by Lori Foster
Mitch had reduced him to this.
Mitch had forced him to hide out in the house of an old lady. At least the little shit hotel was located close to the bar and diner, but this place?
Thinking about it curled his lip.
Fucking doilies covered every surface, the single tiny TV was without cable or satellite and all the furniture smelled like old people, a musty scent that turned his stomach.
Looking around at the dark night, swatting at a mosquito, Newman admitted that the smelly house was better than sleeping outside, or cramped in Lee’s car.
Pure luck had put him in the grocery line to buy beer when the old gal told the cashier she’d be away for a month and not to worry about her. Visiting an ailing sister or something. Who cared?
The young cashier had thanked her, saying he worried about her “out there all alone.” After that, it was just a matter of glancing at the address in her checkbook as she paid for a few things she said she’d be taking on her trip.
The place was secluded, set back on a wooded lot without any nearby neighbors. No one was likely to find him here and with any luck, Mitch would think he’d left town.
Once he let down his guard, then Newman would strike.
He relied on Ritchie and Lee poking around town to find info on Mitch, but there were only so many places they could snoop without drawing too much notice. So far, no one knew much about him. He hadn’t been back to the bar, and they hadn’t had a chance to get close to the little lady yet. Everywhere she went, someone went with her. And the eagle-eyed bastards were too watchful for Lee to tail her.
It frustrated the fuck out of him.
Shoving to his feet, Newman paced into the yard, lit only by a weak yellow bulb on the back stoop. Towering oaks blocked the moonlight. In the distance, insects screeched.
Rage boiling over, he pulled out his knife and took aim at a tree, throwing it hard. The knife bounced off the trunk to land in the dew-wet grass. Disgusted, Newman retrieved it, checked to ensure he hadn’t caused any damage, and carefully dried the blade along his jeans.
Instead of returning it to the sheath, he closed his fingers tight around the handle.
Screw throwing it for sport. His talent was using the blade close up—when he sliced people, or sank it deep to the bone. It was those skills he’d honed throughout his life.
Mitch had seen enough to know it, but soon he’d get a reminder.
It was a relief when his phone rang because it gave him something to do other than wonder if Lee or Ritchie had discovered any news yet on Mitch.
He answered with a curt, “Hello?”
In a rushed, excited whisper, Bernie said, “Hey, guess who’s here at the bar?”
Thank God Mitch had thrown his weight around that first day, because in pissing off Bernie, he’d inadvertently given Newman an ally. It had something to do with Mitch butting in between Bernie and a hot little babe he wanted.
Blood rushing through his veins, Newman said, “This better be about Mitch.” If he was in the bar, he’d probably driven there. Newman could fuck with his car first, then wait near it with a tire iron and—
“No, sorry. It’s Rosalyn.”
Icy disappointment brought his teeth together; the name had no meaning to him. “Why the fuck would I care about—”
“She’s talking to Grant—you know, the cop who hassled you? And I heard her saying Mitch is Elliott’s son.”
That information made his heart skip a beat. Tightening his grip the phone, he asked as casually as he could, “You know Elliott?”
“Yeah, sure. He used to be married to Rosalyn.”
Rosalyn...the woman now in the bar. If lightning had hit his ass, it wouldn’t have been more of a shock. Mitch had come home to family? What laughable bullshit.
“You know what this means?”
Yeah, he did. It meant he could annihilate Mitch and Elliott both. So many times when Mitch was a kid, Elliott had poked his nose in, threatening to take Mitch away—even trying to get Velma to go too! Old animosity mixed with new, leaving Newman with volatile rage. “Enlighten me.”
“Mitch is Brodie and Jack’s bastard brother. I thought that might help you figure out where he is.”
Oh, it’d help all right. Maybe this Rosalyn person could be another ally. Imagining her reaction turned him downright gleeful. “Guess she’s fuming, huh?”
“Ros? Nah. She’s good to everyone. From what I heard, she’s pissed at Elliott but feeling all motherly to Mitch.”
Breath strangled in his chest, and he wheezed, “What the fuck do you mean, she’s feeling motherly? To a bastard?” Impossible. “From that cheating motherfucker, Elliott?”
Bernie fell silent, but finally asked, “Um...you know Elliott?”
Impatience mounting, Newman retrenched. Bernie disliked Mitch and probably wouldn’t care if Newman slit his throat. But he spoke of Rosalyn with affection, and that made the whole scenario dangerous. After a temper-leveling breath, Newman managed to moderate his tone. “Give me a rundown on the whole family so I can figure out who’s who.” Then maybe he could decide his next move.
“Hold on.” Background noise filtered in and out while Newman paced, calculating the time it’d take him to get to town. They’d already wasted too much time talking.
When Bernie came back, it was quieter. “Sorry, had to move to the john to hear ya. Too noisy out there.” He launched into a recitation, helping Newman place all the players in this skewed family drama.
So Mitch had likely come to beg help from his brothers. From what Bernie said, they weren’t exactly refusing him. And now Elliott was here too, though he and Rosalyn weren’t together anymore. Interesting dynamics.
