The Twisted Road to You (Perfect, Indiana Book 4)

by Barbara Longley

  What the heck. He was probably right. A little exercise couldn’t hurt. She followed him out of the kitchen and through the dining room. “Tyler, Wesley and I are going to practice self-defense. Do you want to join us?”

  “You mean like Ninja Turtles?” Tyler looked up at her, then at Wesley. “Yeah.” His eyes lit up.

  The rumble of Wes’s laughter behind her caused her heart to flutter again. “Let’s clean up your toys first.” She walked to the rug where he was playing, grabbed the plastic tub on the floor and started tossing action figures into it. Tyler helped, Rex supervised and Wesley took care of putting the card table away.

  “We’ll use the dining room,” Wes said. “There’s lots of space to move around. Take off your socks so we don’t slip around on the wood floor.”

  Wes had them stand side by side. “Demonstrate what you’ve learned so far, Carlie, and we’ll practice each move a few times. Ty, walk through the movements with your mom.”

  For the next half hour she practiced the motions of slamming the base of her palm into Wes’s nose, kicking his kneecap and kneeing him in the groin. She pretended her pepper spray was in her hands, with her thumb on the nozzle and her arms straight out in front of her. Tyler imitated her, for the most part, but he was tiring fast and getting silly. Putting him to bed wasn’t going to be easy after so much stimulation.

  “Hi-ya!” Tyler went into a Ninja Turtle karate pose. He kicked out a few times, then charged. He wrapped his arms around Wesley’s legs and tried to wrestle him down. Wesley feigned defeat, falling to the floor, taking her son down with him while tickling Ty in the ribs. In a fit of giggles, Tyler tried to tickle back and pounced on top of Wesley’s chest, and then Rex trotted over and started licking Wes’s face.

  “Yuck! I surrender,” Wes cried, wiping the slobber from his face. “You and Rex got me, ninja. You win.”

  Carlie laughed, but then Wes’s phone buzzed. All three of them looked toward the living room and froze. Wes was the first to move. He leaped up, taking Tyler with him. He set her son on his feet before hurrying to the living room, where his phone sat on the coffee table. He snatched it up and answered. “Hey, Paul.”

  Carlie’s heart pounded. Tyler walked to her side and slipped his hand into hers. After this was all over, she’d have to see about getting some counseling for the both of them. She didn’t want Tyler to be permanently scarred.

  Wes’s jaw tightened as he listened to the sheriff. “Right. Will do.” He placed his phone back on the table and shook his head. “They failed to apprehend . . .” His eyes settled on Tyler. “Looks like I get to keep the two of you here awhile longer. I hope that’s all right with you, partner.”

  Tyler let go of her hand and ran to Wes. He scooped her son into his arms. Tyler clung to Wesley and buried his face against his shoulder. Wes’s eyes met and held hers, his expression grim and his jaw clenched.

  She stood in the middle of the living room, her chest too tight to breathe, and her eyes stung. Hadn’t she said as much? Hadn’t she known all along they wouldn’t catch Jared? He’d go into a rage now. He’d grow more bold in his attempts to get at them, and he had a rifle. Panic clogged her throat. Staying in his apartment put Wesley in danger. Jared would focus on Wes, seeing him as the obstacle in his way to her and Ty.

  “Carlie.” Wesley moved toward her. “Don’t go there.”

  Numb with fear, she shook her head and stared at Wes through a sheen of tears. He drew her to him. Wesley held her and Tyler. She couldn’t bear the thought of this beautiful man getting hurt because of her. She would die if anything happened to Wes or Tyler. She put her arms around them and held on to the two people who meant the most to her in the whole world, wondering what she could do to protect them both.

  Carlie couldn’t sleep. Since climbing into bed, her mind had been in turmoil. The sheriff had told them he believed her ex had fled the area. Ha. Not for long—not if she knew anything about Jared Baumann. No, he’d wait until he believed things cooled down in Perfect, then he’d be back with a vengeance.

