by Lori Foster
*
DOING HIS BEST to hide his rage, Cannon watched Heath go to his car, noted the make and model, the plates, and waited until the bastard disappeared around the corner.
He turned and wasn’t at all surprised to see Yvette gone and Armie there.
“She’s in the break room,” Armie said low. “She walked off like the queen, but she’s upset. Makes me want to choke that bastard.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ll handle it,” Cannon said.
“Anything I can do?”
“Call the Colonial and ask for Heath Nordan. See if you can leave a message for him. I want to make sure that’s where he’s at.”
“Sure thing.” Armie kept pace beside him. “I’m betting he’s the one who dicked with your tires.”
“If it isn’t, then I have more than one problem, don’t I?” He left Armie at the reception desk to make the call and headed toward the break room.
Stack cut him off. “She okay?”
“She will be.” After he reassured her—which he planned to do right now.
Denver blocked his way. “You need anything?”
He shook his head. “Got it covered, thanks.”
Miles and Brand crowded in, too. Cannon almost laughed. Yvette had an entire army at her disposal, whether she realized it or not.
“Just keep an eye out,” Cannon told them, already knowing they would. They did it for the entire neighborhood.
They’d sure as hell be extra vigilant for one of their own.
And she was. Yvette might not realize it yet, but she’d been accepted into the inner circle, even if that hadn’t been her intention.
He found her seated at the table, spine straight, shoulders back, pose as proud as she could make it.
For a few seconds he just stood there looking at her, taking in her features, that long hair, the trim body. In so many ways, more than just the physical, she turned him on.
She hadn’t bothered with a drink. Her hands rested, calm and still, on the tabletop, but he saw the pulse beating in her throat, the way she breathed too deeply.
Now that he’d met Heath, he better understood why she thought she had a problem. In a dozen different ways, as soon as humanly possible, he’d show her—again—that she didn’t.
Not with him.
“Hey.”
At his soft voice, she looked up. Their gazes held. “He’s gone?”
“Yeah.” Cannon came on in, but he didn’t sit. Instead he pulled her up and out of her chair and into his arms.
She resisted. “You asked where he was staying so you could check up on him, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“You won’t actually meet with him, will you?”
“I doubt he’ll agree to it, but if he does, sure.” With one finger, he traced her mouth. “What better way to make things clear to him.”
She ducked her head. “We need to talk.”
“Okay.” He loosened his arms, and when she tipped her face up, he took her mouth, kissing her with all the possessive protectiveness churning inside him.
At first she went still, but when she finally gave in, sinking against him, he held her face and gentled the kiss, then put his forehead to hers.
All the anger he’d held at bay sounded in his tone now. “I wanted to kill him. You know that, right?”
Eyes closed, she swallowed and gave a small nod.
“But I would never deliberately embarrass you. You need to know that, too.”
“Thank you.” She started to turn away, but he caught her waist and sat her on the table, then flattened his hands at either side of her hips.
“Understand, Yvette. The second I saw you, I knew what you were feeling.”
Her green eyes stared into his. “Shame?”
That made him frown. “Worry.”
“I was feeling both, actually.”
“You hid it well. I’m proud of you.”
Now she frowned.
“You can confide in me. Lean on me. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Her smile flicked with sadness. “But I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
“The person who needs me?” Because, damn it, he wanted her to be that and more.
“The girl who burdens you.”
He let out a sigh. “Now you’re just trying to piss me off.” Before she could be offended by that, he kissed her again.
She put a hand to his jaw, gentled him and his anger. “Everyone out there was looking.”
“They knew what was going on, yes. That’s on Heath, not you.”
“I don’t want them all thinking I’m pathetic.”
He shook his head. She’d been hurt so badly, and no matter how she covered it up, how determined she was to soldier on, the wounds hadn’t yet healed. “Don’t be silly, okay? No one here is judging you. In fact, any woman in your position would get the same consideration and concern from the guys.”
