Bo (Bad Boys of Retribution MC Book 3)

by Warren, Rie

  “I know you’re fit, but are you always this healthy?” she asked, taking a small sip of her shake.

  I skated my chair back after cleaning my plate. “Fuck no. You missed my answers in the bottom of a bottle phase.”

  She rounded the table to sit on my lap. “Was it that bad?”

  “It wasn’t good.” I ducked my head.

  “Doctor Cartwright says you’re doing well.”

  Pulling her deeper into my lap, I relaxed. “He gives you progress reports on me?”

  “Not really. Doctor-patient confidentiality. He’s a professional. You can trust him. I just . . .” She stood and started gathering dishes.

  I followed her to the sink. Scooping her hair aside, I kissed her neck. “You just what?”

  When she turned in my arms the bright red of her hair dipped under my chin. “I could’ve helped you.”

  “Don’t you get it, V?” I tugged her closer. “God. I wanted you the first second I saw you like no other woman.” Tipping up her chin, I ran my thumb over her luscious bottom lip. “You think I want to seem weak in front of you?”

  “How could I ever think you’re weak?” Her hands roved up my arms, twisting behind my head. “I wanted you to give yourself to me.”

  “I have.” With a hungry growl, I settled my lips over hers.

  There on the kitchen counter, dirty dishes all around us, I gave myself to her again. Plates scattered. The jug of syrup overturned, dripping onto the floor. Her ass held in my hands, she curled her fingers through the handles of the cupboard beside her head. Her orgasm was loud and wild, mine fierce and fast.

  Panting afterward, I held her upright after I set her feet on the floor. “You want more?”

  She snorted and her hair hazed across her face. “Ask me again when I can walk a straight line, Officer.”

  “That would be Lieutenant Hunter, not me.”

  “So it would be, Captain Maverick.” She saluted me sharply . . . and then bent over the table, completely fucking naked, to pile up dishes.

  “Good thing he’s married now, or I’d have to take him out.”

  “Men. Macho. Typical.”

  “I’ll give you typical.”

  “I think you already did.” She sassed back.

  “You call getting fucked hard in my kitchen typical, woman?”

  I marched toward her, but my phone rang on the counter. It jitterbugged across the flour dusted surface.

  “Going to answer that?” V asked.

  Picking up the cell, I scanned the incoming and shut it down.

  Her fingers joined with mine around the phone. “Was that your parents?”

  The dangers of dating a shrink.

  I nodded.

  “You haven’t contacted them yet.”

  I shook my head.

  “You should.” She drifted away, picked my shirt up off the floor, and pulled it on. The broad shoulders swamped her and the tails fell to her upper thighs. “I know what it’s like to go without family.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, feeling cornered. “How so?” I tried to turn the tables on her.

  “You’re not the only one running from your past, you know?”

  “Actually, I don’t know, V. I don’t know very much about you at all.”

  She brushed past me and turned to storm out of the room. I grasped the back of the shirt and pulled it down her spine. Her ink visible, she halted.

  “Fuck you, Bo,” she tossed back.

  “Nice. From the woman who wants me to give it all up but isn’t one bit honest herself.” My emotions switched gears in an instant, and it was crash and burn time. I ranged closer to her. “You’re hiding something, and I think it has something to do with this tat.”

  V whirled on me. “You have no idea, Marine. No fucking clue.” Her finger pointed at my chest. “Don’t try to psych me out because I am years ahead of you, interrogation training or not. There’s a reason I don’t get involved.” She shoved me away. “Call your damn mother already and be thankful you can.”

  She strode down the hall, slamming the bedroom door.

  My jaw locked, I yanked on my discarded sweats. I kept one eye on the closed door as I pressed the callback button on my phone. If Veronica thought she could make a run for it while I was otherwise occupied she was dead wrong and she didn’t know who she was dealing with.

  I gripped the cell in my hand, listening to the other end ring.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Bo here.”

  “Bo?” My mom’s voice sounded suddenly teary, and I clamped my eyes shut.

