Fragile

by Shiloh Walker

  Devon shrugged. “Just thinking. Kids—it’s amazing what they can do. One minute they have you laughing, then you’re ready to pull your hair out and scream, and then you just want to cry.”

  “I think you could use a few more of the laughing minutes.” He lifted his hand, and Devon watched, mesmerized, as he caught a flyaway curl. Her hair was a thick, nearly unmanageable mass of curls. Usually she had it gelled and pulled back into some kind of submission, but at the end of the day the first thing she did was let it out of the twists, clips, and knots she used during the day. Loose, it hung halfway down her back. When it was wet, she could sit on it.

  “I don’t suppose you’d take your hair down, would you?” Luke asked, a little out of the blue.

  She blinked, tipped back her head to see his face a little better. “Take it down?”

  “Yeah.” He continued to rub the curl back and forth between his fingers as he lifted his gaze to hers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, giving him a sleepy, sexy look that had her wanting to lean in and kiss him. “I have this thing for your hair.”

  A hot rush of blood flooded her cheeks. Slowly, she reached up and pulled out the stretchy band that held her hair up. The weight of it fell down around her shoulders, halfway down her back. “It’s so long, it gets in my way,” she said, shrugging self-consciously.

  “It’s gorgeous,” he murmured. “I didn’t know it was so long.” She watched as he caught a curl and wrapped it around his finger. Her mouth went dry, and she looked from his hands to his face to find him staring at her. “Man, I love these curls, Devon. There have been times when you come into the ER and your hair is trying to get free, and I wonder how you’d look with all this hair hanging down.”

  Devon opened her mouth, but the only thing she could say was, “Uh . . .” Oh, don’t you sound smart? she thought sarcastically. She swallowed, and it sounded horribly loud. Say something, Devon. She needed to say something. But then Luke’s gaze shifted to her mouth, and she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Or a damn thing to do—except one thing.

  There was one thing she wanted to do. She wanted to kiss him.

  As she watched, his lips curved into a grin, and he murmured, “You’re asking for trouble, looking at me like that, Devon.”

  She blinked. A sudden rush of courage flooded her, and she met his gaze with a smile of her own. “Am I? What kind of trouble?”

  His hand came up, and he cupped her chin. That was the only place he touched her until he lowered his lips to hers. “This kind,” he muttered, and then he kissed her. His mouth was warm on hers. He slid his tongue along her lower lip, and she pushed up onto her toes so she could lean into him. The hand cupping her face tightened a little. Devon opened her mouth. Luke groaned. His chest vibrated as the sound rumbled out of him.

  Deep inside, that sexy, hungry sound made her ache.

  Her heart skipped a beat or two when he laid a hand on her hip. He didn’t do anything else, just rested it there, but she was excruciatingly aware of that heat burning through the thin layer of her dress. Luke deepened the kiss, taking it slow and easy—too slow, it seemed to Devon.

  She burned for more. She wanted to feel his hands on her—all over her—and she wanted to touch him back. Her hands shook a little as she lifted them and rested them on his hips. The thin layer of his simple navy blue polo shirt was too much, and she eased her hands under it. Under it, his skin was warm, muscled, and smooth. He groaned again, and the hand cupping her chin slid around to the base of her neck, fisting in the tangle of curls. He arched her neck up and slanted his mouth more firmly against hers.

  His tongue pushed inside her mouth, and the full taste of him hit like a nuclear blast. She wanted to rip his clothes away, and then her own. She wanted to explore the hard, muscled body, wanted to feel it against hers. Desperate to do just that, she pressed her body against his. The hand on her hip slid around her waist. He drew her close, their bodies aligning perfectly. So perfectly she could feel the hard-muscled planes of his chest, the length of his legs, and the thick ridge of his erection, pressed flat against her belly. Heat exploded through her, followed closely by a hunger unlike anything she’d ever known.

  But the hunger was followed by fear.

