Retaliate

by Kristin Harte

  And then he was gone, and I was left with a mug of green tea, a sick feeling in my stomach, and a handful of tears I couldn’t hold back.

  Chapter Ten

  Bishop

  Funerals had always seemed weird to me. I had no interest in looking at a dead body or in being in the same room with one. Miss had felt the same way, it seemed, which was why we sat in a parlor at the Molnar Funeral Home in Rock Falls paying our respects to some flowers, a couple of pictures of the lady herself, and an urn of her ashes.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Another gray-haired lady shook Anabeth’s hand, whispering the same six words almost everyone in the room had said over the last hour. Anabeth simply smiled that showman’s smile and said thank you, probably not knowing who half these people were. Hell, I wasn’t sure I knew who they all were.

  “What’s doing, boss?” Gage plopped into the chair beside me, for once, sans Rex.

  “No dog tonight? I’m shocked.”

  “Dogs don’t belong in funeral homes.”

  “Dogs don’t belong in half the places you take Rex. What makes this different?”

  “It’s a funeral, jackass. I understand social conventions and norms, even if I usually choose to say fuck you to them. Not for something like this, though.”

  Huh. I never would have thought the man had limits.

  He wasn’t done, though. “Besides, Molnar’s granddaughters are here. They’re upstairs playing with Rex.”

  And suddenly, all was right with the world as I knew it in regards to Gage Shepherd. “That makes a fuckton more sense than your social conventions speech.”

  “Probably.” He settled deeper into his seat, slouching, looking far meaner and more antisocial than even I knew him to be. “You’re wearing those shit shoes again.”

  My dress shoes. “It’s a funeral.”

  He kicked out his leg, showing me the black, lug-soled boots on his feet. “They go with everything. Even those dress pants you like to wear.”

  “Are we really talking fashion right now?”

  “It’s function. Those Soul Suckers show up in the middle of this thing, and you’re going to be wishing for your boots.”

  I couldn’t really argue with him.

  I also couldn’t pay him much attention. My eyes sought out Anabeth, my ears trained on the cadence and tone of the words I couldn’t quite hear. Gage had to be second place tonight. I had a redhead with a grieving heart to take care of, even though I had no idea what to do for her. I mean, I knew what I wanted to do. Same thing I’d wanted to do since she’d kissed me goodnight at her bedroom door the night before. Since she’d slicked that little pink tongue into my mouth and made me rock fucking hard for her.

  None of those options were possible or appropriate for a funeral, though.

  Unless she asked.

  Fuck, if she asked me to touch her? To taste her and hold her and slide in between those long, sexy legs of hers? I’d probably blow my load like a chump. Like a teenager. Like a man who hadn’t been with the woman he loved for fourteen long years.

  As I focused on Anabeth and the way her dress hugged every inch of her curves, Gage stiffened beside me, his attention caught by something or someone. I turned, following his sightline. Katie Baker—recently moved back to town and owner of the only restaurant in Justice—worked her way through the throng of people toward Anabeth, while Gage followed her every move. When she stood in front of us, the two women hugged, their whispered conversation too quiet for even me to hear. Meanwhile, Gage kept watching—a little more surreptitiously now that Katie stood less than five feet away. I kept my eyes on Anabeth.

  As if she could sense me watching, Anabeth turned just a little, catching me looking at her. Staring, really. Devouring her with my eyes. Her smile changed—went from her act to real. From plastic and fake to the one she only gave a handful of people in her life. Me included. Even tired, pale, and sad, the woman was too beautiful to look away from when she smiled that way. And she was looking at me, making me feel like a fucking king. Like the luckiest man alive to be graced with such a beautiful vision.

  “How bad was it?” Gage asked, his voice low and soft. He didn’t look my way, though. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on the two women in front of us. On Anabeth and Katie.

  I didn’t need to ask what he meant. “The worst you can possibly imagine? Multiply it by ten.”

