Unbreakable s8-2

by Stephanie Tyler

  And with that, suddenly they had two problems on their hands. And both were poised to bite them on the ass hard if they didn’t run, either straight into danger, guns blazing, or far, far away.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Avery pulled the car up a long, hidden drive toward a pretty, sprawling house in Tennessee set on acres of land.

  He obviously hired someone to look after it, because the landscaping and the inside of the house were spotless.

  It was also hard-wired with security to rival Gunner’s place in New Orleans.

  “I’m cautious,” was all he said when he caught her looking. Her heart tugged a little when he said that, and she put a hand on his shoulder as he punched in some codes and alarmed the place around them.

  They were in their own little bubble now, a fortress where they could presumably relax and try to regain some of the ground they might’ve lost.

  “Jem’s flight took off. No issues, according to him,” she said after checking her phone.

  He snorted. “Bullshit. With Jem, there are always complications. He’s a walking issue.”

  “He seems to like it that way.”

  “It works for him, I guess. Come on, let’s see what I can make us for dinner.”

  She followed him into the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen, her stomach suddenly growling for attention.

  “I’ve got stuff to make us dinner here. Tomorrow, I’ll bring in fresh supplies.” He rifled through the freezer. “Got steaks. We’ll do rice. Fuck the vegetables.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Jem would arrive tomorrow. If anyone was following him, they’d be off his trail. She was worried about him and her life would always be one big worry from now on. She’d resigned herself to that fact the second she’d decided to go after Gunner and bring him home.

  Home.

  They were halfway there. “Let me help.”

  He snorted. “You don’t cook, remember?”

  “I can do . . . things.”

  “Yeah, baby, I know all about those things.” His drawl deepened and he patted her on the ass. “You’d better go rest and let me get you fed.”

  Her stomach growled in answer.

  “Go,” he insisted. Tossed her an apple, which she crunched into as she walked through his house. She didn’t have time for a complete tour, but she walked in and out of each room. She could see why Gunner came here to recover. It was the opposite of the shop in New Orleans. This was pure, masculine comfort. Down-home country, couches and beds that could lull you into the most peaceful easy feeling, and she found herself flipping through an old sketch pad that was next to the big bed.

  There were some self-portraits. With the first ones, he hadn’t drawn any tattoos on his neck. But as she got deeper into the sketchbook, they began to emerge. She could see the pattern of his re-creation happening before her eyes.

  The final self-portrait in the book showed him from the waist up. He’d had a full sleeve by then. She recognized the specific pattern of twists and turns down his left arm, had spent nights memorizing them, mostly when he wasn’t looking. But it was the one before that, of the woman with the secret smile that had a mouth that looked just like Gunner’s, that held her interest.

  She finally put the book down when she smelled the steaks cooking, the scent drifting through the open window. She stripped, went into the big master bath and showered, letting the tension of the past days and the road trip wash away with the hot water. Then she pulled on some comfortable clothes and padded into the kitchen in time to help him set the table.

  The scent from the steaks on the grill drifted through the open sliding glass door, and she breathed in deeply. It had been months since she’d had a home-cooked meal. And being cooked for by Gunner was something she feared might never happen again.

  But here they were, playing house. Pushing aside everything and everyone else for just a tiny bit of normalcy that they both ultimately deserved. And when they finally sat down at the table, it was hot seasoned steaks and rice and cold beers. Perfection.

  “Did your mom cook?” he asked.

  “You mean, did she teach me how?” she teased, and he laughed. “She tried, but I had no interest in learning.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered.

  “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “So she ran a business, cooked and cleaned and all that good stuff? Like a real mom?”

  That made her laugh again. “Yeah, like a real mom. God, I miss her.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stir that up.”

  She reached out, touched his cheek for a second. “Don’t be. It’s a nice memory. I grew up watching Mom kick some serious butt, verbally and physically.”

  “And you learned that shit well.”

  “Knew it would come in handy one day.” She paused. “She would’ve really liked you.”

  “Maybe. I have a feeling she would’ve kicked my ass from here to the bayou, though.” He ate some of his rice and then asked, “How’d she get into bounty-hunting to begin with?”

  “She inherited the business from her parents, who inherited it from their parents. All on my mom’s side.”

  “Makes sense why she’d be drawn to Darius.”

  “See, and I always thought the opposite. She should’ve known enough to stay away from the bad boy.”

  He gave a short laugh. “You haven’t figured out by now that she liked bounty-hunting because it involved bad boys? Come on, now, Avery. Why do you think you took to all of this so easily?”

  She wanted to say survival, but he was right. There was more to it than that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gunner took a drink from a longneck, letting the taste of the bitter beer mix with the home cooking. Two perfect flavors that went together. He watched her enjoying her food, tried to picture her working bounties, counseling criminals.

  “Do you think you’d still be doing it, if none of this had happened?”

  She stabbed a bite of steak, put it in her mouth and hummed around it. Held up a finger like he was interrupting a religious experience.