  It was nothing he did, nothing he said. Just one minute she was reveling in the feel of his hands on her body, and then she was battling the fear back into submission—or trying to. And failing. She felt his hand slip under one of the skinny straps at her shoulder. The heat and strength of his hand was no longer so enticing. She tensed, and as quick as that, Luke let her go. His hands smoothed down her sides, and then he stepped back. His lips lingered for just a moment before he lifted his head.

  The fear in her eyes was enough to make him want to punch something. Luke had seen more than his share of battered women, battered kids; they all had the look in their eyes. Like they’d been kicked before, and they expected to be kicked again.

  Seeing it in her eyes was harder, though. He’d pegged Devon as a fighter some time ago. She would have to be, to do the job she did. Bad thing about fighters, though, too often they were forged in fire. And the thought of what he suspected had made Devon into who she was . . .

  The gut-deep suspicion wasn’t just a suspicion anymore. He knew it. It was in the way she held herself, the way she moved, like an alert little cat, observing everything with wary, watchful eyes. What she’d revealed to him that night at the steakhouse, her drug addiction . . . What had she said?

  “Some bad shit happened, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

  Oddly enough, he understood a hell of a lot better now, because he knew, without a doubt, his instincts had been right. Referring to it as “bad shit” was an understatement.

  An ugly, black fury surged through him, and he had to fight to hide it from her. Somebody had hurt her, and he hated it. He was going to find out who it was, and if he didn’t kill the bastard, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

  She was staring at him with dark, unreadable eyes. He forced himself to smile, burying his anger down deep inside. Devon didn’t need to see it. There was already enough anger and violence in her world. Touching his finger to her lower lip, he murmured, “You pack a punch.”

  Her cheeks flushed a soft pink.

  Luke wanted to ask her if he could come inside. The thought of leaving her right now just wasn’t tolerable, but coming inside, even if she wanted him to, was a bad idea. He wanted to hold her close, promise he’d protect her, promise he’d find whoever had hurt her.

  It would be a bad idea all around, though. Especially when he was still so damned pissed off. He needed to get away from there before he exploded. Pissed as he was, as much as he needed to get away before he lost it, he couldn’t leave. They saw each other often enough at Rudding, but it was too sporadic. He wasn’t going to chance them going a couple weeks without seeing each other, and he wasn’t going to count on Devon not getting antsy again and trying to dodge him.

  “You got plans tomorrow night?”

  “No.”

  Brushing her hair back from her face, he asked, “Maybe I could come over. We could go see a movie or something. Get a pizza.”

  She smiled, and that dimple made a brief appearance. “Sure.”

  Some of the tension inside his gut eased. Just a little. He wouldn’t have to wait too long to see her again. Now he just had to get himself under control before it happened again.

  Dipping his head once more, he brushed his lips against hers. “Sweet dreams, Devon.”

  Sweet dreams . . . Devon closed the door behind her and, unable to resist, watched his shadowy image through the stained glass as he headed back to his car.

  Turning to press her back against the door, she felt a goofy, euphoric smile spread across her face. She felt—giddy. Yeah, that was the word.

  Devon felt absolutely giddy. Her belly was jumping around, her heart banged against her rib cage with wild abandon, and she had all these weird little pains inside her. Her breast
s felt heavy, her nipples were tight, and deep inside, there was a hollow, empty ache.

  With a soft laugh, she pushed off the door and set the alarm system, and then she headed upstairs, stripping off her dress as she went, kicking her shoes off on the landing. Devon went through the routine of getting ready for bed, all with that silly smile on her face, and when she lay down a half hour later, she imagined she could still feel his lips on hers.

  “Sweet dreams,” he’d whispered.

  And they were sweet—all centered around him.

  As she dreamed about Luke, smiling even in her sleep, somebody else was dreaming about her.

  But in those dreams, there were no smiles. Until big, cruel hands closed around Devon’s throat and she started to gasp for air, her face going red, her fingers clawing at his hands.

  SIX

  “I tried calling you last night, baby.”

  Devon glanced up over the island at her mother, unable to keep from grinning at the nosy expression on Liz Manning’s face. “Oh?”

