by Lori Foster
Touching his forearm, Cherry silently willed him to be patient, to let her handle it her own way. Jesus, it was hard. He managed a nod, but didn’t even come close to relaxing.
With his promise made, she said to Carver, “If you’re not going to tell me what you want, then I’m not wasting any more of my time.”
“Janet is hurt. In the hospital.” The sound of gnashing teeth could be heard. “She’s in a bad way.”
Some vague emotion flickered over Cherry’s expression before she went deliberately placid.
For his benefit, or Carver’s?
Sounding far from concerned, she asked, “What does that have to do with me?”
Carver’s laugh this time held genuine amusement. “No soft feelings for your champion, either, huh?”
Champion? Did that mean Janet had eventually befriended her? If so, Cherry hid it well.
“Soft feelings,” she stated, “have no part in the time I spent with you or your family.”
“I told Janet you were an unappreciative little brat due some discipline, but she didn’t listen. For some fucking reason she thought you were better than us.”
That made her laugh, but not with humor. She covered her mouth, her dark eyes shadowed with memories.
Trying a new tact, Carver lowered his voice. “Pops was murdered, Cherry—much like your old man.”
Blank surprise silenced her.
With glee, Carver expounded. “Want to know how Janet got hurt?”
She shook her head without replying, making Denver frown.
“She got caught in the crossfire. Sound familiar?”
Her eyes closed, but not for long. Stiffening her spine again, she stared daggers at the phone. “You’re boring me, Carver, so get to it.”
If Denver hadn’t been looking at her, if he didn’t see her grief-stricken expression, he’d have believed her. But he knew better. Cherry was far from bored.
In fact, she looked devastated by what he assumed was a reminder of her parents’ deaths.
“Who knows if she’ll make it?” Carver prompted. “She’s suffering, more out of it than not.”
“Like you actually care? I’ve been gone from there a while, but I find it hard to believe you two hugged and made up.”
That pushed Carver off the edge. His voice shot up along with his temper. “I don’t give a shit if the bitch rots in hell for all eternity!”
“Then why bother me?” In contrast to Carver’s loud rage, Cherry’s quiet question held more clout—because it held more control.
Proud of her, Denver gave a nod of encouragement.
“I’m bothering you,” Carver ground out, “because Janet stowed certain things. Things that we need.”
What things? Denver wondered.
Firm, Cherry told him, “I have nothing to do with any of that,” leading Denver to believe she at least understood what Carver meant.
“The hell you don’t. Before the ambulance took her off, Janet said you’d know where to look.”
Honest confusion beetled Cherry’s brows. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. Janet never, ever discussed business with me.”
“Bullshit. She couldn’t talk freely, not with so many people around. But she said you’d know. She said to get you back here.”
This time her laugh reeked of sarcasm. “That’s not happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening, Cherry darlin’. Resign yourself.”
She shook her head in denial. “No.”
“One way or another,” Carver warned.
“Carver—”
“Think of it as a homecoming.”
“That place was never my home!”
The panicked pitch to her words had Denver sitting up more, getting closer to help her remember that she wasn’t alone.
Carver snickered. “What’re you so afraid of, Cherry darlin’?” He spoke in a malicious, singsong voice. “You know you’d enjoy playing in the woods again, this time without Janet around to ruin the fun.”
She dropped the phone to the bed and leaned away from it. “Don’t you dare—”
Tone hard again, he said, “You know I dare a lot, don’t you, little sister?”
Furious, she yelled, “Stop calling me that!”
Denver didn’t like the way things had suddenly turned, with Cherry losing her control. Ignoring the cell phone, he reached for her, but she dodged him.
Breathing hard, she told Carver, “I am not your sister.”
A beat of silence built the tension, then Carver whispered, “Nice of you to remind me.”
That made her blanch—and Denver understood why. Despite her resistance, he drew her closer, reminding her that he wouldn’t let anyone touch her, definitely not Carver.
Relenting, she leaned into him as she said to Carver, “You disgust me.”
“Stop being such a spoiled bitch. If you get your ass back home where you belong, I promise to play real nice.”
“Not in a million years.”
“It’s late. Sleep on it and I know you’ll come to the right decision. I’ll expect a call tomorrow. No longer than that.” He paused. “Oh, and Cherry darlin’? Dream of me.” The call died.
She sat there, still staring at the phone.
After moving the cell to the nightstand, Denver rubbed her nape. “Hey.”
Very slowly, Cherry looked up at him. She drew in a slow breath, blew it out and tried to relax her shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“I wanted to be here, remember?” He pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. “You want to explain any of that?”
Wary, she shook her head. “I wish I could. But I have no idea what Janet meant. I was never involved in their business. Never.”
“He said she ruined the fun.”
Uncomfortable with the reminder, Cherry waved it off. “She sometimes defended me against the others.”
“But not enough?”
She looked away. “Janet was sometimes...kinder—but she considered me an outsider, same as they did.” Her dark eyes met his. “I have no idea how I could help them find anything.”
“Do you think the same people who murdered your parents could also be responsible for killing Carver’s dad and putting Janet in the hospital?”