  Two US Marshals were arriving the day after tomorrow. Monday. Hopefully they’d bring a new bag of tricks with them, because the local authorities had used up all of theirs, not that they were giving up, according to Paul Taylor, anyway.

  A noise caught her attention, and she stilled to listen. Ty had been having nightmares since Jared’s reappearance, and he was probably having another one. She turned on the lamp beside her. There it was again, louder this time. Wesley, not her son. She slid out of bed, crossed the room and opened her door. Light from the living room illuminated the hallway. Grabbing her robe from the hook on the back of the door, she slid her arms into the sleeves and tiptoed down the hall.

  She knew veterans with PTSD often suffered from nightmares. Wes hadn’t slept much the day before. He’d gotten up at eleven in the morning to be with her, and because Kyle and Ken were coming over. She found Wesley asleep on the couch with the TV on.

  He moaned, and his arms thrashed. “Get down! Now!”

  Should she wake him? She walked to his side, picked up the remote control and shut off the TV. Wes moaned again. He was clearly trapped in a nightmare. If waking him would free him . . . But she’d also heard stories about veterans who put their hands around their spouse’s necks while in the throes of a bad dream. Well, hadn’t she learned a move for that? Carlie crept closer to the couch, sat down beside him and shook his arm. “Wesley, wake up.”

  He pulled her down and flung himself over her. “Drop,” he commanded, pressing her into the cushions with his full weight. “Stay down.”

  “Wes, wake up. You’re dreaming.” She had trouble breathing with his full weight on top of her. Squirming, she tried to slide out from under him. He responded by holding her in place tighter. She pinched his waist. Being held as she was, it was the only part of him she could get to. “Wake up!”

  “Ow,” he muttered in an accusatory tone. His eyes opened; he lifted himself slightly and stared down at her in confusion. “You pinched me. Why did you pinch me?”

  “You were having a bad dream, and I—”

  “How’d you get . . . under me?” His expression changed from confusion to heated, and he pressed his hips against her.

  “I . . . you—”

  “Aw, who cares?” He nuzzled her neck and tangled his fingers in her hair. “You always smell so damn good . . . feel so good . . . Carlie . . . want you so much,” he whispered into her ear before taking her earlobe between his teeth.

  A shiver of pleasure tickled its way down her spine. He wasn’t fully awake, that much was clear. Still, all kinds of erotic sensations coursed through her. “Wes, wake up.”

  He raised his head and stared down at her with such intensity her lungs seized. His gaze roamed over her face and settled on her mouth. “I am awake. Now, anyway.” He propped himself on his elbows, trapping her arms by her sides. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

  His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. She lost herself in the heady sensation of the hottest kiss of her life—demanding, sensual, with just the right amount of pressure, moisture and warmth. Wesley Holt thrilled her to the very center of her being. Need ignited her blood. The sound of his heavy breathing and the feel of his erection pressing against her plunged her into a frenzy of need.

  Tugging at the hem of his shirt, she sought bare skin. His bare skin. She ran her hands over his back. So hot, smooth. Bulging muscles rippled under her palms, and he groaned against her mouth. A rush of heat and a throbbing ache filled her. She lifted her hips, seeking relief.

  How long had it been since anyone had wanted her? Even more important, how long had it been since she’d desired a man the way she burned for Wesley Holt? Never.

  He untied the belt of her robe and slid his hand under her T-shirt. His chest heaved, and his hips ground into her. She nearly came when his hand covered a breast, pinching and rolling the hardened nipple.

  “Carlie,” he whispered befo
re kissing her jawline and down her neck.

  It would be so easy—wouldn’t it?—to let go. Why not give in to what they both wanted?

  Because of my sordid past, that’s why. Shame sluiced through her, bringing a tiny shred of sanity following in its wake. She couldn’t do this to him, not with the secret she still held between them. Sucking in a breath, she brought her hands to his chest and pushed. “Stop. We have to stop.”

