Hitch

by Anne Conley

  “Ryan has a baby, a little girl, and they live less than two miles away. He’s here because of me. I have to do something.” Guilt wracked him as the words were spoken aloud. Ryan was here because of him. Dex had done this. Dex needed to make it right.

  He thought of the bald little baby with the bluest eyes Dex had ever seen. She was so damn pretty, and her eyes had lit up at the sound of her daddy’s voice, her tiny fingers gripping his massive one in her hand. Ryan wouldn’t get to see his little girl grow up, wouldn’t get to threaten her dates with his guns and body disposal knowledge, would never get to take her to a daddy-daughter dance.

  Krista would kill him. Ryan’s wife would surely hack Dex into tiny pieces and burn them in their stove, never telling a soul. And he would deserve every bit of it.

  He’d seen death. Dex didn’t know when the dead bodies had stopped affecting him, even the ones of fallen brothers hadn’t been this hard. This was something different.

  That’s when he realized he had actually bought into the brotherhood at Pierce Securities. Until now, he hadn’t realized he’d known these guys almost since the beginning. When Ryan had met Krista, Dex had been there, fighting them every step of the way. He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point, he’d been taken into their fold and accepted as one of them. And now that Ryan was probably dead because of him, he was dealing with the fact he’d accepted them, too.

  The water roiled and bubbled, coming out of the banks with splashes and loud gurgles. Small whirlpools spoke of dangers underwater, and he knew there were tons of limestone rocks underneath the surface. He was crazy to go in after his friend, but Ryan was a brother and would do the same for him.

  Without another word, Dex continued stripping off his clothes, one-armed, as Amber watched, tears freely falling down her face, mingling with the rain that still fell. He may not be able to save his brother, but he wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t at least try. With a heavy sigh, Amber started stripping as well.

  He’d gotten down to his underwear while Amber toed off her shoes, when she grabbed him with a gasp and pointed. “Look!”

  A hand. That’s all, but it was enough. A hand grasped a rock jutting out of the water, its knuckles white with the grip. Dex stalked into the thigh-deep water, oblivious to the stinging needles of ice plucking at his skin, and wrapped his good hand around the wrist, praying it was Ryan.

  With a decisive yank, both men were sprawled on the banks of the hungry river as it lapped at them, trying to suck them back into the fierce, roiling, muddy waters.

  It was Ryan. He was soaked, his lips were blue, and he was gasping for breath. But he was alive. Dex’s arms went around his friend, clapping his back despite the pain radiating from his shoulder. He was glad it was raining because he was pretty sure he had big fucking fat tears rolling down his cheeks right now.

  “Dude … Why are you in your skivvies? Never mind.”

  The two men stood, but Dex pulled Ryan into an embrace again anyway. He was so fucking glad he was okay. Amber was hastily redressing.

  “I was just about to jump in and save you like the heroic badass I am.” Dex heard Amber laughing behind him, big belly laughs, and he loved every minute of it.

  “You never would have made it.” Ryan flashed a cocky smile, even though his chest still heaved. “A little water isn’t gonna hurt me.”

  “That’s good to hear. I was trying to figure out how to tell Krista I’d killed you.” Ryan’s face became serious at the words, and he clasped Dex’s hand.

  “No worries, man. I had your back, and I’m glad you were about to save me. It’s good to know my bros are behind me.”

  Dex ignored the warmth that flooded him as he smiled at Ryan again. “No problem, man.” More back clapping side hugs, and then the question that plagued all of them.

  “What happened to Perkins?”

  Ryan shrugged. “I lost him, but he was washed downstream.” He gestured to the other end of the river with his chin. “Lost my grip on him.”

  “Take this, then. Just in case.” Dex gave Ryan his sidearm. He didn’t want his friend to run across a soggy, pissed-off Perkins on his way home. Ryan took it with a wink and departed with a wave.

  “Where’s he going?”