“I don’t know.” Sliding her gaze away from his, she toyed with the edge of the sheet. “It seems possible.”
There was that lack of trust again. What did she think he would do after he found out the whole truth?
Or was she more worried about what Carver would do if she told anyone?
He should insist on more answers, but she looked to be at her limit. “It’s late. How about we get some sleep and tomorrow we can talk about it more. Maybe something will come to you.”
The reprieve had her melting against him in soft, sweet relief. “That sounds good.” She yawned theatrically. “I really am beat now.”
She really was elusive, but he let it go. He wanted to know it all, everything that concerned her, now and in the past. One way or another he’d uncover all her secrets—whether she wanted him to or not.
Denver didn’t miss the irony of that, since, despite his assurances, he had no plans to unload his burdens on her. His family issues were private, unsettling, and as far as he was concerned, not up for discussion.
“Come here.” He stretched back out in the bed with Cherry tucked safely against his side, then reached out an arm to turn out the light. They both needed a good night’s sleep.
After a quick kiss, she let out a sigh, shifted to get more comfortable, and fell silent. Despite all the unanswered questions and vague threats, it was nice holding her like this, ending his day with her gentle scent in the air, her warm body curled to his.
Unfortunately, an hour later, Denver’s thoughts continued to churn. He’d listened to Cherry fade into sleep and now enjoyed the feel of her gentle breath over his chest, the soft sounds she made in slumber.
Soft...until she seemed to hold her breath.
A
ttuned to her, he went still and alert. The arm she had around his abdomen flinched.
Raising his head, seeing her through the shadows, Denver whispered, “Cherry?”
She made another small sound—this one of distress.
Turning to face her, he clasped her shoulder. “Cherry.”
Her eyes popped open and she stared up at him, breathing shakily. “Denver?”
Who else? “Yeah. You okay?”
She nodded, swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Bad dream?”
Even in the darkness, he saw the confusion in her eyes before she claimed, “I was dreaming...of you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHERRY WRAPPED HER arms around Denver’s neck and hugged him tight to calm her trembling. Though now wide awake, emotionally she remained trapped in that damn strange dream—that had taken such a treacherous turn. She could still feel the cold, rocky ground cutting into her knees, smell the thick, dew-wet vegetation of the woods, hear the rustling of leaves high in the trees—and the drone of insects.
Over and over, the laughter of a cruel audience seemed to echo in her head.
She lifted a shoulder against her face to wipe her eyes and realized she wasn’t sweaty from the hot summer day. No grime clogged her pores. Her hair felt soft and clean.
It had been so real—because she’d once lived it.
Except for the ending.
“Tell me,” Denver said quietly.
No. Her heart raced as she remembered her cowardice, her pathetic struggles and useless tears.
The laughter over her spineless fear. The clicking of the bugs that drew nearer, the vision of multiple legs and antennae and sometimes even eyes.
And then the sound of a gunshot fractured the night.
In reality, she hadn’t been able to move.
But in her dream, she’d turned to flee—and run headlong into Denver. His arms had closed around her and everything else had faded away.
Denver ran a hand up and down her back. “Tell me what you really dreamed about.”
Danger and fear with Denver somehow mixed up in the middle of it. In the dream, he’d wanted her.
She wanted him now.
Kissing his shoulder, she tasted his sleek, hot skin over firm muscle. That was so nice that she nibbled her way up to his throat, raspy with beard shadow, then to his strong jaw. “I need you.”
He pried her arms loose and rose over her. “Cherry—”
“It was just a nightmare, but in it you showed up.”
“And saved you?”
No. She wouldn’t let him play macho protector. She would protect herself. What she needed most from him he could damn well give her right now.
Sliding a leg up and over his hip, she insisted, “You’re here, in my bed.” Dragging her fingernails lightly over his chest, testing his muscles, she insisted, “Kiss me. Please.”
The merest hesitation had her holding her breath, then he bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers with such tenderness, her heart wanted to break.
“Not like that,” she begged, pulling him back, licking over his bottom lip before nipping him with her teeth. “Kiss me like you want me.”
Husky, concerned, he whispered, “I always want you, girl.”
So then why did he sound so somber? She lifted against him, and sure enough, he had an erection. To convince him, she said, “I have condoms in my nightstand.”
That got her a tight squeeze, and a tighter, “Why?”
Silly Denver. It would take her a while to get used to the idea of him being jealous.
Lifting her legs around him, she locked her ankles at the small of his back. “In case I ever talked you into coming over.” Stroking her hands down his broad back to his muscled tush, she squeezed him. “And I have—so give it up.”
His resistance wavered, she felt it in the way he breathed, how he settled more fully atop her.
Taking advantage of that, Cherry trailed her fingertips up his back to his wide shoulders. “You are such a stud. Please Denver, stop denying me.”
Almost as a nonargument, he murmured, “You need sleep.”
Sleep dredged up ugly memories that were better left buried. “I need you.” She tangled her fingers in the silky hair at his nape and pressed her pelvis up against him, then hummed with satisfaction. “Feels like you need me, as well.”
