by Karen Kelley
“Why wouldn’t I feel okay?” Now she was confusing him.
“You’re sweating.”
“High humidity,” he lied.
She didn’t look convinced, but finally nodded and faced front again. He breathed a sigh of relief, wondering what the hell was happening to him. Maybe he should just focus on the lessons.
He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. "This is an automatic, so it's a lot easier to drive than a standard. You're in park, so turn the key to start the engine."
One of his customers had said they could drive around in his pasture. Breaker figured that would be the safest place for her to start learning. Don also said he could teach her to shoot out here. He hadn't mentioned that to Savannah yet. He wasn't sure how she felt about guns. He'd seen her jump when he shot the two men that wanted to force her to go back to Marco.
She turned the key in the ignition but held the key over a little too long when she started the pickup. When the engine began to grind in protest, she jumped and let off. It continued to rumble like it was supposed to.
“Oops.” She looked at him, drawing on her bottom lip with her teeth.
Breaker automatically leaned a little closer to her, stopping himself at the last moment from getting too close. Man, it was all he could do to keep from kissing her. He quickly cleared his throat and his mind.
"I messed up, didn't I?" she asked.
"No big deal. You just held the key a little longer than necessary. When the engine turns over, let off."
"Now what?"
"Set your foot on the brake, then pull your gearshift down into drive."
When she'd gone shopping with Angie, Savannah must’ve bought perfume. A light fragrance, but with a hint of sexy spiciness. He found himself wanting to lean closer and inhale more of its tantalizing aroma.
He really needed to keep his mind on what they were doing. "Okay, now let off the brake and put your foot on the gas pedal."
They shot forward, slamming him back against the seat. She let out a small squeal, then slammed her foot on the brake again. Since he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, it threw him against the dashboard. When she looked at him, her eyes were round with fear.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?"
He started to laugh. Yeah, he was hurting. He was pretty sure he wrenched his back, but he wouldn't tell her. Besides, it was his fault anyway. He should've told her to touch the gas lightly.
"I think I did the same thing when I first learned to drive," he told her.
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you, really?"
"Yes, I did. Okay, let's try this again. Let your foot off the brake and lightly push down on the gas. Don't get scared when you move forward. That's what's supposed to happen."
She drew in a deep breath, and his gaze was again riveted on her chest. He should have sent Shorty out to teach her to drive. He'd seen the way Shorty looked at her. Much like a father would look at a cherished daughter. Every new skill she developed, he acted like a proud papa. Hell, they all did—even Angie and Rayan. Anyone would think Savannah was their protégé.
"The pickup's moving," she nervously told him.
"That's good. That's called driving."
She frowned when she looked across the seat, then quickly returned her gaze back to the road.
If you could call it a road. It was where the owner drove when he came out to check on cattle or to make sure his fence was still in good shape. His cattle were in another pasture—which might be a good thing. Over the years, the grass had worn down, and the ruts resembled a road of sorts.
"You’re doing fine," he said. "Better than I did my first time." He could see her confidence grow the more she practiced.
Except when she got to the fence line, she took the corner a little too fast, and he slid closer to her. She immediately stepped on the brake, which threw him against her this time. She turned her face toward him. They were only inches apart.
"That was too fast, wasn't it?"
Her breath caressed his face. He drew in a breath and inhaled the heady scent of her perfume again. Her mouth was so close. So tempting.
"Now what do I do?" she asked a little breathlessly.
He cleared his throat and scooted back to his side of the seat. "Just slow down a little bit more when you get to a corner. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."
She was a fast learner. By the time Breaker decided to end the driving lessons for the day, she was already turning corners like a pro and applying the right amount of gas, rather than the jerk/stop that she'd been doing in the beginning. He figured in a few days, she would be ready to try driving on a real road.
They got out of the pickup to stretch their legs. "Shorty packed a lunch for us. I'm starved."
"Me, too."
He'd had Savannah pull under a big oak tree, so they had plenty of shade. He let the tailgate down, then spread out a blanket so they wouldn't be sitting directly on the hot metal.
“The best seat in the house,” he told her with a grin. He set the small ice chest between them, then opened it. While they ate, Breaker told her a little about the area. Just generic talk, anything to keep from thinking about how he wanted to take her into his arms.
They had just finished eating when Savannah pushed off of the tailgate and walked over to the tree. He liked the way she walked. Kind of slow with just a little sway in her hips. And damn, she had the sexiest legs he’d ever seen on a woman. They were long and lean, like a ballerina. When she got to the trunk of the tree, she turned and rested her back against it.
"Why do you collect strays?" she asked, tilting her head sideways as if she was trying to figure him out. “That’s what the others said. You collect strays and help them get on their feet.”
He shrugged. "I don't guess I've ever really thought about it. It just seemed to happen. It started when I was fourteen. I'd run away from home and made it to New Orleans. I found an old abandoned warehouse and was living in it. The next thing I knew, other kids just started showing up."
