No Simple Sacrifice

by Angel Payne

  Shuddering felt too dangerous. Laughing, even more so. I went still once more, letting Fletcher vocalize for us both. “Cookies and pickles?”

  “My breathtaking wife is having just as breathtaking an identity crisis. Cookie monster one day, pickle stork the next.” As he relayed it, a soft smile grabbed at the man’s mouth—though even without that, a person would have to be dead to miss how Killian Stone’s entire demeanor changed when speaking about his wife. He was ass-over-end in love with that woman. It was sickening. And distracting.

  And amazing.

  Because for the first time in my life, I could completely relate. I wanted to walk around with that same dorky grin on my face. To look at it on Fletcher’s face too. To know a forever with the woman who’d put them on us. I wanted it so badly, I could taste it—yeah, even to the essence of cookies and pickles.

  Killian stowed the daddy-to-be shit again and parked his ass against the desk. Arms still folded, he urged, “Go on.”

  Fletcher recounted our discussion with Melissa of the golden hair and fast-flying business card. Killian said nothing, though the gears in his head were clearly running at high speed. I dreaded the unsolicited advice to follow—and it seemed the knock on the door might save us from the fate—but Kil just tilted his head over and barked, “One minute, Britta.”

  “Certainly, sir. I’ll let them know.”

  As her footsteps receded, I steeled my posture and muttered, “Because this is the part where he shoots out all the fun advice.”

  Kil shook his head. “Past time for that. You dipshits know what you need to do already—you just need a push in the right direction.” He shoved off the desk and strode back to the door. “To that end, I’m having Britta call over to Midway. As soon as this meeting is over, the jet will be fueled up and ready to go. I need to get home to my baby mama and you two need to go set a sexy little Russian straight.” He swung a glance at us both. “Plan?”

  “Plan,” Fletcher and I agreed in unison.

  Kil paused as his hand hovered over the keypad to release us. I was already set to follow him out but froze as he did, obeying the instinct to fume, “What now?”

  His angled face betrayed another second of vacillation. “You probably don’t need to hear this from me,” he said at last, “but I’m going to say it anyway. Sometimes, the best things in life are the ones you have to work the hardest to get. I’ve only met Talia a handful of times, but she must be one hell of a girl to have you two so upside down. I’ve never seen you like this. Ever.”

  Fletch and I exchanged knowing grins. That was all it took to prompt Fletcher’s response to our friend. “Because we’ve never felt like this before, man.”

  Killian didn’t return the happy expression. “Just go carefully. She’s going to need some patience, considering the issues from her ex.”

  Fletcher shot his stare back to me. This time, we didn’t trade a smile. Not by a long shot. It was my turn to show our hand to Kil. “What issues?” I fired.

  The man’s eyebrows arched again. “You really don’t know?”

  “That he was a dumb shit who let her slip away after doing a number on her self-esteem?”

  He released a slow breath. “According to Claire, he was also abusive. So you’re likely dealing with some significant shell shock. Women seem to hold on to damage way longer than men do.” His eyes narrowed. “And this also goes without saying—you let me know if we need to find that fucker and teach him how to treat a woman. I’m not opposed to remedial etiquette for any man who beats a woman.”

  He had our backs—I knew that in my head—but in my heart, the declaration stabbed like a bayonet. I let my ass fall to the lip of the table. Fletcher did the same along the desk, raking a hand down his shock-struck face. “He really beat her?” he gritted.

  I looked up, meeting Kil’s dark gaze. “We’d thought it was all just mental fuckery,” I explained—a miracle in itself, since I felt kicked in the stomach. The thought of anyone hurting my girl in the head had been hell enough. Adding an image of physical damage, too…I saw pure red.

  “Okay, both of you, breathe.” Killian raised a reassuring hand. “And tether those conclusions you’re jumping to, as well. You’d best get all of this straight from her.”

  “Oh, we intend to.” Fletch’s promise was practically a snarl. I nodded, backing up the sentiment. Why the hell had Talia allowed us to restrain her, without vocalizing any of this? She wasn’t a stupid woman. Did that mean she trusted us that much…or was repressing that deeply?