  Dex shrugged. “Probably home. He walked here this morning. Like I said, he lives a couple of miles that way, so I guess he’s got a trail or some shit mapped out. Ryan’s the one we call Wild Man sometimes. He lives off the grid out here.”

  “But he’s all wet! He’ll catch his death.” She stopped and hugged Dex. “Okay, now I sound like my mom. Come home with me? I think our discussion was interrupted just when we got to the good part.”

  “My pleasure.”

  They were both shivering, teeth chattering, and nearly blue by the time they got back to Dex’s SUV. “You want me to follow you?”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dex’s Tahoe behind her car on the way home was a strange comfort. He stayed close enough she could watch him the entire drive home. She was sick almost with what she was going to tell Nguyen; she had to call this in when she got home. Amber didn’t know exactly what to say, except the truth, and she was sure Nguyen wouldn’t believe her.

  After she got home and deposited Dex in the shower with what meager things she could give a man his size, she made the phone call, and it went about how she’d expected it would.

  Nguyen was silent for a little while, just breathing at her after she’d explained everything that had happened. “What part of ‘you’re off this case’ are you not understanding, Banks?”

  “I understand all of it. I was trying to clear my mind of the case. That’s why I went out there. I didn’t know Dex and Ryan would be there. I had no idea Perkins was hiding out there, sir. It was all just a coincidence we ended up at the same place.”

  “I’m not buying that, Banks.”

  Irritation rose, but Amber knew better than to antagonize her boss. “I understand, sir,” she gritted out. “I probably wouldn’t believe me, either, if I were in your position. But I had to call it in. Y’all may want to drag the river or something for him.”

  A scoff rang out on the other end of the line. “You telling me how to do my job when you aren’t even doing your own?”

  “No, sir.”

  Dex came into the living room, skin red and wet from a hot shower, wearing her bathrobe that came to his thighs, his arm in his sling. Amber smiled at the sight, even though Nguyen was still yelling at her over the phone. Dex raised his eyebrows at her in question and she merely shrugged, unwilling to tell him she was in trouble. It occurred to her he used to work with Nguyen and knew his foibles probably better than she did. He would understand.

  As she looked at him, sitting on her tiny loveseat—a weird faux-suede thing she’d bought at a thrift store for its comfort—the thought hit her. He would understand everything.

  And it was scary.

  She watched, a little in awe, as Salem’s tail stopped twitching and the old tomcat that didn’t like anybody came out and jumped in Dex’s lap, stretching languorously. Oblivious to the strangeness of the situation, Dex absently scratched Salem under the chin, and the cat purred.

  Fucking purred.

  Dex fit here. He was what she had been missing in this house. Just his presence exuded some feeling of warmth and comfort that brought all the pieces of her house together to make it a home. He’d been here all of twenty minutes and Amber could already feel it. Even with him looking all sexy and stuff wearing her bathrobe that didn’t quite reach around his torso, and her old barn cat in his lap, he let off a feeling of comfort she was craving.

  Dex was home.

  As Nguyen wound down his lecture, she shook her head at the thoughts running through it. She hung up the phone after he was done and said, “The washer’s through there, if you want to get your clothes started so you have something to wear.”

  It was an excuse. She watched Dex move through her house with his bundle of wet clothes as h
e put them in the washing machine, added soap, and turned it on after studying it slightly. Of course, he did it as if he were at home here, his movements effortless and efficient, evidence of her previous thought.

  Dex turned and leaned against the washing machine, sending a shiver coursing through Amber. He stood there, tall and proud, arms crossed in front of his chest—awkwardly, with the one still in his sling—the hair on his legs shining in the light of the laundry room, his hair sticking up from his shower. He exuded a nonchalant power, and it thrilled her.

  She spun around to go take a shower of her own, but his voice stopped her.

  “Have you come to a conclusion?”

  Amber froze. “About what?”

  “Whatever you’ve been contemplating. You’ve been watching me for ten minutes. Have you decided yet?”

  Risking a glance over her shoulder, she swallowed at the heat in his eyes as they watched her. Silently, she nodded.

