by Mari Carr
“Front-page articles?” she asked.
“Yeah, you’ve earned them. And Bridget, I’m promoting you from the weekend girl to the news team. You can clean out your cubicle on Monday and move your stuff upstairs to a real office. I’ll even throw in a nice raise.”
She was stunned. She’d landed the promotion she’d wanted for years, but strangely it didn’t make her as happy as she’d expected it would. “Thank you.” Clearly, she just needed time to process. Too many incredible things were coming at her too quickly.
Several other reporters from larger papers, including the Times and the Post, struggled to get closer, all of them yelling questions at her. Cameras began flashing.
“Bridget,” a familiar voice shouted. Looking to her left, she spotted Matt in his cowboy hat waving at her. “Over here, sweetheart. We’ve got the car.”
She fought her way through the pack, simply saying the words “no comment” over and over until she reached Matt. He tucked her securely by his side, using his size and strength to battle the rest of the way to the car. Mark was waiting at the curb with the engine running as Matt opened the back door, helped her in and then crawled in beside her.
As he slammed the door, more cameras flashed and more reporters descended.
“Get us the hell out of here, Mark,” Matt demanded when it looked like they’d surround the vehicle.
Mark pulled out into traffic, causing a taxicab to slam on its brakes and blare the horn. “Jesus,” he muttered. “The drivers in this city are fucking crazy.”
He’d had the same complaint this morning. The lawyers had hoped a verdict would be reached today. They’d suggested she bring her own transportation home rather than risk being followed by the swarms of reporters onto the subway system. It had been good advice.
“Maybe you should pull over and let me take it from here,” Bridget suggested when she noticed Mark’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. She’d learned to drive on these mean streets. She could maneuver her way through traffic like a pro.
Mark shook his head, then mumbled another curse when a large truck cut into his lane. “No. I’ll get us back to your apartment.”
She grinned. Her guys had been troopers, accompanying her to New York, staying in her tiny apartment under protective custody with her. They’d endured the traffic jams, crowds, and dreary weather. She’d never seen two men less attuned to life in the city, yet they’d never complained once. Never been anything less than completely supportive of her and what she needed to do.
“Who were the guys talking to you before the horde of reporters descended?” Matt asked.
“Oh. One man was the police commissioner. He wanted me to tell Rodney his job would be waiting for him after he recuperated.”
Neither man replied to that. They all knew Rodney faced a long road to recovery before that could happen. His arm had been badly injured by the bullet, many of the nerves destroyed. Caleb had confided last night on the phone he feared Rodney would never recover full use of the arm.
Bridget’s heart ached at the thought. Rodney had risked his life and his career to keep her safe. In the end, he’d nearly died taking a bullet meant for her, and now perhaps he’d never be able to use his arm again. It wasn’t fair.
Chalk up another strike against her and her damn ambition. Lyle gave his life so that she could achieve her dream job, and now there was a good chance Rodney had sacrificed his own future for her. How many lives had she wrecked in her attempts to get what she wanted?
“Who was the other fella? The one in the cheap suit?”
She laughed at Matt’s description. Her editor in chief was the epitome of bad taste, complete with long sideburns and a comb-over. “My boss.” She swallowed heavily, then continued, “He offered me a promotion to the news staff, my own office, even a raise.”
“Hey,” Mark said, glancing in the rearview mirror at her. “That’s great.”
“Yeah,” she said. The news didn’t feel any better now than it had when she’d been offered the job. In fact, it felt terribly wrong. A year ago she would have been dancing in the street after such an offer.
It was Lyle’s last gift to her. She’d gotten exactly what she’d always wanted. The old saying “Be careful what you wish for…” drifted through her mind. How could she turn the job down knowing it was Lyle’s greatest hope for her? That he’d given his life so that she’d have this chance?
Even Rodney had risked his own career to see her brought safely back to New York, to this future. Rodney’s voice drifted through her mind. You’ll be the greatest reporter New York City has ever seen.
They rode in silence the rest of the way to her apartment, the quietness stifling.
Matt took her hand as they walked up the stairs to her third-floor apartment. It was the first time since her return to the city there hadn’t been a cop positioned outside her door.
“Free at last,” she whispered.
Matt squeezed her hand.
They entered the apartment. The second the door closed behind him, Mark reached for her arm and pulled her into his embrace. He kissed her so hard her lips stung. She relished the pain, shared his need for raw, hard, no-holds-barred sex.
She gripped the hem of Mark’s long-sleeved shirt and pulled it over his head. Matt was behind her in an instant, ripping first her coat, then her shirt off with haste.
“Naked,” Mark demanded. None of them needed more instruction than that. She unhooked her pants, stripping them off with her panties. Matt and Mark followed suit, and within seconds they were all undressed and reaching for each other.
Mark dropped to his knees in front of her, lifting her legs over his shoulders, holding her open to his hungry mouth as Matt supported her weight with strong arms wrapped around her chest. He gripped her breasts roughly, pulling and squeezing the aching flesh as he placed a long line of hot, wet kisses along the side of her neck. She felt him suck the sensitive skin beneath her ear and knew he was marking her. She didn’t care. She wanted the world to know, needed them to know, that she belonged to these two men, and that they belonged to her.
