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

by Barbara Longley

  “We should do something to celebrate your engagement, Bren,” Cory remarked.

  “After your wedding.” Brenda wiped her face with a hand towel. “One wedding at a time. I don’t want to steal any attention from your day, and there’s plenty of time to plan something after. Kyle and I don’t want a lot of fuss. We’re keeping things simple. Moving is going to be expensive enough.”

  Ceejay raised her hand. “I’ll host a wedding shower in February at our place. Get a list of guests ready for me.”

  “I’d like to help with the shower, Ceejay,” Carlie added.

  “Great.” Ceejay flashed her a grin.

  “I’m going to miss you, Bren,” Cory blurted.

  “I’ll miss you, too, all of you, but Kyle and I will be back.” Brenda pulled her stuff out of the locker. “Both of our families are here, and this is where we want to settle and raise a family. Kyle is hoping to get a job at the VA hospital in Evansville.”

  “What’s it going to be tonight, ladies?” Paige asked. “Ice cream or pie?”

  “Pie with ice cream,” Carlie said, flexing her biceps. “We’ve earned a treat.” Ever since Brenda had shared her exciting news, self-pity had wreaked havoc on her mood. She would not allow her own petty problems to detract from the happiness of the moment. No more self-pity, and no more recrimination. She had her health, her sobriety, her wonderful son and friends. If that’s all she ever owned, it would be more than enough, and way more than she’d ever hoped for.

  Carlie filled bowls with the side dishes for their Thanksgiving dinner while Wesley carved the turkey. He kept snatching pieces and popping them into his mouth as he loaded the platter.

  “If you keep that up, we won’t have enough left for everyone else.” She shook her head at him.

  “Can’t help it. I love turkey right from the oven, and this one is so good.” He sneaked another morsel. “Mmm, tender and tasty.” He leaned close, circled her waist with one arm and nuzzled her neck. “Just like—”

  “What can I take to the dining room next?” Ken appeared, a smug look on his face as he caught them midnuzzle.

  Carlie’s face flamed, and she handed him the mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. “Take these. I’ll bring the gravy and corn bread.” She narrowed her eyes at Wes as she passed him. Grinning, he followed her with the platter of sliced turkey.

  “This looks and smells amazing,” Bruce said, taking a seat. “Again, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the invitation, Carlie.”

  “Me, too,” Andrew said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s too bad Sheriff Taylor couldn’t make it.”

  “Just leaves more for the rest of us,” Ken said, his speculative gaze roaming from Carlie to Wes. “Let me see, it’s the twenty-eighth today, right?”

  Wes glared, and Kyle burst out laughing.

  What was that all about? She ignored it and glanced toward her son. “Did you wash your hands, Ty?” He nodded and took his place. Wesley said grace, and then the offerings were passed around the table. Wes helped Tyler fill his plate and cut his meat. Carlie’s chest filled with warmth at the sight of their heads bent together, both with identical buzz cuts. She couldn’t ask for a better mentor and role model for her son. She did indeed have a lot to be thankful for, even with her ex on the loose.

  Not much in the way of conversation took place during the meal—a few questions put to the marshals about where they came from and how they became US Marshals, talk about Brenda and Kyle’s recent engagement—mostly everyone just ate.

  “Carlie, everything is delicious,” Kyle said between mouthfuls. “My compliments to the cook.”

  More compliments flew around the table, and warmth filled her. “I’m glad everything turned out. Brenda made the desserts. We have pecan and pumpkin pies.”

  Brenda groaned and put her hand on her stomach. “I don’t have room for pie.”

  “I do,” Tyler chimed in. “Can I have pie now, Mommy?”

  “Sure you can, Ty. What kind do you want?” Carlie stood up and grabbed a couple of dishes.

  “Pumpkin, please, with whipped cream.”

  “The rest of us can wait to have dessert a little later,” Wesley said. “I’ll make coffee and clear the table.”

  “I’ll help.” Kyle stood up and took the dishes from her hands. “Carlie, you sit. We’ll take care of clearing and putting the leftovers away.”

