Seeking Vengeance

by McDonald, M. P.

  He wiped his hands on his jeans and yanked a chair out, half-falling as he sat. It was the most that he'd been on his bad leg, but he almost welcomed the pain as a distraction.

  * * *

  “Tell me about it.” Molly leaned her back against the counter, arms crossed, waiting. She knew his wounds bothered him, but that wasn't the reason for his pain. It went deeper. He was quiet for so long, she thought he would ignore her, but he closed his eyes as though gathering his thoughts.

  He finally focused on her. “For the last twelve years, I've worked for the ATF.”

  Surprise mingled with satisfaction that she'd been right. He wasn't a thug like most of Johnny's friends.

  “A year ago, I killed my son.”

  Caught off guard by the statement, Molly could only gape at him. She managed to close her mouth after a moment. Sam could not have killed his son. Not intentionally. She recalled the way his expression softened every time he looked at Kelsie. He was no child killer. “I don't believe you.”

  He broke eye contact, a faraway look settling on his face. “I'd been working undercover and infiltrated the motorcycle gang called the Ravens. I finally had enough evidence to prove that they were running arms and drugs. They had several legit businesses they used as fronts and to launder the money, but I obtained some documents and ledgers. I had a contact, and I was followed one day when I went to meet her.”

  Molly shifted, swallowing hard as she glanced out the window and spotted Kelsie and Gavin engrossed in hunting for grasshoppers. Good. That would keep them occupied for a while. This wasn’t a conversation her daughter should overhear. She slid onto the chair opposite Sam.

  “Nothing happened that day. I didn't know I'd been followed, but Sherry, my contact, was run off the road on her way back to the office.”

  “Oh my God!”

  Sam waved a hand. “She was okay, and we attributed it to a drunk. It wasn't until later we found out it was intentional.” He rubbed his eyes, bridging his nose before continuing, “I was deep undercover—hadn't seen my son for over a month. He was staying with my mom.”

  Where was the boy's own mother? At Molly's questioning look, Sam said, “His mother was someone I knew from high school. At our ten year class reunion, we had a…a thing.” He blushed and if the subject hadn't been so serious, Molly would have smiled and teased him. “She didn't want to be married to someone in law enforcement. Later, I found out why.”

  He shrugged, wincing slightly. “After Sean was born, she tried to be a mom, but was more in love with meth.” He made a face. “See, my job would have been a major cramp in her style. Eventually, she agreed to grant me full custody.”

  Molly had seen the nasty effects of meth and it wasn't pretty. “Wise decision.”

  Sam's eyes blazed and he slapped his hand down on the table. “No! It was the worst damn decision she ever made. If she'd been a decent mother, she would have kept Sean. She would have kept him away from me.” He lurched to his feet and limped across the kitchen, stopping at the back door. He leaned a forearm on the doorway and stared out into the yard. “It would have stopped him from being killed because of my damn pride.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed and she felt dread churn her stomach. She was sure it couldn't be his fault, but Molly didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to know what had happened. As a mother, she protected herself by saying bad things only happened to strangers. Sam was no longer a stranger and she was afraid to find out how Sean had died, as if the knowledge would rip apart the protective barrier she had built around her own daughter. But Molly couldn’t let it drop—not when Sam blamed himself. Swallowing hard, she asked, “What happened to Sean?”

  It seemed to take effort for Sam to tear his gaze from the children playing. When he did, she caught her breath at the depth of pain in his eyes.

  “The enforcer of the Ravens had my mother's house torched. She and Sean were trapped inside.”

  She gasped, tears springing to her eyes. “I'm so sorry, Sam.” There was nothing more she could say. It wasn’t his fault, but she could see how he might blame himself.

  If he noticed the tears, he didn't give any indication, instead, he stabbed a hand through his hair, making it stick out in a dozen different directions. “My mother died trying to save Sean. Their bodies were found by the back door.”

  Molly stood, needing to comfort him somehow. She moved behind him and tentatively touched his shoulder.