  He grunted, as if he understood. As if he knew exactly what I meant. And maybe he did. I might never have told him about Anabeth, but he’d seen me that first year after she’d left me. He’d watched me dive into my SEAL training with an energy fueled by something close to rage. I’d hated myself then—hated that I’d somehow lost her, that I’d fucked up bad enough to have her walk away from us. The next year? I’d hated her. And it had taken me a long fucking time to stop.

  Gage had seen it all, which was why his next question didn’t surprise me in the least. “You sure you’re willing to risk it again?”

  I stared at Anabeth, at the curve of her hip in the dress she wore, at the fancy updo thing she’d done to her hair, at the long line of her neck and the sharp line of her collarbone. I stared at the only woman I’d ever loved, the one who still held a piece of my heart. The one I would give anything to have back in my life and my bed.

  My answer was an easy one. “Absofuckinglutely.”

  Gage took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, then.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

  I didn’t really have an answer for him. Did I know? Sure—but the last time had ended in a way that had broken my heart and sent my life down a path I hadn’t planned for it to go. This time? If Anabeth left me again? I had no idea what I’d do.

  But as Katie walked away, Anabeth turned and gave me a soft, tired smile. A real one, not the stage smile she’d been tossing out to every person who approached her. And that look made every possibility laid out before me worth the risk.

  “I do know,” I said, smacking Gage on the shoulder as I rose to my feet. “And I’m still all in. You might want to think about diving in yourself at some point.”

  “And you might want to think about changing your shoes.”

  A funeral was not the place to flip someone off, so I ignored that comment. For the moment.

  Anabeth’s smile grew as I crossed the aisle to stand at her side, my left hand on her lower back and my right reaching to shake hands with the people who’d come to pay their respects. And when she sank into me, when her body relaxed and she leaned her shoulder against my chest as if seeking comfort, I stood a little straighter, a little firmer. I shifted into a parade rest sort of stance to support her.

  To be the one person she could count on no matter what.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in between mourners.

  “You never have to thank me for caring, Firefly.”

  “You smell like spearmint.”

  “Gum. Do you want some?”

  “No thanks, but I like the smell on you.” Her head landed on my shoulder, just for a second, before the next older gray-haired lady approached.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  And so the night went. But every time someone new expressed their condolences, every time I had to hear about Anabeth’s loss, my resolve firmed up. Fuck loss. I wouldn’t be losing Anabeth again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anabeth

  Katie was going to owe me big.

  “More dangly snowflake things. They make the room look festive.” The pint-sized brunette had her hands on her hips, accentuating the swell of them with each hop and sway as she practically danced around the dining room at The Baker’s Cottage. Every male gaze in the room followed her movements, but she didn’t notice. Too worried about making sure each detail was just so before the grand opening celebration that evening.

  No wonder she hadn’t been dating.

 
; And me? I was trying my damnedest not to think about Bishop and dating at the same time. He’d been so sweet at the funeral, so kind and supportive. We’d stood there like a couple, greeting people and accepting the condolences of the mourners. It had been…amazing. But Gage’s words from the other night refused to stop repeating in my head. They’d left me raw and unprotected, flaying my skin wide and exposing feelings I wasn’t ready to deal with. Sadly, the man in question—every thick, bearded inch of him—was our babysitter for the day, which meant I couldn’t escape his overbearing presence.

  “Careful,” Shye said quietly as she sidled up beside me. “You’ve caught the attention of the shark.”

  “What’s the shark?”

  “Gage. He keeps staring this way.”

  I glanced behind me, catching his eyes before looking back to the table of festive plasticware before me. Shye was right; he was watching, though she’d been wrong about the staring part. He wasn’t just staring—he glared. And deep down, I knew I deserved every hard look he could send me. I deserved so much more.

  But I wasn’t about to tell a virtual stranger that. “You call Gage the shark?”

  She shrugged. “It’s the eyes. Eyes that dark are sharklike, you know?”

