by Jaime Rush
He let go of her hand and rifled through a medicine cabinet, pulling out salve and antiseptic. Then he ran the water until it was warm and rubbed soap on a washcloth. He took her hand again. In the brighter lights, it looked much worse than it felt, the blood crusted over and the surrounding skin red.
He kept his concentration on that, but she couldn’t take her eyes from him. His hair was still mussed, and she resisted the urge to comb her fingers through the thick, shiny strands. He was gentle, taking great care with her. Her heart tightened uncomfortably, making the tingle of pain on her arm nothing in comparison.
He’s unnatural. Supernatural. She had to remind herself, crazily enough, since she’d just seen him turn into something resembling a wolf. But here, he was a man, his humanity in full control, tending to her wound.
He is a man. You know his heart, once felt his body pressed against yours.
She shook the thoughts away, catching his attention.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, catching her off guard with the tenderness in his eyes.
“A little.” A lot. But not the arm, Tucker. Not even close. “Thank you for helping me. For trying to rescue my mom.”
“We’re not giving up yet. When you give up, you die.”
He spoke from experience. He turned back to his task, releasing her from the hold his silver eyes had on her. After rubbing on the salve, he clamped her hand between his arm and his side and wrapped some gauze around her wrist.
“There, you’re all set,” he said, releasing her.
Her cell phone rang. She dug in the purse she’d slung over her shoulder and stared at the screen. “I don’t recognize the number.”
He gestured for her to take it as he came up beside her and pressed his cheek to hers to listen.
“Hello,” she answered.
“It’s me. Mom. I want you to know that I’m okay. I wasn’t supposed to leave my people, and I did. I broke the rules and it’s time for me to go back to them, maybe back home. Elgin promised he wouldn’t hurt you, but . . . only if he can talk to Tucker. Alone. He wants to meet his son. He says he won’t hurt him and I believe . . . no, I don’t—”
The line went dead.
Del called the number back, and this time a man answered. Elgin.
“I want to talk to my mother,” she said.
“You heard, she’s fine. She wants you to go on with your life, and I have promised that if she cooperates, I will let you live.”
“What are you going to do to her?”
“She’ll likely go home, where she can’t get into trouble.”
Home. Her mother had said her dimension was a lot like this one. Obviously, though, she was happier here.
“What do you want with Tucker?” Del asked.
“He’s my son. I want to get to know him.”
Tucker took control of the phone. “Where?”
Del now leaned close to him to hear. “Seems you could find Foothills Road again. Why don’t we meet there tomorrow morning, at six? We got off to a rocky start, what with your girlfriend trying to run me down.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he was quick to say. “I’m helping her, that’s all.”
Del strained to hear her mom in the background. Why had she been cut off? What had she been about to say?
“You can help her by meeting with me. I think we can come to an understanding.”
“I’ll be there.” Tucker disconnected.
She gripped his arm. “You’re not going to meet him. You heard him: they’re rounding up the loose ends. He’ll crucify you as the one who killed that man.”
“I know he’s not going to be there with his arms open wide.” He muttered something, jamming his fingers back through his hair. “It gives me the chance to kill him. And you’re staying out of it.”
It hit her then. “Oh, my God. He’s making a deal. Me for you. That’s it, isn’t it? He’ll let me live if you . . . die.”
“That’s only if he can get me.”
“But he’ll have at least one other guy there. You’ll be outnumbered.”
“That’s my problem. I’m not bringing in any of the D’Rats. I can’t afford for those guys to know about them.”
“They already know about me.”
“No way, Del. You can’t fight them.”
“I can move things. That’s how I got out of the car.” She turned to his dresser and pushed her hand toward it. More of those cards slid to the floor. She did it again, and two business cards flew off. “Okay, it’s not lethal, but it’s a start.” She knocked a bottle of cologne off but caught it before it hit the floor. A whiff of a citrus scent filled the air.
“You’re not going with me.” He picked up the cards and slapped them down on the dresser. “Your mom was saying what he told her to, trying to convince me she believed him. It’s her only hope of saving you.”
“No, she wouldn’t do that.”
“I understand. I’d do it, too. Just like I’d send some potentially dangerous kid away from my daughter.”
“You are doing it. And she couldn’t go through with it. That’s why he disconnected the call. She couldn’t do it, Tuck.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “I know what to expect. I’ll be ready.”
“So will he.”
“I can handle myself. You’re not coming. End of discussion. Come on, I’ll show you to your room. You look exhausted.”
The conversation wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Leave Tucker to the mercy of that dark bastard? No way.
“This was Shea’s room,” Tucker said. He pushed open the door. “There’s not much here, a bed and dresser, but it’ll do.” He walked to the closet and slid the door open. “She left some clothes here, so you’re welcome to wear them. She never did.”
Given how the girl dressed, it was a surprise to see two pretty dresses hanging in there. “It’s a shame. They’re beautiful.” She ran her fingers down the silky fabric, her fingers brushing the tag that was still on one of them.