Getting her gumption back, she pushed off the table. “I don’t want it.”
“Really?” He caught her hand and held it. “Fine. You go tell a bunch of fighters that they don’t need to notice when some asshole comes in hassling a woman half his size. Go ahead. See the reaction you get.”
This time real humor teased her mouth. “Stop it.” She dropped against him with a groan. “You know I’m not going back out there yet.”
He rubbed her back to soothe her. “In about two minutes you are, because we’ll be heading out.” This was his world, his family. He wanted her comfortable in it, under any circumstances. He wanted his family to be her family.
“You’re still working with the kids,” she pointed out. “And you haven’t yet showered.”
Given the way she cuddled into him, she didn’t mind that he was a little sweaty. “Armie’s finishing up with the kids and I can shower at home. In fact, I was thinking maybe—”
Armie cleared his throat.
They both turned to the doorway.
Beside Armie was a big guy who topped even Cannon by a few inches. His nose had been broken multiple times, his right ear thickened from too many hits. Both his goatee and his Mohawk needed a good trim.
Yvette eased back, but Cannon put an arm around her, keeping her at his side. “Justice. What’s up?” He leaned forward for a handshake.
Grinning, Justice drew him away from Yvette and into a giant bear hug. “Good to see you, Saint.” He clapped Cannon hard on the back.
After suffering the embrace, Cannon stepped back and flexed his shoulders. “Damn, man, no reason to break my spine.” He drew Yvette forward. “Honey, this is Justice.”
She held out her small hand. “A fighter, I take it.”
“Aw, bet the ears gave it away, huh?” As he’d done with Cannon, he ignored her hand and hauled her in for a much gentler hug, then kept her pinned to his side with his massive arm over her shoulders. “This is a new addition, ain’t it, Saint? Every one better’n the last.” He squeezed her. “Don’t know how you do it, but I approve, I approve.”
Yvette just laughed as she freed herself. “Nice to meet you.”
Armie leaned in the door frame. “Justice has some news to share.”
“Yeah?” Cannon indicated the chairs. “Want to sit?”
“Actually, I’d rather check out your joint here, if you don’t mind.”
“Make yourself at home.”
Armie choked, but Cannon had no idea why.
With another face-splitting grin, Justice said, “Your boy there is strangling himself, so I may as well tell you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m dropping a weight class. Already got shit set up with the boss, so next go around—” he pointed a finger back and forth between their chests “—will be you and me. Winner gets a title shot. What do you think about that?”
It took Cannon by surprise. Not that he’d be fighting for the title. He’d been expecting that.
But hell, Justice had lost only one fight as a heavyweight, though the
man he’d lost to had been one hell of a barrier to the championship, so it made sense to shift gears. “I think you chose a harder path, because we both know I’ll take you apart.”
“Ho!” Justice laughed out loud at that, making Armie flatten his mouth. “So fucking cocky.”
“Language,” Cannon cautioned without any heat.
He doffed an imaginary hat. “Apologies, ma’am.”
Yvette didn’t understand. She looked between them. “You’ll be fighting each other?”
“So he says.” Cannon knew bluster when he saw it, and Justice might want to look as though he thought it’d be an easy win, but he wasn’t a dummy. He’d have his work cut out for him. “How set is it?” he asked Justice.
“Carved in stone. Matchmaker approved. Probably three or four months off, though. You should be getting a call today.” Sotto voce, he said in an aside to Yvette, “Hope you don’t expect him to stay this pretty, ’cause I plan to mess him up a little.”
Tipping her head, she sent her long hair spilling over her shoulder. “You’re awfully big. How much will you have to lose?”
“Forty pounds, give or a take a few.”
She tipped her head the other way, studying Justice. “Are you as fast as Cannon?”
Justice tugged on one ear. “Probably.”
Her slow smile claimed “bullshit,” even though Yvette would never say it. “You look like a striker. How’s your ground game?”
