Raid

by Kristen Ashley

  Her head tipped to the side and her sleepy eyes warmed. “You mean you and me?”

  “Cuddled close to me, baby, you throwin’ yourself in my arms when I got home last night, I’m guessin’ we’re all right. What I want to know is if you are.”

  Her eyes drifted to his collarbone before she said quietly, “I should have talked to you at Chilton’s after I overheard your conversation on the phone.”

  That was when he shifted and the cat jumped away, surprisingly without objection, as Raid rolled to his side. He pulled Hanna into his arms.

  She rested her casted hand on his chest and tipped her head back to look at him.

  “This is not your fault,” he stated firmly.

  “You were going to take care of it. I jumped the gun.”

  “This is not your fault.”

  She looked deep into his eyes before she dipped her chin and pressed her face in his throat.

  “They killed Bodhi,” she said there.

  “Yeah, and they fucked Heather up in a way she’s not ever gonna heal,” he shared. Her body twitched then her head went back and she caught his eyes again. “Their consequences. Not on you. This is no one’s fault except the asshole scumbags who make poor life choices and blame good people doin’ the right things for those assholes bearing the consequences of their own fucked up decisions. They made more, they got more consequences. Now they’re done and you’re done. Safe.”

  Hanna studied him a moment before he saw that settle in and settle deep, thank fuck.

  She then asked, “I get the sense you don’t want to talk about it, but after looking for this guy for ages, how did you find him in three weeks?”

  “Phantoms can’t be seen in the sun. Men can be phantoms for a while but they make mistakes. He always stood in the shadows.” Raid’s arms got tight around her. “To do what he did to you, he made a mistake. He came out into the sun.”

  “Uh… that’s kinda bounty hunter speak,” she informed him, and Raid felt his lips tip up.

  “What I’m sayin’ is he never got close to his business. This time he showed. Your neighbors saw the car and the Nevada plates. You saw him and told the team about him. This time he left breadcrumbs. We followed them.”

  “Oh,” she replied, and his grin got bigger.

  She pressed closer, her eyes grew warm and intense and she asked, “Are you good?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He knew she knew he did not lie when he watched her face go soft and she whispered, “I love you, Raiden.”

  “I know you do, honey. That’s why I’m absolutely good.”

  Hanna smiled.

  Raid asked, “You think I can fuck you without you giving me a head injury with that cast when you latch onto my hair?”

  Her smile changed as her eyes grew excited.

  “I can try, but you should know, my ribs aren’t one hundred percent,” she warned.

  To that, he rolled into her, but he did it carefully. Then he shoved his face in her neck.

  “I’ll take that into account.”

  From the floor, they heard an insistent, “Meow.”

  Raid’s hands up her tank, Hanna’s fingers drifting over his back, Raid lifted his head, found her mouth and the fat cat had to wait a long time for breakfast.

  He survived.

  Epilogue

  She Was Always Right

  Three years, two months and two weeks later…

  I moved out of the kitchen at Grams’s place, into the hall and stopped.

  Raiden was crouched in the hall, head turned to me, camera in one hand. He lifted his other hand and put a finger to his lips.

  I tiptoed his way and peeked around the doorway he was crouched in front of. I took in the scene and smiled.

  Grams was in her chair, Raid and my baby boy, Clayton, in her arms. The lights from the Christmas tree we’d only just finished putting up in the window were twinkling into the room. Spot was dozing on the arm of Grams’s chair.

  “So then, I walked in the backdoor of Momma and Pop’s house, still smoking, mind, and I asked Momma, ‘What’s for dinner?’” I heard Grams saying to a Clay, who, being only three months old and also snoozing, had no clue.

  I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.

  The struck by lightning story.

  I heard Raiden’s camera going.

  “I know you’re there,” Grams stated, not looking our way.

  One hundred and one years old, and still the hearing of a German shepherd, and now proof she had eyes in the side of her head.

  I bit my lip harder and looked down at my husband.

  His head was tipped back to me and he was grinning.

  Then he looked back to the sight of his camera and kept clicking.

  * * * * *

  Three hours later…

  I felt Raid fit his front to my back and his arms come around me.

  Then I felt his lips at the skin below my ear.

  “You know, he can sleep without your help,” he whispered there.

  I didn’t take my eyes off my baby boy lying asleep in his crib.

  “I know,” I whispered back. “But I’m sure me standing here watching him helps him to have sweet dreams.”

  His arms tensed around me and his voice was rumbling when he replied, “I’m sure too.”

  There was something more in those words. Something that made me melt further into him.

  Something I knew had to do with the fact Raiden hadn’t had a nightmare for years.

  It wasn’t me who got rid of them. It was him working through things with Hal.

  Still, Raiden gave me the credit.

  We stood there for a good long while, our eyes on the tiny little living, breathing dream we created.

  Raiden broke the moment.

  “Could do this all night with you, honey, but we gotta talk,” he told me.

  Before I could reply, he moved away, his hand curled around mine and he tugged me out of the nursery to our bedroom. He went direct to the bed, sat on the edge and started to fall back, taking me with him.

