“What’s up is that you were shot less than three hours ago,” she said as severely as possible considering that she was seconds away from begging him to take her. “You need to rest, not –”
“Not make love to the woman that I love?” he finished softly. “You’re actin’ like it’s humanly possible for me to be close to you and not have my hands all over you.”
“Yes, well.” She managed a crisp tone, even temporarily. “No making love or mauling me when you have fresh stitches in your insanely hot body.”
Keegan groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. She automatically raised her hands to caress the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I want to as much as you do, believe me.”
He raised his head to meet her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve missed you, honey cake.”
“Dammit, sugar. I’ve missed you too. Missed you callin’ me that.”
“Hmmm,” she said in what she was sure was a sultry little moan; sure enough, he swelled even more against her lower body and she thrilled to know that she had this effect on this man, even if he was stoned to the eyeballs. “Well, we’re both here, both in one piece. I know we’re crazy impatient people, but maybe we can just be grateful and wait for you to heal up.”
“Then I can ravish you?”
She lifted herself off the bed and kissed him, kissed him over and over, let herself fall into him and his body, let herself fall in love with him all over again.
“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth. “You can ravish me until we both collapse from exhaustion.”
“Challenge accepted,” he growled and she smiled as she remembered that night back at Open Skies. “Challenge fuckin’ accepted, baby.”
Chapter 21
Six weeks later
Keegan sat in the group meeting, listening to his band of brothers support him with generous words. He’d just finished talking – yet again – about his struggle to believe that Trish really, truly loved and accepted him for him and as he was, imperfect and flawed. He honestly felt like all he’d done for the past month and a half was piss and moan about his insecurities, but the patience and grace extended to him over and over again – by the guys, by Trish, by his family, even by Meredith – had finally sunk in and Keegan felt better than he’d felt in years. Maybe ever.
“So,” Dalton said with the mandatory sneer required for any conversation. “You done whining about having a beautiful woman want and love you? Because I think it’s high time you stepped up and did something about it, man. Unless you want to carry on being a goddamn pussy.”
Keegan shot him an acidic glance which was convincing on the surface, but had zero heart behind it. Since Dalton had rocked up to the café to tell him about Trish being in trouble and then revealed himself in the demolished farmhouse as a true-blue modern-day vigilante, the two men had become friends. Good friends, even, to Keegan’s never-ending surprise.
Trish had invited Dalton to dinner at Meredith’s place a week after the showdown in the farmhouse and damned if the man hadn’t shown up beautifully suited-and-booted, with a bottle of expensive wine, a bunch of flowers as big as a sheep, and a charm offensive that had officially knocked Keegan to third place on Meredith’s sexy tattooed military-type list – after Jason Statham and now Dalton MacGregor.
After an amazingly pleasant dinner, Dalton, Trish and Keegan had gone outside to talk. They had plenty to discuss, of course, but Keegan couldn’t think how to bring it all up. But he needn’t have fussed: as per his character, Dalton had come in hot and unapologetic.
“So,” he’d said to them, lazily swinging his car keys on his finger. “I know you two must have questions. What do you want to know? And you only get this one shot, OK, because after this we never discuss any of it again unless absolutely essential. So if you have any burning questions, now’s the one and only time to ask.”
“Erm,” Trish had said, floundering a bit at Dalton’s point-blank opening. “Well… I guess you know that King’s people cleaned up the mess in the farmhouse?”
“Sure. I had nothing to do with any of that, but I’ve been talking to King and his crew, and I know how those guys work.”
“So… this means that you and King’s Men are workin’ together?” Keegan had asked. “Like they catch the bad guys that the cops and lawyers can’t pin down and bring ‘em on up to your place?”
“Look.” Dalton had glanced over at Meredith’s massive front picture window. “We can’t talk about my place too much, OK? You guys know what I do and you know what’s at stake. If you ever really wanted to screw me over, you could go to the cops and drop me in it up to my neck.”
