by Jo Davis
She squeezed his hand. “God, that makes my skin crawl.”
“Me, too, now. But at the time, survival instinct kicked in and I rolled off the bed before he had a chance to bury the blade in my chest. We fought and I managed to dislodge the knife from his hand, got in a couple of good licks. Think I broke his wrist when I stomped on it.”
“I hope so! Did you get a good look at him?”
“He wore a ski mask, and he ran off before I could make a grab at it. But he was tall, maybe a little taller than me. Heavier, more solid and muscular.”
“Not Derek, then,” she mused aloud.
“You read my mind.” Pausing, he linked their fingers together. “I’ve been lying here running over who’d have the most to gain by killing me.”
“The man who left the bar with Brett Charles is the obvious candidate. Which I hope you told the police.”
“I did. But I can’t help thinking this has something to do with Derek.”
She frowned. “Like he hired someone to kill you? Why would he do that? What happened was years ago. I mean, you did sort of throw down the gauntlet the other day, telling them what you remembered. But your family didn’t take action against him back then and you’d have a hard time proving he molested you, given the circumstances. You’re not a real threat to him.”
“I might be wrong and wind up looking really stupid, but I believe there’s something rotten going on with Derek. I’ve asked Shane to help me find out whether any disappearances or murders like the ones they’re having here took place in San Antonio fifteen years ago.”
Her jaw fell open as the implications hit her, hard. “My Lord, that would mean . . .”
“That I escaped something more horrible than I ever knew,” he finished grimly. “And if so, for Derek to run across me here must’ve been quite a shock to his system.”
“But then what about the man in the bar? It wasn’t Derek.”
“He could have a partner.”
“Like who?”
“Warren, maybe. He’s the one with the real power in the family, and the ruthlessness to back it up.”
“Warren’s a possibility. Remember what I told you about his practically trying to run my defense of Derek? I know for a fact he’d do whatever is required to protect his son, the family’s name, and their fortune. He bullied my dad into assigning me to Derek’s defense, with very little effort.”
“He gets what he wants, and if what he wants is me on a slab—”
“Don’t say it.” A shudder wracked her body. “He’s not getting to you, and besides, this is all speculation.”
“Bella, it’s not speculation that someone has tried to waste my ass twice. I don’t see anyone else coming up with any other brilliant ideas why.”
A pretty nurse breezed in with a smile, forestalling their conversation as she checked his vitals one last time. “All right,” she chirped. “Let’s take out this IV and then we’ll get you sprung. I assume your lady friend is driving?”
Grace nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Take your pain meds for a couple of days, until the noggin and the foot are better. No operating heavy machinery while you’re taking them,” she recited. “You’ve got enough antibiotics in your system to last until you get your prescription filled tomorrow, and those should do the trick for your wounds. Keep them clean and call your doctor if they show signs of infection. Any questions?”
“How soon until I can go?”
“Just a few minutes while we get your paperwork. Be right back.”
Fifteen interminable minutes crept by while they waited in silence, Grace chewing on Julian’s awful theory. Did it make her a horrible person to pray he was completely off base, that he wasn’t remotely connected to a series of grisly murders? Supposing he wasn’t, however, they were left at square one with regard to answers.
Finally, he got his walking papers and he swung his legs off the bed. She winced at the sight of his foot, swollen, the toes bluish. She hoped he’d broken more than the bastard’s wrist.
He held her hand and hobbled out on bare feet, shirtless, wearing nothing but his bloodied shorts. Glancing at her, he managed a lopsided smile. “Thanks for coming to pick me up, especially when you have to be at work soon.”
“Get serious. I receive a call saying you’ve been attacked, and you honestly think I wouldn’t rush to your side?”
“Well, no. I’m grateful for you, that’s all,” he said softly.
She wanted to say how grateful she was for him, too, how much he meant to her, but the admission stuck in her throat. “Let’s get you back to my place and get some shut-eye. We’ll take care of the other details like clothes and your medicine tomorrow, okay?”
He pulled up short. “What? No, querida, you’re taking me home. My patio door is broken and I can’t leave my stuff in there to get stolen.”
“Fine, then I’ll stay with you.”
His mouth tightened. “Absolutely not. He might come back, and I don’t want you near there.”
Bracing her hands on her hips, she glared at her stubborn lover. “Wonderful. When he pays you another visit, you can drool on him.”
He blew out a breath. “Come on, baby. I’m too tired to fight with you.”
“My point exactly. You’re exhausted and ready to conk out. He might decide to return, and as tired as you are, you may not wake up. You’re coming home with me, or I’m staying with you—take your pick.”
“Dammit.” He swiped a hand down his face, frustrated. “You win—just for tonight. I’ll stay with you and get some sleep, but tomorrow I need to set my place to rights. It bothers me, leaving things unprotected.”
“I understand, really.” She stepped in to his body, wrapping her arms around him. She glanced at his bandages, hating them, what they represented. “Stuff can be replaced, though. You can’t. Want to make a quick stop and get some clothes?” she asked, relenting some.