  I landed on top of him and we stretched out.

  I lifted up on a forearm in his chest and smiled down at him.

  “How long is this talk going to take?” I asked, my free hand moving down his side.

  He grinned up at me and lifted a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Not long.”

  “Good, because Clay’ll be up soon, and it’s my turn to feed him so I need some shuteye,” I told him, my body shifting so my hand could move over his stomach before it changed directions and started down.

  His head on the pillow cocked to the side.

  Hot.

  Why did I love that?

  It didn’t matter. I just did.

  “You goin’ for shuteye, babe, or are you goin’ for my dick?”

  I dipped my face closer to his and I also dipped my voice quieter. “Me having the latter makes the former better.”

  My hand slid in his pajama pants and I found him hard.

  His eyes flashed.

  “Jesus, baby,” he growled.

  His arms, having been around me, moved so his hands could cup my behind.

  I stroked, a rumble hit his chest and I prompted, “You wanted to talk?”

  Raiden rolled us, one of his hands slid over my belly and right into my pajama bottoms, under my panties and in.

  My eyes went half-mast and I bit my lip.

  Then I stroked.

  Raid whirled.

  Oh God.

  “You going to talk?” I breathed as I lifted my hips to get more of his fingers.

  He whirled again, which made me stroke again at the same time press up, feeling his hips push into my hand.

  “Change of plans,” he announced.

  “No talking?” I asked hopefully.

  “No. No retirement at forty.”

  I blinked and asked, “Sorry?”

  He didn’t repeat himself. He stated, “And at least one daughter.”


  “Raid—”

  His face got close. His fingers whirled, my hand tensed on his cock and he declared, “Leavin’ you has always sucked. Every time, it got harder and harder. Leavin’ you when you had my boy growin’ in you, torture. Leavin’ you and our boy, it kills. Two more years then it’s done.”

  I stroked, I stared and my heart did a happy bump.

  “And I want a girl,” he finished.

  Oh my God!

  Could you die of happiness?

  I certainly hoped not.

  “Honey—”

  His lips came to mine. “We’ll get started on our daughter later. I’ll get started on makin’ sure I can take care of my family after I quit the job now. Agreed?”

  Did he think I’d say no?

  “Affirmative.”

  I felt his mouth smile against mine, then I saw, up close, his eyes start burning at the same time I felt his fingers move then plunge.

  I gasped.

  “Done talkin’,” he announced, his voice rough and commanding.

  I was down with that and that was good, seeing as his head slanted and his mouth took mine in a searing kiss so I had no choice but to be.

  * * * * *

  Raid

  Early afternoon the next day…

  Raid was in his Jeep heading to meet Clay and Hanna for lunch at his sister’s café when his cell went.

  He didn’t know the number on his display and almost didn’t take the call.

  When he did, he was glad, but only because if he didn’t, they would have called his wife.

  “Miller,” he answered.

  “Raid?” a woman asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “Hi, uh, this is Judy from the visiting nurse’s program. Uh…”

  She went silent and said no more.

  Raid felt his gut instinctively get tight and he concentrated on driving.

  When she didn’t speak, he asked, “Judy, you got something to say?”

  A hesitation, then in a quiet voice, “I’m so sorry. We talked about it and thought it best to try to phone you first. I hate having to be the one to tell you, but when Fran went in to get Miss Mildred ready for the day, she found that Miss Mildred had passed away in her sleep last night.”

  Raid moved the Jeep to the side of the road, put it in neutral and engaged the parking break.

  “Repeat that,” he ordered.

  “I’m really, really sorry, Raid. We didn’t want to call Hanna. We thought it would be better coming from you. But Miss Mildred passed last night.”

  He closed his eyes, leaned forward and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

  “Are you okay?” she called in his ear.

  He was not.

  He lifted his head and lied, “Yeah.”

  “Uh… there are things that—”

  Raid cut her off, “You communicate with me, not Hanna. I’ll be there or my mother will be there. Yeah?”

  “Right, okay.”

  “Wait for our call. Someone will be in touch soon to deal with whatever we gotta deal with,” he went on.

  “Okay, Raid.”

  He pulled in a sharp breath through his nose and lied again, “Thank you for your call.”

  “I’m so, so sorry.”

  He was too.

  Judy went on, “Please give our condolences to Hanna. ‘Bye Raid.”

  He disconnected with no good-bye, went to his contacts and found the number to his sister’s café.

  “Rachelle’s Café, Grand Goddess of Cuisine and All Things Gastronomical, Rachelle speaking. How can I help you?” his sister answered.

  Normally this would make him laugh or at least smile.

  He did neither.

  “Rache, Hanna there yet?” he asked.

  “And hello and how are you, too?” she answered.

  “Rache. Is. Hanna. There. Yet?” he repeated.

  She was silent then, with zero attitude, “Yeah.”

  He put the car in gear, checked his mirrors then moved back onto the road, ordering, “Call Mom. Get her down there. After you do that, go to Hanna and find a way to get Clay from her. I’ll be there in ten.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanna tell my wife first. Call Mom and get my son.”

