Secrets in Sanctuary [Sanctuary, Montana 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

  “Then the punk turned his gun on you,” he said through tightly pursed lips.

  “Yep, I’d already drawn my weapon but he had a rapid-fire handgun and managed to get three shots off at me, then turned his gun back to Reggie. This time I was pretty sure he wouldn’t miss.”

  “But you shot him dead before he could kill your partner, even though you were injured yourself?”

  She shrugged. “It’s what I’m trained to do.”

  “Geez, Farah, I don’t know what to say.”

  “You have to say something. You’re a shrink.” She managed a wan smile. “Shrinks always know the right thing to say.”

  “All right. Was it the first time you’d had to use your weapon in the line of duty?”

  “Yep, and it’s the first time I’ve killed someone, too. Is that what you needed to hear?”

  “Good job you did, otherwise the kid would have killed you.”

  “That’s what everyone at the station said.” She shook her head. “They treated me like some kind of heroine—”

  “But you don’t feel like one?”

  “No, I feel like shit. Why would I want to celebrate taking a young life?” To her mortification she felt tears trickling down her cheeks. “Damn it, Drew, he was only nineteen, and hadn’t stood a chance in life. He’d never had a father, and his mother was a crack addict. He was only ever going to finish up doing what he did.”

  Drew passed her a box of tissues. She grabbed a handful and dabbed at her eyes, thinking she must look like a train wreck.

  “Thanks.” She snuffled and blew her nose. “The worse thing was the look in his eyes.” She shuddered. “I’ll never forget those eyes. He’d seen and done stuff that men three times his age know nothing about.”

  “Old before his time?”

  “Right, but worse than that. In that split second before he died, he looked at me like he wasn’t surprised. He’d always known his life would end violently, and way too soon. His friends seemed to know it, too. They didn’t show any reaction, other than to shout insults at us, and people like them insult the police as a matter of course.” She looked up at Drew. Now that she was talking about it, she couldn’t seem to stop. It was so important that he—that someone—understood how she felt. She couldn’t have told her captain—he’d think she was unbalanced and put her on sick leave indefinitely. “Someone has to do something for these kids,” she said passionately. “If they’re brought up to have no hope then of course they’ll turn to crime. It’s not rocket science.”

  “You can’t save the world single-handed, darlin’,” he said softly.

  Their eyes clashed again. The expression in his was no longer professional. Instead it was a tender caress that enveloped her, adding to her despondency. Longing flowed between them like a fresh mountain stream, at least in her imagination. She knew very well that the longing she thought she saw in his eyes was a figment of her imagination. She consoled herself with the knowledge that his concern for her appeared entirely genuine and that, in spite of everything, she was glad she’d spoken honestly to him.

  Her turbulent emotions went off the scale. It was too much. The shooting, the hospitalization, the way she was haunted by the dead boy’s eyes whenever she tried to sleep, the increased hostilities between their two families.

  Now Drew had showed up at a time when she’d never needed him more, but he was farther from her reach than ever. It was so fucking unfair. Why did everyone else in their families get to do what they wanted?

  Self-pity filled Farah. The floodgates opened, and not caring she was still in Drew’s office, she allowed the tears to flow as she buried her face in her hands and sobbed her heart out.

  Chapter Seven

  “Sorry,” she muttered between gut-wrenching sobs. “Don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve been bottling all this stuff up. That ain’t good. Just let it all out. You’ll feel way better.”

  She sniffed. “Easy for you to say.”

  Drew was done with being professional. The urge to sweep her into his arms had grown more desperate with every moment she remained in his office, especially when she spoke about the dead boy who’d tried to kill her with such pathos in her tone. Even more especially when she confirmed the nature of her injuries, and Drew knew she’d come within a hair’s breadth of being killed. Seeing her sob her heart out and not comforting her would be beyond any red-blooded male, even if he had no emotional investment messing with his rational thought process.

  So Drew didn’t stand a prayer of remaining professional.

  In two strides he rounded his desk and was at Farah’s side. Geez, she really was upset! She’d folded her arms on his desk and rested her head on them. Her shoulders shook and she gulped and hiccupped as grief gripped her and her emotions clearly went into free fall. Little wonder she felt so bad, given what she’d been through and her disinclination to talk about it. Drew suspected he’d just heard the full, unmitigated truth and that she’d not told it to anyone else. He felt ridiculously privileged, determined she wouldn’t live to regret it.

  “Hey, come on, darlin’.”

  The man who had loved his feisty, opinionated, beautiful tomboy of a neighbor for over a decade took over from the detached, levelheaded Doctor Baldwin. He lifted Farah from her seat, sat in it himself and settled her onto his lap. Her sobs abruptly stopped and she stared at him through eyes rendered luminous with shock. He wasn’t sure what her next move would be. It could be anything from a slapped face, a barrage of insults, or an indignant demand that he let her go.

  She did none of those things. Instead she rested her head against his shoulder, snuggled down into a more comfortable position, and the tears resumed. This time the flood was reduced to a trickle, and he could see that she was rapidly regaining her composure. Drew figured he should congratulate himself on a job well done. He’d gotten her to open up, and the healing process could now begin. The problem was, she would now definitely want to remove herself from his lap.

