from her body. “I can’t. I know who it is. And this is something I need to put right.” She kissed his knuckles before she let him go and moved away to silence the phone.
He wanted to argue or to demand an explanation but he did neither. His stomach was in knots; too much rattled around in his head.
Mandy slipped on the pristine sneakers on the floor next to the door and grabbed a thick navy cardigan from the table where she had her purse and keys. “We’ll talk again soon, okay?” Her eyes searched his, and he nodded without thinking. Her smile wasn’t quite right when she stepped backward out of the door, leaving him alone in her condo, but w
hat did he know? Nothing could have made him walk away from a chance to make love to her again.
What the hell could be more important than what was happening here?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Amanda
Amanda’s pulse pounded in her ears as she slid behind the wheel of her red Prius. Kane Hale had just kissed her into oblivion.
In the years since they split, she’d tried so hard to convince herself his mouth hadn’t been as amazing as she remembered. He’d been her first love. Of course, she’d built him up in her mind.
But after tonight, she’d never be able to lie to herself again. If anything, time and distance had dulled the memory of how fucking phenomenal it was. He kissed her like she was the sun and the moon. His hands were like firebrands on her body. No man had ever turned her on so much, and none had ever made her feel, well, anything. Certainly not the overwhelming rush of hope and fear, need and abandon Kane inspired.
She would have made love to him tonight without a moment’s hesitation. Hell, she was tempted to turn around, even now, and finish what they’d started, but if she didn’t deal with Nathan, it would only come back to bite her in the ass later.
The insistent ringing on her phone told her it was him before she even needed to check the display. No one else would act like they were so entitled to an immediate response.
She glanced at the phone as she pulled to the exit of her parking garage. The screen was filled with texts.
Nathan: Pick up.
Nathan: Where are you?
Nathan: Why aren’t you answering the phone?
Nathan: You push me too far.
Swiping through several more without even reading them, she cleared his messages and sent one in return.
Amanda: I’m on my way to your place.
Barely a second passed before his response.
Nathan: Good.
