Holding Strong

by Lori Foster

She fashioned a stupid, unconvincing smile. “I don’t think so. I just realized something...important.”

  Rowdy’s stare took her apart, then he nodded and to the men said, “You can use my office.”

  “All right.” Bareden took a sip of his drink, stood, and good Lord he was a big man. Even bigger than she’d remembered. “Call me Reese, by the way. I’m off-duty.”

  Close behind her, the other detective, who wasn’t as big, which in no way made him small, said, “I’m Logan. We’re both friends of Cannon’s, and by extension, Denver.”

  “Did you need us to fetch Denver for this conversation, Cherry?”

  It nearly put a crick in her neck to look up at Reese and once she did, she forgot to stop looking.

  “Cherry?”

  She nodded dumbly, then caught herself. “Denver is with fans. I don’t want to bother him just yet.”

  The men shared a look.

  Feeling guilty, she scowled at each of them. “I’ll tell him. It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I just—”

  “You’ve got me curious, I’ll give you that,” Logan said. “Come along, then.” With a hand at the small of her back, he urged her forward, knowing exactly where to find the office.

  Before they’d taken three steps, Denver was there. He didn’t call a halt, just put his arm around her and kept pace.

  When Cherry faltered, he said, “Armie got me.”

  “I told him not to!”

  Denver bent and kissed her forehead. “He did the right thing.” They entered the office. Denver held the door until the others were inside, then closed it. He watched Cherry until she started to fidget.

  “I think I know what Carver wants.”

  “Other than you, you mean?” His gaze went to the detectives. “He enjoys threatening her.”

  Cherry rubbed her forehead. “I don’t want to go into the whole thing, but the important part is that Carver and his family deal drugs.”

  Logan straightened. Reese frowned.

  “I used to live with them. They were my foster family.” She shared the town in Kentucky. “Everyone knew they were dealers but as far as I could tell the cops were part of it.”

  Going behind the desk, Logan rummaged over the surface until he found a pad and a pen. He scribbled some notes. “Go on.”

  Inhaling a shaky breath, she nodded. “Carver used to take liberties. With me.”

  “Cherry,” Denver prompted.

  Yes, she realized she had to own up to all of it. “He tried to...to molest me. Maybe rape me.” She shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure what his intentions were, other than bad.”

  Denver pushed away from the door, came over to stand behind her, and put his arms around her. Very close to her ear, he asked, “Would it be okay if I summarized things for them?”

  Grateful that she wouldn’t have to, Cherry nodded.

  Denver hugged her for agreeing, then in short, succinct sentences, he told of the trouble she’d had with Carver and his brothers, the threats that had been made since his return, and his own plays to cut the man out to force him out of hiding.

  The sympathy she felt from Logan and Reese nearly choked her. She forced her chin up, her shoulders back, and met their gazes.

  “Carver came after me for a reason. I knew he wanted something, but I didn’t know what. I was never involved in any way with the family business. Other than taking the money when Janet sent me away, I was never told anything about it.”

  Reese took the paper from Logan. “We have the address. I can have local cops—those not from the area—check into things.” Gently he added, “Not all cops are on the take.”

  “I know that,” she assured him. “I trust the lieutenant, and I trust both of you.”

  “The cops you can trust,” Logan said, “far outnumber those you can’t. But I understand your reluctance to involve anyone in or around the area where you used to live.”

  “Thank you.”

  Reese studied her, his eyes narrowed and one side of his mouth kicked up in interest. “You’ve figured out what it is, haven’t you?”

  Denver’s arms tightened. “Cherry?”

  Lacing her hands over his where they crossed her waist, she nodded. “It finally just occurred to me.”

  Denver turned her, stared into her eyes, and let out a breath. “Let’s hear it.”

