Outlaw’s Kiss

by Sophia Gray

  “You never would have let me walk out the front door,” she mumbled against him.

  Falcon said nothing. She was probably right.

  They sat like that for a few minutes, their only communication the contact of their bodies.

  When her sobs had died down to sniffles, Falcon pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand down to help her up. She stood, shaky but solid enough.

  He watched her gaze wander back to the unconscious man sprawled out on the floor. He couldn’t quite make out her expression.

  “What happened?” he asked. He moved swiftly over to the man, pulled his bandana from his head, and used it to secure the man’s hands behind his back.

  Bridgette told him how she’d come into the bakery. How he’d threatened her and how she’d tried to run. How he seemed convinced that she knew all about whatever Martin was looking for, like she was keeping it for herself and planning on selling it.

  It finally dawned on Falcon. Martin’s men had been casing the joint because whatever it was Martin was after had to be stashed in the bakery. That was probably why they’d torn her storage room apart.

  Falcon pulled out his phone and made a call to Shark, telling him to round up Bill and Leo and get their asses over to the bakery as soon as possible.

  “What happened?” Shark demanded.

  Falcon watched Bridgette. Her eyes were still fixed on her attacker, though she’d moved back against the far wall. “Bridge got her ass into trouble. I’ve got the situation handled here. The guy’s out cold. I figured we can get a few answers out of him and see exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  “Sure thing, man. Be there in ten.” Shark hung up.

  Falcon paced around the man on the floor, trying to get a good picture of him. He looked like he might be a low-level enforcer. Martin must have still been thinking that he was dealing with a baker and her boyfriend, otherwise he would have sent more guys. Falcon leaned down and patted the guy down just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

  He wasn’t even packing either. Shit, Martin must have thought it was amateur hour over here. It was good for him and Bridgette because if he’d come face to face with even one armed guy, they would have been screwed.

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  Bridgette’s question interrupted his thoughts.

  “Ask him some questions.” Falcon glanced back at her just in time to see her quizzical look.

  “Ask?”

  Falcon shrugged. “Ask questions. Beat the shit out of him. Some combination of those things.”

  Bridgette snorted. “I meant after. You know, when you’re done with him, you, what, shoot him in the back of the head? Put him down for a dirt nap?”

  Falcon barked a laugh. He didn’t know if it was her deadpan expression or the ridiculous euphemism. Maybe it was the way she asked the question so casually, like she was asking about the game last night. “Fuck, Bridge, I’m not running with the mob.”

  It was her turn to shrug. “How should I know? And I’m serious. You’re not going to just let him walk out the front door, are you?”

  He couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly she’d recovered. Apart from the redness around her eyes, there was no trace of vulnerability left in her. She didn’t let life knock her down for long.

  “I’ll have Leo or someone take him for a long ride way out in the countryside. Why do you care? You worried about him?”

  Bridgette scoffed. “Fuck no.”

  Falcon couldn’t help but grin at her. Yeah, that was his girl, all right.

  Chapter 11

  Bridgette

  Bridgette’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Kyle was talking to his guys again, probably discussing how they were going to deal with her assailant. The man who attacked her still lay on the floor, though he’d regained consciousness and was now gagged.

  Bridgette sighed and pulled it out of her pocket. Five missed calls and two voicemails. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Shit. How had she forgotten Gabby? It had been a crazy few days, but still, it was inexcusable. And Marcy was probably either pissed at her or worried sick.

  She didn’t even bother listening to the voicemails and instead called Marcy right back. Had she really not checked her phone? She’d been preoccupied that morning.

  I’m mom of the year, she thought to herself angrily. Hooking up with her ex and trying to save her business before bothering to check in on her kid.

  Marcy picked up on the first ring. “Bridge? Good gracious, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning. I thought you were coming by to pick Gabby up today?”

  Bridgette flinched at her accusatory tone. Yeah, Marcy thought she was mom of the year, too. “I’m so sorry, Marcy. I’ve been having some issues at the bakery and I had to close yesterday and today to deal with them—“

  “What kind of issues?” On the surface, Marcy’s tone was a polite inquiry. But underneath Bridgette heard the skepticism, and the suspicion that she was fabricating an excuse to cover her ass.

  Bridgette hesitated. She cast a glance over at Kyle, uncertain of how much she should disclose. She wasn’t about to tell Marcy that she was caught up in some affair involving a vengeful drug lord and her drug-running ex-boyfriend, but she wondered if she should even mention the damages.

  If she didn’t give away too many details, there couldn’t be that much of a problem. “There was a break-in here, and I’m working on getting things straightened up and repaired so I can get back open as soon as possible. I’m so sorry I didn’t call. How’s Gabby?”