“It’s not like we know where it is,” Trish had protested. “Any anyway, remember that even if we did rat you out, you have something on me: one of your guests is there courtesy of my go-ahead. I’m sure that if the police stormed your farm or prison or whatever it is, that slime ball Decker wouldn’t hesitate to tell them what I did. Telling on you would be telling on myself and maybe I’m not the smartest chick walking the planet, but I’m not that dumb.”
“True enough that we’re in this together,” Dalton had conceded. “So OK… I’m talking to King about ways to cooperate. He’s a guy who barely toes the legal line sometimes anyway, and he understands that upholding the law doesn’t always equal justice. And also, my farm guests are valuable sources of information which I share with King. He can use a lot of what I get out of those pieces of human waste in exchange for better meals, TV privileges, cigarettes, things like that.”
“Information?” Trish had said blankly. “About – what? Criminal stuff?”
“Yep.” Dalton had shrugged. “That asshole that you brought to my attention is already paying huge returns on what he knows. Remember when you told King that you’d pay him back for fixing your friend’s house and cleaning up the mess?”
“Yes,” Trish had said slowly. “And he said something about how he’d get paid in other ways.”
“Exactly. Callum Decker is paying the bill for your friend’s secret farmhouse renovation by opening his big mouth and singing like a canary.”
“Singin’ what, though?” Keegan had asked. “Talkin’ about the porn industry in L.A.? Why the hell would Matt Kingston care about that?”
“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Dalton had said almost fondly. “Guys like Decker always know more then you might think they do and they’re always, always involved in more shady shit than you can actually catch them at. That particular dickhead was big into porn sure – but also drugs and human trafficking.”
“Trafficking?” Trish had whispered. “Like – forcing women into the sex industry?”
“Women and kids,” Dalton had said with a snarl and then watched her blanch with shock. “He’s a vile piece of shit and no lie, honey. He deserves to be where he is, don’t you ever doubt it. But he’s talking non-stop like the coward that he is, spilling his guts to Shadow and Holt and me all for a pack of Camels, and I’m passing all that on to King. He and his people will do whatever they do, and it’s my hope that they’ll shut down pretty much all of Decker’s criminal pipelines.”
“Oh my God.” Trish had been shaky on her feet by this point. “Kids… oh, my God.”
“Hey,” Keegan had said, supporting her gently against his still-sensitive shoulder. “You didn’t know, baby. The important thing is that that scumbag is locked away and can’t hurt anyone else and King’s takin’ care of whoever’s left in his operations. Right?”
“Right.” She’d taken a trembling breath. “You’re right.”
“Oh, one last thing, Sinclair,” Dalton had said as he’d opened his car door. “I know things have changed between us and we’re all buddy-buddy now… but I don’t want anyone in the support group knowing that.”
“How come?” Keegan had said. “You ashamed to be seen with me after our special night together at the farmhouse, man?”
Dalton had grinned in that way that took y
ears off his hard face. “That night was magical for me too. But the group would notice the change and everyone would want to know why and what happened, and I’m not about to lie to those guys. Me and Shadow and Zack act like we all hate each other’s guts and like we have zero contact outside the group, and that’s what you and me are going to do too. Keeps things simple.”
“Yeah, OK.” Keegan had grinned back. “I can carry on hatin’ your fuckin’ guts to your face, man. No problemo.”
So that’s how it was in the here and now, making the group meeting a bit odd. There was Dalton scowling and shifting around and generally being a raging asshole, Zack and Shadow either ignoring Dalton completely or calling him out, and now Keegan was glaring at him – and the whole time, the four of them were in this kind of unholy alliance and tacit agreement. They were linked and locked together in their relationships as ‘prison’ founder, guard, doctor and silent supporter. It was all more than slightly surreal, Keegan felt.
“So?” Dalton repeated now, still sneering at Keegan. “You gonna man up with the chick or what?”