“Yeah,” he said, burying his face in her hair. “I’d like that. I need to get rid of these shorts, and I sure don’t want to hang out in them tomorrow.”
“I can certainly understand. Let’s go, then, so we can get your things and get out.” She didn’t want to stop there at all, but knew he’d feel better once they did.
Within a few minutes, they were at his place. She parked and was opening her driver’s door when he stopped her.
“I’d prefer you didn’t go in.”
“Tough. I’m not staying out here by myself.”
Too worn-out for another argument, he just shot her an exasperated look and got out. She followed close on his heels, not willing to be left behind. Independent or not, she wasn’t stupid. In movies or books, the dumb heroine who stayed back always got slaughtered.
The knob on the front door turned and they stepped right into the brightly lit apartment. Julian was clearly annoyed. “Guess since the patio door is toast, the cops didn’t see a need to lock the front.”
“The patio must be how they got to you after you phoned 911,” she observed. “This door hasn’t been damaged.”
“Thank goodness for small favors. Stay here for a second while I make sure we’re alone.”
Without waiting for a protest, he limped down the short hallway to his bedroom. She heard closet doors open and close, rustling noises. In a couple of minutes, he returned, glanced into the kitchen, and nodded.
“Everything’s okay. Let me throw some things into my gym bag and we’re outta here.”
“You don’t sound quite as reluctant to be away from here as you did earlier.”
“Changed my mind. Come on.” Taking her hand, he practically dragged her with him.
In his bedroom, he stripped off the stained shorts and yanked on a clean pair, along with a T-shirt he’d grabbed from a dresser drawer. A change of shorts, a shirt, and a couple of boxers went into the bag, as well as his navy blue fire department pants and polo shirt. He ducked into his bathroom and emerged with a stick of deodorant and his toothbrush, tossed them in,
and zipped the bag closed.
“Ready.”
Back on the road, she cast glances at him, keeping an eye on how he was holding up. She would have thought he’d crash on the way to her condo, but he seemed wired, staring out his window, bouncing his leg, drumming his fingers on the armrest.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said automatically. Then recanted. “No. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that three hours ago I was fighting for my life. If I hadn’t woken up at the last second, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I might be dead.”
She laid a hand on his leg, and the bouncing stilled. “Well, you’re not,” she said fiercely, blinking back the sudden tears blurring the road. “You not only survived—you kicked his ass, and he’ll be forced to think twice about risking exposure again.”
“You’re good for my ego.” His quiet laugh dispelled some of the shadows. “Scratch that, you’re good for me, period.”
“Ditto.”
“Such a romantic, too.”
“Hey, I’m romantic! You’re better for me than . . . carrot sticks.”
“Jeez, I hope I taste better than orange cardboard.” He chuckled. “Did I say you were good for my ego? Never mind.”
“Kidding. You’re really very bad for me, like a chocolate malt or onion rings.”
“That’s more like it.”
She was glad to feel him relax, some of the tension easing from his thigh muscle. Getting him to rest might be more of a challenge.
She was right. Once she got him home and tucked into bed, he lay on his back staring at the ceiling, fidgeting with the sheets, picking at his bandages, and fairly vibrating with restless energy.
Cuddling into his side, she ran a palm over his flat stomach, intending to soothe him, sort of like one might a fussy baby. Shoot, she didn’t know much about babies, but she knew when his stomach tightened and his breathing quickened his reaction was anything but peaceful.
His skin heated to her touch and she let her hand drift south, past his belly button, to the tent in his boxers. She rubbed the hard ridge, found the tip of him peeking through the slit, wet and silky.
Without a word, she sat up, flung back the sheet, and tugged the underwear down and off as he helpfully raised his hips. She crawled between his legs and he spread them wider to accommodate her, gasping when she suckled the head, licked the pearly drops.
“Let me make you feel good,” she whispered.
“Yes, oh, yes, please.”
She drew him in, sucking and laving the turgid flesh, gratified by his moans. He began to thrust, more and more vigorously as she manipulated his balls, increased the suction, driving him crazy.
At last she pulled off and shed her panties, leaving on the thin tank top, aware of his eyes, watching, glittering in the darkness. Primal. Sexual.
His silent hunger made her clit throb, made her ache to take him deep inside her and never let go. Straddling his lap, she guided the broad head to the part of her folds, and sank, slowly, seating him to the hilt.
“Oh, Julian.” She splayed her hands on his stomach, adjusting to the sweet fullness of his cock impaling her.
“Ride me, bella.”
Gladly. Rising and falling, she took him again and again, fanning the flames. Driving them higher, the glide of skin on skin so damned good it was unbearable. Her body quickened and then her orgasm burst in a blast of supercharged current as she cried out. She actually felt her sex spasming around his cock, milking him.
Which proved too much for him, and he joined her with a shout, hot jets of cream bathing her womb for endless seconds. They floated down together, breathing hard, grinning at each other in the darkness. Only then did she realize what she’d done.