  Except she didn’t.

  The tears stopped altogether, and she looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite identify.

  “Damn, you’re good!” she said with a wan smile.

  “All part of the service, ma’am. Do you feel better?”

  “You promised not to ask me that, but yeah, I guess talking about it helped a bit.”

  “Even to me?”

  She bit her lower lip, and it was a moment before she responded. “Especially to you,” she said softly.

  Hell, did she mean what he thought she meant? He lifted one hand and gently traced the curve of her cheek, catching a rogue tear with his index finger, and wiping it away. “That’s good to know. I’m sorry if it freaked you out, finding me here when you expected Doc Miller—”

  “And baggy cardigans,” she reminded him with a sinfully tempting smile. “And don’t get me started on facial hair.”

  “I’m serious, babe. It was a cheap trick to play on you when I knew you were fragile, to say nothing of unprofessional.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “Because I wanted to help you, and I knew you wouldn’t let me if you had advance notice.”

  “We don’t like each other, Baldwin. Hold that thought.”

  “Yeah, I can’t stand the sight of your beautiful face. Thinking about how much I can’t stand it keeps me awake at nights.”

  She opened her eyes very wide, but at least she didn’t laugh herself silly.

  “Is that right?”

  She canted her head, a sultry smile flirting with her lips. Hell, if she kept looking at him like that then he wouldn’t be held accountable for his actions. Okay so he wasn’t being exactly professional right now, but he hadn’t completely lost sight of his responsibilities for her mental health, had he?

  “Afraid so.”

  “Funny that,” she said, reaching up to push the hair away from his eyes. “I have problems sleeping for the same reasons. I
dislike you so much that it hurts.”

  “Bet I dislike you more.”

  “Prove it.”

  “I’m surprised you can’t feel the extent of my dislike,” he said.

  “Is that what I’m sitting on?” She sent him a reckless smile. “What if your receptionist walks in?”

  “She won’t. You’re my last appointment of the day, and she left right after she sent you in. She’s a single mom and has to collect her kid from school.” Drew smiled at her, trying not to wince when she shifted her position and put more pressure on his already throbbing, rigidly erect cock. “She locked the door when she left, so we’re all alone and no one will disturb us.”

  “I shouldn’t be alone with a Baldwin,” she said with an encouraging lack of conviction. “It’s against the family code.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  “Is this part of your regular treatment regime?”

  “Nope, this is the deluxe version saved for patients I especially dislike.”

  “I don’t want to think about how you behave with those you actually like.”

  He chuckled. “That’s probably best.”

  She caught him glancing at his watch. “Is my time up?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Then I’d—”

  “That means I don’t have to be professional anymore.”

  “This is professional?” she asked, trying to cut off a giggle that escaped anyway. “So what happens when you’re off duty?”

  “Something I should have done five years ago.”

  He cupped her jaw and lowered his head, cutting off her startled oh by slanting his mouth over hers and capturing her lips in a deep, drugging kiss. Elation surged through him when instead of objecting she parted her lips and became an enthusiastic participant in that kiss. One of his hands splayed over her nape as, mindful of her injuries, he resisted the urge to press her body tighter against his. Drew believed in the power of words, but if ever a situation required actions instead of verbal investigation then this was it. Damn it, he’d waited long enough, spent more hours than was healthy imagining how it would feel to actually kiss Farah’s lush lips.

  He deepened an already incendiary kiss that sent shock waves through his body, testing his resolve to the absolute limit. The desire he’d suppressed for this vixen for so long finally had the freedom to run riot, but at what cost? The thought brought him to his senses and he broke the kiss. Farah’s eyes were hazy and her lips, shiny and wet, curved up at the corners.

  “You obviously dislike me intensely.”

  “I’ve disliked you since you were fifteen and you kicked me in the shins when I evicted you from the Bandit Bar for trying to sneak in for an illicit beer.”

  An unholy light now shone from her eyes. “That long?”

  “That long.” He resisted the temptation to kiss her again. He wouldn’t do it, couldn’t trust himself to stop there. They’d wasted too much time playing by the families’ rules. He needed to know the truth. “Why did you run away from me, darlin’?” he asked.

  “Honest truth?”

  “I think we both deserve that.”

  “Okay, if you promise not to laugh.”

  “Babe, after the admission I just made, I’m in no position to laugh at anything you say.”

  “All right then. I wanted you, and couldn’t have you even if you had shown the slightest bit of interest in me. I couldn’t bear to see you with other women, felt increasingly antagonistic toward my family for the feud that made it impossible for us to…well, you know what.”

  “Oh, I know. Believe me I know.”

  “I felt annoyed with my brothers for smothering me and, taking all those things together, it just seemed right to get the hell out of Dodge.” She looked up at him. “Why did you leave?”

  “Same reasons, apart from the smothering brothers, of course.”

  “I can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “I had absolutely no idea. Tatum didn’t guess, either.”

  “You think I’d let my baby sister know I was carrying a torch for a woman who kicked me in the shins?”

  She playfully thumped his arm. “Be serious.”