  He groaned again, but this time the sound held more frustration than desire. “You’re right. I don’t have protection anyway.” He removed his hand from her breast and slid it down to her waist. Pressing his forehead against hers, he murmured, “I’m sorry, Carlie. I had no right.” He raised himself off her, and they both sat up. Rubbing his hands over his face, he took a couple of deep breaths and leaned his head back on the couch. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, and there’s nothing to forgive.” She shook her head and retied her robe. “I was every bit as caught up as you were, believe me. I . . . we have to talk.”

  “Sure.” He let out a strangled chuckle. “Let’s talk.”

  Her heart pounded, and mortification stole her breath. “You only know part of my history. If you knew the rest—”

  “Then what? I’d walk away? Is that what you think?” He dropped his hands and scowled at her.

  She nodded. “You wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “You’re wrong. I already know the rest, I’m still here, and I still want you.”

  “What do you mean by the rest?” Her heart skipped a beat. “What did the Maurers tell you?”

  “They didn’t tell me anything. I figured it out on my own.”

  “What . . . what do you believe you figured out?” She drew the edges of her robe together at her throat, as if that would shield her somehow. He couldn’t know. Carlie racked her brain, trying to remember what she’d told him the morning he’d saved her life. She hadn’t said what she’d been arrested for, only that she’d been picked up by the police. An image came to her—Wesley with his elbows propped on his knees with a look of deep concentration on his face as she told him her story. Part of it, anyway. Had he pieced it all together that first day?

  He snorted. “Don’t you think I can put two and two together?” He reached for her hand, twined their fingers and brought it to his knee. “I’ve been all over the world, and some of the places where I was stationed were ravaged by war and poverty. Desperate people do desperate things. Under the right circumstances, we humans will do whatever it takes to get what we need, and that’s a fact. You were young, alone and addicted to narcotics. There aren’t too many ways in that messed-up scenario to earn money. It’s not like you could’ve held a job, what with no address and being high all the time. What else besides your body did you have to offer in exchange for currency or drugs?” He shot her a searching look. “Thieving and prostitution were your only options. Am I right?”

  His words were blunt, his gaze direct and his expression a mask she couldn’t read. No matter how hard she searched for the judgment she was certain she’d find, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Adrenaline and mortification scorched every one of her nerve endings, obliterating her ability to think. Completely exposed and burning with shame, all she could do was stare into his hazel eyes. Her secret wasn’t a secret after all, and she had no idea how to respond.

  His grip on her hand tightened. “What I want to know is this: Where the hell were your parents when you needed them the most?”

  The anger in his tone jerked her loose from the shock his revelation had caused, and she ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Don’t . . . don’t blame my mom.”

  “All right. Tell me, then.” He grunted. “Who is to blame, because you were just a kid. That’s the story I want, Carlie.”

  Next thing she knew, she was on his lap again. His warmth and strength permeated every black-and-blue corner of her bruised heart. Laying her head on his solid shoulder, she succumbed to his soothing touch. Freed from the bondage of her secrets, she just let herself . . . be.

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  “It’s nobody’s fault. I was just a kid with too little adult supervision and too much time on my hands.” She shrugged. “I fell in with the wrong crowd. You know how it is. If you hang around garbage long enough, you’re going to start to stink. Nobody in my family knew enough about what I was doing to stop me. If they had, they would’ve.”

  “Why the lack of supervision?” He stroked her hair.

  There were no demands in the way her held her, no expectation of something in return. He hadn’t judged her for the things she’d done. Instead of turning away from her in disgust, he’d defended her. Sighing, she snuggled closer. “Mom and Dad divorced when I was fourteen. Dad moved to California, and my mom went back to school so she could get a better job to support us.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. “Being a single mom with two kids while going to school wasn’t easy. She also had to work. It was a tough time for her, and she did her best. It was a tough time for all of us. My mom had to start over. We moved in with my grandparents, but by then my grandfather had already had his first stroke. Grandma had her hands full taking care of him. Plus, she wasn’t real savvy when it came to figuring out what kind of trouble I was getting into.” She played with the loose ends of her belt. “I don’t blame anyone for the choices I made, and neither should you.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “What about him?”