  Then turned to face him. Taking a deep breath, she took a step closer, meeting him in the middle of the small room.

  When their lips met, it was with a fury she hadn’t felt before in any of their previous kisses. It was a desperation, as if she couldn’t kiss him hard enough, couldn’t get under his skin deep enough.

  “Thank God,” he murmured between kisses as he held her head still so he could return the kisses with an equal amount of intensity. Dex’s rumble was a balm to Amber’s frayed nerves, and she was eager to see what he had planned. He was already tugging at her still-damp clothes, so she helped him by shimmying out of her jeans and sweatshirt. Dex unsnapped her bra and attacked her breasts with his mouth.

  Each pull on her nipples sent a shock of sensation to her core. Amber moaned, gripping his hair, wondering why she had denied herself this for so long. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been afraid of, and as Dex’s strong hands went to her waist, he tried to lift her on top of her washing machine.They both remembered his injury at his grunt, and he growled at her.

  “Get up on the machine.” She complied eagerly, impatient for what would come next.

  Dex wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She didn’t know how she was so certain, but she just knew it. With each confident stroke of his hands on her body, Dex demonstrated he knew Amber better than she knew herself. He leaned her back and kissed down her belly before closing over her clit and sucking.

  Hard.

  He held her thighs, keeping her a prisoner of his attention as he lapped at her folds with his tongue. Each stroke of his mouth pulled her higher, and when he went back to her clit, sucking it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue, she realized she was at a precipice. Along with the obvious chasm of climax she was about to rush headlong into, Amber was about to fall head-first with this guy. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought this, but it was the first time she accepted it. With that acceptance came a deep fulfilment.

  As he worshiped her pussy with his tongue, the hardest orgasm of her life hit her with a shuddering groan. Dex merely looked at her from between her thighs, his mouth glistening and cocked in a lopsided grin. He stood, pulling her into his arms with a kiss that rocked her to her core, her essence on his tongue made her lightheaded as she returned the kiss with a neediness that shocked her.

  “Flip over. Let me see that ass.” Dex’s dirty words made Amber long to do his bidding, and as she complied, he hissed out a low moan that had her shuddering. His hand on her back was gentle as he bent her over the washing machine, which had just entered the spin cycle. “This could get interesting,” he murmured, and she heard the smile in his voice even as she wiggled to get her clit up against the machine.

  His erection probed at her entrance, and with a low groan, he filled her just as she found the exact spot to hit the washer. She was on her tip-toes, and as Dex began thrusting, each thrust lifted her feet off the floor, each piston of his hips made her ram up against the machine, and each slap of flesh against flesh sent her into another spiral of sensation.

  She couldn’t tell if she was having a bunch of tiny orgasms or one long, pulsating climax, but as Dex hit the spot inside her that sent her reeling, her clit was slamming into the hard, biting metal of the vibrating machine, and Amber’s screams of pleasure were all she heard.

  Dex’s words were there, too—words of encouragement like, “Fuck, doll face. Yeah, just like that.” His words of flattery: “You’re amazing …” His hisses of pleasure: “Soooo good …” Even his expletives: “Shit … fuck … goddamn, woman …” His pleasure in her ears mingled with her own shrieking moans, and Amber felt like she was in the world’s best porn movie. If porn was like this, she would be an addict. For sure.

  But when Dex reached around her and grabbed her nipple, twisting it almost to the point of pain, the pleasure that rippled through her put all the other orgasms to shame. As she came, he groaned and stilled inside her as she pulsed around his length, his unbelievable fullness. And then Dex came, she felt his cock jerk and throb inside her, filling her with warmth, even as his arms came around her and his head fell to her neck. He trembled. She shook. They were a sweaty mess, standing in her laundry room with the washing machine finally coming to a slow halt.

  Amber was still bent over the machine, her limbs limp noodles, and Dex had collapsed over her, kissing her neck and shoulders, leaving goose bumps on her flesh. She’d never had sex like this before, so wild and uninhibited. Her brain was firing away, thinking entirely too hard, even while her body hummed with the remnants of pleasure.