Mark’s tongue drove into her dripping pussy and she cried out. He fucked her with his lips, his teeth, his tongue, driving her to the now familiar heights she’d never achieved with another man. These men were made for her.
“God,” she said, gasping for breath. Matt tightened his arms, gripping her more securely. She wasn’t sure how he was managing to keep hold of her. Mark was driving her insane and her body was gyrating out of control.
“Come for him, sweetheart. Let him have a taste of you. Then I’m going to put you on your hands and knees and fuck you from behind.” Matt’s erotic whispers combined with Mark’s wicked mouth cast her into white-hot bliss. She cried out and trembled, her orgasm coming so hard and fast her bones shook.
Matt, true to his word, barely gave her time to come down from heaven before he had her on the floor in front of him. He slid into her from behind as her fingers clenched against the rug, looking for purchase. There were no preliminaries—just raw, hard, deep thrusts. She loved it.
Mark’s legs appeared in front of her and she realized she needed more. She looked up, beckoned him closer with her hungry eyes. Mark knelt before her and she took his cock into her mouth.
Mark’s hands flew to her head, tangling in her hair, tightening around the tresses almost painfully. The sensation drove her, encouraged her to take more. To take it all.
For several feral moments, they took their pleasures, heedless of their surroundings. The sounds of the city were overshadowed by slapping flesh and deep groans. Matt came first, his fingers gripping her hips tightly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d left finger-sized bruises on her skin. She loved them, wore them with pride, jokingly called them her war wounds.
Mark came next, the first spurt of come splashing against her throat, awakening her own building climax. She moaned when Matt touched her clit. Both men had quickly learned the secret to her release. She
trembled as Mark’s flesh began to deflate. She released him and then came, shuddering almost violently.
Mark backed away, his hands still supporting her head. She was sweating, panting, her skin too sensitive to the touch.
She jerked when Matt withdrew from her body and then bent over to lift her. “It’s okay,” he soothed.
He carried her to her bed. Both men took turns washing her as she lay on the mattress in a state of boneless, sated relief. Finally, they crawled in next to her. It was a tight fit, her double mattress a far cry from the king-size beds they’d shared in Wyoming. Her men were big; it stood to reason all their beds were big too.
She’d just about drifted off to sleep when Mark’s deep voice dragged her painfully back to reality. “We’re flying out in the morning.”
“What?”
Mark placed a soft kiss on her head. “We have to go home, Bridget. We’ve been away from the ranch for too long. We didn’t want to leave until we knew you were safe. With the trial over and the judge behind bars…”
She nodded, had known this moment was coming. That knowledge didn’t make it any easier. “I understand.”
Mark tipped her face up to his. She tried to force a smile, but failed. Her heart was breaking.
“Darlin’, we were going to ask you to come home with us. We even bought you a ticket. We wanted you to move to Wyoming and start a life with us.”
“Wanted? Past tense?”
She felt Matt shrug behind her, his fingers tracing light patterns on her hip. “You’ve been offered your dream job, Bridge. We’d never take that away from you, never ask you to give that up.”
Mark looked around the room. The lights from the street cast more than a dim glow in the room. Mark had remarked on how it never truly got dark his first night in the city. She’d laughed and told him how much she’d freaked out her first night in the woods when she realized she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face.
Mark glanced toward the window, the sounds of traffic on the street below filling the room. Horns blared, large trash trucks clattered, voices carried. “Your life is so different from ours. I don’t think I realized just how much until we landed in New York. We don’t have a lot to offer that can compete with this. The museums, the lights, the people, the restaurants. You could spend a lifetime in this city and never get bored. There are thousand things to do here on any given night, while I can name about five outlets for entertainment back home and some of those are only once-a-year deals.”
“You guys find your fun in a different way. Riding the horses, sitting in the gazebo and watching the sunset, taking long walks in the woods. That’s nothing to sneeze at, you know? That stuff’s really special. Nice.”
Matt chuckled. “My, how the tables have turned. The country mouse is impressed with the city, while the city girl finds joy in the country. Who’da thunk it?”
They laughed softly, until silence fell between them once more.
“So you aren’t going to ask me to come with you?”
Mark sighed. “Darlin’, it’s taking every ounce of strength in my body not to get down on my knees and beg you to come back with us. You know how we feel. The decision has to be yours. We can’t live in New York City. We just can’t.”
Matt moved closer, his chest pressing against her back in a way she’d grown to love. She wasn’t sure how she’d be able to sleep alone in her cold bed. “It’s not fair of us to ask you to do anything. You’d be the one making all the sacrifices, all the changes.”
“So if I stay here,” she started, then her words failed her. If she stayed here, what? Her heart ached, but she forced herself to finish. “If I stay here, it’s over?”
Mark cupped her cheek. “We could try the long-distance thing, but how long do you think that would last? Our days off are few and far between. These last two weeks are the longest we’ve ever been away from the ranch in our lives. You’re starting a new position with the paper. Chances are your vacation time will be limited too.”