“Greer gave them to her for Christmas, trying to help her find her feminine side, I guess. What you saw her in, that’s what she wears: jeans, baggy shirts. Greer accidentally walked in on her as she was getting out of the shower. He was shocked at the curves she’s hiding. It woke him up big time, but it’s made things tense between them.”
“She hides herself,” Del said.
“Playing therapist?”
“I guess. Someone hurt her. Abused her, when she was young. She may blame her body, her curves, for bringing that kind of attention.”
“I know she’s had a tough childhood, but I don’t know all the details.”
“You . . . seem to have a special bond with her.”
He met her gaze, trying to read what her real question was, maybe. “Yeah, we do. She’s terrific, smart, strong.”
“And you love her.” She could see it in his eyes, his deep affection for Shea.
Her heart dropped when he nodded. “But if you’re asking if I’m in love with her, no. It’s not like that. I don’t fall in love with every girl I live with.”
Del pulled down a dress and held it up to her to hide the crazy relief she felt, and the more dangerous feeling his admission had curling through her: he’d fallen in love with her all those years ago. In love, not hormonal lust. “She’s way smaller than I am.”
He reached up to the top shelf in the closet and pulled out a blanket. Del took it from him, and then he reached farther back and pulled out some sweats. “I guess she left some of these, too. They’ll do until we can get you some clothes.”
“Thanks. I could use a shower.”
“Sure.” He nodded for her to follow to the hall.
How much did he carry on those broad shoulders? The well-being of his family. Now, the burden of her. Tomorrow morning, he would meet his father, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
He opened a door and pulled it shut again with a shake of his head. “You don’t want to go in there. Greer and Cody share that one.
Use mine.”
Several minutes later, she was standing in the glass shower with hot water pounding against her back. God, her body hurt, her heart hurt, and her head felt as though it was going to explode with everything inside it. In the midst of all that, she placed her hands on the glass for balance and got a flash of an image: a woman’s hands flattened against the glass, a man’s hands over hers, his fingers entwined with hers. And the feeling of . . . sexual arousal. She jerked back, blinking at the surprise of it, more so at the way it heated her body.
Of course, Tucker brought women here, showered with them, made love to them.
Shaken, she continued washing her body, running the washcloth over her breasts, down her stomach. Her gaze kept going back to that spot on the glass. Now was not the time to get caught up in that. But oh, she did need to put her thoughts elsewhere. Those images pulled at a body so hungry for touch, for sexual intimacy, her mind swam with it.
“No. Stop it.”
On top of everything else wrong about indulging her desire, it was spying, a personal invasion of Tucker’s privacy.
She ran the washcloth up her legs, into the intimate places that felt alive, vibrating. She rinsed the cloth and hung it up, started to turn off the shower. Her gaze went right to the spot again.
Okay, one more time, just for a second. To escape, to . . . feel something I haven’t felt in years.
Since Tucker.
Not only his hands on her, not only the promise of much more, but the way he made her feel inside. She’d never felt that with any other guy, even the ones she’d slept with.
Because you compare every man you meet to Tucker.
Damn, her mom was right.
She placed her hands on the spot, and the vision knocked her head back, coming at her in full color, full feeling, full everything. She was in the same position that the woman had probably been in when Tucker had come up behind her.
She felt the woman’s feelings, sensations, since her hands had touched the glass. It was Del who felt him sliding in, filling her, the rise of the orgasm, pressure building, his hands now on her wet body, sliding over her breasts, pulling her closer, deeper—
“Del, you okay in there?”
Her eyes snapped open as she stumbled back, nearly loosing her footing on the tile floor. Had she groaned out loud? “I’m fine,” she said, flipping off the water lever and grabbing for a towel. Her cheeks stung with embarrassment. “Just achy.”
She took her time drying off, blow-drying her hair, looking at her blurry reflection in the steamy mirror.
She put more salve on her cut and rewrapped the gauze she’d removed before getting in the shower. She hoped he wouldn’t mind that she put on his robe. Once it was tied around her, she breathed him in, the scent of soap and clean male. She had to go right to her room, no stopping, no talking. Maybe he wouldn’t be in his room. That would be better.
Except he was, sitting on the bed straightening the wrinkled bills from the wooden box. His hair was damp, and he wore only jeans, obviously having taken a shower in the dirty bathroom. He looked up at her, and she had to remember to put some expression on her face that wouldn’t give away her turmoil.
“Profitable day?” Despite her intentions, she found herself sinking onto the corner of the bed, her hand on the big wooden ball at the corner of the footboard.
He shrugged. “Good as any.” He paused, looking at the wad in his hand, now in a neat stack. Was he remembering when she’d thrown the bills up in the air? “Money used to mean everything to me. Now it’s just pieces of paper compared to what’s really important.”
“And what’s that?”
He stared hard at those bills. “The people I care about.”
She didn’t know if he included her in that statement, wasn’t going to ask. She doubted it. “Do you like doing street shows?”
“Yeah. I’m my own boss, set my own hours. I get some punk trying to encroach in my territory every now and then, but they come to a quick understanding once we have a little chat.”
“Mm, I bet.” She remembered those cold eyes, his dangerous energy. “You’re good at it. A natural entertainer.”