“Dalton,” Shadow said in a disapproving tone made more harsh by his strangled voice. “Do you ever shut the hell up? Maybe even say something nice?”
“He doesn’t,” Zack chimed in. “He’s incapable of doing anything selfless or good for anyone. Dalton’s all about Dalton, huh?”
“You know it, man,” Dalton said coolly. “No better way to be than not invested in others.”
“OK, OK,” Luke jumped in. “Pack it in, guys. Dalton, take a breath and if that’s too much to ask, take a walk until you can show some patience here.”
Bang on cue, Dalton got to his feet with a huff and ambled out of the meeting room. As he did, he shot Keegan a look of sheer contempt – and then he gave the tiniest, fastest wink known to man.
Keegan shook his head in what surely looked like disgust to all the others, but inside he was laughing as he exchanged conspiratorial glances with Shadow and Zack.
Dalton MacGregor. You astonishin’ son-of-a-bitch.
**
An hour later, Keegan pulled up in front of his house with a sigh. Trish’s car was in the driveway and he felt the usual small thrill that she was still here: in Denver, in her beautiful bedroom at Meredith’s, in his life.
And hopefully after that night, tomorrow morning she’d be sleeping sweet and safe in his bed. For years and years to come.
For as many years as I’ve got to live with and give her.
He entered the house and was greeted by the delicious smell of cinnamon mixed with caramelized sugar. Intrigued, he kicked his shoes off and shrugged off his jacket.
“Trish?” he called as he wandered down the hallway. “Doin’ OK, baby?”
“Yep,” her voice floated back at him. “Just up to my elbows in flour.”
“You don’t say.” Keegan walked into the kitchen and stared at the dishes piled up in the sink and the ingredients scattered around everywhere, clocked the splashes of white across the whole of the apron she was wearing. “Havin’ fun?”
“I am.” From the stove, she flashed him that sassy grin that he loved, the one that made him smile back at her no matter what; he smiled wider when he saw that her smooth cheek had flour on it and her loose dress did too. She was stirring something quickly and whatever it was, it smelled amazing. “I’ll clean it all up Keegan, I promise. I just can’t leave this on its own on the heat. It burns fast.”
“Damn right you’ll clean it all up, sugar,” he mock-growled. “You know I’m a neat-freak in the kitchen.”
“I know it. But hopefully this will be worth all the mess.”
“Yeah?” He peered into the empty oven, felt heat coming off the closed door. “You’re all done, I see. Is whatever it is in the fridge?”
“Yep. It has to cool before I put this topping on.”
“Ahhh.” He sniffed the air again. “So – whatcha got cookin’, good-lookin’?”
She giggled and brushed a few golden tendrils off her forehead. “Meredith’s husband’s favorite dessert. She gave me the recipe and we’ve been practicing all week. She thinks that she’s put on about five pounds, and I figure I’ve gained twice that.”
“If you have, it’s just all the more curves for me, baby.”
She blushed and smoothed down the material of her dress. “Shuddup."
“So it’s – what?” He glanced around again at the ingredients, cocked his head at the stuff she was stirring and inhaled deeply. “A caramel cake?”
“You’re good and I’m extremely impressed,” she said. “You can guess a baked good at ten paces, huh?”
“Twenty,” Keegan said. “And blindfolded.”
“Huh.” She took the pot off the heat, lifted the spoon. “Perfect. Not too thick and I didn’t crystallize the sugar.”
“Nothin’ worse than thick sugar crystals,” Keegan agreed. “They get all clumpy and then your teeth stick together.”
“I don’t know anything about that, but you’re the expert.” She carefully poured the golden mixture into a bowl then stared down at it hopefully. “Well… it looks like it did when Meredith and I made it together.”
“It’s perfect, baby.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
“OK, well.” She carefully set the pot on the hot pad and sighed in relief. “So I let the caramel sauce cool for about thirty minutes and then I add a spoon of vanilla. When the cake is set from the fridge, I can spread this caramel frosting on, nice and thick for maximum calories.”