  “I’m not sure about the extent of it,” Killian clarified. “I’m not even sure Claire or Mare are, either.”

  “You still have your balls after calling Margaux that?”

  Fletcher mercifully changed the subject—a move Kil eagerly embraced as well. “To her face,” he added, chuckling. “She loves me. I’m an awesome brother.” He shrugged, letting a slow smile take over his face. “That little kitten’s claws aren’t nearly as sharp as she wants everyone to believe.”

  “Nice to know.” Fletcher grunted. “Won’t be testing the theory anytime soon.”

  “Wouldn’t recommend it. Michael tells me that lately, she’s been a bit of a demon. Pregnancy hormones. Fun times, indeed.”

  “Going to take your word for it.” I dipped my head, twisting a look full of better-you-than-me. “Strong women are sexy as fuck, but Margaux Asher…that kitten scares me a little.”

  Now I knew I wasn’t in my right mind. I regretted the confession from the moment it left my mouth—especially after the victory smirk on Kil’s face.

  “It’s going to be damn hard keeping that a secret, Newland. I may need hush money.”

  “Dick,” I snarled.

  “That’s why you love me, honey,” he jibed back—though was all business a second later, smacking his palms together. “So we’re San Diego bound after this dog and pony? I’ll know our ETD by the time the meeting is over.”

  Fletcher rose, hauling his black computer bag back to his shoulder. “I just have to swing by the office for some paperwork. I can take my meetings for tomorrow morning via phone.”

  “Don’t forget the haircut,” I reminded him.

  “Haircut?” Kil echoed. “Pssshhh. Why’d he want a haircut? Rapunzel’s locks are just getting pretty.”

  Fletch narrowed his glare. “Says the princess himself.”

  In true Killian style, the dig was ignored. “We should be able to shove off tonight, as long as the meeting doesn’t go too long—though I saw McGraw setting up a projector earlier. I think we’re in for one of his famous PowerPoints.”

  Killian’s news shot down my hope of being back in bed with Talia by a decent time tonight. “Fuck.”

  Fletcher complained, too. “Why? There weren’t any action items assigned to his committee this quarter.”

  “And that’s stopped him before?” I retorted.

  “Should be interesting,” Kil added.

  Not half as interesting as things would be for a certain stubborn little Russian the moment we set foot in San Diego again.

  I’d be counting the goddamn minutes. One glance at Fletcher said he would, as well.

  Chapter Five

  Fletcher

  Boom boom boom.

  Drake pounded on Talia’s door before I could remind him of the time. The benefit of traveling west across time zones put us on her condo’s doorstep, set off a sleepy little street in University Town Center, at precisely ten-thirty p.m. It wasn’t late, but it wasn’t happy hour either.

  The whole flight, we’d joined Kil in restraining ourselves from marching into the cockpit and ordering Vaughn to mush the plane faster, like a team of damn Iditarod dogs. As though that would give us back the two hours Old Man McGraw had sucked from our lives with the PowerPoint about new diversification opportunities for SGC. Like Drake and I hadn’t researched half the shit in that presentation already.

  Boom boom boom.

  “Dude.” I clamped a hand over his should
er, urging him back. “Neighbors.”

  “Fuck them.”

  He’d downed four cups of coffee on the plane and was wired for sound. But his agitation wasn’t solely from the caffeine—a truth with which I sympathized completely. Despite that, someone had to rein the bastard back.

  “Okay, so you’re going to scare her. Bring it down a notch, D.”

  He glared at me, the scant color in his eyes disappearing in the light of the stars. Somehow, though, I’d gotten through. He heaved a deep breath. Relaxed his shoulders from where he’d been wearing them as earrings for the past few hours.

  “Okay, breathe,” I muttered.

  “I am breathing.”

  “That’s not breathing.”

  An agonized sound crawled up his throat. “I feel like I’m drowning.” He clawed at it next, raking down until he grabbed at his wrinkled shirt. “I don’t like it.”

  Pound pound pound.

  “Drake—”

  Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.

  “For fuck’s sake.” Intervention time. I stepped between him and the door, risking bodily injury by doing so. “Enough. She’s clearly not home—”

  “With her car in the car port?”