  “I am.” He shook his head. “The plain fact of the matter is that we’ve let our family feud rule our lives for too long. It’s time we did something about it.”

  “I agree. But what?”

  “I can’t think right now. I have more pressing matters on my mind.”

  “I can feel your pressing matter…er, pressing into me.”

  “Shame you’re injured.”

  “Don’t you dare try to back out, Drew Baldwin! You started this.” She glanced around, almost manically. “What sort of shrink are you anyway? You don’t even have a couch in your office. No cardigans, no couch.” She shook her head. “You’re a hopeless case.”

  “If you’re sure about this then I can do better than a couch.”

  “I’ve been sure since I was fifteen.” She looked up at him, her heart reflected in her eyes. “You have a lot to answer for, Doctor Baldwin. You spoiled me for everyone else. I’ve been looking for someone to expunge thoughts of you from my head. Believe me, I’ve been looking, but none of them measured up.”

  “I know. Me, too.” He stood up, tipping her off his lap and taking her hand. “Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he led her through a different door and up a staircase hidden behind it.

  “I own the entire building. I bought it from Doc Miller, along with his practice.”

  “So those other offices—”

  “Rent from me. And the good news is,” he said, opening a door at the top of the stairs and standing back to let her go through it ahead of him, “the place comes with its own loft.”

  “Your downtown love nest?” she asked, eyeing the large loft with obvious interest.

  Drew tried to see it through her eyes, wondering what she made of it. There was just one room with a kitchen in one corner and a bathroom at the opposite end. A cozy arrangement of chairs was grouped around the open fireplace and there was a dining nook off the kitchen. Crucially there was also a massive bed that took up the lion’s share of the space. Isaac’s idea.

  Shit, Isaac! Drew hadn’t given his buddy a thought. He was about to enter into a binding arrangement with the love of his life—somehow—but hadn’t even stopped to consider whether she’d be prepared to include Isaac in that relationship. He’d talk to her about it, try to convince her, but now wasn’t the time. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off. When he did broach the subject, if she was adamantly opposed then Isaac would just have to understand. Hell, he was about the only person in the world who knew how Drew felt about her. They’d spent enough drunken nights discussing her, and so Isaac would want Drew to find happiness, wouldn’t he?

  “If you’ll let it be,” he said, nervous and serious as he responded to her question. “We can hardly meet at my place. Or yours for that matter.”

  “That’s true, and this is actually quite nice,” she said, glancing around. “A bit sparse, but otherwise warm and cozy.”

  “I’m not good at decorating. In fact I remember you wanting to be an interior designer.” Which would be a hell of a lot safer than being a cop.

  “I grew up. Even so, I can’t help noticing that this place could do with…well, something to cheer it up.”

  “Feel free any time.”

  “I might take you up on that. Your surgery and reception area are fine. You obviously worry more about your patients’ well-being than you do about your own. Didn’t Isaac say the house he built for you was sparse?”

  “My needs are simple.” As long as I have you in my life.

  He kicked the door closed, took a step toward her, and pulled her into his arms. “I noticed. About your having grown up, I mean.”

  She blinked at him, as though the compliment surprised her. “You did?”

  “Uh-huh.” His lips hovered over hers,
his body on fire with need, but still he hesitated. “Farah, are you absolutely sure, ’cause I gotta tell you, I want this. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything in my entire life, but if we do this it won’t be a casual fling. There’ll be no going back, and we’ll have to find a way to make our—”

  “Shush!” She brushed the hair away from his eyes again and stood on her toes to touch her lips against his. “Shut up, Baldwin. You said it yourself, you’re off duty now so stop trying to analyze the situation to death and make love to me instead. I’ve waited too damned long for you to notice me, and I’m not exactly renowned for my patience.”

  Chapter Eight

  Farah was convinced she must be dreaming. She’d imagined this situation so many times that it was hard to separate fantasy from reality. Except there was nothing make-believe about the feel of Drew’s massive erection pressing against her pussy as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her witless. There was nothing fanciful about the way he tormented her mouth with seductive strokes of his tongue, or the way he drew on her lower lip until her body radiated with wanton lust. And even she couldn’t have dreamed up the exquisite shards of intense sensation that rippled through her as his large hands caressed her torso. They teased the sides of her breasts but didn’t actually touching them, driving her crazy because he didn’t seem nearly as desperate to move this forward as she was.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, babe.” He released her immediately. “Did I hit an injury?”

  “It’s okay. It just took me by surprise.”

  “It’s not okay.” His beautiful eyes darkened when he scowled. “It’s very much not okay. I need to see the extent of the damage myself. I don’t trust you to tell me the truth.”

  Without asking permission, he unbuttoned her jacket and pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms. Then he pulled her vest out of her waistband and she obediently raised her arms so he could take it off her. Pinch me, I’m dreaming. Drew touched the ugly bruise spreading across her midriff with delicate fingers.

  “Oh, darlin’!”

  Farah’s breath hitched in her throat, her pulse skitted in her veins. Speaking was impossible. She ran her fingers through his thick hair as he bent to inspect her other wound. It was just below her left breast and showed beneath her bra. When he looked up at her, his eyes were damp.