Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  His quandary was solved when she flipped back the covers and climbed into bed. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, her eyes already closing. “I’m beat.”

  “Not at all.” Tenderness gentled his desire as she nestled close into the pillows. She was asleep in seconds.

  Leaving him alone to grapple with the fact that once again, he’d stuck his nose in someplace where it didn’t belong. His weakness for the small and defenseless was going to get him in trouble one of these days. Big trouble.

  In fact, this situation seemed to smack of big trouble. Old Brian sounded like the worst kind of man—mean and desperate. Like Mattie, Zeke had no doubts she’d be dead if Brian found her.

  He hadn’t been thinking this morning, not about long-term consequences. He’d operated on pure instinct, first to snatch her from her cabin, then in heading this direction. Now he wondered how wise it was. Until now, the land he owned in these mountains had been sacrosanct, his alone. He’d never been there with anyone—it was another of his rules. It was his own private retreat, the only thing he’d managed to save when his life had fallen apart two years ago.

  But there was no place else. On his land, Mattie would be safe until they could figure out a long-term solution to her problem.

  Wearily, he stood up, kicked off his boots, stripped off his shirt and headed for the shower. Her voice stopped him. “Zeke?”

  He turned, cursing himself and feeling exposed. “Yeah?” Maybe the shadows and her sleepiness would cover him.

  “You saved my life today.”

  A clutch of something touched his chest, deep inside. “No, Miss Mary, you’d have figured something out.”

  She turned on the bed. One full breast nearly spilled out of her shirt, but he was sure she didn’t know it. He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, but that sweet curve nearly blinded him, right at the bottom of his peripheral vision. “He would have killed me,” she said. “I wouldn’t have had a chance to get away.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can do,” he said gruffly, and escaped into the bathroom. Maybe by the time he finished his shower, she’d be asleep.

  But she wasn’t. In fact, she seemed to have caught a second wind, for she’d tossed off the covers and was leaning against the headboard, flipping channels lazily.

  She seemed to have no earthly idea how appealing she was in her baggy shirt, with the loose shorts showing off her sexy legs. Wisps of hair had dried in wavelets around her waifish cheeks. His body, tamed to subservience for a moment, leaped to attention again, and he jumped into the bed, jeans and all, before she could realize it.

  “Whatcha watching?” he asked.

  A shrug. “News.”

  “You mind if I shut off the light?” He reached for it, giving her little choice, but he wasn’t quite quick enough. Before he reached the switch, he saw her eyes snag on the scars that riddled his back and sides. There were some on his arms, too, but they didn’t stand out so much there, where people naturally got cuts and scrapes and such.

  He clicked off the light. “Good night, Mattie,” he said. “Get some rest, huh?”

  He felt her liquid gaze on him. He closed his eyes and covered his head with the pillow to shut her out.

  “Zeke?”

  He sighed. “Yeah?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I don’t know, Mattie,” he said hoarsely. “Somebody has to help you.”

  “Well, I want you to know I’ll be okay now. You don’t have to be my bodyguard or anything like that. There’s no reason for you to get mixed up in all this.”

  “I’m already mixed up in it,” he said, shoving the pillow into better shape.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll hitch a ride somewhere, or something. You can go back home.”

  “Kismet isn’t home.”

  “Whatever.” She sighed. “I just don’t want to burden you. It’s my problem and I’ll solve it.”

  “Not alone you won’t.”

  “I just wanted you to know,” she said, and he heard the rustle of covers settling. He pushed away the tempting visions his mind offered and tried to get some sleep. Tried not to think of her sweet curves, all warm and fresh, only a few feet away.

  He had to be crazy.

  *

  SCARS.

  His back and sides and stomach were littered with them. In the still light of morning, Mattie could see there were some of the same marks on his arms, but they passed unnoticed until you saw the same pattern on the rest of him. She sat on the side of her bed, already dressed, her hands folded, and absorbed them.