  I did. I totally knew. And he’d made me feel like prey enough to agree with the shark comparison.

  As Shye and I counted out forks and spoons, Finn appeared from the back of the restaurant carrying a big, heavy-looking box. “Where do you want this, Katie?”

  “Oh, perfect. Anabeth, come here.”

  Not what I wanted to do—my mixed-up feelings about the younger Kennard brother were still too rough and out of control for me to swallow down—but I pasted on a smile and headed their way. “What’s up, boss?”

  “These are some of the old tin signs from when this place was a diner forty years ago. There are boxes of them in the basement. Aren’t they fun?”

  She held up a couple, grinning from ear to ear. Heavy, dirty slabs of metal with chipped paint and advertising for products long gone. Not at all the style of her restaurant.

  But Katie didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. “See, this is for that chocolate milk stuff everyone used to drink. Oh, and a soda fountain sign. I don’t have a soda fountain, but I could put the sign out, right? Remind the customers of what once was so they can see the upgrade. Almost…an homage to Justice’s past.”

  I tried to be excited for her find, but I needed this conversation to end. Finn kept looking at me, watching me with those eyes that were so close to Bishop’s unusual gray shade—just a bit bluer. But unlike when Bishop caught my gaze, I didn’t feel warm or wanted. Finn’s stare left me cold and uncomfortable, and I had a sudden need to disappear.

  “Oh, Camden is here,” Katie said, smiling toward the door where, indeed, Camden had just walked through. “I needed to ask him something. What was it? Oh, hell. Camden, what were we talking about the other day?”

  And then she swept away in a whirlwind of nervous energy and deadline-driven mania.

  “Is it just me, or does talking with her make you want to take a nap?” Finn stepped beside me, bumping my shoulder with his. “You ready to put on a show tonight, rock star?”

  “I’m far from a rock star, but yes. I’m ready. Tarot is easy.” Unless Camden was the one pulling cards, then not so much. But I wasn’t about to tell anyone what I’d read for him. “You ready for guard duty?”

  He nodded in the most exaggerated fashion as he said, “No. Not at all.”

  His smile made mine break out, and I reached to smack his arm. Just as my hand made contact, I caught Gage watching us, his face pulled tight into a frown. I took a step away from Finn.

  Luckily, Bishop walked in before Finn noticed my retreat, stealing my attention and calming the storm inside of me. He practically stole my breath, he was so handsome. And I was so far gone for that man all over again.

  “Hey,” Bishop said when he stopped in front of me. His hair looked darker than usual, the persistent rain soaking him, and his eyes seemed even grayer as they focused solely on me.

  “Hey yourself.”

  He glanced around, his brow furrowing when he noticed the streamers all across the ceiling. The ones hitting him in the head. “Well, these are a little low.”

  “I doubt Katie or Shye, each of whom barely come up to your chest, thought about you tall people.”

  “Apparently not. Hey, man,” he said, directing his attention to Gage who’d walked over. “Deacon called. He needs help bringing over the liquor. Asked if you could drive out to the Jury Room with Finn.”

  Gage shot me a hard look before returning that dead gaze to Bishop. “Whatever he needs.”

  “Thanks, man. And hey, Finn—I didn’t see you there. How are you, brother?”

  Finn couldn’t seem to look Bishop in the eye. “Good. Fine. So, Deacon needs me?”

  “Yeah. If you don’t mind. I can run over if there’s a problem—”

  “Nah, he’s my boss. I can handle this.” Finn disappeared out the front door, dragging Gage—and therefore Rex—along with him. Leaving me alone with Bishop. Or as alone as we could be considering all the people bussing about.

  “So, yeah,” Bishop said, his smile growing warmer. Deeper. So much more handsome. “Hey.”

  I grabbed his hand, unable not to touch. “Hey. So… Who’s Deacon?”

  Bishop wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling my body against his and making my heart flutter. “Alder’s best friend and the owner of the old bar and motel at the county line. He calls it the Jury Room.”