  What did this mean? Amber’s previous thoughts of Dex making this place a home came back to her, and she wondered if he was thinking the same things, or if he was just looking to have sex with her when he wanted. He’d said he wanted her to be everything, or he wanted all of her, or something, but she wasn’t sure if that meant marriage and kids, shacking up, or just booty calls.

  Amber managed to get her hands under her and pushed up, raising herself slightly. Dex took the hint and got off her, but his hands stayed on her body.

  “I need a shower,” she said, trying to excuse herself.

  He sighed heavily. “Amber, you’re thinking too hard.”

  She spun around on him, suddenly self-conscious of her nudity. Her hands went to cover herself. “Am I?” Of course, he still wore her robe and the sling, although the robe had come undone and was just barely draped over him. But the tiny scrap of fabric on his frame still gave the idea of coverage, and she was just …

  Naked.

  He was moving toward her. She jumped and tried to push past him, in case he was coming in for more sex she couldn’t exactly handle.

  “Amber, wait,” he called to her retreating back. His voice sounded defeated, and he gave out a half-hearted, “Don’t run from this.”

  Running was all she knew how to do anymore.

  Amber escaped into her bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping to obliterate the tears she felt streaming down her face.

  Why was she crying?

  She got under the warm spray and let the tears fall while she examined the motivation behind them.

  Amber had a plan for her life. She had moved to Austin to escape the small town she’d found herself trapped in. She was here to be a cop, uphold the law, and fight bad guys. She was keeping home-invasions from happening, like the one that had killed her parents. She was shutting down meth cookers like her old boss. She was stopping explosions from happening in downtown Austin.

  There was absolutely no room for romance in her plan.

  Yet here she was, with Dex, having the best sex of her life and wanting more. Because she was horny and lonely, and whatever else caused women to lose their minds and give up everything for a man who didn’t want the same things.

  But was that how Dex was? His record that she’d seen had shown he was a thorough investigator, a kind person, and an upstanding police officer. That fit in with the type of cop she wanted to be. Could it be possible he wanted the same things from her?

  As she
furiously scrubbed away his scent and the evidence of their sexy washing machine foray, she realized there was a little more evidence than normal.

  Oh my God …

  She felt the blood drain from her face as her hand went between her legs, feeling the warm stickiness wash away with the shower water.

  They’d forgotten a condom. How could she be so stupid? She hadn’t been on the pill since her last boyfriend, an eon ago.

  Amber’s movements became manic as she vainly tried to wash their escapades out of herself, remembering her sex ed classes and the fact she was probably pushing more of his seed up inside herself. But she couldn’t keep from trying to get every last swimming sperm out of her vagina in the shower.

  The tears that had stopped while she’d been ruminating about Dex came back full force, and she realized she was sobbing loudly when a knock sounded at the door.

  “Amber? You okay in there?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.” Or an hour, however long it took for this to wash out.

  But he’d been so deep inside her, he’d probably bathed her cervix with the stuff. There was no way she’d get it all out this way. It wasn’t possible.

  She had let her hormones rule, and now she was going to pay.

  She knew better. Amber tried not to think about the ramifications of pregnancy, but she couldn’t stop the images of babies and baby stuff from invading her mind, overruling all the sexy escapades and planting themselves firmly in the forefront of her brain.

  And the warm feeling the images evoked had absolutely no business being there, so she wasn’t going to even entertain them.

  Pissed at herself, at Dex, at the world, she shut off the water and yanked the shower curtain open, grabbed a towel, and proceeded to rub the top layer of skin off as she dried her body.

  When she came out of the bathroom, Dex was thankfully missing from her bedroom, so she rifled through her drawers, looking for the least sexy outfit she could find. An enormous pair of sweats from the academy would do nicely—both a reminder of what she was and a bulky layer of protection from Dex’s searing gaze on her skin.