  Yeah, he so totally fucking loved her. Had from day one. There was no backing out. He knew better. He could no more have walked away from Josie. It wasn’t something to think about. It just was.

  And he’d never thought it could happen again. But it had. And if he’d learned anything from Josie, and he had, it was that you didn’t walk away from a gift. Especially one that chased your ass down.

  She’d actually started in on his steak. “What? You’re just sitting there all ‘thinking.’” She waved the fork in a circular motion in front of his face. “And I need sustenance.”

  “Don’t let me stand in your way.”

  “You won’t,” she assured him. “Mmmm, so good.”

  He knew what she meant. He’d been wandering and eating, of course, but not really enjoying food. It had been fuel. Now, in a calm place, back where he belonged, things had begun to have taste again.

  But the worst wasn’t over.

  “You’ve got that thinking of bad things face,” she told him.

  “I don’t have a face like that.”

  “You definitely do.” She speared more of his steak on his fork. “Okay, to answer your question, if none of this had happened, I would’ve gone into the bounty business in the town I was born in. Exciting maybe five percent of the time and the rest was paperwork. Talking. Making connections.”

  She paused. “Of course, I would’ve taken that life for things not to have taken the turn they did. Horrible things shouldn’t be the only things that force us into action.”

  He wanted to agree, but most people got and stayed comfortable, if not happy. And although he’d been through hell, being trapped and unhappy was something he didn’t want.

  “You know, sometimes I’m angry with Mom,” she continued. “It’s like she’d hidden a huge part of me from me.”

  “You don’t think that part would’ve come
out eventually?”

  “It was always there, Gunner. Knowing that the way I felt was normal for whose kid I was. That made all the difference. Meeting Dare and learning about Darius made everything make sense.”

  He stared at her as her words sank in. “Right. You’re born into something and you can’t escape what you’ve become.”

  Her knife and fork clattered to her plate. “Gunner, Christ, that’s not what I meant.”

  “It might not be what you meant, but it’s what you said.”

  “You listen to me—you were born to two operatives. You have espionage in your blood. You’re a warrior. Whether you use those traits to tip yourself toward the good side or the bad side is your own business. Your own choice.”

  Gunner pushed his plate away. “Not always.”

  “I can’t say anything right today, can I?” she asked.

  “You’re just talking truth, Avery. No right or wrong in that.”

  “I know you did what you did for me,” she said. “I would’ve done the same thing for you.”

  He saw the truth of that in her gaze. Her cheeks flushed and she looked so serious.

  “I should never have let you leave that hotel room. I’m responsible for that. If I’d begged you to stay . . .”

  “I want to say I would’ve, but that’s easier to say than to do,” he admitted.

  “I wish we could forget our pasts, but that’s what makes us who we are. You know that, Gunner. And even though you say you don’t know who you are, I know. Mike and Andy know. Josie did too. Jem, Dare, Key and Grace. Are we all easily fooled? Are we all that wrong?”

  “I don’t want you to be,” Gunner said.

  Avery moved closer. Stood. Took Gunner’s hand. “I’m done telling you. I’m going to show you.”

  She unbuttoned her shirt and let it drop off her shoulders as she waited in front of him. The tattoo he’d given her . . . from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d pictured those flowers on her, a beauty that belied strength.

  Now he ran his palms over his handiwork as she watched him.

  “Why do you still believe in me?” he asked.

  “Because if roles were reversed, you’d never stop believing in me.”

  He traced the tattoos he’d inked onto her skin, a perfect blossoming that trailed along her side, licking her rib cage, teasing her breast.

  “If we’d been alone that night . . .”

  She smiled at the memory. “For a while, we were. And now it’s like you’re always with me. No matter if you push me away, you’re still here.”

  “Damn you,” he whispered.

  “You were the one who did it. And don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

  He’d known. From the second he’d hand-drawn the flowers on her skin, he’d known. “I was a fool to try to give you up.”

  “Yes, you were. Promise you’ll never do it again, no matter what.”

  “How about I show instead of tell?” He stood, grabbed her around the waist and picked her up. “Bedroom’s too far.”

  “So impatient,” she chided.

  “For you, yes.” He got her onto the soft leather couch, crawled over her. “Need you naked.”

  She raised her arms so he could pull off the T-shirt. He did, then immediately locked his mouth onto a nipple, rolling it between his teeth and tongue until she arched and called out his name.

  His hand slid down her belly, into the wet heat between her thighs.

  “I’m not going to last,” she warned.

  “Good. Planning on making you come several times,” he assured her.

  She was tugging at his jeans, helping him out of them, telling him she needed him inside her.

  “I’ve got to get—”

  “Forget it. I’m on the pill. And I’ve only been with you,” she told him.

  “You’re the first in a long time, Avery. Before I left and after.”

  She spread her legs around him and took him inside her. He shuddered as he went deep and she raked her nails lightly down his arms. He locked his gaze with her as their movements got frantic, until she was coming hard with him inside her.