"Why did you run away?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he saw the red creep up her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to answer that."
"I don't mind. Like you, my father was an alcoholic. I wasn't as bad off as you, though. He was still a crazy bastard. I knew if I didn't leave soon, I probably wouldn't ever leave, and I didn't want to keep hunting gators."
She straightened, her eyes widening. "You're joking, right? You didn't really hunt alligators."
He laughed. "Yeah, my family hunted gators for a living. It's a pretty good business. All you have to do is have an alligator hunting license."
"And it's legal?"
"It has been for about forty-six years. But sometimes my father would skirt the law when he was hunting, or he would cross into another hunters' area where they'd set their baits. They'd usually just send my father a message to stop or else, and he would, for a while."
Except for Greg Williams. He'd rented a fishing cabin for the sole purpose of hunting alligators and had been coming down every year. He'd hated Breaker's father, and most of the swamp people who lived there year-round. He was a mean son of a bitch. His father should've known not to mess with Greg.
Breaker could still feel the whip landing on his back. Yeah, he'd sent his father a message, alright. His father had laughed and said the beating would only make Breaker tough. He'd made his way to his grandmother's that night. As soon as his back healed enough that he could travel, he'd gotten the hell out of there.
"And you can make a living hunting alligators?"
He brought himself back to the present. "Sometimes. We used to make between twenty and forty dollars a foot."
She looked around as if an alligator might jump out at her any second. "Where do you find them?"
"We lived deep in the swamps. As far as I know, my family still lives out there."
"You don't know for sure?"
He slowly shook his head. "Not for sure. I haven't been back since I
ran away."
She reached up and picked a leaf off the tree, running her thumb over the smooth surface before turning her palm over and letting it drift to the ground.
"I can kind of understand why you haven't been back,” she said. “I have no desire to ever see my father again. Someday soon, though, I'm going to look for my sisters. At one time, we were close. I know it was a matter of survival to look out for each other, but it was more than that. We always knew we could count on each other."
"Tell me about them."
A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth. The look on her face transformed her from beautiful to stunning. It was as if she lit up on the inside.
"We all have blonde hair and blue eyes, just like our mother. She passed away when Jade was six, and I was five. Rena barely remembered anything about her. She was only three. She used to beg me to tell her about our mother.”
“What happened after your mother died?”
“Jade took care of us. She was more than a sister. Even though she was only a year older than me, for us, she became our mother. We looked to her for everything we needed."
Breaker understood what she meant. In the swamp, there were motherless children who did the same thing, not through choice but out of necessity. He remembered a cousin who was younger than him putting a full meal on the table, and she was only eight at the time. You did what you had to do to survive. Only problem was, you lost your childhood in the process.
"I think our mother knew she wouldn't live to see us grown. She'd started teaching Jade and me from an early age. She always told us to take care of our little sister." She looked down at her feet, kicking at a small rock.
Breaker knew there was more she wanted to say and waited for her to continue. The more she told him, the more she painted a picture of her life.
"A couple of years ago, Marco left his phone in the bedroom. He didn't allow any phones in the house except for his. I knew I might not ever get another chance. My father never had any use for a phone, not when he could spend the money on alcohol instead, but I called the grocer where we bought our food. Mr. Atcher was always nice to us and gave us extra vegetables that he said were going bad anyway. I was shaking by the time he answered the phone. I was so afraid Marco would come back into the bedroom."
"And did you find out about your younger sister?"
"He told me that my father came in one day and Mr. Atcher asked about Rena. He said my father told him she’d run away. Before I could ask anything else, Marco came into the bedroom."
When she hugged her middle and grimaced, he knew Marco had punished her for using his phone. More than ever now, Breaker knew if he ever crossed paths with the drug dealer, he would kill him. People like him didn't deserve to walk the earth.
"I'm going to teach you how to use a gun in case you ever need to protect yourself."
The look in her eyes told him all he needed to know. She knew who he was talking about. She knew he meant if Marco found her, she might have to kill him.
She straightened. "You're right. It might come in handy someday. Thank you."
Chapter Eleven
It was all Savannah could do to hold the gun steady when Breaker put his arms around her. She wanted to lean back into him and let all of her troubles fall away. Right now, she didn't think anything in the world could harm her. His strength held her close, protecting her from any threats.
"The gun isn't too heavy, is it?" he asked.
She swallowed hard when his warm breath tickled her face and sent shivers over her body. He smelled like a cold winter's night with wood crackling in the fireplace. He had an earthy, outdoors scent.
Oh God, what was happening? She’d never felt like this before. One minute she was cold, then in the very next breath, it was as if she’d stepped into a hot oven.
She forced herself to pay attention. Breaker’s only goal was to teach her how to fire a gun. He wasn't flirting with her, no matter what Angie thought. The whole time he'd been teaching her how to drive, he'd made sure he kept his distance—when she wasn’t slamming him against the dashboard, that is. Damn, she was never going to forget about that. She’d probably have nightmares.