  She never liked talking about her time with the Nelsons, especially not Carver’s warped pursuit. But she wouldn’t cower. Not anymore. Looking at Denver made it easier than looking at the cops. “I told you I would hide from Carver when he was in one of his moods.”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t explain that I hid outside. Sometimes all night. I’d found this old rusted-out truck in the woods.” Her hands started to shake—until Denver held them. “You could barely see it from all the weeds and vines growing over it. The inside was empty except for a seat. I’d crawled in there one night when Carver was looking for me. For over an hour I could hear him calling my name. Even after I figured he’d left, I was afraid to come out so I stayed there all night.”

  Looking pained, Denver nodded once to encourage her.

  “Even with the bugs and a few snakes that I had to chase off, I decided it was a good place so I went back during the day and cleaned it out the best I could.”

  “You hate snakes and bugs,” Denver said in a whisper.

  Keeping her voice as low as his, she replied, “Not as much as I hated Carver.” To stave off the lump of emotion crowding her throat, she turned to the detectives. “Carver said Janet hid something. I’m guessing either drugs or money. Maybe both. He said I would know where, which didn’t make any sense at first. But Janet knew where I hid. That day she pulled the shotgun on Carver—”

  “The day she sent you away,” Denver clarified.

  Cherry nodded. “She said she knew I hid in the old truck and that’s where she was going to look for me, but she found me in the clearing instead.”

  “With Carver planning a public rape.”

  Because she didn’t know what else to say, Cherry shrugged.

  After pulling her up against his chest, Denver zeroed in on the detectives. “You have enough to check into it?”

  “I’ll make a few calls,” Logan promised. “We know some cops in the area.”

  “Good cops,” Reese clarified. “We can do a search, see what we come up with. But in the meantime, you need to be extra careful.”

  “Desperate people do terrible things,” Logan agreed.

  “He’s psycho.” Denver hugged her a little tighter. “Believe me, I won’t let him get anywhere near her.”

  Logan and Reese shared a look, then Logan dug out a card and handed it to Denver. “If you hear from him again, and for damn sure if you see him, call me.”

  * * *

  DENVER COULD BARELY credit the change in Cherry. Now that she assumed she knew what Carver wanted, she was more lighthearted. More open.

  To him.

  Last night, she’d initiated the lovemaking. Twice. She’d always been hot, but now she was also affectionate.

  A potent combo.

  Her smiles turned him on, and so did that breathy little catch in her voice when she said his name right before coming.

  But it was more than that. It was her entire outlook. She looked free.

  With the stereo playing, she danced around the bedroom, already dressed and patiently waiting for him to finish. Being reluctant to leave her, he’d done his workout at home that day. And now, as he watched the sway of her hips, he wondered if they had time to fit in a quickie before they needed to leave. He wasn’t crazy about the trip back home, and Cherry—with her very sweet ass—could provide the perfect distraction.

  When he reached for her, she laughed and danced out of reach.

  “Tease.”

  “I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.”

  She seemed to be settling in, and that gave him hope that when he told her he wanted her to stay forever, she wo
uldn’t argue with him. “Come here.” He caught her before she could get away again, then tugged her resisting body between his legs.

  “Denver,” she protested with a smile. “We have to leave here in less than five minutes and you haven’t finished dressing yet.”

  All he needed was his shoes and a T-shirt. He’d told Cherry to dress casual, and while no one would call her outfit dressy, she looked amazing. Her white sundress with blue flowers fit tight to her waist with the top low enough to show off some tantalizing cleavage. The full skirt fell softly around her hips and thighs and ended at her knees. She wore heeled blue sandals that made her legs look incredible.

  She laced her fingers into his hair, still damp from his shower. “I look okay?”

  “You look so good, I could eat you up,” he whispered, his hands now on the backs of her legs urging her closer.

  “Denver.”

  He slid his palms up her bare thighs until he reached her bottom. His abs tightened as he explored her naked cheeks. “Damn, girl. What type of underwear are you wearing?”

  “A thong.”

  He stepped her back. “Let me see.”

  Grinning, she slipped away from him. “You can see tonight.”