  Admittedly, it stopped me. Drake had made his living by being a details guy. If he’d noticed her car, he’d noticed it. But explanations—at least logical ones—weren’t coming to me. It was the middle of the week. And late, at least for her.

  “Wait.” A sound, soft but discernible, drew my ear against the door. “I think I can hear her coming.”

  As I finished, the porch light came on. The peep hole darkened then lit up again. She definitely knew we were here.

  Ten long seconds.

  Ten more.

  If ten more went by, I’d gladly help D with the pounding duties. Right after I gave her a nice, diplomatic warning. Something like open the damn door or we’re coming in, sugar.

  Five seconds.

  Four, three, two…

  The deadbolt slid over. The click of the lock broke the silence of the night—

  Just before she sucked the breath from our chests.

  A sight to behold. Yeah, it was archaic—but so absolutely right. I fought the urge to pull out my phone, yearning to capture this exact vision of her for all time, our stunning, tan sex goddess of a woman, dripping wet, wrapped in an oversized white towel—and nothing else. Her hair was slicked back from the shower we’d clearly interrupted, her flawless face free of makeup…more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen.

  “Jesus Christ.” It was the most coherent thing I could muster.

  “Uhhhh…he’s not here right now?” She gave a sheepish smile, lancing my heart with its open sweetness and, in one second, erasing every speck of my days-old tension. Hell, I barely remembered my own name—and didn’t care. Suddenly, the world was right again. Okay, not completely right—but we were infinitely closer.

  I worked my jaw up and down, trying to summon more words. Drake didn’t waste that kind of time. He stormed forward, scooped Talia around the waist and walked her backward—right into the wall of her terracotta entryway. He swept in, mouth covering hers in a desperate greeting. I stepped inside behind him, quickly closing then locking the door. If we had our way, no one would be leaving tonight.

  And we fully intended on having our way.

  Drake didn’t relent for the better part of a minute. When he finally released Talia, letting her breathe again, she stared at him with flushed cheeks and passion-plumped lips. When she turned the same look on me, my dick promptly became steel. Not like it wasn’t halfway there already, thanks to voyeuring their hungry kiss.

  “Wh-what are you guys doing here?”

  Drake stared at her for a long moment, as if not hearing or believing what she’d just blurted—perhaps both. His eyes were wide and glazed and he was still breathing hard, like an addict high on a fresh hit of his favorite drug.

  “We came to see you.” He choked it out. Okay, make that snarled.

  “We needed to be with you.” I balanced him out by trying to add some romance to the approach.

  She ran a hand down her wet hair. Quickly licked her lips. Both moves were prompted by confusion, but my cock wasn’t getting the memo.

  “I-I thought you were at the SGC board meeting. In Chicago.”

  “We…were.” Apparently, conversation was proving a challenge for Mr. Marine. I’d have leapt at the chance to ride him about it too, except for the whole dick-versus-pants thing. Adjusting my stance made it worse. To the tenth power.

  “We just got in. We flew back with Killian as soon as the meeting adjourned.” Somehow, I managed to maintain the patience-with-a-purpose angle. That alone was worth a bid for sainthood.

  Talia’s eyes, even more huge and gorgeous without makeup, darted back and forth between us. “Well, you shouldn’t have.”

  Drake shot his eyebrows toward his hairline. He didn’t bother with words this time.

  “Why the hell would you say that?” I demanded.

  “I mean—well, you didn’t need to—”

  “And why the hell would you say that?” D found the vocal cords for that one, all right.

  She licked her lips again. Fuck. So much for fighting back the vision of her wrapping those sleek pillows around my swollen dick. “Don’t you both have businesses to run? Companies that aren’t here?”

  “They can wait.” Drake, on the other hand, was bordering on becoming a dick. I pulled him back, firing a warning glare, before circling back to her.

  “We have people who work for us, baby. Our companies are in good hands. We wanted—needed—to be here with you.”

  She took a step in my direction, but Drake shifted back in, stopping her progress. “Apparently, we have some things to straighten out with you. And some things are best dealt with in person.”