“Pretty good—”
“Not great, huh?” She made a sound of regret.
Justice’s grin went crooked as he slanted a look at Cannon. “Damn, Saint. I like her.”
“Meaning he knows his ground game sucks,” Cannon said with good-natured ribbing.
“I’m workin’ on it. I’m workin’ on it.” He turned back to Armie. “So, Quick, since you look like the guard dog—”
“Quick?” Yvette raised her brows. “Is that your fight name, Armie?”
The way his ears went red had both Cannon and Justice guffawing.
“It is,” Justice confided, “but not because of his quick knockouts.”
Cannon gave her a one-armed hug. “It’s mostly a joke—”
“Completely a joke,” Armie protested. “And it’s fucking getting old.”
“—carried over from his youth when he was a little too quick on the draw with the ladies.”
“One lady, damn it.” Armie threw up his arms. “And I made it up to her later!”
Confused, Yvette looked at each man in turn. “I don’t understand.”
That only made Justice laugh so hard that he fell against the wall.
Adoring her more by the minute, Cannon leaned down to her ear. “He got off a little too fast—as in, he came before things really even got started.”
“Oh.”
Armie stared at her. “It was back in high school, for God’s sake.”
“Ah, Quick, some things are never forgotten.” After wiping his eyes, Justice grinned at him. “So am I still welcome to check out the place?”
“Stay as long as you’d like.” Armie made a show of indifference. “If Cannon can put up with you, I suppose I can, too.”
“There ya go.” He turned to Cannon. “Come show me around, Saint.”
“I’ll do it,” Armie said, already knowing Cannon wanted to stay with Yvette.
“Thanks.” And then to Justice, Cannon added, “I’ll be along soon.”
“Got some smoochin’ to do, huh? I get it. Can’t say as I blame you.”
Armie walked off, so Justice hurried to follow along. “Slow down, dawg. Oh, wait, I forgot. You’re the speedy one.”
What Armie said in return wasn’t fit for human ears.
As they disappeared, Cannon realized he was still grinning. Being home always seemed right, but never more so than now, with Yvette here.
“You do enjoy fighting, don’t you?”
He pulled her in for a taste, mouth to mouth, tongue making a fast foray. When around her, he couldn’t resist. “Love it.” But not as much as he loved… No, he couldn’t start thinking about her that way. Not yet. Way too damn soon to be rushing her like that. “I also love a challenge.”
But, damn it, Yvette was the biggest challenge he’d ever faced. A challenge to his control, his peace of mind. His heart.
Armie poked his head back in. “I gave the big ape over to Stack. Wanted to tell you, I made that call and it checks out.”
“Perfect, thanks.” Before he could leave again, Cannon said, “Armie?”
“Yeah?”
“Justice is okay. Invite him to hang around and make use of the place, okay?”
“Sure.” Armie started off again. “I was already planning to give him a proper welcome.”
Cannon laughed, and when Yvette looked at him in confusion, he said, “Armie’s going to offer to spar with him.”
“That’s nuts. Armie’s what? Six feet?”
“And one-eighty-five. I know. Big disparity in size. But believe me, he can handle himself. Might as well break Justice in right.”
Looking grateful for something else to focus on, Yvette asked, “If Armie’s that good, why doesn’t he fight for the SBC?”
“He has his reasons, but lack of talent isn’t one of them.” Cannon leaned a hip on the table. “So. Know what I think we should do?”
“Go home so you can shower?”
The way she said that, her warm gaze skipping down his body, he knew she hoped to get intimate again. And he was all for that idea. But first… “We need to go see the lieutenant.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LIEUTENANT MARGARET PETERSON-RISKE was as stunning as Yvette remembered. A dynamo who exuded confidence, control and femininity. Dash, her very adoring husband, seemed every bit attentive as she remembered, even this many years later.
After Cannon called her, Margaret had insisted they stop by and so here they were, in her home, with her precious little daughter, Bethany, climbing up Cannon and squealing his name.