  It took everything not to come—not yet. He waited until she was coming down from her orgasm, pulled out and away slightly. And then he rolled her to her belly, lifted her hips and entered her again. She was still hot and wet and her body gripped him. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good.”

  Her response was a long, low moan. Her body bowed as she moved against him. He lowered his face, licked between her shoulder blades, tasting her soap, the salt of her skin. He rutted against her and she gave back as good as she got. The night air from the open screen door settled around them, the stars glittered in the sky and he’d come home again.

  Not many people got more than one shot. He wasn’t letting this one slip through his fingers.

  * * *

  Avery traced the bruises along his cheek. She’d replaced the bandage on his split lip before she’d gotten comfortable against him again. She’d seen the contusions on his body and she realized she’d do it again—let Jem do it—if it meant ending up like this.

  “That wasn’t an act you were putting on at first, was it?” she asked quietly.

  “No, not really. Did I scare you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “You were good at that.”

  “I guess that’s some kind of compliment.” He took her hand in his. “You were pretty badass yourself.”

  “I doubt my interrogation skills will be of much use in the future.”

  “Well, no, I’m not letting you use your best technique on anyone but me,” he told her, tugging her back into his lap. “Because that was hot. For torture, of course.”

  “Of course,” she murmured.

  He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, then nipped, then licked. She shivered. “I’m so easy for you.”

  “Nothing about this is easy, baby.” He pulled back. “I never liked easy.”

  “Is that why you put yourself right back into Louisiana after you left the SEALs?”

  There wasn’t going to be any getting out of this. He’d known the interrogation wasn’t really over when he’d left that room where she and Jem had him tied. It was just taking on a different—necessary—form. “I didn’t come back to New Orleans right away. I stayed here for a while after Josie was killed.”

  “Why did you move back?”

  “To test myself. To see if I’d really been burned. I’d always have to look over my shoulder. I just wanted to know how much.”

  Avery nodded and he continued. “I wanted to be . . . close to her again. Closer to my family. And yeah, I realize how stupid that sounds.”

  “Doesn’t sound that way at all,” she said. “Mike and Andy are glad you came back. They don’t blame you.”

  “How could they not?”

  “Because it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yeah, it was. And no matter how good they were to me, how much I loved Josie, I should’ve left. Especially because of those reasons and no matter how hard they protested. I brought terrible danger to their doors. I knew it would happen, and trust me, I hated being right about that.” He paused. “And then I brought it back to you.”

  “Jem and I were the ones who kidnapped you.”

  “I went to your hotel. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “If you hadn’t, I still would’ve found you.”

  “Yeah, I bet you would’ve.”

  She traced a finger along his collarbone as he sank back into that world again. He was still close enough to taste it—dangerously so—and he expanded on what he’d told her earlier. Maybe it was an attempt to justify what he’d done, an attempt to justify Landon, to explain the man.

  Drew Landon smuggled people—but people who wanted to be smuggled, mainly criminals and their families, drug lords and the like. He’d found his niche, and it worked well with his ability to counterfeit most major IDs and documents from all kinds of agencies around the world. He was
well connected and built upon that in order to become the best at what he did.

  He justified that the men and women he smuggled away from justice would eventually be caught—he was just taking their money, because someone had to. Plus, as Landon pointed out, sometimes he’d be helping out good people, those in witness protection who no longer trusted the government to keep them safe.

  Gunner had once told him he wouldn’t know any of the finer things if they bit him in the ass. He’d waited to get slapped. Put in his place.

  He’d gotten fucking kindness. He’d vandalized Landon’s place. Stolen from him. Gotten drunk. Acted like a wild kid. Acted like himself.

  Landon let him, waited him out. Gave him things he’d needed in order to help with Landon’s business. He gave him skills and an outlet—taking out bad guys.

  “There are different grades of bad. And that’s a seductive way to put it—I might be bad but I’m not hurting anyone.” Gunner shook his head, rubbed the tattoos snaking up the side of his neck. “I believed what I wanted to believe. Landon didn’t make me that person. I made me that person. I didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything. And Landon liked me that way. I’d go anywhere, do anything. Blowing shit up was my favorite thing to do. If a human trafficker was involved, even better.”

  “You were young,” Avery told him.

  “I should’ve known better.” He’d grown up in the world of shade, because no operative could ever be squarely on the side of the right. His mom tried. Once he was old enough to notice this dynamic, he’d watched her drag herself home, half distraught. By morning, the distress would be gone, the surface smoothed and calm. But Gunner knew now that under the surface, nothing ever truly settled.

  “What made you get out?”

  He laughed then. She was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I didn’t leave. He kicked me out and I tried to get back in. I assumed he’d had me beaten as a warning. To teach me a lesson.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Except he says he never ordered that. And he claims he didn’t touch Josie.”

  “Why call you back for that particular job?”