  On the last two words, his tone abruptly changed. He ditched the angry dickhead but kept the lusty lover, moving back in on her like a lion stalking its prey. Her wide chocolate eyes, shallow breaths and sweet, parted lips only intensified the effect. I was just as paralyzed, blood tumbling through my body, jetting between my thighs, raging up my cock. D’s bossy shit had never been a huge turn-on for me, but when he pulled it on Talia, it sang to every cell in my body, riffing through my blood like a screaming rock ‘n’ roll god. Not really because of him. It was her reaction to him, wide eyes betraying her conflict of anxiety and arousal…her utter awareness of him, her complete craving for him.

  I moved, rushing around so she was trapped between us. From that first night in Vegas, we’d figured out she couldn’t think straight when we pinned her like this, so we did it as often as possible. It was becoming second nature for me to shadow Drake when he advanced on her with that intent.

  “What do you mean?” she rasped, pushing at Drake’s chest. “What…what things?” But when D let her loose to turn from him, she spun right into me. I wrapped both arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, leaning over to fill my nostrils with her fresh, alluring scent. Lavender soap. Jasmine shampoo. Clean skin, like crushed rose petals beneath my fingers. She was a garden in my arms and I couldn’t wait to pluck all the flowers.

  But, first…I had to have a taste. Just one.

  I dipped over, sucking water droplets off her shoulder. She trembled, loosening more beads off her hair. Those I licked off, before lifting my lips to her ear. “Dammit, I’ve missed you.” Our heads turned in unison, so our gazes met and held. Her eyes were hooded, glassy…perfect. “You are so beautiful, little Tolly.”

  “Thank you.” It was almost a question, enchanting me more deeply. Her tiny smile ignited my arousal more—right before she broke the connection, stepping away as she heaved in a hard breath. “But…seriously, you guys, what’s going on? Why are you really here? I thought we wouldn’t see each other for at least a few weeks.”

  “Are you disappointed we came?” I was shocked at how much it hurt just to say it—quelled somewhat by the urgency
of her comeback.

  “No!” More drops sprayed as she shook her head. “No, not at all. Seriously. I’m— I’m just surprised. And still puzzled.”

  The last of it was a question as much as a statement. She straightened a little, lobbing her expectant gaze between us both. Called on the carpet. Our Tolly wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite. Another reason why she was worth the crazy travel schedule—and deserving of a full explanation right now, no matter how harsh the itch in my fingers to rip that towel away, exposing every curve of her perfect nudity…and all the things I longed to do with it…

  “Well?” Her insistence sliced into our silence. I glanced at Drake, if only to mutually agree he’d pick up the charge on this one.

  “We had an interesting day at SGC today,” he finally told her. This morning. Had it been only twelve hours ago and not days? Time stretched like ultra-strength rubber when we were across the country from her. Correction—when we were across the country and she chose to go black-hole silent on us.

  “Interesting…how?” She narrowed her eyes, broadcasting her apprehension. At least it was no longer silence. And though I felt like crap for causing it, maybe a little worry on her side was a good thing, too. At least our largest fear could be ruled out. She still cared.

  “Maybe interesting isn’t right.” Drake rubbed his stubbled chin. “What would you call it, Fletch? Enlightening, maybe?”

  I nodded. “That works.”

  “Okay. Enlightening, then. We had a very enlightening conversation with one of the girls who works at corporate.”

  “That’s why you’ve come here?” she charged. “To deliver this shit in person?”

  Before I could hold him back, Drake cashed in his ticket on the puzzlement express. “Wait…huh?” he stammered. “What shit?”

  Luckily—or maybe not—her rage was on a roll. “You flew thousands of miles just to do this? To tell me about another bimbo throwing herself at you?” She parked her hands against the centers of our chests and shoved—on her way back to the front door. I joined D in stumbling back and staying there for a long few seconds. She picked her moments for hitting full throttle on her temper—but when she did, it was blessing and disaster in one. Few things made both our cocks hotter. “News flash, gentlemen,” she charged. “You both could’ve saved yourselves a lot of time and money, because you can take the rest of your ‘enlightening’ story, and—”