by Mindy Neff
The instant air touched her bare skin, she felt herself swell, ached for the touch of his fingers, his mouth, the feel of his hot skin. The button fly of his jeans pressed against her, causing a sweet friction, heightening her anticipation.
“One of us is overdressed,” she panted, yanking the hem of his sweatshirt, leaving dots of white paint on his skin. She didn’t want foreplay, was already hot and aching and ready.
Still, he tested her with bold fingers, driving her mad, taking her so high so swiftly she nearly screamed. She wanted him now, right here on the kitchen table, wild and unrestrained, hard and fast and deep.
Her heel caught on the rung of a chair, sent it crashing to the tile floor. She had a fleeting thought that he didn’t have a condom with him in the kitchen.
She felt him stiffen and cursed her wayward thoughts. “Damn it, Adam. Don’t you dare stop.”
He hooked her legs around his waist, the material of his jeans rubbing against her naked skin, shooting her right to the edge of climax. She squeezed her legs around him, riding him as he strode out of the room and headed for the stairs.
“What about my rain check?”
“I’ll still owe you—once I stock the kitchen drawers. In the meantime, there’s a bathroom counter that’s about the right height.” The words were said around nibbles to her lips as his legs covered the distance between kitchen and bathroom in ground-eating strides.
Molly arched in his hold, teetering on the brink of a wild storm. The torrent washed over her before they ever made it up the stairs.
“NORTH HAVEN, MOLLY?”
She slipped a rubber band around the tip of her rebraided hair and glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“Like it?”
He shrugged. “I hadn’t thought much about it.” Bull, he’d thought of little else since she’d dropped the name like an innocent lump of sugar at a polite tea party.
“Every refuge needs a special name,” she said, turning to face him. “That one seemed to fit.”
“But it’s your place, half pint.”
“I haven’t signed the papers yet.” She shot him a stubborn look. “I’m still not sure that I will.”
“Molly—”
She plowed right over his objections. “If it hadn’t been for Jason North, none of this would be possible. He was a hero, Adam. Is a hero.” The hero of my heart. “North Haven will make sure he’s never forgotten.”
They rarely spoke about his former life, which was just as well. That person was gone. The face in the mirror confirmed it.
“There’ll come a day when you’ll have to let go, Molly. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.” And he didn’t.
She hurled herself into his arms before he even had a chance to brace for her slight weight. Gaining his balance, he had no choice but to hold her.
“Don’t talk like that, Adam.”
“It has to be faced.” The words scraped past the lump in his throat. They’d told him that each time his adrenaline surged, it would take another piece of him with it. Even something as natural as making love with Molly could very well trigger a reaction. “Sooner or later, it has to be faced.”
Her fingers knotted at the back of his sweatshirt. She pressed her lips against his chest. “The paint’s drying on the brushes. We ought to see to it.”
“Evading the subject won’t make it go away.”
She leaned back in his arms, her cinnamon eyes reminding him of those of a small child who’d been told there was no tooth fairy. Accusing and hurt.
“If I have to face it, Adam, I will. I won’t break. I’m made of stronger stuff than that. Until then, you can sleep in my arms,” she said softly, “dream my dreams with me, enjoy each day as it comes.”
Her voice gained strength and volume. “And if your faith is that shaky, then know this. I have more than enough for the both of us.”
With each impassioned word, the knot in his gut coiled tighter. He reached around her and grasped the towel bar, bending the metal with an ease that suggested it was made of cotton instead of bronze. “Does this look like it’ll go away on faith?” Disgust hung heavy in his voice. Heat burned like fire on his skin. He thrust his arm out toward her. “Does this?” He pressed the backs of his hot fingers to her cheek.
Her eyes glittered. “I know what’s real, Adam. And I know what’s right, what I feel deep down in my bones. If I have to face life without you some day, then so be it. But I don’t feel it.” She placed her hand over her heart, her fingers trembling. “I don’t feel it here.” Her fist closed around her charm necklace. “I’ve always felt the connection, like a fire in my soul, nudging my subconscious. And I was right. You’re here. I’m touching you, talking to you, making love with you. So don’t you dare discount my faith.”
“Molly…”
“No.” She jerked out of his arms. “I’m going downstairs to clean the paintbrushes.”
He caught her wrist, snatched her back into his arms, buried his face in her vanilla-scented hair. And held on, his insides trembling. He’d never been a man to pray. He did so now, prayed with every ounce of conviction in his sorry soul, prayed even though he never expected to be granted the one thing he’d give anything to possess.
Molly. In his future.
ADAM RENTED A PICKUP from the local U-Haul company to collect Elena and Eddie. Their belongings didn’t even begin to fill the bed of the truck.
“Don’t really matter,” Eddie said when he saw Adam staring at the empty space that could have hauled much more. “My mother doesn’t need reminders of the man she married. And you said we didn’t need no furniture at North Haven.”
It still gave Adam a punch every time the name was spoken. And it bothered him that this fourteen-year-old kid felt he had to be so brave.
“Eddie, drinking changes people, makes them do bad stuff. Don’t let anger eat at you. Maybe some day your dad’ll get some help.”
“He ain’t my real dad.”