His fingers moved in an automatic way, finishing the pile. “There’s a particular satisfaction you get when you make people happy, when you can surprise them.” He surprised her by handing her the stack. “You won’t be able to go home until Elgin is dead. You’ll stay here until then. This is for clothes and whatever else you need.”
What she needed couldn’t be bought: her mother home safe.
Tucker.
She blinked at the thought. She took the stack, their fingers brushing. “Why are you doing all this? You could have—should have—told me to get lost.”
He got up from the bed and set the box on the end of the long dresser. “I couldn’t turn you away, much as I wanted to. I meant what I said earlier; you gave me a safe, stable home for the first time, made me feel worthwhile. I decided to help you because I owe you and her for that. I own my home outright, pay taxes, am a generally upstanding citizen. That’s because of you.”
She stood, intending to go to her room, but her body wouldn’t go past him. “You don’t owe us.” She gestured to his room, the house in general. “You’ve done well with your life, which you would have done even if you hadn’t come into our lives. That’s who you are. I’m proud of you. Of who you’ve become.” She wanted to touch him, her fingers flexing with her need.
Apparently he sensed it. “It’s not smart, you being in my bedroom with me.”
“I know. I can’t seem to make myself leave.”
She put her hand on his chest, her palm pressing against his skin. He flattened his hand over hers, and in that moment she could see every hurt he’d suffered shadow his eyes. Then they shuttered, and he curled his fingers over hers and pulled her hand away.
“Don’t touch me, Del. Don’t ask if I love someone else with that look on your face that makes me think you’re scared I’m going to say yes. Don’t look at me like you want to save my soul.”
“Your soul doesn’t need saving. All I want to do is try to take away some of the pain my mom and I caused.” She ran her hands over his hair, his face. “Would it help to know how my heart was torn out, too? How I cried every night for weeks, worried about you, looked for you. How I tried to make it better with every child I helped. How I never found anyone who made me feel like I did with you.”
She pulled his hand to her mouth, kissing the back of it, the ridges of his veins, his knuckles, watching him crumble bit by bit. His eyes closed, and he tilted his head back. Then he pulled her into his arms, and she heard an agonized groan come from somewhere in his chest.
Her cheek came to rest against his chest and her hands went around his strong back. She could breathe for the first time in what felt like hours, since those texts. He held her stiffly, as though he didn’t trust himself to relax into it.
She leaned closer against him. His arms went around her and pulled her closer. His jaw rested on her head, and his fingers flexed against her shoulders enough that she could feel it through the robe.
“Go,” he said, his voice throaty, hoarse against the top of her head. But he made no move to release her.
“You’re afraid you’ll fall into some dark abyss, that you’ll fall to your Darkness.”
She felt him nod.
He said, “You saw what I am. If I let myself go there, I will feel like you are mine. You’re already in me.”
She stepped back, looking at him. He was beautiful, even in his pain, because she saw his longing, recognized it because it burned in her. “I’m leaving.” But she didn’t move away either.
Instead, she leaned forward and touched her mouth to his. He kissed her, tenderly, his thumbs rubbing at her jawline, down the sides of her throat. She was sixteen again, sinking into that innocent, yet not-so-innocent time in the living room, kissing in a rainfall of money. Her hands slid down his back, absorbing the feel of him, wishing she could s
ink right into him.
She untied the belt of her robe, letting it slide over her shoulders and fall to the floor. The cool air stippled her skin, but the heat of his gaze warmed her from the inside.
He cherished her with his eyes, taking her in, tracing his fingers down her collarbone, down the inside of the curve of her breast, and down her stomach. “Del,” he whispered, kissing her again, more fervently now. He ran his hands down her backside, cupping her ass and squeezing her to pull her harder against him.
Even through the jeans, she could feel the hard ridge of him. “Let me love you, Tuck,” she murmured between kisses.
He unzipped his jeans and shoved them to the floor. She closed her eyes at the feel of his naked body against hers. In that brief glimpse of him, he looked beautiful, his muscles gilded in the light, his face in shadow. That body felt beautiful, hard, and warm, with the brush of the hairs of his legs against hers.
He eased her down on the bed, his thigh between hers, covering her with his body. His hands pinned hers on the mattress, his mouth kissing hers, his knee rubbing up and down her inner thigh. He caressed her breasts, trailing his thumb around her nipples, giving every bit of his concentration to what he was doing. He skimmed across her stomach, cupping her pubic area, and then feathering her inner thighs. She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, so soft and silky, black as night. He slid his finger into her folds, drawing a breath from her, stealing it away as he continued to stroke.
No, she wasn’t smart to be here in his room, in his bed, but she could be nowhere else. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck and buried her face there as her body shuddered. Soft, breathy sounds came from deep in her chest as she wrapped her body around his. He didn’t rush to move on to his pleasure. He kept pleasuring her, touching her, as though he couldn’t get enough of her, rubbing up and down her back, the curve of her ass and down into the damp crevices he’d just driven her crazy touching.
She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, moving against him. He moved in sync with her, his hands at her hips. Her thumb slid over the tip of him, down the ridge of skin that made him suck in a breath and tighten his grip on her.
