Michael (Connelly Cousins #3)

by Abbie Zanders

  His eyes searched hers. Glowing green eyes like a predator. Except she wasn’t afraid. She found herself wanting desperately to be his next meal. Shaking herself free of those dangerous thoughts, she added, “You know, it’s the least I can do, since you came to my rescue and all.”

  * * *

  Now that he knew what she felt like in his arms, knew what it was like to kiss her, nothing would keep him away. But if she thought he was just going to let this incident slide, she had another thing coming. There was more to this situation than she was letting on; he felt it in his bones.

  That guy, whoever he was, had something to do with whatever had her spooked and running scared.

  “I accept. But I have something I have to do first.”

  His eyes went briefly to the doorway where the tool had been standing only moments earlier. He didn’t worry that the guy had gotten far. Joey and Dave, both former MPs, wouldn’t have allowed it.

  He felt her hand press lightly to his chest, sending little bolts of heat zinging through him, right into his groin. He looked down into the deep blue green of her eyes.

  “He’s not worth it,” she said quietly.

  Michael smiled and pushed a stray curl from her forehead, but said nothing. They’d have to agree to disagree on that. The rat bastard’s fate had already been sealed. To the astonishment of the others, who had been watching with undisguised interest, Michael put his hand on the small of her back and gently guided her toward the back door.

  “I’m going to see that Bailey gets to work safely,” he told Johnny and Kyle with a meaningful glance. “Hold the game for me, will you?”

  They immediately understood his message: keep that bastard here till I get back. The two men nodded, probably at a loss for words. They weren’t used to seeing him get territorial.

  Then again, they’d never seen him with his croie, either.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Bailey insisted as Michael led her out to his Harley, eyeing the machine with wide eyes. “I can just call a cab or something.”

  “Ah, what kind of knight would I be if I did not see to your safe travels?” He allowed the soft musical lilt of his ancestry to color his words as he held out his leather jacket to her.

  In the glow of the streetlight, he could see the rosy blush seep into her cheeks. He couldn’t help but wonder if other parts of her flushed with a healthy glow as well.

  “Have you ever ridden upon such a steed before, my lady?”

  She cast her eyes downward. “Nae,” she said, with a shy smile that had his balls tightening. “Pray thee, I have not, brave knight.”

  He straddled the bike and gave it a solid kick start, offering her a heart-stopping grin as the low rumble purred beneath him. When she made no move forward, he held out his hand.

  “Come,” he encouraged.

  * * *

  Bailey was rooted to the spot. What the hell was she thinking? Only a few minutes ago she’d thrown herself into his arms, and now she was actually considering climbing on the back of that gleaming black and chrome death machine with him? Had she taken total leave of her senses?

  She was not, by nature, a reckless or impetuous person. She was well organized, intelligent, and purposeful. She did not climb on the backs of motorcycles with dark (albeit gorgeous) wild Irish men. It would be totally out of character for her. Kind of like throwing herself against a dark, gorgeous, wild Irishman in a bar to escape the man who had been stalking her.

  But oh, had she not thrown herself at him, she never would have known the wonder of his kiss, or the feel of all that delicious hardness against her. Now she knew exactly what people meant when they said that “the earth moved”. For her, it had tilted entirely off its axis for the duration of that kiss and even a bit afterward.

  But a motorcycle? Why couldn’t he have driven a Ferrari or a Lamborghini or a Bugatti or something safe?

  She looked at him, so fierce and beautiful under the glow of the street lamp that it nearly took her breath away. When would she ever get another chance like this?

  If nothing else, this evening’s events were a much-needed reminder that it was time to move on. The thought hurt, more than it usually did, all because of the dark knight willing to slay her dragons. If she didn’t do this, she would spend the rest of her life wondering, what if...

  Chapter Three

  Michael watched her carefully, keeping himself as still and non-threatening as possible. For as passionately as she’d clung to him and returned his kiss only a few minutes ago, she was back to being skittish.

  So close. Don’t push. Come on, baby, take a chance.

  He’d been blown away by her unexpected boldness earlier, but one look in her eyes told him how terrified she had been. That fucker would pay for scaring her like that; just like that cocky little shit who’d made a very poor choice when he decided to grab her ass in the diner a few weeks ago. Michael had broken six bones in that guy’s hand that night, not to mention his arm for good measure. He forced himself to remain patient. If he could lay for hours in the desert without moving a muscle, he sure as hell could straddle his Harley for a few minutes to let her work up the courage to trust him. His heart did a somersault when she took that first step forward.

  “Put this jacket on,” he told her, “and climb up behind me.” He saw the excitement flash briefly in her eyes, saw how she summoned her courage, and felt a surge of pride. She dutifully slid her arms into the buttery-soft leather, inhaling as she did so, though she hesitated beside the bike.

  “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said softly, keeping his hands on the grips. He could encourage her, but ultimately, this had to be her choice.

  Still tentative, she put the toes of her foot on the bar and swung her leg over gracefully, settling in behind him. The way she moved suggested that she had studied dance or ballet at some point, or perhaps even martial arts. So feminine, and so strong.