  “Hey, Ma.”

  “Oh my! Oh! Renny! Bo’s on the phone!” Mom shouted to my dad.

  “Jesus, Ma. Do you think I could talk to you for a second before you put me in front of the drill sergeant?”

  “Boy, you better watch that cussin’. I don’t care how long it’s been since I laid eyes on ya. Don’t you Jesus, Ma me. Hear?”

  Damn. In trouble before I hardly even say hello.

  A lifer in the Marines, my dad’s voice carried across the line with all the force of fired up artillery. “You safe, son?”

  “I’m in Charleston.”

  “Wouldn’t call that safe.”

  I snuffed out a laugh.

  “How long you been stateside?”

  “I . . .” I pressed the heel of my hand against my eyes.

  My mom commandeered the phone. “Bo. You get yourself home right this instant. I don’t know where ya been or what you’ve been through, but—”

  “You heard your momma. You’re one of her babies, soldier or not. Damn you for goin’ off the grid all these months.”

  “I haven’t been right in the head, Dad.” I pushed a fist against the wall, wanting to punch clean through it.

  “I don’t give a good daggone damn. We didn’t know where you were or how to contact you.” He chomped out the words like they were rusty bullets lodged in his throat, like the big lump lodged in mine.

  “I’m sorry, Pop.”

  “Sorry’s just words. We need to see you.”

  “I can come up next weekend.”

  “Then you make sure you do that, Bo.”

  A few minutes later, with the call disconnected, I braced my arms on the countertop and cleared my head. Hell, I had to take a moment to clear my eyes. My folks hadn’t placed blame, but I felt guilty all the same.

  Entering the bedroom after I’d composed myself, I found V adjusting her dress from the night before while she slipped on her shoes.

  “C’mere,” I said.

  She walked toward me and let me tuck her in my arms. “You’re a stubborn pain in the ass. You know that, Bo?”

  “Yeah. I get that. I’m sorry,” I mumbled against her hair. “Still need more work on that bein’ a hothead thing. I get defensive, and then it’s either fight or flight. And I’m trained to fight.”

  “What are you fighting against?”

  I released a long sigh. “I’m scared. Scared I don’t fit anywhere anymore, maybe not even with my family. Scared my mom and dad will be disappointed in me.”

  She rubbed a hand up and down my chest. “You talked to them?”

  “Well, you didn’t give me much choice, babe.”

  “You’re a grown man. You make your own choices.”

  I chuckled as she tried to break free of my hold, cinching my arms tighter. “I see that.” Tipping up her chin, I kissed her temple, her cheeks, her slowly lowering eyelids. “What aren’t you telling me about yourself, V?”

  She managed to worm her way from my embrace and backed away from me. “It’s not as if I wouldn’t tell you if I could.”

  My instincts on high alert, I stalked toward her. I stopped when she put up her hands to ward me off. “You can tell me anything. I’ll protect you.”

  “Not that easy.” A sad smile barely lifted the corners of her lips.

  “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

  “Now you’re beginning to sound like me.”
<
br />   “God forbid.” I frowned at her.

  “Bo, if I let you all the way in, I don’t know if there’s any way out for either of us.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means leave it alone.” She broke the distance between us to stroke my face. “But don’t leave me alone.”

  “Dammit, V. I want all of you.” My arms wrapped around her waist, I drew her to me. “I want all of you.”

  A small frown burrowed between her eyebrows. “I’ll give you everything I can. I hope it’s enough.”

  I pressed her face against my neck. “I’ll take anything you give me. Damn, woman, I don’t know what kind of spell you put on me.”

  “I think that’s called sex.”

  Scooping her against me with my hands around her bottom, I grumbled, “More than sex. You know it.”

  We stood in the middle of my bedroom, holding each other. Her warmth raised my temperature, but something about this intimacy put a stopper on my hungry howling need.

  “I’m going home to Cheraw next weekend.”

  “You are?” She drew back, peering up at me.

  “My ma twisted my arm. My dad threatened me. He’s a hardass.”