  His muscles quivered and when she tried to catch his eye, he averted his face. “Sam. Look at me.”

  He ignored her.

  “Listen, Sam, I missed the part where you killed your son. The way it sounds to me, some thug was responsible, not you.”

  He shook her hand off and brushed past her. She only had a brief glimpse, but the setting sun reflected a tear streak on his face an instant before he lifted his arm and swiped his face along his shoulder.

  She followed him as he moved into the living room. “Hey, you didn't answer me.” He might hate her for pushing, but he had to say it aloud. He needed to acknowledge that it wasn't his fault. “Look, I barely know you, but I've seen the way you are around Kelsie, there's no way you're capable of knowingly doing anything that would have jeopardized your own son.”

  He shot her a bitter smile as he began folding the sheets and blankets on the sofa. “You're right; you don't know me. You have no idea what I'm capable of.”

  Molly crossed her arms. “You don't scare me.” The dark look he directed at her made her a liar.

  He stalked towards her and it was all she could do to hold her ground. “You must have some notion that I'm this honorable ATF agent, but you'd be dead wrong. When Sean died, I decided that playing by the rules was for suckers.” He reached for her and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close. “For example, an honorable agent would never do this.”

  Molly's heart thundered in her ears as she fought the impulse to twist out of his grip. She had to prove to him that he wasn't bad. His fingers worked into the hair at the nape. She couldn't suppress the shiver that rippled down her back, but she lifted her chin in defiance.

  His gaze lowered to her mouth, and her heart sped up, only it wasn't fear this time. When he leaned towards her, she raised on tiptoe to meet him.

  She expected a rough kiss, but his lips brushed hers teasingly. Closing her eyes, her other senses came alive. His scent filled the air she breathed. Shaving cream, soap and a light muskiness. It was completely male and all encompassing. She pulled his head down with one hand, wanting more. The kiss, begun in anger and defiance, grew bolder as she touched his chest. It felt warm and firm beneath her fingers, his heart thudding against her palm.

  The kiss deepened as he pulled her against his body and tilted his head. When he began nibbling a path down her throat, she thought her knees would buckle.

  “Mommy!”

  The screen door slammed and Molly shoved away from Sam. He turned from her without a word and stalked to the front window.

  She smoothed her hair away from her face and faced the kitchen doorway just as Kelsie burst through.

  “Hey, hon—what are you hollering about?”

  “I caught a lightning bug!” She had her hands cupped and lifted them in front of Molly's face.

  “Wow! You must be faster than a greased pig at a sausage factory to catch one of those by yourself.”

  Kelsie beamed. “I am.” She skipped towards the window. “Want to see, Mr. Sam?”

  Sam turned and when Kelsie opened her hands to show him, the bug flew out.

  “Oh no! He's getting away,” Kelsie squealed.

  His hand shot out, catching the escapee. “Here you go, sweetheart.” He gently put his closed hand over Kelsie's and Molly was struck by the contrast of his strong tanned hands and Kelsie's small pudgy ones.

  “Thanks!” Kelsie's tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on not squishing her prisoner. “Can I keep him for a pet?”

  Molly cros
sed her arms as she shook her head. “Hon, don't you think his family will miss him?”

  Kelsie's lip jutted out like she was going to protest, but after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah. His mommy would miss him, just like you'd miss me.”

  Molly winced at Sam's stricken look. She ushered Kelsie towards the kitchen, throwing a glance over her shoulder. He once again had his back to the room. “That's right, sweetie. Why don't we go return your little guy to the backyard and tomorrow night, you can visit him again. How does that sound?”

  “Sure, Mommy.”

  Molly ruffled Kelsie's curls, thankful for her daughter's easygoing nature.

  Kelsie beamed up at her. “I named him Buggy.”

  Only half-listening, Molly said, “That's a perfect name.” She held the door as Kelsie ran out to the middle of the yard and consulted with Gavin, who was still pouncing on hapless lightning bugs. A few seconds later, after some whispered message into her hands, Kelsie released Buggy back to the wild.