Open to a lot of possibilities.
“So, uh, how do you know Elliott?”
Pacing the yard and plotting, Newman drew another calming breath. Bernie hated Mitch for getting between him and the curly-headed gal, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else slaughtered. Going with the truth, Newman explained, “Elliott visited Mitch a few times back when he was a kid.”
“No shit? Small world,” Bernie said on a laugh. “I always liked Elliott, but I can see why you’d feel different since you got stuck raising his brat.”
Deadpan, Newman replied, “Exactly.”
“Elliott’s biggest screwup was losing Ros. She’s pretty terrific. Charlotte too.”
What-the-fuck-ever. Through his teeth, he ground out, “Are they still—”
Interrupting him again—something Newman would make him pay for later, after he’d served his purpose—Bernie said, “You’d have to know Rosalyn Crews to understand how great she is. Sure, she’s seriously pissed at Elliott, but to hear her talk, Mitch is already part of the family.”
That lucky bastard. “You said she’s waiting for someone?”
“Charlotte. Pretty girl with long frizzy hair? She works for the Crews family.”
Charlotte. “Wait. She’s a sister?”
“Like a sister, but they’re not blood. She’s the one I was hittin’ on when Mitch got all bent out of shape and sucker punched me.”
Eyes widening, grin sliding into place, Newman murmured, “I see.” Small world indeed.
The wheels churned with endless ways to torment Mitch. Oh, he had a lot of ideas now.
He headed into the house. “So they’re there still?”
“Who?”
Of all the... “Rosalyn and the cop?”
“Let me look.” Background noise returned. “Yeah, they’re still waiting on Charlotte.”
It’d be too sweet if he could get them both together. They could have some real fun, and then follow them home to see where Mitch might be. The best way to hurt Mitch was through the people he cared about. And women, more so than men, were easier to use.
Ready to put his plans into action,
Newman decided to wrap up the call. “You did great, Bernie.”
“Hey, I don’t like the guy either, ya know?”
“Yeah, I’m aware. And that means you won’t say anything to anyone, right? About this call, I mean?”
“Not a word. So what are you going to do?”
Hearing the excitement, Newman knew on a gut level that Bernie would end up being a problem.
Before he dealt with Mitch, he’d have to silence Bernie—but not just yet. Not until he had Mitch where he wanted him.
“Probably nothing, yet.” Lies. He’d do plenty. “But thanks for letting me know. Keep me posted if you find out anything else, okay?” And with that, he disconnected the call.
While striding into the house, he called Ritchie. To make sure he didn’t miss this opportunity, he’d send Ritchie and Lee to keep tabs on things. One of them could pin Bernie inside.
And the other could keep up with Mitch.
As the plan formed, he grinned. Finally his boredom was at an end.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THERE ON THE sidewalk outside Freddie’s, the street quiet and the air humid, Mitch stared into blue-eyed temptation.
Like the static of an electrical storm, he felt the sexual tension ratcheting along his nerve endings, burning through his blood. Lust he’d felt before.
He’d never felt anything like this.
“Mitch?”
The husky timbre of her low voice nearly did him in. “I want you.”
Happiness played with her smile and she gave a jerky little nod. “I thought so, but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.”
She didn’t want to pressure him? That was part of the lure, how she could say and do things that brought him humor when he least expected it. “So.” Those silly curls drew his fingers, and he stroked along a winding tendril over her shoulder. “How do you feel about that?”
“I want you too,” she rushed out, then bit her lip and shrugged. “I do.”
He laughed a little, charmed by her and relieved to get her confirmation that he wasn’t in this alone. Yet there was something in her tone and in the way she watched him now.
Touching her cheek, taking in the warmth and velvet softness of her delicate skin, he said, “You seem a little worried about it.”
“Not worried, exactly.” She gave him a very worried look. “It’s just that I’ve never...” Searching his face, she tried to come up with the right words, gave up and shrugged. “I’ve never.”
Never what? His brain attempted to sort what she’d said, with what he wanted, what he’d believed, but the puzzle pieces weren’t clicking together.
Maybe they weren’t supposed to.
“You’re telling me you’re a virgin?”
“Sorry?”
His body warred with the idea, wanting to grab her close, claim her, be her one and only.
Another, more pragmatic part urged him to step away before he got entirely snared.
If he wasn’t already.
She’d be trouble, maybe more than he could handle.
A virgin. How was it even possible in this day and age? She was so damned appealing she set him on fire. She wasn’t withdrawn, didn’t shy away from saying what she wanted, asking whatever she pleased.
Stepping back, she crossed her arms and glared. “Okay, if you’re done being a jerk, maybe you can tell me the problem.”
The problem was that her inexperience could change everything. It was bad enough that he, an ex-con bastard with a shady background, wanted a nice woman like her.
But a virgin? Now he understood Brodie and Jack’s issue—she truly had zero experience.
Shouldn’t her first time be with...well, someone else? Anyone else?
Not Bernie. He almost shuddered. Hell, he hadn’t met anyone yet he thought would be good enough for her. He knew for certain that he wasn’t.