  His arousal shot up another couple of notches. She would be fluid grace beneath him, on top of her, beside him... He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He’d allow himself to fantasize later, when he didn’t have the benefit of her body so close to his that he could feel her warmth soaking into him.

  Unsure where to put her hands, she rested them lightly against his sides. Michael bit back a grin. How ironic was it that women usually had no qualms about putting their hands on him, yet this one – the one he ached to feel against him – seemed reluctant to do so?

  “You’re going to want to wrap your hands around my waist and scoot up real close,” he said, forcing a neutrality into his voice he didn’t feel.

  Bailey followed his instructions to the letter, inching up until she was nestled snugly and her thighs pressed against the outside of his. His mind went blank for a few moments, at least until her arms slid around his waist and she held him firmly. He stifled the growl that tried to rip forth from his chest as her fingers splayed across his abs. An innocent embrace, yet one that rocked him to his core.

  “Where do you live?” he asked casually. The question was for her benefit, to foster her fragile trust. He already knew, of course. He’d followed her home after her shift enough times, waiting until she was safely inside to take his leave. But she didn’t know that. Nor did he want her to.

  He didn’t miss her hesitation. She had concerns about revealing that kind of information to anyone, and for a woman living alone, that was a good thing. But he wasn’t just anyone. Surely she sensed that by now, or she wouldn’t have looked to him earlier.

  “218 Sparks.”

  Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief; it was another small step in the right direction.

  Over the vibration of the bike he could feel her heart hammering against his back. When he eased the bike forward, she pressed her face into him and tightened her hold. He chuckled when they pulled up in front of her apartment building a short while later and she continued to grip him tightly.

  He killed the engine and said softly over hi
s shoulder, “We’re here.”

  “So soon?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Yes. Wasn’t as bad as you thought, was it?”

  “No,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. “It was ... kind of exhilarating, actually.”

  She took care getting off the bike, dismounting as gracefully as she had gotten on. He felt the loss of her warm body acutely, suddenly reduced to just the gentle feel of her delicate fingers upon his shoulders, then nothing. Sliding out of his jacket, she held it out to him.

  “Go ahead and do what you need to do. I’ll wait here.”

  She looked at him questioningly with those big, round eyes. He noticed she used a little shadow around the lash line, a smoky deep turquoise that highlighted the natural flecks now sparkling beneath the streetlamps. He liked it. A lot.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” He looked at his watch. “What time does your shift start?” Eleven p.m. to seven a.m. Tuesday thru Sunday. She had Monday nights off. Spent the time alone in her apartment, reading romance novels or working on her laptop.

  Again the slight hesitation. “Eleven.”

  “Plenty of time, then.”

  “All right,” she agreed with a slight nod. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.” He grinned again. More progress.

  Michael watched as she walked into her building, looking once or twice over her shoulder as if she expected him to disappear if she looked away too long.

  When she was out of sight, he lifted the jacket to his face and inhaled. The warm leather and faded scent of his cologne mixed with another, a sweet smell that reminded him of gooey iced cinnamon rolls right out of the oven, the scent he now associated exclusively with Bailey Keehan. He didn’t bother to stifle the groan that rumbled forth, his mouth salivating as he imagined satisfying his cravings in creative and intimate ways. The thoughts sent shudders of pure desire through him, and his throbbing cock ached against the confines of his jeans.

  She wasn’t ready for that yet, he reminded himself. Which meant he needed to think about something else before he did something stupid, like push too hard. He’d never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Bailey, and now that he’d recognized who she was to him, his body vehemently protested holding back any longer.

  But hold back he would, because this need he was feeling was about more than just sex. This was about forever. Once they crossed that threshold, there was no turning back.

  Like you could turn back now, a little voice inside his head mocked.

  The phone in his pocket vibrated with an incoming message from Johnny. Party’s ready to start. Where are you?

  Michael’s upper lip curled back in a half-grin, half snarl, imagining Bailey’s stalker being held in the back room at Tommy’s, awaiting his return amidst the unfriendly hometown crowd. He thumbed back. Be there in a few. Save me some.

  When he looked up again, Bailey was coming through the doors again in that cute little waitress outfit. Her whole face lit up when she saw he was still there, waiting in the same place. Damn. His balls tightened painfully.

  Behave, he commanded.

  She swung onto the bike, more comfortable with the process this time around. She even seemed excited by the prospect of riding again. Michael took instant notice of the fact that her bare legs were now pressing against him, her dark jeans replaced by that modest skirt. Not conducive to riding long distances, perhaps, but it was only a short ride to the diner, and if she wasn’t saying anything, he wasn’t stupid enough to bring it up.

  Her arms wound around him without coaxing as she scooted herself against him; he swallowed hard against the heat that seeped through his jeans. Her hands moved confidently against his stomach, and he could have sworn she had snuck a couple of quick, exploring touches in there, but he wasn’t complaining.

  “Ready, my lady?”

  Her light, musical laughter sent tingles into his center. “I am indeed, good Sir.”

  He paused for a moment, soaking it all in, until her fingers flexed and her body shifted behind him, reminding him of his task.