  Slowly, Denver rose from the edge of the bed. Yeah, this game would definitely ease any apprehension. “I don’t want to wait.”

  Laughing again, the sound almost a giggle, she ducked to the other side of the dresser. “Now Denver...”

  He gave her a wolfish smile. “Come here, Cherry.”

  Her face heated even as her mouth twitched. “No!” She turned to run but only got a few steps before he scooped her up high, making her screech in surprise.

  Going to the bed, he sat down with her draped over his lap.

  “Denver!”

  “Hush, girl. You’ll have the neighbors calling the cops on us.” While she alternately laughed and struggled, he flipped up the skirt of her dress. “Lord, you have a nice ass.” He cupped one big hand over her. Her skin was so soft, her bottom firm and full.

  Cherry stopped fighting him and instead covered her face. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “What about this?” he asked, slipping one finger under the seam of the thong and trailing it down, down, until he could touch her from behind.

  “Or that!”

  He stroked over her—and found her hot, damp and no longer protesting. He groaned as he carefully pressed into her.

  Stiffening, she made a small sound in the back of her throat.

  “Come on, Cherry,” he crooned to her, his finger now teasing. “Tell me you want me.”

  Throaty, soft, she whispered, “I want you.”

  Hearing her say it broke his control. In one quick movement he turned her facedown bent over the end of the high bed. Her heels made it possible for her to plant her feet on the floor—raising up that sexy rump.

  “Yeah.” He opened his jeans as he strode to the nightstand to grab a condom, returning to her in less than twenty seconds. He pushed the dress up high and moved her miniscule panties to the side, groaning again at the ripe sight of her. With his foot he nudged her legs wider.

  “Denver?”

  “Stay like that.”

  Her hands knotted in the quilt.

  So hot. “You’re mine, Cherry.” He planted one hand at the small of her back to keep her still and with the other, he guided himself to her, watching as he entered oh-so slowly, opening her, working his way in.

  She shifted on a small moan.

  “Okay?”

  “Hurry it up.”

  Clasping her hips between his hands, he thrust into her.

  Her legs stiffened and she cried out, but not in discomfort.

  She called his name.

  “You’re mine,” he said again, already rushing to the rhythm he knew she liked best.

  “I’m yours,” she agreed, clenching tight around him.

  Neither of them lasted long at all. Denver waited for her, loving the way she moved, the sounds she made, how she strained toward her climax.

  The second she tensed in release, he let himself go and joined her. When her legs gave out he dropped over her, crushing her into the bed.

  Drowsily, she muttered, “My dress is going to be wrinkled.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t move just yet.”

  “No, I won’t.” He gave them each a full minute to recover before finally dragging himself back to his feet. Cherry didn’t move, not even when he stroked her silky behind.

  Sex with Cherry was the perfect cure—for everything. He was now so relaxed, he could barely feel his bones.

  Smiling, he turned her over and kissed her parted lips. “Get a move on, girl, or we’ll be late.”

  Her response was part laugh, part groan, but she did get up and head to the restroom on wobbly legs. “We’ll be late because of you,” she complained. “You better start thinking up an excuse, because the truth won’t do.”

  Denver barely held back his laugh. No way could he hide his satisfaction. He loved her. Tonight, no matter what, he had to tell her.

  * * *

  HE HELD HER hand as they went up the walkway to the front door of his family home. It felt familiar, yet strange. In the time he’d been away, the chairs on the front porch had changed, the shutters were a different color and flowers filled the window boxes.

  “Are you nervous?” Cherry asked, sounding really nervous herself.

  “No.” He lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “Thanks to you, I’m as mellow as can be.”

  She gave him a beautiful smile. “I’m glad.”

  The door opened before they reached it and both his dad and Pamela stood there. Denver didn’t hesitate. Acting as if nothing had changed, he nodded. “Dad. Pamela.”

  Pamela looked flushed and anxious as she held the door wide. “I’m so glad you both made it.”