As much to himself as her, he said, “It would be obscene for me to continue this.”
“Obscene?” Her arms dropped to her sides, her hands balled into small fists. “So now my choices are obscene?” Her laugh wasn’t friendly. “I’m so glad we got that cleared up.”
Hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“So tell me what you did mean.”
He saw the devastation in her eyes, the hope that he’d somehow make it right. But hell, he was born wrong. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure—”
“Well, I am.” Grabbing his shirt, she attempted to give him a jerk. “I’m very sure. About you. About...this. I only mentioned my lack of experience because I thought you should know so I don’t disappoint you or anything.” She hesitated, but made herself say, “In bed, I mean.”
As if she ever could. No, he was the disappointment, more so when lined up with her.
Resolute, Mitch caught her wrists. He’d do the right thing whether she wanted him to or not. Keenly aware of her smooth skin and delicate bones beneath his rough, callused hands, he started to lever her away.
Poised on her tiptoes, Charlotte thwarted his plans by awkwardly smashing her mouth to his.
The second their lips made contact, Mitch lost the battle.
His lungs ached and his skin burned. Without meaning to, his hands slid from her wrists, along her forearms to just above her elbows.
However, he managed not to drag her close.
It was enough, almost too much, to feel her fast breaths on his cheek, her hands opening on his chest, followed by the sting of her short nails. Right as her body made full contact with his, he heard her soft, nearly imperceptible moan.
Yeah, that. That right there was responsible for his loss of total control. He couldn’t rein it in, not with her slim little body flush to his larger frame.
By small increments, she sank back to stand flat-footed.
With her eyes still closed, her lashes sent long shadows over her cheeks. Her nostrils quivered with her deep shaky breaths. She licked her lips. “Say something.”
A dozen replies came to mind, all more appropriate than what he said. “You have the sexiest mouth I have ever seen. I’ve been fantasizing about it from the minute I first saw you.”
Her eyes snapped open. “Really?”
Were the men in Red Oak total clowns? Had none of them ever told her she was sexy from head to toes with a mouth that’d make a saint sweat?
Well by God, he’d tell her.
Cupping his fingers around her jaw, he let the edge of his thumb play over her now damp bottom lip. “Thinking about the things I want to do with this mouth, things not suitable for a virgin, keeps me awake at night.”
Hot color bloomed in her cheeks even as she smiled brightly. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Sweet? Heaven help him. He chuckled. “The things you do to me, Charlotte.”
Happiness danced in her eyes. “Things like?”
He put his forehead to hers. “My life...” There were so many things he hadn’t said, things he didn’t want to talk about. Things a woman like her should never have to know. He did his best to censor details while still giving her the truth. “There’s been a lot of ugliness, especially those years in prison. It left me angry over...well, damn near everything. I walked around waiting for something, anything, to tip me over the edge.”
He couldn’t keep his fingers still, not with her hair draping his fingers. He toyed with a curl, fighting the urge to sink his fingers in deep.
“I thought I’d find some peace in family, you know? Brodie and Jack, even if they hated my guts on sight, I’d have met them. I’d have had a reference for things.”
She kissed him again, more lightly this time. A kiss of comfort and affection. Wisely, she stated, “You’d have known you weren’t alone.”
Mitch leaned back t
o look at her. From the start, she’d got him, maybe understanding him better than he understood himself. “You changed that though.”
“What? No. I didn’t want to change anything.” Her hands clutched at him. “You aren’t alone. Don’t you see? Brodie and Jack are so happy to have another brother, and Ros—”
The press of his thumb to her lips quieted her. “Let’s put them aside, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Not to pressure you, but I know you now. It’s shifted my priorities.”
Her smile went crooked. “Being a priority is way better than being obscene. And for the record, whatever you’ve been thinking, this particular virgin is interested. When you’re ready, I mean...because I’m not trying to pressure you either.”
She was so busy being concerned for him, she forgot to be concerned for herself. “Doesn’t it scare the hell out of you?”
“Pfft. Excites me, maybe. But I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.” He caressed her arms. “I swear I’m not obsessing. Tell me to get lost and I will.” Somehow. But that’d be a kick in the teeth worse than any other. “I want to do the right thing.”
“And you are. All that pulling back nonsense? Totally wrong. But this...” Sighing, she traced his mouth with a fingertip. “The kiss and the compliments get you a gold star for the day.”
“You confound me, Charlotte.”
“Why?” She gave his chest a friendly pat—followed by a stroke. And an experimental feel. “I never imagined anyone like you.” Warm and sincere, her gaze met his again. “I can tell you don’t know this, Mitch, but you’re better.”
“Better?”
“Than anything I’d ever imagined.”
The sheer shock of that took him back a step.
Of course, Charlotte followed. “Silly man. You’re so incredibly gorgeous that I could just look at you all day.” His scowl didn’t deter her. “If that wasn’t enough—and at first, believe me, it was—you’re so brave.”
Retreating again would’ve put him in the street so instead he let annoyance bring him forward. “Brave?” His huff told her what he thought of that. “How the hell do you figure that?”