  The trip to the diner was woefully short. He briefly considered circling the block a couple of times to extend the ride, but thought it best to save that for another time. Judging by the way she seemed to be enjoying herself, the offer of a long, weekend ride might go over well. He filed that away for later.

  * * *

  Bailey kept her head up and her eyes open, determined to experience more of the ride this time. Now that she knew what to expect, it wasn’t nearly as scary. Michael handled the bike expertly and holding onto him as she was, was a treat in itself.

  Not only that, but when she was with him, she felt safe, as if nothing bad could happen when he was around. It was the same each time he came into the diner. For that hour or so, she breathed a little easier, knowing he was there, feeling his presence. Safe. When was the last time she’d felt completely safe? She couldn’t even remember.

  Under normal circumstances, she might have seen it as a promising beginning, but there was nothing normal about her circumstances, and pretending otherwise wasn’t going to do either of them any good.

  This evening had been a grim reminder of exactly what could happen when she let her guard down. What if that guy wasn’t just a small-town stalker, but another private investigator hired by Simon? She was not only putting herself in danger, but possibly those around her, too. Simon had already proven he would stop at nothing – including murder – to get what he wanted. Her.

  The truth was, she didn’t belong here, and she couldn’t afford any more ties. Between looking out for herself and trying to keep her sisters safe, she had enough to handle.

  The ride was far too short. Once again, Bailey was reluctant to release her hold on her warm, dark knight, but this time it had nothing to do with fear. She removed herself from the bike with care, pulling down her skirt modestly. Michael got off the bike, too.

  “How can I thank you?” she asked, fully aware that it was a loaded question.

  Michael gave her a roguish smile and took her hand in his. He bent forward, skimming the tips of her knuckles with his lips, his eyes never leaving her face. “Why, my lady, I believe you have already offered to feed me. Don’t tell me that you’ve changed your mind?”

  “No. The offer stands.”

  Michael released her hand. She took several steps forward then looked back over her shoulder when she realized he wasn’t following.

  “You’re not coming?”

  “I have some things to take care of, but I’ll be back.”

  “What things?” she asked, though she suspected she already knew. He didn’t reply, but she could read the answer in his eyes. “Michael, I appreciate the effort, but it’s over.”

  “Hey, stop worrying, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

  When he looked at her like that, eyes softened and slightly crinkled at the corners, full male lips curved in the hint of a reassuring smile, it was hard to do anything but believe him.

  She nodded. “Guess I better start those rolls then.”

  “And coffee.”

  “And coffee,” she agreed.

  Bailey was two steps inside the door when she heard the deep rumble of his motorcycle roaring to life. She watched through the windows as he sped off into the night, already missing him.

  * * *

  The sooner he took care of this, the sooner he’d be back with Bailey. That was the thought that propelled Michael through the back streets of Birch Falls at a speed well above the posted limit.

  The woman twisted him inside out like nothing else. He prided himself on his self-control and his ability to withstand anything the enemy could throw at him. He was the fucking epitome of grace under pressure. Except when Bailey Keehan was within one hundred yards. Then he had trouble remembering his own name. Something about her kicked him right into the red zone, no passing “GO”, no collecting two hundred dollars.

  Michael wondered vaguely if his gr
andfather had foreseen this happening, and that was why he’d been so adamant about his help as opposed to that of his Uncle Jack and his cousins in Pine Ridge. They specialized in ferreting out information and, ever so quietly, solving problems. Sure, he was no slouch when it came to covert ops, but the fact that Conlan had specifically chosen him instead of making that phone call was telling. And fortunate, because the thought of any one of his single male cousins sniffing around Bailey was unacceptable.

  Not that it mattered, really. If Bailey Keehan was his croie – and Michael was certain she was – then Fate would have crossed their paths eventually. Conlan O’Leary might have had an ulterior motive when he provided the initial introduction, but the result would have been the same whether he’d met her at a gas station or the grocery store. There was no logical explanation for it; it just was.

  The same thing had happened to his sister. His brother. His parents and grandparents. At a couple of years past the thirty mark, he’d accepted that it wasn’t going to happen for him.

  Sometimes, it was nice to be proven wrong.

  Chapter Four

  When Michael returned to Tommy’s, he strode into the private back room with a definite purpose and a good deal of pent-up energy. He was pleased to see the guy from earlier sitting between Kyle and Johnny, looking rather unhappy. He wasn’t a small man, yet he was dwarfed between the two.

  The cocky look he’d worn earlier was gone now; his eyes flicked nervously around him, his body stiff with tension. Michael dropped into the chair opposite him, somewhat surprised that the guy wasn’t pissing his pants yet. That was going to change.

  Kyle tossed a wallet his way, earning a glower from the man. Michael opened it and rifled through the contents. Driver’s license. Two hundred bucks, give or take. A MAC/debit card for the local bank. No credit cards, no photos, nothing personal. Michael kept his expression neutral, but inside, his gut wasn’t just humming, it was rumbling like his Harley.

  “Robert White,” he mused, sliding the wallet back across the table. “Mind if I call you Rob?”