  “Guess I know where you get that from then.” She winked at me as she began gathering her purse.

  Rubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I asked, “Do you think you’d want to come with me?”

  Veronica halted, her back turned to me. “Do you want me to?”

  “Not to go all therapist on my late reunion, but as my lover. Yeah, I do.”

  She shrugged, peeking at me over her shoulder. “Sure.”

  “Sure?” I swooped her up into my arms, growling. “Sure? Woman. I just asked you to walk through fire and meet my parents.”

  She kicked her legs, laughing as her head fell back. “I said okay, didn’t I?”

  “No nooky at my folks’ house though.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Her foxy hair slithered over my forearms.

  “You gonna get me in trouble?” I bit her earlobe and she shuddered.

  “No, sir.”

  Immediate trouble in my sweats. Imminent explosion.

  “Okay. First of all, don’t say that to me in front of them.”

  She curtly saluted me as I set her on her feet. “Roger that.”

  I grabbed her ass when she bent to retrieve her purse. “I’d like to roger this.”

  “I . . . I have to get home. I have appointments!” She ended in a squeal.

  “I thought you said day of rest.”

  “I . . .” She backed away, giggling. “I have to clean and stuff.”

  “That doesn’t sound very important.” I advanced on her.

  “Bo!” she yelped when I almost grabbed her.

  “Don’t test me if you wanna get out of my house with your panties intact.”

  “What panties?”

  I chased V outside, laughing—laughing—when I unlocked and opened her car door. I kissed her against it until she clung to me.

  Pulling her head back with a final bite on my lower lip, she gasped. “Neighbors are watching.”

  “I still have my sniper rifle.”

  “You are wicked.”

  “You know it.”

  With V safely ensconced in her Jag, I strafed the staring neighbors with a glare.

  I knocked on her window, and she rolled it down as she amped up the A/C. “Call me when you get home?”

  “Yes, sir.” She smirked.

  ****

  The week filed past. I called my parents again to make sure they were okay with me bringing V home. As expected, Ma immediately started talking wedding plans. The last time I’d brought a girl home had been senior prom ten years ago. Certainly never a twenty-nine-year-old woman.

  I tried to talk Ma down.

  Dad tried to talk her down.

  It was life as normal, as I hadn’t experienced for too many years.

  Saturday morning I collected V after going an entire week without her.

  She stepped outside into the mid-May sun and my body instantly reacted to the sight of her in a pair of tight black jeans, her hair flowing loose.

  How the hell has she gotten hotter?

  It was going to be a damn long weekend if I had to keep my hands off her.

  The kiss on her steps set my skin on fire and rocked me to the soles of my feet.

  When I forced myself to draw back, she followed with nips of her lips along my jawline.

  “I’ve been saving that up for a whole week,” she whispered.

  “Fuck, babe. You better keep that idea for a couple more days.”

  I wanted nothing more than to tow her through the door of her house and pin her right up against it with our clothes thrown off, but I made my way down her steps, her hand in mine.

  Stowing her bag on the Triumph, I mentioned, “You pack light.”

  Her fingers grazed my all too obvious erection. “You don’t.”

  I placed a helmet on her head, skimming her hair over her shoulders. “I promise you, the only thing you’ll be straddling this weekend is my bike.”

  The three-hour ride almost straight north flew by as fast as the changing scenery beside the road. Nerves tightened my stomach at the prospect of seeing my family again, but every time Veronica laughed or shouted something in my ear, those gut-clenching nerves eased a little more. She made me feel like . . . me again. Even lighthearted. By the time we pulled up at my folks’, a grin stretched my mouth, and I couldn’t wait to show V off to them.

  I’d just helped her off the bike when the screen door on the rustic red farm style house slapped shut with a bang.

  “Beauregard? Is that you, son?”

  Chapter Nine

  “WELL, DON’T JUST STAND there, boy. Come give me some sugar!” My mom stood with her arms open in the shade of the porch.

  I leaped up the steps and stopped right in front of her. Before I could hug her, she smacked me upside the head with a ringing blow.