  “Oh, hon,” Marcy murmured from the other end, the disbelief evaporating from her tone. Now there was nothing but sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Are the police helping you out?”

  “I’m fine, and I’ve already made a report,” she lied. “It’s just a lot of paperwork, you know, and I have to figure out what I’m going to do in the meantime.”

  “You must be overwhelmed. Well, Gabby is doing fine here. She and Lena are getting along great, as usual. Listen, if you want Gabby to stay with us for another day while you sort this mess out, she’s more than welcome. It’s the least we can do.”

  The offer melted some of the apprehension that had formed in Bridgette’s chest. Kyle wasn’t going to let her out of his sight tonight, not after this morning. And she still wasn’t about to bring Gabby anywhere near him.

  “Are you sure, Marcy? I hate to impose—“

  “I insist,” Marcy interrupted. “We love having Gabby here. It’s no trouble at all.”

  “God, Marcy, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll be by to pick her up tomorrow, I promise. Can you put her on the phone?”

  “Sure.”

  Bridgette let her attention go back to Kyle and his guys while Marcy went off in search of her daughter. They talked too quietly for her to overhear anything they were saying, but she could guess at the gist of it. Kyle had as much as told her what their next step would be.

  They were going to learn whatever they could from her attacker, and then they were likely going to tear her bakery apart looking for whatever it was Martin thought was there. Kyle had told her they just wanted to find it to get the drug lord off their backs, but knowing his personal history with the man and seeing the determined gleam in his eyes, she knew he had other plans.

  And she didn’t like the thought of him picking a fight with the man who’d tried to kill her. She knew it was impractical to believe they could simply hand over whatever Martin was looking for and part in peace, but she guessed Kyle was going to antagonize him in hopes of turning things into an all-out war. That way he could get a shot at his revenge. And if that happened, she knew things could only end badly.

  She couldn’t lie to herself. She’d wanted so badly to believe that whatever they’d once shared was history, that she was stronger now, that she could walk away from him whenever she chose. But the thought of him dying for his damned pride filled her with dread—the kind that squeezed around her lungs and cons
tricted her throat.

  She still cared for him. She didn’t know in what way, or what that meant for their future—if they could even share a future. But she didn’t want to lose him, not again.

  “Mommy?”

  Gabby’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Gabby,” she sighed. “Hey, baby girl. How are you doing?”

  “I’m having fun. Lena and I are playing house. But I miss you, Mommy. Are we going home soon?”

  “Soon. I’m just having a few problems at the bakery here.”

  “Did you burn the cookies again?” Gabby demanded, her small, high voice scolding.

  Gabby’s question pushed Bridgette to an emotional edge. She felt as if she’d either burst into tears or laughter. Maybe it was Gabby’s innocence, or the fact that this was the longest she’d gone without seeing Gabby in her entire life. She loved her girl with all her heart, and she felt that keenly. But with that all-consuming love came the terrible fear that she’d unwittingly put both their lives in danger when she’d stumbled into this mess with Kyle, and now the future she’d tried so hard to build for them could collapse before their eyes.

  She managed to hold it together, though. “No, sweetie, it’s a bit worse than that. Some people got into the bakery and made a mess, and now I’ve got to clean it up.”

  “Why did they do that? That’s a mean thing to do.”

  Bridgette smiled sadly to herself. “Some people are just mean. We can’t worry about them, though. We just have to keep our chins up and move on.”

  “Why do we have to keep our chins up? How does that help?” Gabby’s voice had grown more distant, like she’d moved her mouth from the receiver. “It’s just making my neck hurt.”

  This time Bridgette couldn’t stifle her laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Gabby demanded indignantly.

  “It’s a saying. Keeping your chin up just means we have to stay positive and not get too discouraged.”

  “Oh.” There was a pause. “When are you coming to get me?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Pinky swear. I’ve just got to get thing straightened up here. And then we’ll go out for ice cream, okay?”

  “Ice cream in the morning!” she exclaimed. “But you said that sweets early in the day is against the rules—"

  “Well, this will be a special treat. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Another pause. “I miss you, Mommy. I like coming over to Lena’s, but I wish I could go home tonight.”

  “Me too, baby girl. But we’ll be home tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Gabby put Marcy back on the phone. Bridgette thanked her again for her help.

  “If she needs to stay longer, she can,” Marcy reassured her. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you to deal with all on your own.”

  Bridgette’s eyes slipped back to Kyle. It looked like they were wrapping up their discussion. At least that’s not entirely true, she thought grimly.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Marcy. Thanks again. I’m bringing you a dozen of your favorite cupcakes when this is all said and done.”