“Sounds good.” Keegan took in the flour on her face again. “Now, go and get cleaned up, Ms. Star Baker.”
“Yeah, I know.” She glanced down at herself in dismay, took off her dirty apron and pulled her hair out of its holder. She shook it loose and it fell down her back in golden waves, warm and lovely. “I guess I’m messy, huh?”
“Life is messy, Trish, and we both know that damn good and well. But you’re gorgeous. Just fuckin’ breathtakin'.”
Their eyes met, held, and the air between them sizzled. Trish took a deep breath and called on her new determination to be totally open and vulnerable with this man, because he knew her now. He knew all of her and she trusted him with everything. Her body, her heart, her soul.
My whole life.
“Keegan?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Do you – do you want to help me out of these messy clothes?”
His breath caught at her words, just stopped dead in his chest. He couldn’t believe that she was actually asking if he wanted her naked under his hands, his body, his mouth.
Keegan could honestly say that he had never wanted anything more in his life.
Slowly, Keegan walked over to her, watched her watch him approach. When he reached her, he cupped her face in one large hand, lifting her chin so that her eyes met his. His thumb stroked her neck and he felt her body tremble at his touch; he thrilled to know that that shudder was from want, pure and simple, and his own desire flared hot and strong.
Keegan moved his other hand to her face now, tipping her head farther back, opening her to his gaze. Her perfect lips were parted and those beautiful eyes were locked on his. Her breath was coming faster, her breasts rising and falling with each inhalation and exhalation. He waited another few seconds, letting all the anticipation between them build and when Trish swayed towards him helplessly, he leaned in.
Trish saw the kiss coming – at long last, you sadistic bastard – and she closed her eyes in relief and surrender. When his mouth rested on hers, she pressed up against his chest, wanting to feel the heat and strength of him on every inch of her body. Her hands came up to grip his upper arms, and she held onto him for dear life as waves of desire washed over her, getting stronger with each passing second.
He groaned at her touch, already dizzy with longing for her. All he wanted was for Trish to be naked and back in his bed. He’d give and do anything for that experience again – it was the closest dam
n thing to heaven on earth for him, and he’d missed it desperately these past two months.
Waiting had been hard for them, it had been almost impossible sometimes, but they’d decided that it was what had to be done. Trish had had to resettle into her life and job with Meredith and forgive both Keegan and herself, and Keegan had had to get his head straight in his own ways: his acceptance that this beautiful, tough, damaged, astonishing woman loved him, really really loved him, had been a profound realization. He’d come to think of it like a winter sunrise over the Rockies – it was something that started small and covered in shadow, and then little points of light started to emerge from the darkness, before bursting forth in all its glory and blinding in its beauty.
Her love was a miracle that both awed and sustained him; it surrounded him with warmth and it gave him the courage to be open and vulnerable for the first time in his life.
Trish made him a better man; he’d resolved to never stop trying to be the man that he saw in her eyes.
His hands ran down her throat and he watched her eyes to see if any uncertainty flashed in them; Keegan would never forget what she’d been through at the hands of those assholes, even if Trish would never fully remember… but she showed no fear at all. She closed her eyes and arched into his touch, silently begging for him to kiss her delicate throat. He lowered his mouth to the smooth skin and slowly moved down, his lips blazing a trail of fire on her.
When his hands and mouth reached her breasts, Trish gasped. Her dress felt huge and heavy on her, and she wanted him to just rip it off her body. She put her hands on top of his and Keegan paused, wondering if this was a bit too soon for her after all.
“You want me to stop, sugar?”
“No.” Her voice was hoarse with longing. “No, I want you to keep going.” She moved his hands down her hips, down her thighs, to the bottom of her dress. She curled his fingers around the material and helped him to lift it up her body, over her curves, over her head. He groaned as she stood there in nothing but little scraps of pink and white lace, more beautiful than he remembered.
Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1) Page 33