  When the boy ran to catch it, Kelsie yelled at him. Molly leaned against the doorframe, a smile curving her lips at her daughter's protectiveness of her Buggy. She couldn't imagine life without her sweet little girl and swallowed a lump in her throat at what Sam must have gone through—was still going through. For a brief moment, when he had pulled her close, she had felt a spark of fear, but thinking back, his grip had been firm but not forceful. It was a world of difference from other experiences she had endured. The taste of his kiss lingered on her lips.

  The twilight deepened and Molly pushed away from the doorway, taking a few steps into the yard. She squatted beside her daughter who was watching a lightning bug glow in a tuft of grass. She put her arm around her shoulders, drawing her up. “Bath time, hon.”

  * * *

  Sam sat on the sofa and worked on his boot. The leather was stiff and he swore as he bent it back and forth. He should have asked Molly to pick up some cheap boots, just something to get him on his bike and out of here. There was no denying it. If he stayed any longer, he'd end up doing something he'd regret. His chest seemed to burn where her hand had rested. Sam sucked in a breath and yanked at the leather, hoping that if he concentrated on the boot hard enough, he could forget the way the defiance in her eyes had flamed into something more— a passion and fire that threatened to consume him. He swallowed hard. And her body. She'd melted against him and he'd felt every curve. It felt so right, but it couldn't be. He slammed the door on the possibilities. There wasn't time for complications.

  Pain washed over him as he heard Kelsie chattering in the bathroom. Every time he spoke to her, he thought of his son. Sean would be eight now, but when he'd died, he was just a little older than Kelsie. It wasn't the little girl's fault, but every giggle and innocent question felt like someone ripping the scab off a wound. He wasn't ready to be around kids, that much was certain.

  With a muttered curse, he turned his attention back to the task at hand, and pushed against the toe of the boot to loosen it. The effort caused pain to pulsate through his shoulders and he lost his grip on the boot. It thudded to the floor.

  “Sam?” Molly hurried into the room. Her skin glowed from the heat and steam of the bathroom.

  He ached to caress it. “Sorry. Just dropped my boot.” The pain in his back forgotten, he tried not to stare at the damp spot on the front of her shirt. It caused the fabric to cling in all the right places.

  Something of what he felt must have shown on his face, because her cheeks turned rosy and she backed down the hallway before she ducked into the bathroom again. “Hurry up and brush, Kels. You're already up past your bedtime.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Sam sat in the living room. He pretended it was because his back and leg hurt too much to move, but the soft murmurs and giggles coming from Kelsie's room sounded like the sweetest music to his ears. Despite the ache centered in his chest, he relished the memories that rushed to the front of his brain. He saw himself making his son’s breakfast, supervising his baths and best of all, tucking him in at night. On evenings like this, Sean would play outside until the last ray of sunlight had been swallowed by the horizon, and then he'd fight sleep. It was as if he was so afraid he'd miss something that Sam would have to corral the boy and throw him over a shoulder kicking and hollering. By the time they reached Sean's room, the child would be belly laughing and pounding on Sam's back.

  Sam would toss him like a sack of potatoes on the bed, then he'd tuck him in. He inhaled, remembering the scent of his son's hair. It was a sweet mixture of little boy sweat, sunshine and fresh air.

  His breath caught as his throat swelled. It hurt so damn bad. He bent his head and tried to swallow the knot of pain. Tears sprang to his eyes and he blinked them away. He was a grown man, for Pete's sake.

  The sofa cushion dipped and he felt Molly sit beside him. Embarrassed, he refused to look at her. He hadn't cried since the funeral. Now, in the space of a few hours, he'd been reduced to tears twice for no reason.

  Molly' rested her hand on his forearm, stroking gently. She didn't speak, just touched. Her fingers, feather-light, seared a path on his skin. He held his breath when her hand dropped to his leg. She applied more pressure, running her hand up the outside of his thigh.