  Tiny half moons and jagged little Z’s. A couple of long, long stripes that looked like the marks of a whipping. A single jagged, puckered scar, shaped like a crescent, looked as if it had healed poorly. The worst were the cigarette burns. Unmistakable if you’d ever seen them, and Mattie had.

  Upon closer examination, she saw a small scar by his eye, one thin mark on his mouth. All of them were very old, healed a long, long time ago.

  She sighed. It had been a long time since she’d seen this kind of damage. Jamie had some of the same kinds of marks—and undoubtedly Zeke’s had come from the same source. It made her feel a little sick.

  As she watched him sleep, the sun suddenly burst between the cracks in the curtain to gild him, hiding the marks of a brutal childhood, and Mattie heard a tiny pained sound of surprise escape her throat. It was one thing to allow herself to see him as the grown man Jamie might have become if he’d survived. It was quite another to allow this wave of desire to fill her.

  And yet, how could she help it? He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  Roxanne’s words came back to her: I want you to think about that man in your bed, with nothing on except maybe a sheet.

  Well, it wasn’t her bed and he did wear a pair of jeans, but the rest was right. A thick restlessness crawled in her limbs, moved low in her belly. All the careful controls she’d exercised over herself disappeared like spiderwebs in a gust of wind. That fast, that completely.

  She wanted him. Not in the sweet way of poetry, though there was that music in the symmetry of his body, in the careful meshing of bone and sinew and flesh that made him.

  Her want was raw. Physical. She felt it in the palms of her hands and the flesh of her lips and the heaviness of her breasts.

  In her life, she’d been hungry, and thirsty. She’d needed sleep. She had never, in her life, needed to touch a man.

  Why this one? He was sexy, but he wasn’t really her type. He hadn’t been particularly nice to her, aside, of course, from the fact that he’d saved her life. But this…lust or whatever it was, had started the day he’d walked into the café and electrified her with one long glance.

  A flush touched her cheeks at the pagan nature of her thoughts, but even that didn’t shame her enough to make her look away.

  As if her examination were physical, he started awake. For a minute, he blinked uncertainly, obviously getting his bearings, then turned and saw Mattie. Staring at him.

  For one long moment, she was snagged by his pale green eyes, so startling in his dark face. The expression in them grew from sleepy to amused. “Mornin’” he said, the word slow and deep. He moved a little, settling his head more comfortably in the pillows. Mattie’s blood danced.

  “Morning,” she said, and hated herself for the soft, whispery sound of it.

  “How long you been sittin’ there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He reached out unexpectedly and touched her calf. “Like what you see?”

  To her surprise, Mattie didn’t move away. Along his jaw was a shadow of beard, and his hand, moving lazily on her leg, was strangely stirring. The wild, raw need in her jumped another notch. He touched her ankle, his gaze on her face, moving all over it like a caress.

  “I won’t bite.” He tugged a little on her leg. “Come on.”

  Panic struck her. Abruptly, she jumped up and moved away, putting her back to him. “I’m starving,”
she said. “I was about to wake you up so we could get something to eat.”

  “Is that what you were doing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly, and turned. It was a mistake. He’d shifted so he lay on his stomach, his head sideways on the pillow, his long, brown, muscled back displayed in full beauty. The sight of it struck her hard. Her breath left her on a little sigh.

  “Don’t,” he said. The teasing fled his eyes. “It was all a long time ago.”

  The scars. “Zeke, that’s not—”

  His face was painfully wary and sharply shuttered. “Yeah,” he said shortly, and got to his feet. “Tell me you didn’t sit there feeling sorry for me, Miss Mary. Wondering how poor old Zeke got so messed up.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t have to wonder,” she said quietly. “I lived in a lot of foster homes. Most of them were okay, but there was a man in one of them who did that to some of the boys.”

  “Well, mine wasn’t a foster parent. He was the real thing.”

  “Was?”