Okay, pay attention. "Maybe the gun is a little heavy. I'm sure I'll get used to the weight."
Breaker had put cardboard targets up along the fence line. Shooting a gun didn't seem like it would be that difficult.
"Do I pull the trigger now?"
"I don't want you to pull the trigger at all," he said.
She frowned. Then why was she out here? “What do you propose I do? Throw the gun at any bad guys who threaten to harm me?” She tilted her head and looked up at him. Bad move. With Breaker standing this close, that hadn't been a good idea. Their faces were mere inches apart. When he exhaled, the warmth of his breath caressed her face. She quickly faced the front again.
“Throwing the gun won’t be nearly as effective.” He cleared his throat. "What you'll do is squeeze the trigger."
"Now?"
"First, look down the sight. Right here." He took his finger and tapped where he wanted her to look. "Line your target up through this. Then gently squeeze the trigger whenever you're ready."
She looked down the sight, then did exactly as he said and squeezed the trigger. Her arm jerked up, and she was thrown back against Breaker. For a moment, she couldn't do anything.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded. "I didn't expect that." She frowned, then dropped her arm down to her side and stepped away from him. He was grinning when she looked at him. Her mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. "You knew that was going to happen."
"Kind of."
She arched an eyebrow. "You could have warned me." She waved her arms in front of her. "I wasn't expecting it to practically jerk my arm out of the socket."
He quickly raised both arms. "Do you mind not pointing the gun at me?"
She immediately looked at the gun, then back at him, noticing he’d lost some of the color in his face. "Oh." She lowered her arm back to her side.
"You might want to take your finger off the trigger as well."
She should've known to do that. She quickly moved her finger to the handle. Damn, the gun was getting heavier by the second. She wasn't about to give up, though. At least now she knew why he was standing behind her and had his arms wrapped around her.
"Are you ready to try again?" he asked.
"What did I hit last time?"
"Nothing. You missed the target entirely."
That wasn't good. How was she going to defend herself if she couldn't hit the broadside of a barn, or in this case, a cardboard target? She had a feeling learning to fire a gun, and actually hitting the target, was going to take her longer than learning how to drive a vehicle.
"I'll be ready this time," she said. She turned and faced the target again, then lined it up in her sights.
"This time, keep your arms tight. Brace yourself for the recoil."
Easier said than done. She lined the target up in her sights again, locked her arms, then squeezed the trigger. She still took a step back, but at least she hadn't fallen on her ass. She'd been afraid she might.
"Good job. You hit it this time."
Her gaze narrowed on the target, she frowned. It still looked the same to her.
Breaker walked over to the one a few feet away and studied it before stepping away. "Almost dead center. I didn't think you would pick it up this quickly."
She raised one eyebrow. "I might need a little more practice. I was aiming for the other target."
When he started to laugh, she couldn't help but join in.
"I'm not sure I'll ever be able to defend myself, but maybe I can scare the hell out of anyone who comes after me."
"Sometimes that's all it takes. They'll know you’re armed if you fire a shot. They won't know how well you can shoot. Sometimes you just have to bluff your way out of a situation."
She studied him for a moment. "Have you ever had to bluff your way out of a si
tuation?"
"More times than I care to admit."
"Angie said you worked for the government. What exactly do you do?"
He walked back toward her. "There's a team of us. They send us in when the government needs a job done. It's no big deal. Very boring stuff."
She kind of thought it might be a big deal, but he was playing down its importance. Now she was prying and decided to let the matter drop. Instead, she concentrated on hitting the target. By the time they finished her lesson for the day, she had hit the target three times, and her arms felt as if they were going to fall off. She had more confidence that she could protect herself if Marco showed up, though. That was a good feeling.
When they were on their way home, she turned to him. "Thank you for showing me how to drive and how to use a gun."
"Everyone should know how to defend themselves."
But he'd given her so much more since their paths had crossed. She was already starting to remember who she used to be. At one time, she'd been strong and ready to fight Marco.
When Breaker parked the pickup, she hurried up the stairs to his apartment. She told him that she wanted to take a quick shower before going to work. She was afraid Shorty was already getting everything started.
Breaker went on to the bar to make sure they were ready for the crowd coming in that night.
Once she was in the bathroom, she turned on the water, then quickly stripped before stepping beneath the warm spray. The water felt wonderful as it cascaded over her, but she knew she needed to hurry, so she didn't waste any time.
She quickly washed her hair with a lightly scented shampoo she’d bought when shopping with Angie. Angie had told her it had a light flowery scent with just a hint of naughty spice. Savannah had laughed. But she did like the way it smelled, so she bought it.
After she finished washing, she quickly dried off and wrapped the fluffy white towel around her, tucking the corner between her breasts. She took another towel and wound it around her hair, then adjusted it, so it was on top of her head like a turban.
She'd been in such a hurry that she hadn't grabbed clean clothes. She didn't want to take too much time getting downstairs to help Shorty. She opened the door, then poked her head out. "Breaker, are you in here?"