  “I’ll get Tyler his pie.” Ken followed Kyle and Wes.

  “With whipped cream,” Tyler called after them. “Don’t forget.”

  By the time the kitchen had been cleaned and dessert served, Tyler had fallen asleep on the couch. Wesley covered him with a throw while Carlie refilled everyone’s coffee. She set the thermal pot in the center of the table and took her seat.

  “One of the reasons we asked you two to join us tonight is because we want to run something by you,” Wesley told the marshals. “We’ve come up with a plan to flush Baumann out of hiding.”

  “Oh?” Bruce leaned in and placed his elbows on the table. “Let’s hear it.”

  As Wesley and Ken described what they had in mind, Carlie kept an eye on the marshals. A couple of times they exchanged glances, but she couldn’t tell what the silent communication meant.

  “We were going to suggest something similar, though without involving civilians other than Carlie,” Andrew told him.

  “We’re not just civilians.” Wesley crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We all have combat experience. We’re trained soldiers . . . veterans with several deployments under our belts.”

  “We’ve faced stuff you can’t imagine and lived to tell about it.” Ken’s jaw tightened. “It’s our plan—we will be there.”

  “Wait.” Brenda frowned. “Won’t Carlie’s ex be suspicious? She hasn’t gone anywhere alone all month, and now she’s suddenly going to head out to her place by herself?” She shook her head. “He’s going to know something is up.”

  “What if you, me and whoever else are willing make it look like we’re having a girls’ night out?” Carlie turned to Brenda. “I wouldn’t be alone to start with. We can go to the bar and grill at the edge of town. Jared doesn’t know I still don’t drink. If he thinks I’ve had a few beers and then I head out to my place alone, he’ll chalk it up to lowered inhibitions and see it as an opportunity.”

  “Perhaps.” Bruce shrugged. “The entire plan depends upon whether or not he’s watching you at that particular moment in time. A stakeout like this will likely take longer than you think. As far as being suspicious goes, it’s been our experience that the longer these things drag on, the more frustrated and desperate the criminal becomes.”

  “When that happens,” Andrew continued for his partner, “most of these idiots lose what little judgment they had to begin with, and they do something stupid. That’s when we catch most of them. Baumann showed himself to you on the street. He’s close, real close to the point where he’s going to lose control.”

  “That makes him more dangerous.” Wes’s eyes fixed on her. “What if he tries something while Carlie’s on the road? He already took a shot at her once. I don’t want to put her in that position again, especially when she’s alone and vulnerable.”

  Everyone went quiet, and all eyes turned to her. “He wants his son, and Jared won’t know where Tyler is. His previous attempt to kidnap him failed. Jared will want me in a position where he can force me into leading him to his son. He’s not going to take a chance on the road, not when anyone could drive by and see what he’s up to.” Carlie’s head ached, and the food in her stomach turned into a hard lump as more scenarios, all bad, were discussed. “Is he still stealing cars?”

  “He is.” Bruce stood up. “We’ll talk to Sheriff Taylor. He’ll want his agency involved.”

  “It’s late, and we should get going.” Kyle stood up next. “We’re agreed that we’ll execute the first attempt next Tuesday evening?”

  Wes nodded. “That will give us a chance to go over everything with the
rest of the guys while we’re at work.”

  Everyone nodded, and Carlie’s breath caught in her throat. Lord, she hoped the plan worked. More than anything, she wanted Jared back behind bars and out of her life. She was making her stand here. No more backing down or running away. She had friends in Perfect, a good life and a support network. No way was she giving all of that up. Surely, once Jared was in prison again, he’d be forced to abandon any further notions about targeting her and Tyler ever again. She was no longer alone and defenseless.

  Ken was the last to leave. “Thanks for a fantastic dinner, Carlie. You two enjoy the rest of the long weekend. I’ll see you Sunday night, Wes,” he said with a grin. “You, me and the guys have lots to discuss.”

  “See you. Set the alarm on your way out.”