“There’s always phone sex,” Matt suggested. While Mark was the voice of reason, the calm, practical one, Matt led with emotion. In this case, she felt more like Matt. She wanted to be impractical, to say they could make this relationship work despite the distance. She couldn’t do it.
She shook her head. “No. Mark’s right. It wouldn’t work. All or nothing.”
Mark kissed her forehead. “God, darlin’, I’m sorry. We were stupid to live in the moment, to walk into this blindly ignoring the outcome.”
“We weren’t wrong. I’ve lived every moment of the last seven months on borrowed time, knowing I could be killed at any second. I wouldn’t have missed our time together for all the money on earth. I don’t regret a single thing we’ve done.”
Matt’s lips brushed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “Me either, Bridget. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. To us.”
Mark and Matt had given her far more than she could ever say. They had a quiet, confident air that was charming, irresistible, so unlike the other men she’d dated in her life. They’d opened her eyes to a world she didn’t know existed—a world of horses and nature and peace. Of laughter and gazebos and off-the-charts amazing sex.
They’d offered her their friendship, their bodies, their trust and their hearts freely, and neither man had pressured her for more than she could give. She ached to explain to them why she had to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. She’d never felt so torn, so shattered. She’d let so many people down in the last year—Lyle, Rodney, and now Matt and Mark. Guilt consumed her, stealing her voice, breaking her heart.
She closed her eyes and remembered the image of Lyle’s lifeless body, of Rodney lying on the pavement—both men covered in blood. They’d shed that blood for her. She owed them so much. Everything.
“We better get some sleep,” Mark said. “Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”
Mark was right. The morning came too soon. Bridget sat at her kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee, while Matt and Mark gathered their things. They’d called for a taxi, and Bridget sat waiting for the inevitable honking of its horn on the street down below.
Mark came out of her bedroom with his duffle. “Well, I guess that’s about it.”
She swallowed heavily, fighting to keep the tears at bay. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t make this good-bye more difficult by crying. She could see the strain in Mark’s face. His eyes reflected every bit of the misery she was feeling.
Matt came out of the bedroom next. His carry-on bag appeared to be stretched to the limit.
“What do you have in there?” she asked. It hadn’t been that full when they left Wyoming.
Matt shrugged. “Just a few souvenirs for the folks back home. Found a foam Statue of Liberty hat for Jessie, some golf balls with the Empire State Building on them for Caleb, and I got this really cool music box for Jake. Looks like the one in that movie he likes so much.” He glanced at Mark. “Crap. Forgot the name of it. Has the dude in the mask.”
“Phantom of the Opera,” Mark replied. “Jacob thinks Gerard Butler is hot.”
Bridget giggled. “Well, Jake’s right. He’s uber-hot.” She looked at Matt. “You couldn’t think of Phantom of the Opera.”
Matt shrugged. “I don’t watch that shit. Jake turns it on and starts singing along to that opera music and I head for the hills. Give me some good old-fashioned rock and roll tune or a kick-ass country song any day. Anyway, I thought he’d like the music box. Even though the sucker’s bulky and weighs a fucking ton.”
She stood up and crossed the room. She placed a quick kiss on Matt’s cheek. “It’s a very thoughtful gift. He’ll love it.”
A horn blared outside.
Mark walked to the window and looked down. “Our cab’s here.”
She’d offered to drive them to the airport, but they’d both refused, claiming they’d rather say their good-byes in private. She suspected they knew she’d fall apart the second they left. They didn’t
want her driving in New York traffic, sobbing her heart out.
They’d both taken her again during the night. Making love to her as if she were as fragile as glass. Her lips were slightly swollen from their never-ending, beautiful kisses. They’d left an imprint on her heart and body that she’d never be able to wash away. Hell, she’d never want to.
“Well, I guess this is good-bye,” she said, the words sounding thick even to her own ears. Her throat was closing and soon she wouldn’t be able to speak at all.
Mark nodded. Dropping his duffle bag, he walked over and gathered her in his tight, all-encompassing embrace. She clung to him for several wonderful seconds before forcing herself to release him. He bent down and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I always will.”
She sucked in a breath that turned to a soft sob. She wanted to speak the words, but she couldn’t make a sound. Nothing that wouldn’t break the dam. Instead she nodded. Mark smiled sadly and she knew he understood.
Matt claimed her next, picking her up as he hugged her, planting lots of soft kisses against her scalp. “God, Bridge. I’m going to miss the shit out of you.”
She felt the first tear fall when he stepped back. She struggled to swallow. Christ, she needed to say something, but her voice was paralyzed.
Matt ran his hand along her cheek, wiping away the tear. “You’re beautiful and I love you.”
His words sealed her fate. They had to leave or she’d never let them go. Images of her sobbing and clinging to their legs flashed before her. She needed to get a grip.
She held her breath instead.
They each picked up their bags and headed for the door. Before they departed, they turned and gave her one last identical, dimple-creased smile. Her beloved cowboys.
The door closed and she crumpled, releasing her pent-up breath. She held herself silent as she let the tears begin to flow. It wouldn’t do for them to hear her falling apart.
Walking to the window, she watched as they appeared on the street below. They threw their bags in the trunk. Before they climbed in, both of them looked up.