  “That’s for keepin’ out of touch for so long.” She grabbed me to her, and I held on tight. “And that’s for comin’ home in one piece. You damn fool.”

  “I missed you too, Ma.” Missed her so much just the feel of her hug made my throat close in and tears ping to my eyes. I’d dreaded this moment, pined for it just as much.

  “Oh, shoot. Don’t make me cry in front of company.” She sniffled against my shirt before peeking around at V.

  Stepping back, she squeezed my arms, looking me up and down. “When did you get to be such a bear of a man?”

  “I prefer to think of myself as a panther.” I winked at her.

  I supposed I did look like a bear next to my mom. She wasn’t exactly dainty, but she certainly wasn’t big either. She had the same dark auburn hair as me, and it glinted blackish red in the sun, a few white strands shooting through the thick heavy bun piled on top of her head. She had a generous smile, an even more generous heart, and one hell of a walloping hand she’d already demonstrated on my head. At least she didn’t hit me on my behind anymore.

  “Well, you’re certainly not an old billy goat like your father,” she shouted back through the screen door. “I s’pect he’ll be out in a minute. Probably wants to make you sweat it a little bit more.”

  Great. Because I’m not anxious enough already.

  “Are you gonna stand there like a lump on a log or introduce me to your lady? I know I raised you with more manners than this.” She thwacked me on the arm to go with the smack on the head.

  Good thing I was used to taking all kinds of abuse.

  I guided her down the steps and to Veronica, who’d observed the whole downhome reunion from beside my bike. She’d taken off her helmet and shaken out her hair, and it gleamed a sparkling red in the hot spring sunlight.

  She looked good enough to eat.

  Ma thwacked my other arm. “You just gonna drool all day, or does that tongue still work well enough to talk too?”

&nb
sp; V pressed her lips together, obviously hiding a smile. She was gonna get hers later.

  “Doctor Veronica Hartley—”

  My mom’s eyes brightened and her mouth ovaled when I said doctor.

  “I’d like you to meet my ma, Hollyn Belle Maverick.”

  “I’m gonna hug on ya now that the formalities are over, Doctor Veronica.” With that warning tossed out, Ma pulled V into her embrace and held her close for a moment.

  V handled the touchy-feelies well, her eyes shining when they met mine above my mom’s chokehold. “You can just call me Veronica or Ronnie, Mrs. Maverick.”

  Ma wrenched back. “Well, the hell if you look like a Ronnie—”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  “So Veronica it is.” Then my mom scowled at my bike, tendrils of hair flopping over her forehead. “You mean to tell me you made your gal ride all the way up here on the back of that death trap, Beauregard?”

  I winced with her second use of my full first name. “I’m very careful on it, and it’s not a death trap, it’s a Triumph Blackbird. Besides, V likes it.”

  Ma rolled her eyes and snorted.

  Leaning down, I kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. I’ll take you out for a spin later.”

  “I am not gettin’ on the back of that monster.” She batted me away, intent once more on V. Taking both my woman’s hands in hers, she gushed, “Aren’t you just stunning? What you doing with my boy here?”

  “I’m a twenty-eight-year-old man, Ma, not a boy.”

  She planted double kisses on both my cheeks and squished them, too. “Oh I know it. A big, fine handsome Marine, and I know you’ve had women crawling in and out of your cubbyhole, but no one’s begged you to marry them yet.”

  “Jesus. And no one’s talkin’ about marriage now, Ma.”

  Crack number four landed on my rump, so I guessed I wasn’t too old for that after all. “That’s for takin’ the Lord’s name in vain.”

  Where the hell is Dad?

  Veronica fucking giggled. Yeah, giggled.

  Saved by the screen door slamming a second time, I turned to watch my father descend the steps. At six foot three, he was as tall as me, his shoulders just as broad. He kept his hair in a brush cut, and the thick dark silver shined. Much like mine, his face was made of firm unforgiving lines, only time and a life well lived had added a few wrinkles that didn’t diminish his straight-edged appeal.