  Ken nodded and waved. Wes nudged the door shut with his foot and dragged her into his arms. “I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he said, raining kisses down her neck to her collarbone. “You smell so good.” He nipped at the tender place where her neck met her shoulder and fondled a breast. “Like turkey, gravy and potatoes. Mmm, yum. My very own Thanksgiving feast. Take me to bed, woman.”

  She laughed and tilted her head as his mouth sent shivers down her spine. “I have to get Tyler into bed first. Let’s leave the dessert dishes until tomorrow.”

  “Done. I’ll clear the table and put the pies away.” He patted her bottom. “You take care of Tyler. Last one in bed has to submit to the whims of the other.”

  “Deal.” She pushed out of his arms and hurried to where Tyler lay sleeping on the couch. She loved this side of Wes: playful, teasing, with no hint of the trauma he’d suffered clouding his gorgeous hazel eyes. If only things could always be like this between them.

  She decided to allow him to beat her to bed, more than happy to let him take charge of their lovemaking. After all, Wesley Holt had always been her wildest fantasy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DESSERT DISHES AND FORKS IN hand, Wesley hurried to the kitchen and placed them in the sink. He fully intended to be the first to reach his bedroom. Images played through his mind, so many things he wanted to do with Carlie. Where to begin? Grinning, he wrapped up the pies and tossed them into the fridge, and then he strode to his room—the first to get there. Yes!

  Already hard and aching with anticipation, he stripped, stretched out on his bed and tucked his arms behind his head to wait. What was taking her so long? Finally, Carlie walked into the room, closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Her eyes widened for an instant as she gave him the once-over. Then a seductive smile lit her pretty face.

  “I win,” he said, still grinning.

  She laughed low in her throat. Sexy. “Is that what you think?”

  He patted the place beside him. “Oh, yeah. Come here, woman.” Tonight he didn’t want to think about the future or what would become of the two of them. He just wanted to be with her.

  “Your wish is my command.” Walking slowly across the room, she unbuttoned her blouse, shrugged out of it and let it drop to the floor.

  His gaze riveted on the lacy little bra she wore. Red. He gulped, and whatever blood remained above his waist rushed south.

  Stopping at the edge of the bed, she canted her head. “More?”

  He managed a nod.

  Just as slowly, her movements sensuous, she undid her slacks and slid them down, stepping out of them one leg at a time before tossing them aside. Her panties—what little there was of them—matched the lacy red bra, leaving little to the imagination. He lost his ability to think.

  “Turn around so I can see all of you,” he managed to rasp out. “And touch yourself while you’re at it.” She did as he asked, skimming her palms over her breasts, her hips and shapely bottom. Then she put one of her hands down her panties and stroked herself. She groaned, and he went rock hard. “Take everything off, lie on the bed next to me and make yourself come. I want to watch you have an orgasm, Carlie.”

  “All right,” she said with a sexy little grin. Hooking her thumbs under the elastic of her panties, she shimmied out of them. Next she unfastened the front clasp of the wispy bit of lace covering her breasts and let it fall to the floor with the rest of her clothing.

  He lost his breath at the sight of her. What was this gorgeous woman doing with him when she could have anybody she wanted? He’d seen the way other men looked at her, and it drove him crazy. She crawled onto the bed, her gaze on his face, and laid herself out next to him like some kind of pagan offering, a feast for his eyes. “Look at me while you stroke yourself, baby.”

  Again she did as he commanded, and it was the single most erotic thing he’d ever beheld in his entire thirty-eight years. Carlie writhed beside him, her eyes staring into his, arching her back as she masturbated.

  “Ahh,” she sighed, her eyes closing as her release hit her.

  Wes wanted his mouth where her hand had been. He couldn’t keep from touching her for a second longer. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her, plunging his tongue into her sweet mouth, demanding her passion in return. Her skin, so soft under his callused hands, the feel of her small body in his arms, sent all kinds of possessive and protective urges chasing through him.