  Liz reached across the island as Devon tried to filch a cookie, smacking the back of her hand lightly. “Let them cool off first.” Then she smiled again. “Busy reading?”

  “Actually, I was busy with a guy.” It popped out of her mouth without her realizing how it sounded, and immediately, a brilliant blush turned her face red. Probably tomato red, Devon thought dismally. “Uh . . . not like that. We went to a movie.”

  Liz laughed. “Really?” This time when Devon tried to snatch a cookie, Liz let her, settling down on the stool and propping her elbows on the island. “Weren’t you out with some guy a couple weeks ago?”

  Mouth full of ooey, gooey chocolate chip, Devon nodded.

  “Hmmmm.” Devon’s next attempt to grab a cookie resulted in Liz pulling the tray out of Devon’s reach. “Same guy?”

  Devon swallowed a bite of cookie and then replied dutifully, “Yes, Mom.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  Devon really hated that hmmmm sound. She suspected it was a mom sound, one moms across the globe made while they were trying to figure how to pry without sounding like they were prying.

  Of course, Liz Manning had very few qualms about prying.

  “Two dates with this guy, and you’re just now telling me?”

  Swallowing another bite of cookie, Devon said, “Actually it’s more like five.”

  Liz’s eyes widened. “Five dates?” Staring at her daughter, she tried to decide if she wanted to squeal with glee—silently, of course—or sulk. Five dates, and Devon hadn’t mentioned him. But five dates. Devon hadn’t dated the same guy more than once or twice, and she usually only went out on a real date a few times a year. The only serious romantic relationship Devon ever had was back in college, and it hadn’t ended well.

  Since then, a few sporadic dates here and there, and although Liz tried not to worry, it was hard.

  After what Devon had been through before Reece and Liz found her, some scars were to be expected, but Devon was twenty-six years old. The one failed relationship back in college hadn’t done much more than make Devon retreat even more.

  And no matter how hard she tried, over the past year or two, Liz hadn’t been able to keep from worrying. Studying Devon’s eyes, she saw something there she couldn’t remember seeing before.

  Happiness: that giddy, head-over-heels-rush sort of happiness that came from being in love, or very close to it.

  Whoever the guy was, Devon really liked him. And her Devon was a good judge of character. It was why she was so good at her job. Scooting the tray back to the middle of the table, Liz said, “Okay, so tell me about this guy.”

  “Geez, Mom.” Devon rolled her eyes, squirmed around a little bit, and blushed.

  Liz laughed. “Now, don’t geez, Mom me. This is a mom moment . . . my baby finally finding some guy that makes her blush . . . makes her smile.” Her smile softened, got a bit sadder. “You have no idea how much I’ve hoped and prayed you’d find just that.”

  Devon’s blush deepened, but she forced a smile. Reaching out, she took her mother’s hand and squeezed. “Yeah, I do. You think I don’t see you worrying about me?”

  With her free hand, Liz tucked a curl behind Devon’s ear and then cupped her cheek. “Of course you see it . . . but being aware of it and actually understanding are different things. You know that.” Something dark moved through her eyes, there for only a moment and then gone.

  But Devon had seen that look before: fury, fury over what had been done to Devon, over the hell Devon had gone through . . . a hell she still had to cope with. “Mom . . . I’m okay.”

  Liz patted her cheek. “I know you’re okay, baby. You’re too strong not to be. But I don’t want you okay. I want you happy.”

  “DID I hear you right?”

  On the other end of the phone, Quinn’s voice was more than just a little disbelieving. Luke rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you heard me right.”

  “Is this the girl you were moping about last month?” Quinn asked.

  Scowling, Luke replied, “I wasn’t moping. But yeah, that was her.”

  “If you weren’t moping, I dunno what in the hell to call it. What do you call sitting in some chick’s driveway?”

  “Thinking?” Luke offered helpfully.

  Quinn snorted. “Yeah, you call it thinking, man. What’s her name again?”

  “Devon.” Lying back on his bed, Luke stared out the skylight at the stars gleaming overhead and listened as his twin continued to mutter and mumble something about getting his hearing checked.