  “Were the two of you close before the divorce?”

  “My father left us for another woman. I haven’t seen him since he moved to California with his new family. He used to send birthday cards, signing them with, ‘love, Dad,’ and he included the occasional Christmas check, but it sure didn’t feel much like love to me.” She raised her chin. “Enough about me. It’s your turn.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “What do you want to know?”

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  “Ah.” He rubbed his forehead. “I work nights and sleep days, because for some reason I don’t have the nightmares as much during the daytime. I was dreaming about a young Marine who died during a mission we were on. His death was entirely my fault.”

  “Did you cause an accident?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got the time, and I can’t sleep.” She heaved a sigh and settled against him.

  “A lot on your mind?” He shot her a wry look.

  “Yep, and I find focusing on you helps keep my mind off of me.” She returned his wry look with one of her own. “It’s only fair. For someone who claimed he didn’t want to get personal, you’ve certainly managed to uncover my most personal secrets. Without sharing any of your own, I might add.”

  “I never said I didn’t want to get personal, Carlie.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “I said I wasn’t any good at it. There’s a difference.”

  “Oh.” She went boneless on his lap and struggled to keep her hands to herself. “Tell me about your nightmare.”

  Wesley let out a groan. “I was stationed at Camp Leatherneck in the Helmand province of Afghanistan. My platoon had been given a mission to clear out an insurgent compound in the Jowzjan province. The Taliban had a narcotics-processing factory there.” He huffed out a breath. “At least that’s what intel told us.”

  “Your platoon?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, back then I was a platoon sergeant. It was a long time ago.” He huffed out another breath of air, and she could feel his heart hammering away inside his chest. “The afternoon before our mission, I got an e-mail from my wife.”

  “Wait.” She straightened so she could look him in the eye. “You were married?”

  He nodded. “To my high school sweetheart,” he said, his voice filled with bitterness. “Tina and I got hitched shortly after I went through basic, and then we lived on base
while I was stationed at Camp Geiger in North Carolina while I trained for combat. While I was deployed, she’d head home to Evansville to stay with her folks.”

  “OK. So the afternoon before your mission she sent you an e-mail. What did she have to say?”

  “My lovely wife e-mailed to tell me that she no longer wanted to be married to me.” His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times. “And that she was pregnant.”

  “You have a child?” Her eyes went even wider.

  “No. I don’t. I hadn’t been stateside in ten months.” The muscle in his jaw twitched. “After the e-mail, I heard from friends and family. Seems everyone but me knew she was running around. I was the last to know.”

  Misplaced trust—now it all made sense. Carlie threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “I’m so sorry, Wes. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

  “You want to know what the real pisser was?” His voice came out a hoarse rasp. “I wanted a family in the worst way. Tina refused to even consider getting pregnant until I had a cushy desk job stateside. Fool that I was, I was working my ass off to make that happen for us.”

  What could she say to make him feel better? She couldn’t fathom how anyone could do such a thing to a soldier deployed in an active combat zone. How heartless and self-centered did you have to be to do something like that?

  He cleared his throat. “I was . . . distracted the next day. When we got to the insurgents’ compound early the next morning, we destroyed the building intel had identified, but we didn’t find any indication of a drug-processing operation. We did find a cache of hollowed-out artillery shells to be used for IEDs, though, so it wasn’t a total waste.”

  He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “We were in a hilly area at the bottom of the bowl. Not a good position to be in. Our Humvees were parked along a dirt road, and we were starting to pull out. If I hadn’t been so distracted, I would’ve cautioned my troops. I knew the Taliban would strike back. We’d destroyed a building, and they couldn’t let our presence go without retaliation.”