Cannon scooped up the toddler and held her at eye level. “Hey, Button. Did you miss me?”
She squealed again and smooched his cheek, making Yvette smile.
“Bethany,” Margaret said, “this is Cannon’s friend Yvette.”
“’Vette,” Bethany said, eyeing her warily.
Cannon held her close to his chest and smoothed her dark curly hair—hair just like her mother’s, though she had her father’s dark eyes.
“Hi, Bethany,” Yvette said.
When the little girl just scowled at her, Cannon said, “Come on, Button. Be nice.”
Instead the little girl hid her face in Cannon’s neck while reaching out a hand to Yvette.
Charmed, Yvette took it. “You’re very pretty.”
“Like Mama,” Bethany said.
“Exactly,” Dash said. “She listens when it suits her. Again, like her mama.”
Margaret slanted him a look. “Hush, Daddy.”
Laughing, Cannon kissed the top of Bethany’s head.
“It’s time for your bath, honey. You can visit with Cannon later.”
Because she loved her baths even more than Cannon, Bethany went willingly, more or less launching herself from Cannon’s arms into her father’s. “I want bubbles. And my boat, and SpongeBob, and Barbie, and…”
They disappeared down the hall with Bethany still listing toys. SpongeBob and Barbie—quite the mixed couple.
Margaret seated them at the kitchen table, offered drinks, then got down to business.
Cannon had told her a little about Heath on the phone. It bothered Yvette than she hadn’t been the one to make the call, but he knew the lieutenant better than she did.
Still hoping to deal with Heath without causing a lot of fanfare, she was hesitant to get the police involved. But he had been out of control today, and she knew it. That meant he could be a threat to Cannon or the rec center, not just her.
So they’d compromised, and were talking with Margaret outside the statio
n.
But unfortunately, that only meant they’d invaded her free time. Yvette detested the drama. “I’m very sorry to bother you with this, especially at home.”
“Nonsense. Cannon has great instincts. If he’s concerned, then I’m glad you contacted me.” She sat at the table opposite them. “I’ve thought of you often. It’s nice to see you again.”
“And you.” She sounded genuine enough, so Yvette tried to relax. “Your daughter is precious.”
“Yes, she is.” Her happiness came through in a serene smile. “Dash is hilarious with her. And the men! As you just saw, she adores Cannon, but also Reese and Logan.” She leaned forward. “And, oh, my God, Rowdy. It’s a riot how he melts for her.”
Yvette couldn’t imagine the detectives, much less the big badass Rowdy, playing with a tiny little girl. Of course, it seemed natural enough for Cannon to cuddle her.
“She shies away from women,” Cannon said. “But she expects every guy she meets to bend to her will.”
“And they do,” Margaret told her. “Even Reese’s son, Marcus. She treats him like a revered big brother and he falls for it.”
Cannon had told her about Marcus being adopted by the detective and his wife after his abusive father went to jail and his mother died from an overdose. Thinking about it now left her in a melancholy mood. She had no business being so weak when a child like Marcus could be so strong.
“So.” Margaret sat back. “Your ex came all the way from California just to pester you?”
“I assume so, though he’ll probably have an excuse for being here. He travels a lot with his job, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he has an arranged reason for being here other than me.”
Yvette spent some time answering questions, explaining Heath’s job as a sales rep for a drug company, how long she’d known him, when they’d dated, as well as when and why they’d broken up.
“She can show you a picture of him,” Cannon said.
Yvette pulled one up on her phone. “I noticed his hair was a little shorter now, but otherwise he looks the same.”
“Mind if I send this to myself to have on hand?”
“Of course not.” Yvette really hated airing her dirty laundry, but because she and Cannon had already discussed it, and she’d agreed, she shared the rest. “I have emails, texts and Facebook posts from him. Plus my friend says he’s posting about me on his wall.”