  “You’re really serious. About some girl. One girl. One single girl.”

  “Woman, Quinn.” Devon wasn’t a girl, and she sure as hell wasn’t just some girl. “And yes, I’m serious.”

  “Huh. Never would have thought to hear that from you.” Quinn was quiet another minute, and then he asked, “So how long you been seeing her?”

  “A little over a month. That night you called, it was our first date.”

  “A month. Only a month, and you’re already that serious about her? Hell, why haven’t you mentioned her until now?”

  Luke had been putting this conversation off for a while now. Explaining Devon, a woman with a history of drug abuse, might not go over real well with Quinn, who’d grown up dealing with physical abuse coming from his strung-out mother.

  Even though Devon’s past was just that, some people would judge her; she’d been right about that. Luke was worried his twin might be one of them.

  Right now, he didn’t really want to tell anybody much about her, and part of it was just because he was still feeling his way through the minefield of a serious relationship. Even Quinn, whom he was closer to than any other soul on earth, seemed a lot harder than Luke would have expected.

  Didn’t help that Quinn had been more moody than normal lately. Usually Luke managed to talk to his twin a couple times a month, but lately, Quinn had been distant, even for him.

  And that was saying a lot.

  Not long after Adam had died, Quinn had left the army. For a while, he’d drifted through town every few months, never staying for more than a few days, and then without even letting Luke know he was leaving, he’d get it in his head to move on, and it would be weeks before Luke heard from him again. Leaving the army hadn’t done much to help his twin, Luke didn’t think. Quinn still seemed caught between fury and grief, and nothing Luke said or did seemed to help.

  Quinn had always had issues connecting with people, always had problems realizing that things he did or said had an impact on those around him. But since Adam’s death, it was even more apparent. Luke wouldn’t be surprised if Quinn fell off the radar. Every time they spoke, Luke was half-prepared for the fact that it may be months . . . longer . . . before he talked to Quinn again.

  Luke hadn’t ever learned any more about the op that had killed Adam or the mysterious girl whom Quinn still wouldn’t talk about. That girl, whatever had happened to her, was at the root of Quinn’s rage, but the man wouldn�
��t talk about it.

  Luke had been content to wait, figuring Quinn would talk when he was ready. But that time, so far, hadn’t come. Quinn just remained disconnected, getting a little worse every time Luke saw him.

  It was weird sometimes, the relationship Luke had with his brother. They were twins, and as such, they had their weird bond, but it wasn’t what it should be. Quinn kept everybody at a distance, even his brother. Luke was closer to Quinn than most people, but Quinn wouldn’t ever let anybody in entirely.

  At least Luke wouldn’t have thought so. Except in his gut, he knew the unknown woman had meant something to Quinn.

  While Luke had flirted and romanced his way through high school, college, and half his adult life, Quinn had kept to himself, and now it seemed he’d lost the one woman he might have been interested in.

  Still sounding a little disbelieving, Quinn asked, “You’re serious about this girl you’ve only known a month?”

  Luke rolled his eyes. “I’ve known her for longer than that, Quinn. We just now started going out, though.”

  “How come I’m just now hearing about her?”

  There was an edge in Quinn’s voice, one that actually caught Luke by surprise. Although Quinn cared about his brother, the everyday things of life hadn’t ever much mattered. Small talk was a waste of time for Quinn, and unless it was connected to the job, Quinn considered almost everything small talk.

  Luke winced, realizing he had unwittingly cut Quinn out.

  Quinn had been cut out of too much, always the outsider, and getting it from his brother was a shitty deal, even if Luke seriously hadn’t realized that it would matter that much to Quinn.

  You’re falling in love with her. He’s not just your brother; he’s your best friend . . . Why wouldn’t it matter? The voice of his conscience spoke up, and guilt stirred.

  He had very little doubt about the sincerity and depth of his feelings for Devon. He suspected her feelings ran just as deep, and if things moved the way Luke was starting to hope, there would be one more thing Quinn was cut off from.