  Cherry shrugged off her nervousness and stepped forward. “Thank you again for including me.” She went right up to his dad. “Hello, Mister Lewis.” She held out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  A smile cracked, and then a full-fledged grin as Lyle Lewis pulled her in for a hug. “It’s very nice to meet you, young lady. Cherry, right?”

  “Yes, sir.” She returned his embrace, then held him away. “Denver’s right. You do look much alike.”

  Lyle’s gaze shifted to Denver, and his expression went somber. “Son.”

  “Dad.” He held out his hand, but he, too, got pulled into a hug, this time crushing.

  It was the same type of hug he’d gotten after his mother died, when his father struggled so badly.

  It surprised Denver, but he didn’t mind. He clapped his dad on the back, gave him a second to compose himself, and stepped away.

  Pamela flitted around, uncertain, looking like she thought Denver might accuse her at any moment. “Could I get either of you something to drink?”

  Gaze averted, Lyle said, “He remembers where the fridge is, honey.”

  “I’m fine,” Denver told her. “Cherry?”

  “Maybe just water?”

  Before Pamela could leave, his dad spoke up. “I’d like to talk to Denver alone a moment. Why don’t you ladies go on out back and we’ll be there shortly.”

  Worried, because Denver didn’t want her out of his sight, he turned to Cherry but she was already agreeing. “I’d love to see your home, if that’s okay.”

  As if someone had just given her a reprieve, Pamela jumped to agree. “I’ll show you around. We can get to know each other better, then grab some drinks on the way out.”

  Cherry gave him one last smile before following Pamela from the entry.

  “She’s charming,” Lyle said.

  Denver nodded. “Smart, sexy, funny.” He gave his dad a direct look. “I’m in love with her.”

  That brought another smile to Lyle’s mouth. “She feels the same about you?”

  “I think so. We haven’t talked about it yet.�
�

  By tacit agreement, they headed for the office. “What’s there to talk about? You haven’t told her how you feel?”

  “Not yet. There’s been a lot going on. But we’re getting there.”

  Once in the room, Lyle shut the door and walked to a small built-in fridge. “Can you have a beer?”

  “Sure.”

  “You have a fight coming up, right?”

  “Yeah, but one drink won’t hurt.” Denver accepted the bottle, went to the couch and sat down. The material was different, he realized. Then, looking more closely, he saw that the office had been painted, the large area rug changed.

  Watching him, Lyle leaned back on the edge of his desk. “I know, it’s all different. Pamela has changed so many things.”

  “Women like to make things their own.” Denver shrugged. “She lives here now.” His problem with his stepmother had never been her decorating choices.

  No, the problems went a lot deeper than that.

  “I still love her,” Lyle announced.

  Denver thought about shrugging again, but he didn’t want to be that disrespectful so he did nothing at all.

  “I’ve made many mistakes,” his father added. “I’d just lost my wife, you were grown and didn’t need me.”

  Denver barely kept from making a rude noise. A son always needed his father, but damned if he’d say so.

  Lyle ran a hand through his graying hair. “I guess I had a stupid midlife crisis.” His gaze met Denver’s. “But I do love her—faults and all. I want to make it work with her. But first I need to make it work with you.”

  More uncomfortable by the moment, Denver shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “You’re my son and I love you. These past years without you...” He paced away, came back, picked up his beer and put it down again. Finally he jerked around to face Denver. His shoulders were tight, his brows drawn in remorse. “Pride is a mean sonofabitch. I never should have doubted you. You’re my son and I knew—know—you better than that. I shouldn’t have believed Pamela’s lies.”

  So he knew now they were lies? Had Pamela told him?

  “But since I did,” Lyle continued, “once I realized just how wrong I was, I should have called you. I just...” Helplessly he shook his head. “I never knew the words.”

  Denver’s heart began to thunder. He cleared his throat. “That’s understandable, Dad. I’m not great with words, either.”