  “He got beat to death in a bar fight when I was seventeen.” He grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair and tugged it on. “It was the happiest day of my life.”

  Mattie said nothing.

  He took his socks from his boots and grimaced. “It’ll be nice to get some clean clothes on. I hate dirty socks.” He put them on, anyway. “I’ll run and get us some breakfast and we can get on the road again.”

  “No, Zeke.”

  “Thought you said you were hungry.”

  “Not no food, no more hiding. I can’t stand to be in here like this, all cooped up. I’ll wear your sunglasses if you think it’s that big a deal.” She had another agenda in mind, too, but she’d wait until he’d eaten something before she plunged into that. “I want to be outside.”

  He considered for a minute. “You still don’t take it seriously, do you? You think you’re in some movie and some good guy is going to come along at the right moment every so often.”

  That stung. “No, I just…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be stuck in this room when there’s a whole beautiful little town out there to look at.”

  He chuckled. “You oughta see your eyes when you say that. I thought they quit making such sweet women a long time ago.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I guess it is.”

  Chapter 7

  *

  OVER BIG PLATES of pancakes and scrambled eggs, Mattie leaned forward. “Can I take off these glasses in here? I feel silly eating breakfast with sunglasses on.”

  “The waitress already heard your excuse. You’ve got a light-sensitivity problem.” He grinned, rather wickedly, Mattie thought.

  “But I can’t see the view at all.” She peeked over the top of the sunglasses to the stair-stepped expanse of blue mountains, drawn across the horizon like a jagged curtain. “I never dreamed there was anything so beautiful.”

  “It is beautiful,” he said, and Mattie thought his eyes, soft with appreciation, ran a close second to the view. “I always think about it when I’m not here.”

  Mattie dipped her head, letting the glasses slide down her nose, to look at him. “You mean this was a destination? You drove here on purpose?”

  Zeke chuckled. “Yep.”

  Nonplussed, she put down her fork. “Oh.”

  He went back to his pancakes. The waitress came by with more coffee and Zeke gave her a friendly smile. She smiled back. Naturally.

  That single exchange—Zeke’s effortless and omnipresent charm and the waitress’s immediate response—brought everything into focus for Mattie. She didn’t know what his motives were, why he’d so selflessly rescued her, but she couldn’t let it go on. “Zeke,” she said, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Mmm.” He swallowed. “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

  “I can’t let you do any more. If you’d be so kind as to take me to the bus station, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Carefully, he crossed his fork and knife on his empty plate and pulled his coffee cup forward. “How long do you think you’ll last before old Brian tracks you down again?” He cocked his head. “Maybe next time you won’t be lucky enough to be warned ahead of time.”

  “I’ll dye my hair,” she countered. “Get some weird glasses at Goodwill or something. It’s not as hard as you think to become invisible.”

  His mouth twitched. “And you aren’t nearly as invisible as you think you are.” He leaned forward, dropping his elbows on the table. “How are you gonna hide that long, pretty neck? That sexy mouth? That siren body of yours?”

  Mattie had touched her neck when he mentioned it, but her cheeks flushed bright red at the last turn of phrase. “You don’t have to get crude,” she protested, lowering her eyes.

  “That’s a long way from crude, Miss Mary,” he said with a scowl. “Believe me.”

  “Zeke,” she said in a small voice, “you scare me. How do I know you aren’t worse than what I’m running from?”

  “You don’t,” He plucked the check from the table between them. “Not in any way that matters, in facts and figures. Guess you’ll have to trust your instincts.”

  “What instincts?” she said scornfully. “The ones that led me to think a major criminal was just a nice Catholic fellow?”

  Zeke stared at her, his face utterly expressionless. “Don’t give me that look,” she snapped. “Say something.”

  “What do you want me to say, Mattie? I’m not gonna try to prove myself to you.”

