You're the One

by Angela Verdenius

  “Hey, Mozart. Moz will be home sometime.”

  Mozart meowed.

  “Yeah.” Bending down, she rubbed behind his ears, rewarded by his purring. When she leaned back, he jumped up onto her lap and curled up. “Know how you feel. I wish Moz was here, too.”

  Missy came in, took one look at Mozart and jumped up onto the sofa, settling by Del’s hip. She stroked the kitten, grateful for their company, wondering how she’d managed without a cat for so long. And without Moz.

  “Well, kitty,” she informed Mozart, “I love your Dad. How’s that? Shocked the living crap out of me, too, but go figure. I fell head-over-heels with the big lug.”

  Mozart preened under her hand.

  “No idea when it happened. Though I guess, considering I let him into my bed, it must have been a little while ago. Took me awhile to realise. Huh.” She rubbed one finger between his ears. “Maybe I’m a bit of a dumb arse like Ryder in that department.”

  Sure as eggs Moz wasn’t. Twice he’d said he loved her, twice on the phone. Slip of the tongue? Maybe the first time, but the second time he’d said it? No. He’d said it deliberately. Now she’d heard the words, said them herself, felt the truth, she wanted to hear him say it to her face.

  How had he felt when she’d said she loved him, too?

  Oh crap, what if Moz didn’t mean it? What if-

  “Man, Del, you are such a twit.” Dropping her head back on the sofa, she looked up at the ceiling. “Why do you always have to question everything?”

  Because that was just the way she was. Not quite as confident as everyone thought, mainly when it came to Moz. He could shake her up like no one else could, and that was the truth of it.

  Because out of everyone she knew and loved, she cared the most about what he thought of her.

  Time crept past. The hands on the clock seemed to take twice as long to go around. At midnight she knew whatever was going to happen at the dog fighting ring would have happened, it’d be over for better or worse. The fact that there was no phone call from the cops, no one knocking on her door with bad news, meant it had gone well. Or as well as it could go. She wished Moz would call her, just to hear his voice.

  But no news was good news.

  When the phone rang, she leaped into the air, making Mozart dig his claw into her bare leg in protest.

  “Ouch!” She snatched up the phone breathlessly. “Moz?”

  “Yeah, Del, it’s me.” His deep voice rumbling in her ear was welcome. “Did I wake you?”

  “No. I was just sitting here. Couldn’t sleep.” She took a deep breath. “You’re all right?”

  “Fine.”

  “Kirk?”

  “Happily sorting out cop business.”

  “Grant?”

  “He’s okay.”

  “It went well?”

  “Yeah.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in Moz’s voice. “Dogs secured, owners secured. Some of those owners are telling everything they know in a bid to save their own hides.”

  “Good to know. Did you get Dawson, Harding and Cutter?”

  “In the lock-up as we speak, getting ready for their interviews.”

  “Excellent news.” She relaxed, leaning back. “Coming home soon?”

  “Wish I could but this is going to take awhile to sort out. We’re taking the dogs back to Ellor’s Loop where they have the facilities to hold them.” His voice gentled “Go to bed, Del. I’m fine.”

  “I will. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe. And Kirk. And Phil and Maggie, of course. And Grant.”

  His laugh was low, amused. “You want to keep adding to that list?”

  “I’ll stop there.”

  “Okay. Baby, I have to go. This was just a quick call.”

  “You knew I’d be worrying, didn’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  She smiled, breathed out. “I love you. Come home soon.”

  “Love you right back, baby.” The smile was in his voice.

  In the early hours of the morning just as dawn was making itself known, a big, warm body slid into bed behind her.

  Turning into Moz’s arms, Del cuddled close.

  “’Morning, baby.”

  “Just kiss me” she demanded sleepily.

  A low laugh, a warm kiss. Light at first, deepening as she responded.

  The remnants of sleep slid away, replaced with hunger as the big hands slid down her body to cup her hips before sliding beneath her nightgown to skim back up until hard palms cupped her breasts.

  Moz rolled her onto her back, following her, coming over to kiss her more deeply, knee sliding between her thighs.

  No words, no explanations, no questions.

  She welcomed him, wrapped her arms around his neck, slid her foot up the outside of his leg then back down his calf.

  He shifted, leaning outward, the bedside drawer sliding open. In the gloom she saw him lift from her, felt the cool air creeping between their bodies before he lowered himself to her again.

  A nudge of his knee between hers, an obedient widening of her thighs. One big hand slid beneath her bottom, angled her hips up, and he slid home, sliding deep into her in a blissful groan matched by her equally blissful moan.

  No hurry, no wildness, a gentle loving as he rocked against her, moved inside her, gathered her close, kissing her deeply, taking her essence, giving her his, filling her with his flavour and his body.

  Her blood quickened, swept through her, and she gripped him, hung on as his hips started to surge powerfully.

  No hard pounding, no urgency, just a quickening of their bodies, rising heat, a flood of intense sensations, a shared orgasm that had them both depleted, satiated, rolling together under the arc of the climaxes before settling down to a murmur of voices, shared kisses, soft declarations of love.

  Del floated happily in a contented haze, Moz’s scent on her skin, listening to him reassuring Mozart as he went out to the bathroom to clean up. Minutes later he was back in bed behind her, pulling her into him, curling around her, big arm around her waist tugging her against his muscled chest.