He turned so that she rested atop him. “I don’t know,” he teased. “Maybe you should convince me.”
“Oh, I love a challenge.” Almost as much as she loved him and the understanding way he allowed her the diversion without asking too many questions.
Staying perched on Denver’s hard abdomen, she reached for the nightstand drawer and withdrew the box of rubbers. After she opened one with her teeth, she smiled at him. “Consider it done.”
* * *
THE SLAPPING OF his running shoes on dew-wet pavement lulled Denver, but then he was working on less than three hours’ sleep. He hadn’t planned to do that. A good night’s rest was as important as the proper diet to his regimen. But when Cherry set her mind to seducing him... Yeah, zero resistance.
He’d wanted her far too long to say no when she insisted yes.
When he’d left at 5:00 a.m., she’d been dead out with a few more hours to sleep. Other than a soft kiss to her forehead and a long perusal of her naked body nestled on the bed, he hadn’t disturbed her.
The note he’d put on her dresser would suffice as his morning goodbye. Already he missed her, which was absurd. Usually when he jogged he got in a zone where the rest of the world ceased to exist.
Not this time.
Yawning wouldn’t cut it, so he concentrated on the rhythm of his jog and tried to ignore his exhaustion. He needed to get the cardio in before an early meeting with a client, then conditioning at the rec center, then sparring with Cannon and lastly a class with high school boys.
The damp morning air smelled like rain as he breathed deeply, loping past houses and toward the park. He was halfway through his run when Cannon joined him. Judging by the sweat, Cannon had been at it almost as long as Denver.
When he came alongside him, Denver said, “Hey.”
“Morning.” Cannon adjusted his stride, picking up the pace to match Denver. “Need you to come by the rec center a little earlier today.”
Damn. “What time?” Maybe he could change the meeting with his client.
Cannon dropped his head forward with a laugh. “You don’t want to know why?”
“Figured something came up.” Cannon had been so good to all of them, no one asked “why” when he made a request—whatever the request might be. Denver loved him like a brother, valued him as a friend, and like most in the town, considered him a local hero.
“Yeah.” Cannon rubbed a shoulder over his face to remove a bead of sweat. “Sponsors.”
“Sponsors?”
“New clothing company.” They jogged around an elderly couple making their way to a bench. “Athletic wear.”
Talking and jogging was never easy, but especially not without sleep. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“It’s you they want.”
Sponsors weren’t new to him; every fighter established in the sport had at least one sponsorship, if not many. “So why not call me?”
“Because they want me, too. And Stack.”
Denver slowed. “I’m not following.”
Grinning, Cannon said, “They want to sponsor the rec center and any fighters there. You and me specifically since we’re already with the SBC, but on a lesser scale they also want to help support the place, and they want the guys wearing their shirts. Said they’d donate some youth shirts, too.”
Thinking of the ragtag kids that came to the rec center, Denver smiled. Most of them got excited over a piece of candy. “The boys will love it, especially if their shirts match ours.”
“Yeah. I thought it sounded like a sweet deal, particularly with the influx of cash they’re donating. We’ll be able to up
grade some old equipment and add in some new. My manager jumped the gun and worked out the details, but I told him I’d have to clear it with you and the others first.” He glanced at Denver with a conspiratorial smirk. “With all the shirt designs similar, Armie is going to see it as a uniform.”
Picturing it, Denver laughed. “Yeah, probably. Maybe he can chop off the sleeves or something.”
“Maybe.” They rounded a bend and by tacit agreement, slowed to a walk. As he opened his water bottle, Cannon asked, “What’s happening with Cherry? Anything?”
Amazing sex around the clock. He shook his head, not about to share details on that. “She called that douche foster brother of hers.” And then had bad dreams that she’d combatted by wringing him out with pleasure.
Lifting his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, Cannon asked, “How’d that go?”
“I’d like to kill him, that’s how.”
While they walked, Denver told Cannon everything he’d heard while listening in on the call.
“So what do they want her to find?”
Shaking his head, he admitted, “Cherry says she has no idea.”
“You don’t buy it?”
Thinking of the day ahead, he said, “She’s holding back, but I don’t know what or how much.” Not her body. Not her affection for him. But...something. “I’ll get it cleared up with her later. Last night, she was just too stressed to talk about it.” And she didn’t trust him with the truth.
“There’s a cure for that, you know.”
“Yup.” He grinned. “She was still asleep when I left.”
“Your place or hers?”
“Hers.”
Cannon went quiet, which made Denver tense.
As he’d just told Cherry, Cannon made it clear how he felt about any of the guys going for a casual hookup with his sister’s roommate. But Cherry was more than that to him. More than a mere hookup. More than anything casual.
How much more, he didn’t know yet. They hadn’t really had time to figure it out.
But Denver knew what he wanted involved far more than a quick lay. Hell, he’d already had a sexual marathon with her, and it only whet his appetite.
He planned to spend every night with Cherry, so it’d be best for him to work this out with Cannon right now. “If you’re still against me staying the night—”