Ah, hell. “Sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I remember my real dad. He worked for Southern California Edison.” Eddie said the name of the utility company proudly. “Drove a company truck and all. I was just a little kid, but I can still see him. Antonio took all my pictures, but I painted one in secret, from my memories.” He glanced at his duffel bag. “I hid it, and I still have it. Just a piece of paper, but it looks like him.”
“So what happened to your real dad?”
“Transformer blew up. Killed him.” His dark eyes fixed on the apartment he’d just been in for the last time. “Antonio took advantage of mom’s sadness. Went through her money, then turned mean.”
Adam reached out and squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. “He won’t touch her again, Eddie. You’ll be safe with Miss Kincade.”
“Yeah, man. I’m not worried. I could take the old fart if I wanted to.”
Ah, the bravado of a fourteen-year-old. “I doubt that’ll be necessary. Come on, kid. Let’s get your mom and get out of here. And Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll buy you a picture frame.”
Eddie ducked his head and slipped his headphones over his ears. And Adam pretended he hadn’t seen the sheen of tears in the kid’s eyes.
“OH, MY,” MOLLY SAID. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. The smells coming out of this kitchen are wonderful!”
Elena wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed an oven mitt and opened the monstrous oven. “Enchiladas, my own recipe. They will be ready in no time. You kids go wash up.”
Molly chuckled and glanced at Adam. They’d just been called kids. All her reservations about Elena being able to handle unruly teens dissolved. Adam, Molly and Eddie nearly mowed one another down on their way to the sink, no one even thinking to disobey the order.
“Hat and stereo off at the table,” Elena said to Eddie.
Adam shared a look of commiseration with the boy. “Got you coming and going, don’t they, kid? Miss Kincade at school, Mother at home. You
won’t be able to win for losing.”
“It ain’t so bad—”
“Isn’t,” both Molly and Elena said.
Adam rolled his eyes, and Eddie cracked up laughing.
Damn it, this felt good, he thought. He shouldn’t let the easiness lull him, but he was tired of fighting it. Everybody deserved a little time off for good behavior, he told himself.
Not that his behavior was all that good. Selfishness was not an admirable trait.
Still, just for a while.
He whipped a tea towel off the rack and dried his hand. When the phone rang, he didn’t bother to reach for it. Molly was closer.
He saw her smile slip, saw her knuckles turn white against the receiver. “Lizzy, slow down, honey. I can’t understand you. Stop crying now.” She paused. “Yes, Mr. Walsh is here. You have a card with his name on it?”
Adam was at her side, his knees bent, his ear pressed next to hers. She held the phone out slightly so he could hear the little girl’s frantic voice.
“Lamar’s gonna get in trouble. Said he’s gotta make money. He’s meeting some guys. You gotta stop him.”
Adam straightened and reached for the Porsche keys on the peg by the phone. The keys bit into his palm as he waited for her to hang up. “Where?” he asked.
Molly was already headed for the door.
“What’s happening?” Eddie asked.
“Lamar’s in trouble. I’ve got to get to him.”
“You’re not going, princess, so you might as well slow down.”
“The hell I’m not.”
“Damn it, Molly—”
“You’re wasting time and breath, Adam. I’ve got the information and I’ve got my own car. Now, are you coming or not.”
He swore.
And Eddie slipped right past him.
Hell, let’s make it a party, he thought. He snatched Eddie by the back of the shirt. “Don’t even think about it, kid.”
“These are my people. I know how these things go down.”
So do I, he thought, better than you think. The image of Lamar’s gun upstairs in the bedside drawer flashed in his mind. “There won’t be room in the car, Eddie. Stay here by the phone. We’ll call.”
It’d be tough enough just keeping an eye on Molly.
Chapter Thirteen
Adam shut off the engine and coasted in with the headlights off. Good thing there wasn’t the loss of power steering to worry about. But even if there had been, the way his emotions were screaming right now, he could have twirled the wheel with a single finger.
They were half a block away from the rendezvous point Lizzy had directed them to. Thank God Lamar’d had enough sense to give Lizzy their phone number. He just wished the kid had exercised similar good sense and stayed home where he belonged.
“This is my fault,” Molly said. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to tell on the garment factory.”
“None of that kind of talk, Molly. How long do you think the kid would have put up with those chintzy wages? This was inevitable.”
“It shouldn’t be inevitable!”
“Life’s tough.” He scanned their immediate surroundings as he opened the car door. “Just push it closed,” he said. “Don’t slam it.”
“But then it won’t lock.”
He spared her a quick glance—one that didn’t need clarification.
“Oh, right. Just a possession.”
The industrial park was dark and deserted. Adam didn’t like the feel of it. “I don’t suppose you’ve had a change of heart and will stay in the car?”
“Not a chance.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. At least stay behind me.”
She touched his cheek, ran her finger over the dimple in his chin, the scar there. “Don’t be a hero, Adam.”
“Isn’t that just what I am?”
“Damn it, you’re strong, but a bullet can still cut you down.”
“Then I’ll make it a point to stay out of the way. Which is all the more reason for you to do as I say. You break my concentration, and we’re in for it.”