Making love without a condom hadn’t been smart. Not in the least. But they were consenting adults, and she was on birth control. She was healthy and she trusted Julian as she never had anyone else. But she had to say something.
“We didn’t use protection,” she said quietly.
Taking one of her hands, he kissed her fingers. “I have regular tests with the fire department, and I’m clean. Plus, I’ve never made love without protection before now.”
“But you don’t know about me. I’m clean, but what if I’m not on birth control?”
His voice quieted and his hand tightened around hers. “Are you?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. We should’ve discussed this first, made sure we were on the same page. I can’t believe I did that.”
“My beautiful Grace,” he murmured affectionately. “I’m sorry. It’s just as much my fault as it is yours. But we’re both healthy and we’re not seeing anyone else, right?”
She nodded. “This is true.”
“So we have nothing to worry about, as long as we’re together.” He rolled her onto her back, half-covering her with his body, snuggling her close. “Nap?”
“Go ahead, sleep.”
It did her heart good to know she’d succeeded in relaxing him, making him happy. Nothing mattered to her more than lighting his world, making certain nothing bad ever touched him again.
Is this love?
“Grace?”
“Hmm?”
“Just want you to know . . . for as long as I live, you’re the only woman I want to wake up next to.”
His soft declaration shook her, turned her inside out, and left her trembling with its power. For the first time, she knew the meaning of unconditional love, given freely from a man to his woman.
Was she ready? Could she truly make him happy, shower him with the kind of love that lasted for decades, until they were old and wrinkled?
She puzzled the questions into the dawn, long after his breathing had evened out in blissful sleep.
Brett almost lost his mind when Kendra stopped singing.
Almost.
They’d come for her three times, dragging her off to the chamber of horrors, doing God knew what as he threw himself against the bars. Cursing them, screaming. Yelling at them to leave her alone and try a real man, because he’d give them a fight like they’d never seen.
He could, too. They’d brought him decent food and though he understood their self-serving reasons—to keep him relatively strong and solid for whatever evil games they had in mind—he ate. Every bite. He did push-ups, used the bars to lift himself repeatedly, building his upper body. He refused to quit, even if Kendra had.
He had to keep his faith, had to survive.
Survive was all he knew how to do.
And so, when they came for her the fourth time, and the horrible hum of the generator started, followed by shrill, animal shrieks as she died . . .
Brett sang.
Covering his ears, he sang loudly. Belted out every new age rock song he knew, because those were his favorites. They kept him bound to the real world, gave him hope.
He could endure. His family had to be frantic. People were looking for him. Dismembered bodies had been found, and the police were all over the Cumberland River like white on rice—he’d overheard one of them say so, all panicked and shit.
The bad guys were worried, and that made them human.
Humans, he could deal with. Hour after hour.
Until the cops found him, or it was his turn to scream. One thing for sure, though.
If and when that day came? He was taking one of those sick motherfuckers with him.
14
“You are staying here, and that’s final!” Grace stamped one expensively shod foot, her glare threatening to fry Julian on the spot.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “You did not just stamp your foot at me.”
“Yes, I did! Stubborn, muleheaded idiot.”
“What happened to my independent bella who was so determined to keep me at a distance?” Arching an eyebrow at her, he pulled his Sugarland FD polo over his head.
“That was before you almost became a Ginsu special! I’m worried about you, dammit!”
That was the problem. He did
n’t want her concern; he wanted her love. The day she said she loved him and couldn’t live without him, he’d pack his shit and be on her doorstep before she knew what hit her. And not one day sooner.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, he calmly began to tie his shoes. “The manager said my sliding glass door is fixed.”
“It can get broken again.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Everyone’s luck runs out eventually,” she countered, getting good and pissed by his lack of cooperation.
“I’ve got nine lives, and I’m only down four. I’m good.”
“How can you be so fucking flip about this?”
“I’m not, believe me. The last thing I want is to paint a frigging target on my chest and wait for the final blow. Which is why I’m doing something about it, with Shane’s help.” Standing, he gathered her into his arms and pressed light kisses along her jaw, to the dainty shell of her ear. “Don’t be mad at me, baby.”
As determined as she was to withstand his gentle assault, her anger began to deflate. He was glad when she began to relax, and finally hugged him back.
“I’m not mad at you.”
“I know.”
“I love having you here.”
Close. But close, as they say, only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.
“I love being here.”
I love you. Not yet, not like this, but soon. He’d tell her, and damn the consequences.
She rested her cheek against his chest and he reveled in her body pressed to his. He longed to pluck out the pins holding her hair in its prim, classy twist and let the tresses cascade down her back. He’d run his hands through the white blond silk, strip off her fussy power suit, and have his way.
“Do you think the detective will have something for you today?”
“Maybe. The San Antonio homicide guy is looking into the cold cases on his own time, so it might take a while.”
He didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her Shane had said the cop assisting him had been with the San Antonio PD only eight years. None of their homicide guys had been there more than twelve.