  Another silence then, “Okay, Raid.”

  “Thanks, Rache.”

  He disconnected and did as promised, parking in the lot at the end of town, jogging across the street and down the block. He was there in ten.

  Rachelle had done as asked, not that he questioned she would. She was sitting with Hanna at a table by the window, cuddling Clay close, bent over her nephew, cooing.

  His eyes went to Hanna to see her eyes on him, smiling.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” she called.

  Christ, he fucking loved it when she called him sweetheart.

  And he fucking hated what he had to do.

  He didn’t move from the door and crooked a finger at her.

  Her brows drew together, her smile got bigger and she looked at Rachelle. Muttering something he couldn’t hear that made Rache give her a smile she didn’t fully commit to, Hanna got up and moved to him.

  The instant she was close enough, he reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.

  “What on earth? Have you gone loopy?” she asked his back as he dragged her down the street.

  “Hush a minute, baby.”

  “Whatever,” she murmured then finished, “Macho man, loopy.”

  He wanted to smile at that, too.

  He didn’t.

  He looked both ways, led them across the street and to his Jeep. Once there, he turned her, pushed her into its side and closed in.

  She blinked and looked around, got the wrong idea and her face changed as her eyes lifted to his.

  “You know, we’re married now so I think it’s okay if you kiss me in public even if you’re in the mood to taste me,” she informed him. “Though I’ll also remind you that even when we weren’t married and just living in sin, you had no problem doing that, so this has got me a little confused.”

  Raid lifted his hands to either side of her neck, bent deep and whispered, “Hold onto me.”

  Her eyes moved over his face. She finally read it and he knew it when her body tensed. Without further hesitation, she lifted her hands and curled her fingers into his jacket.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, her eyes now anxious, her voice holding a tremble.

  “Honey…” he started then clipped, “fuck.”

  She jerked his jacket out then in. “Raid—”

  He slid his hands up to her jaw, got closer and laid it out fast, “Got a call from the visiting nurses. Fran went there this morning and found Miss Mildred passed away in the night.”

  Pain seared through him as he watched that same pain blister over his wife’s expression leaving it stricken, pale and vulnerable.

  And agonized.

  Fuck yeah, he hated having to do this to her.

  Hanna pushed through his hands and planted her face in his chest, her arms going tight around him.

  Raid gathered her closer, bent his neck and whispered into the top her hair, “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  But she did hold on tight, even as she started trembling.

  “Mom’s comin’ to the café. We’re gonna get Clay and go home. She or I’ll stay with you and the other will go deal with shit,” he shared.

  Hanna said nothing.

  “I’ll call your folks when we figure out who’s doin’ what,” he continued.

  Hanna still said nothing.

  “Baby, look at me,” he urged.

  She didn’t move.

  Raid lifted a hand to her jaw, trying to force it away so he could see her face, but she pressed deeper into him so he stopped.

  “Hanna—”

  “He won’t remember,” she told his chest.

  “What, honey?”<
br />
  “Clay. He’s named after a man he’ll never meet and he’ll grow up and won’t remember that she told him the lightning story.”

  Raid closed his eyes, wrapped his arm around her again and held her tight.

  With no room to move, his wife still managed to burrow deeper.

  “We can’t ever let him forget,” she said.

  “We won’t let him forget,” Raid promised.

  “We can never let him forget.”

  “We’ll never let him forget.”

  Hanna held on.

  So did Raid.

  Silence ensued.

  His wife broke it.

  “She thought you were the cat’s pajamas,” Hanna told him.

  He fucking loved that.

  But Raid said nothing.

  “She also told me she thought you were the bee’s knees,” she continued.

  He fucking loved that, too.

  Raid again said nothing.

  Finally, her voice broke when she whispered, “She was always right.”

  Raid slid a hand into her hair and held her cheek close to his chest as she poured her grief into his sweater.

  Through her tears, she shared, “This is okay. Even Grams would think being in your arms was an okay place for a Boudreaux to cry.”

  Raid closed his eyes and kept holding tight.

  When she quieted, he led his wife to his sister’s café and shared the miserable news with his family. His mother took off to deal with things, he got his son and Raid took his family home.

  Though, at Hanna’s request, they made one stop.

  He left his wife and son waiting in the Jeep while he went into Miss Mildred’s house to pick up Spot.

  * * * * *

  One month later…

  Raid moved through the house to the front door.

  He pulled it open and pushed out the storm door, stepped on the front porch, turned right and stopped dead.

  There was Hanna. In a wool sweater, scarf wrapped around her neck, wide flannel headband holding her hair back, but wrapped over her ears keeping them warm. The rest of her was wrapped in his black cashmere afghan that she took off their bed. Their swaddled son, also under the throw, was lying asleep on her chest.

  She was in her swing, one leg up and bent, one foot to the porch, swaying them.

  His chest burned at the sight.

  Her eyes came to his and she smiled.

  His chest eased.

  He walked her way and sat in the wicker chair closest to them.