“Oh, good, put a guilt trip on me.”
Their bickering stopped abruptly as a shot rang out. “The decision’s out of your hands now, Molly.” He reached under his sweatshirt and palmed his weapon, an action that was second nature to him.
“You have a gun!” she stated unnecessarily.
“Get back in the car and call the cops!” He didn’t wait to see if she complied. He took off at a run.
He went in low, his back to the graffiti-covered wall, the .38 pistol high and ready. Footsteps pounded against concrete—three or four suspects, he calculated. Sweat beaded his temples, stung his eyes, yet his hands were rock steady.
A careful, darting glance around the corner told him the situation. One down. One standing over the body. An exit to the east—an alley. The layout focused in his mind like a perfect blueprint.
One step and a pivot, and he had his gun trained on a stunned teen.
“Drop it, buddy.”
The kid stood in indecision, his eyes wild with panic above the bandanna that covered his nose and mouth. Great. Modern-day bandit. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the kid to check Lamar.
He stared at the thug’s eyes, letting his subconscious absorb posture and reflex: arm at a forty-five-degree angle. Gun unsteady—thinking about it. Buddies had already split.
So who was this creep? Adam wondered. The shooter? Or one of the pack with a conscience?
“Don’t even think about it, kid.” His voice, low and deadly calm, barely disturbed the night air.
“You a cop?”
“Nope. And that makes me your worst nightmare.”
More indecision. Hurry up! his mind screamed, while his body remained steady, relaxed even. Lamar was moving. A good sign. But he was losing blood. Not a good sign.
Adam took a step, then another. Closing the gap. The gun shook in the bandit’s hand. The kid was new at this.
“Better decide quick. This .38 has been known to have a mind of its own. Goes off all by itself sometimes.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I hate it when it does that. So messy, you know?”
He saw the kid hesitate, then bend slowly and set the weapon on the ground. “Smart move. Kick it out of the way.” All the while he kept moving closer. The gun went sliding across asphalt. A .45. Hell, the kid didn’t even realize he had Adam outgunned.
“What’s the next move, man? I ain’t armed no more.”
“Funny,” Adam said. “I’ve been asked that pardon-or-punishment question three times in as many weeks. I’m tired of being a good guy. Your loss.”
Like the strike of a snake, his arm whipped out. Before the kid even had time to yelp, Adam had him tossed into the metal Dumpster at the back of the alley. He slammed the lid down and bent the metal, creating an impromptu prison.
“That’ll hold you till the cops get here.” The Dumpster had plenty of air inside—stinky air, but it was better than the little gangster deserved.
“Man!” the kid shouted, banging on the metal. “A bullet’s got your name on it for sure. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it, man. Wait and see!”
“That bullet’s going to have to stand in line,” Adam muttered. His own faulty body chemistry had first dibs on his life.
He turned back to Lamar just as Molly rounded the corner. She came to an abrupt halt and slapped a hand over her mouth. Shock registered in her wide eyes as she stared at the pool of blood under Lamar’s shoulder.
Adam swore. He didn’t know which one to take care of first. Lamar or Molly. In the end, he didn’t need to make a decision at all. Molly’s core of steel kicked in.
She ran to Lamar and bent over him, her soft voice asking questions and answering those same questions before Lamar could decide if he had breath enough to speak.
Adam whipped his sweatshirt over his head, tucked the .38 in the waistband of his jeans and knelt on the other side of Lamar.
“Did you call for
backup?”
“Yes. I hear the sirens now. I told them to send an ambulance, too.”
“Good thinking.” He ripped his sweatshirt in half and packed both the front and back of Lamar’s wound. “How you doing, kid?”
“Hurts. Not too bad, though.”
“It’ll be sore, I’ll give you that. Looks like a clean entry and exit wound. A little disinfectant and a stitch or two, and you’ll be tossing hoops in no time.”
“I was stupid,” Lamar said, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.
“Of course you were,” Molly said so sensibly that Adam almost smiled. She used the hem of her shirt to wipe away the boy’s tears. “Now, don’t talk. The male of the species talks entirely too much if you ask me.”
Adam raised a brow. Man alive, this woman was something. “I don’t recall anybody asking for that particular opinion. Have a heart, Miss Molly. We’ve got a shoulder wound here.”
“Yes, I can see that. And silence makes you smarter, if you know what I mean, Adam.”
“Absolutely. And since smarts is your business, I’ll defer to your superiority.”
He kept one hand on the makeshift pressure bandage on Lamar’s shoulder and put the other on Molly’s back. Her muscles were rigid. She was holding on by a thread and itching to hit something. He knew her well. Thus her request for silence. If you gave this woman enough time, she’d sift through her feelings, hold on to the good, discard the bad and get a grip.
The quickest way to make her lose that grip was to talk.
Lamar appeared to have forgotten his wound. His interested gaze volleyed back and forth between Molly and Adam.
The siren whoops became louder. The strobe of red and blue announced the cavalry before the vehicles actually came into view.
And that’s when Adam remembered the .38 shoved into his waistband—in plain view since he’d used his shirt for first aid.
“Uh, Molly? I know you’ve requested silence, but we’ve got a problem.”