  Grief and desire collided, merging into a supernova of emotion. Sam stood and pulled her up against him. She offered no resistance as he covered her mouth with his own. His hands roamed her back as they kissed. He shivered as her fingers ran through his hair. She tasted so good, and he couldn't get enough. He soaked up her touch and taste like parched earth in a summer storm. He slid a hand beneath her shirt and thrilled at the shudder that swept her as he cupped her breast. Her skin was smooth and warm. She offered her neck to him as he trailed kisses to her collarbone.

  “Wait. Not here.”

  Sam dragged his mouth away. “What?”

  “My room. Not here.” Molly tugged his hand and led him down the hall.

  He admired the fit of her jeans as she led the way. Inside, she shut the door and pressed him against it with a kiss as she worked at the buttons of his shirt. Surprised, but turned on more than he thought possible, he allowed her to do what she wished. He groaned when she licked his chest and grinned at the impish gleam in her eyes.

  He decided two could play this game as he reached for the hem of her polo and tugged it over her head, tossing it to the side. Her arms draped around his neck, and he slid his hands over her shoulders and down her back as he claimed another kiss. He needed her skin against his, and he sought the clasp on her bra, making short work of it, easing the straps down her arms. She pressed against his chest and he groaned, wanting to savor every new sensation but needing even more.

  He ached to taste and touch every inch of her. As though reading his mind, she backed up until her legs hit the edge of the bed and then she lay back. The impish smile was gone, instead her eyes burned into his as she undid the snap on her jeans. Sam swallowed. Hard.

  * * *

  Molly gripped the edge of the bathroom vanity. What had she done? Her nerves still tingled. The few times she'd been with men since Kelsie had been born had been brief, disappointing encounters. One had been a fellow paramedic that Molly had been attracted to for months. When they'd gone out, she'd been too eager. When she saw him a few days later, she'd been devastated when he'd treated her no differently than before. She'd been so wrapped up in her crush on the guy that she'd been blinded to the fact that he didn't feel the same way about her. She was just an easy lay to him. Embarrassed at her behavior, she'd only dated one other man since then. That time, she'd let him pursue her, and after several months, they slept together. It had ended in a disaster of awkwardness. It had been worse before Kelsie’s birth, but she rarely allowed those memories to surface. There was no comparison to what she and Sam had done, with the act that had resulted in Kelsie’s birth. Technically, it might have been the same thing, but emotionally, they were polar opposites. Unwilling to spoil tonight’s magic, Molly pushed the painful
memories from her past back into the vault in her mind where she kept them under lock and key.

  After that, she swore off men, sure that there must be something wrong with her. Sex wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, and she didn't miss it. Or so she'd believed, until now.

  Sam had taken things slow, allowing her desire to go from simmering to a full boil before he’d entered her. He kept her on the edge until she wanted to explode—and then she did explode. At least, it felt like it. Molly blushed at her reflection in the mirror. The feeling had been like nothing she'd ever experienced before. What must he think of her? Covering her face with her hands, she felt heat climb her cheeks as she remembered how she had moaned and whimpered without shame at the time, but now? Now, she wanted to die of embarrassment.

  The second Sam finished, Molly had rolled off the bed and escaped to the bathroom, mumbling about cleaning up. She opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed her birth control pills, popping out the one for today and downing it with a handful of water. She splashed some more water on her face, brushed her teeth and combed her hair. She glanced at the back of the door, relieved to see her sleep shirt hanging there. It wasn't much, just a comfy old t-shirt, but she didn't think she could parade in front of Sam nude—even if he had already seen all of her.

  Now what should she do? She couldn't very well banish him to the couch after what they'd shared. Molly hugged the t-shirt to her chest. Had he really shared himself with her or had she just been a convenient emotional outlet? Did she have feelings for him beyond that of being grateful that he'd saved Johnny? It wasn’t just gratitude, she knew that, but it might have been that mixed with an incredible attraction. Balling the shirt up, she buried her face in it. What had she done?

  Molly pulled the shirt over her head and took a deep breath before opening the door. She needn't have worried about covering herself because Sam dozed, his dark hair brushing over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. Padding to the side of the bed, Molly tried to slip under the covers without disturbing him.