  Marcy chuckled on the other end. “I don’t think that’s doing my waistline any favors, but I’m not going to say no, especially not when I know how good those cupcakes are.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Bridgette shoved her phone back into her pocket.

  Kyle peeled away from his guys and approached her slowly, his mouth set in a hard line. “Who were you talking to?”

  He asked the question like it was his right to know, like she’d been trying to get away with something by making a phone call behind his back. She wanted to retort that it was none of his goddamn business, and to remind him that her life was not his to run just because he’d brought this mess to her doorstep.

  She drew a deep breath. No. She didn’t want to pick a fight now. She was reading into it. She was still badly shaken from everything. She wasn’t in a good place to be butting heads with him.

  “A friend. Just checking in on my kid.”

  His expression deepened into a frown. “Right. She okay? You got something figured out for her?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kyle looked like he was going to say more on the matter for a second, but then his mouth smoothed out again. “We should head home, just in case Martin sends over reinforcements or something. I don’t think he will, but I don’t want anything happening with you around.”

  Home. She almost snorted at that. His place, he meant. She couldn’t go to her home.

  “I’ve got to run clothes to my daughter. I’ll meet you back there.”

  She tried to turn to leave, but Kyle grabbed her by the shoulder and held her in an iron grip. “I need you close to me tonight. I’m not going through this again. If your ass isn’t back at that house, I swear to God, Bridge, we’re going to ride out through this whole damn town until we find you. I’ll drag you back if I have to.”

  His words were low and dangerous. She didn’t doubt his sincerity for even a second.

  She stared him dead in the eye. “I’m just running clothes over. I’m not going to skip town and disappear for six years.”

  He recoiled back from that, though his grip didn’t slacken. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he muttered. Then he let her go. “You remember the address?”

  She felt a little bad. She hadn’t meant the reproach to be quite so harsh. She just wanted to remind him that she’d stayed, that she wasn’t the one who was a flight risk.

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Bridgette watched for a moment from the corner as Kyle helped his guys drag her assailant out back toward the delivery door. From what she understood they were going to load the guy into the trunk of a rented car and take him somewhere for their “friendly chat.”

  Maybe it was a moral flaw in her, but she didn’t feel one bit of sympathy for the guy. As far as she was concerned, he was getting exactly what he deserved.

  Chapter 12

  Falcon

  Falcon watched from the doorway as Bridgette parked in the drive. He was relieved to see she’d kept her word and come straight back to his place.

  None of his guys had called him yet to tell him anything new. The guy who’d attacked Bridgette may have been a low-level hack, but he was tougher than expected when it came to their interrogation. He suspected it was because of his fear of Martin more than his mental willpower. Falcon had left, knowing Shark and the others could more than handle themselves.

  He was still trying to cool his head. He’d kept it together well enough. He hadn’t gone off on Bridgette again. He’d seen she was close to falling apart and contained himself. But he still felt on edge.

  The strong emotion he’d felt seeing her in danger that morning hadn’t stopped simmering in him. It was something between terror and rage—terror that he would lose her somehow, rage that she hadn’t listened to him, pain that she had to go through this, that she still didn’t trust him, that he didn’t know where the hell this was going after they took care of Martin.

  He was a mess. Agitated, keyed up. He just wanted her in the damn house, safe and sound.

  She took her sweet time getting out of the car and grabbing the new bag she’d packed. Not that Martin knew where he was staying and was about to do a drive-by or anything. Still, he knew he’d feel much better once she was inside and settled down with him for the rest of the night.

  Bridgette met him at the door. She looked sick to her stomach still. Her pale face was drawn, her shoulders sunken beneath some unseen weight. He knew she was still worrying about her damned business. He couldn’t blame her, but still, he wished he could say something to her that would make her see everything was going to be all right. He wanted her to believe that he wasn’t going to knock her down and leave again.

  Her words earlier had stung more than he’d thought possible. After he’d saved her twice, after he’d come running to her rescue
, she still didn’t believe he would or could take care of her. But shit, he’d prove her wrong.

  Falcon held the door open for her, and she trudged inside, her reluctance evident in every step. “Your kid doing all right?”

  He followed Bridgette into the back bedroom, where she put her bag down on the bed. She took a moment to respond. “She’s fine,” she replied curtly.

  “There’s room here—“

  “I don’t want her around here. It’s dangerous enough for me. You said that yourself.”

  Falcon breathed a frustrated sigh. “Right.” He waited for a moment, watching as she rummaged through her bag, looking for something. “How are you holding up?”