  Now she realized she’d wounded him the smallest bit. He probably had justification for feeling hurt, too, but that didn’t change Mattie’s uncertainty. She stared at him, struggling for clues to his true nature.

  Her instincts. What had her instincts said about Brian Murphy? Hadn’t there been moments of warning, moments his smile seemed forced? Dozens of times, hadn’t she beaten back the screams of those instincts because she so desperately wanted what he seemed to offer?

  And what did they tell her about Zeke? She bit the inside of her cheek, seeing a man who’d known a lot of pain. A man who could likely be violent if the need arose, but wouldn’t be if he could avoid it. She saw the man who danced with a fussy baby to calm him and the man who’d rescued her without a moment’s hesitation.

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” she said at last. “You can’t imagine how much I hate that.”

  “You couldn’t be a burden if you tried.” His mouth softened. “I couldn’t live with myself if you went out there and got yourself killed.”

  Terrific, Mattie thought. A pity case. “Zeke—”

  “Listen, Mattie.” He covered her hand with his own. “I’ve been lost in my own problems for longer than I like to say. Let me help you.”

  She looked at his hand, at the long fingers and strong, sinewy lines. There was both strength and gentleness in that hand, just as there was in the man himself. “All right,” she said. “Where are we going?”

  He smiled. “I have some land up in the mountains. Cabin isn’t fancy, but it keeps the rain off. We’ll go there until we can figure out what comes next.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I trust you.”

  His fingers curled around hers. “Let’s go.”

  *

  THE DAY BEFORE, Mattie had been too numb with shock to appreciate the pleasures of riding on the back of a motorcycle. This morning, there was no such muffling.

  They left town and headed up into the mountains, traveling on a normal blacktop highway, well maintained and obviously heavily traveled. After a while, Zeke turned onto a smaller, narrower road. They followed the strip of asphalt upward, over passes that hugged the sheer side of a cliff, the drop on one side thousands of feet. A delicious dizziness engulfed Mattie at the dangerous thrill of it, and she couldn’t help gripping Zeke more closely. He chuckled at such times, a rumbling she felt through her fingers on his chest rather than heard through her ears.

  They rode throu
gh little towns with names like Santa Ana and Kinnikinnik and Ute City, little more than scatterings of cabins and a shop or two along the state road. Here hunters bought permits, anglers picked up tackle, campers stocked up on beer and groceries they’d forgotten.

  The wilderness, Mattie thought with a thrill of happiness. Just like Laura in the Little House books, she was striking out for adventure in a sparsely settled, wild place. A hundred years ago, there had been only mountain men and Indians and animals and silence. Zeke, she thought with some certainty, would have been among them. In any age, she had a hunch he’d be an outsider, a loner.

  She inhaled deeply of the spice-scented mountain air, thin and cool in spite of the summer weather. She filled her eyes with the colors of the high country: the azure sky punctuated with arrows of deep green pine, the slender white trunks of aspen like bars of light in the dark forests, the misty dark blue of the distant mountainsides, falling away to purply black in the shadows of the valley. She liked the wind in her face, and immediacy of seeing it all without windows to blunt the view, and the deep growling purr of the bike itself.

  Most of all, she liked the feeling of Zeke before her and the pleasure of being able to touch him freely without having to explain why—to him or to herself—it was so satisfying. She was careful to keep the clasp of her hand light, non-intrusive, careful not to press too much or too often into the temptation of his back. Businesslike, she held onto his sides, imagining a dance chaperone’s hand placed between their bodies. There was nothing she could do, no adjustment she could make, to keep her thighs from clasping the sides of his hips and legs. She tried not to make too much of it, but it was impossible not to feel it—those long hard thighs, the shift of muscle in his buttocks. Intimate and casual at once.

  At midmorning, a sudden bank of clouds moved in over the valley. They filled the sky almost at once, as if some cosmic force had tossed a thick gray blanket over the sky. When the sun disappeared, the temperature dropped, and a chill wind sprang up. Mattie shivered.