  He took one of her hardened nipples into his mouth, suckled and nipped, reveling in the sudden gasp his touch brought forth from her. Moving to give her other breast attention, he slid his hand lower to her cleft. So slick. Hot. He nearly went out of his mind with wanting her. He kissed and nibbled his way down her curvy body, making his way down the bed until he was right where he wanted to be. His hands shaking, he spread her thighs wide and looked his fill. “I am one lucky son of a bitch.”

  He leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue around her swollen clit. Her hips came up to meet him, and he was lost. “Mmm . . . taste so good.” He put his hands under her bottom and lifted her, burying his face in her heat until she cried out for mercy.

  “Too much! I want you inside me, Wes.”

  Lifting his head, he raked his gaze over her. Her eyelids at half-mast, lips swollen and her hair mussed, she looked as if she’d been thoroughly loved. He’d done that to her. A swell of masculine pride filled him. “We’re just getting started, sweetheart.” He moved across the bed to his nightstand and pulled out a condom. Lying down beside her, he ordered, “I want you to put this on me.”

  “With pleasure.” Carlie took the foil packet from him, tore it open with her teeth and rose to her knees. She ran a hand down his chest, tracing circles around his nipples, down his torso and then around his navel. She took him in her hand and stroked him from his balls to his head. He sucked in a breath, his hips coming up off the mattress. Slow torture, that’s what she was about as she continued to touch and tease.

  “Now, woman. Put it on.”

  She laughed and slowly sheathed him. He sat up, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her to straddle him. Moving them back so he could lean against the headboard, he positioned himself and lowered her to impale himself deep within her welcoming heat. He moved his hips and rocked into her while cupping her breasts.

  Carlie rested her hands on his shoulders, matching his rhythm. “So good,” he whispered. He wanted to make it last, a slow burn building in intensity, but his body had other ideas, and soon he needed more. Groaning, he flipped them so he covered her and nudged her thighs wider apart. He gave in to the need to thrust harder and faster.

  Her scent was all over his face, and her taste lingered in his mouth. He kissed her deeply, wanting her to taste herself on his tongue. His senses roared with the primitive need to brand her. Mine. Carlie shuddered and spasmed around him with her release. He came with explosive force, continuing to thrust into her slick heat until every last shudder rocked through him. Spent, he rolled to his side, took her into his arms and crushed her to him.

  The sound of their ragged breathing filled his bedroom. He breathed deeply, inhaling her essence deep into his lungs. “We’re not done yet.”

  She chuck
led against his throat. “I don’t think I can move.”

  “That’s OK. I’ll carry you.”

  She blinked. “Carry me where?”

  “To the shower. I want to slide my hands all over your soapy body.”

  She ran her hand over his chest. “Then what?”

  He sighed, contentment settling deep into his bones. “Then I plan to wrap you in my arms—we’ll be naked, of course—and fall asleep.”

  She ran her knuckles down along his jaw. “Tell me again who won?”

  Wes placed the new end table on his workstation and settled into sanding the oak with fine-grade sandpaper. All the restlessness that had been plaguing him for weeks? Gone. He rolled his shoulders . . . loose, more at ease than he had been in years, and all because of Carlie. Images of the two of them in his shower, his hands and mouth all over her gorgeous body, flashed into his head. He couldn’t wait to get naked with her again. A smile of supreme satisfaction broke free.

  “How was your Thanksgiving, Wes?” Miguel asked, coming to stand beside him. “Must’ve been good, because you sure do seem . . . relaxed.” He rubbed his chin and studied Wes. “Almost like—”

  “Almost like he got laid?” Ken quipped. “Oh, Carlie, you’re as tender and tasty as this turkey,” he mimicked, pretending to fondle a pair of breasts and french kissing the air. “I love turkey right out of the oven . . . mmm.”

  The rest of the crew stopped working and turned to stare—first at Ken’s antics and then at Wes. His face heated.

  “Caught him nibbling on her neck with his arm around her waist.” Ken spread a meaningful look around the room. “Where there’s nibbling, there’s—”

  “Knock it off.” Protectiveness for Carlie flared. “Every one of you has work to do. I suggest you focus on furniture and not on my personal life.”