  “Finn works in a bar? Isn’t that…”

  “Tempting fate? Don’t know. He wasn’t an alcoholic, and Deacon keeps an eye on him for us, so we try to stay positive about it.”

  I hummed, inching closer. Licking my lips as his hand dropped lower. His fingers brushing the top of my ass. “What about Elijah? What’s he doing these days?”

  “Defense attorney out in Denver. Shares his house with Lainie, who just graduated with her MBA.”

  “Wow.” That was all I could say. None of that fit with their personalities from when they were younger. Finn had been driven and eager, while Elijah had been a slacker and a jokester. Lainie had simply been a little girl with pigtails and dolls. They’d all changed so much over the last fourteen years.

  And I’d missed all of it.

  Bishop was still Bishop, though. Still too handsome for his own good. Still looking at me as if I were the only woman in the room. Still such a magnet for me and my heart.

  “Excuse me,” Shye said as she appeared beside us. “Katie wants more boxes of signs brought up from the basement, and Finn left. Do you think you can grab them for her?”

  Bishop didn’t let me go, even when I tried to pull away. “Sure. What kind of signs are they?”

  I was not a woman who let an opportunity pass me by.

  “I can show you.” I led him by the hand to the basement stairs off the kitchen, my body humming the entire way. He followed closely, almost too close. Near enough to brush his hand against my hip with every step. I’d only wanted a moment alone with him, a few seconds to say more than hey, but something about this trip to the basement felt electrified. Felt prophetic in a way. The tension grew with each stair down, dragging us like gravity. Like we were meant to be in that cold, dark space.

  Just us.

  When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I paused. Looking around as my heart slammed a staccato beat in my chest. The basement sat shadowy and quiet, seemingly cut off from the rest of the world. Completely swallowing Bishop and me. We were so alone. And so damn close to each other.

  “So.” Bishop crowded me. Brushing my body with his. “Where are these signs?”

  So close. Always so close. The man stole my breath with his proximity.

  “I’m not sure. I just know what they look like. We might have to hunt a bit.”

  Bishop hummed, running his hand over the curve of my hip before holding out an arm for
me to go ahead of him. I took a deep breath and headed deeper into the dark. The shadows seemed to move, though, and I paid far too much attention to the man following me to notice silly things like pipes running across the floor. At least, until I tripped over one.

  Before I could fall, Bishop grabbed my arm and swung me up against his chest. Hard muscles pressed against me, and his rough hands held on to my biceps in a grip just shy of too much. I really wanted too much, though. I wanted him to be strong with me. To overpower me in some way.

  I shivered, making Bishop smile in that charming fucker way of his.

  “You know what I was thinking about all day, Firefly?”

  Oh god, he’d pulled out the big guns with that nickname again. “No, what?”

  “Kissing you the other night.” He leaned closer, his lips a brush away from mine. “I hope you’re not mad about that.”

  Breathe, Anabeth. Fucking breathe.

  “No. I’m not mad.” I pulled him closer, rising up on the balls of my feet to close the distance between us. “I’m not sorry either.”

  The look in his eyes, the hunger there. It set my body on fire.

  “This is more than nothing,” he said, his breath whispering over my face. His lips too close to mine to resist.

  “It is. It always has been.”

  “You sure that’s what you want?”

  I couldn’t lie. Not with him so close. Not with the tension so thick.

  “I just want you.”

  “Thank fuck.” He dropped down and stole a kiss, slipping his tongue past my lips when I opened for him.

  The kiss started all sweet and easy, soft brushes and gentle pressure. But then I moaned into his mouth—a soft, needful sound—and Bishop broke. His lips grew stronger, his tongue demanding more. Hands tugging, moving us so he could press me against a wall, he kissed me like a man starving to be kissed. Like a man who needed to taste me. I kissed him back just as vigorously. Just as needy. And my god, had I missed kissing him. The two times before had been good—surprising, but good. This was better. Hotter.