  Moz nuzzled the back of her hair, cuddled her close and fell asleep within minutes.

  Mozart made himself comfortable on Moz’s hip, Missy tucked herself under Del’s chin, both cats purring happily.

  Smiling, Del slid back into sleep.

  ~*~

  “Got the movie for tonight?” Moz asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is it scary? I don’t want to hear Ryder bellyaching about not having a decent movie to watch.”

  “It’s scary, trust me.” Del looked to where he stood mixing some concoction. “How much are you baking?”

  “Two cakes, a couple of trays of muffins, and some biccies. Why?”

  “You think we’ll eat all that tonight? On top of the take away?”

  “I’m allowing for half of it, but who knows? Simon will be here, so…” Moz shrugged.

  “I hear you.” Plucking the keys from the hook above the kitchen bench, Del leaned over and planted a kiss on Moz’s mouth as he immediately bent down to meet her. “Yum.”

  “It’s the cake mix,” he informed her.

  “Are you licking the bowls as you go?”

  “A good cook always licks the bowls.”

  Laughing, she drew back.

  “I could lick you.” His eyes held lazy heat.

  Good grief, he could make her panties damp with one suggestion. “I’ll hold you to that when everyone goes home.”

  “I could make time for a quickie.” He flicked the tea towel over one shoulder, arched an eyebrow wickedly.

  “You,” she pointed sternly at him, “will behave yourself. Maryanne Dooley’s packages are still in my car boot. I’m going to finally deliver them to her.”

  He gave a long-suffering sigh. “You only love me for my cooking, don’t you?”

  “That and the sex.”

  His hand jerked and he almost flicked the bowl off the counter.

  Laughi
ng, Del hurried out. “I’ll see you later.”

  “You better come back ready for a rough ride, woman!” he called after her.

  “Just don’t wear spurs,” she called back.

  “I’ll use my hands.”

  God, the man had lethal hands. Could bring her to a screaming climax in no time at all. Combine that with his mouth and, oh boy. Just the thought and she was panting a little.

  Pulling out of the driveway onto the road, she drove to the main road, turned left and headed out of town. An hour later she was at Maryanne Dooley’s. The farmer’s wife wanted Del to stay for a cup of tea, so knowing how lonely it could get in the country, Del obliged before finally saying her goodbyes and leaving Maryanne to her packages.

  She was halfway home when a car came up behind her. The driver flashed his headlights.

  Wondering who it could be, Del peered at the driver’s reflection in the rear view mirror, trying to identify the figure at the wheel.

  Another flash of lights, the car drew closer.

  Oh shit. She took a quick glance over her shoulder, faced forward, gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her blood went cold. That face behind the wheel, the cold eyes.

  Cutter.

  She reached for the mobile on the passenger seat, intending to call Moz.

  Another car appeared ahead as she closed her hands on the mobile. The car ahead swerved, coming straight for her, making her wrench the steering wheel to the side.

  The tyres lost traction in the gravel for precious seconds as she battled to regain control.

  She wheeled out of the skid, but the car ahead of her blocked her in, the car behind her angling, cutting off any retreat she might have.

  Looking down, she swore on seeing the mobile on the floor. Hands shaking, she unsnapped the seatbelt and lunged down, grabbing the phone to scroll through it quickly. “Come on, come on, come on!”

  Moz’s voice. “Hi, Del. What’s up-”

  “Cutter! Moz, Cutter’s here, he-”

  The phone was knocked from her hands, the door wrenching open, a hand grabbing her hair to drag her from the car, releasing her so that she fell to her knees.

  Crap, that hurt. Trembling, she scrambled to her feet, her gaze going from Cutter’s hard face to the other man standing nearby.

  Fritz, she recognised him from the night the men and the dog had first come onto her property.

  And Cutter. Her gaze flew to his face, saw the cruelty stamped in every grim inch.

  “Well, if it isn’t the inspector’s little bitch.” Cutter looked her up and down.

  “What do you want?” So glad her voice only trembled a little. Damn the adrenalin running through her. Her heart pounded, but she had to keep a clear head.

  “Your boyfriend took from me.” Cutter’s mouth twisted. “So I’m going to take from him.”

  Yeah, she’d kind of figured this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. “And what are you going to take?”

  He grinned viciously. “You’re a woman of spirit, Del. Remember what I said about liking a woman with spirit?”

  She straightened her shoulders, balanced on her feet. “You’d respect her?”

  “No. I like to break them.” His gaze flicked lower, lingered on her breasts, the junction of her thighs. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”

  “Is that what you do?” She wasn’t going down without a fight, wasn’t going to beg and plead. Wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was scared.

  Gutsy she might be, but she wasn’t a fool. If Cutter got hold of her, he was going to give her a whole world of pain.

  He reached for her.

  She knocked his hand aside.

  He laughed. “Oh yeah, I’m so going to enjoy breaking you.” He jerked his head at the watching man. “Fritz.”

  “You touch me,” Del pointed at Fritz, “and I will make sure you regret it.”

  They both lunged at her.

  Del fought, scratching, biting, landing a solid punch to Cutter’s gut that had him grunting and actually stumbling back a step.

  Fritz grabbed hold of her hair, hauled her back, kicked her in the back of her knees.

  She retaliated frantically, slamming her elbow into his groin, missing disabling him but making him curse and release her.

  Pushing upright, she darted through the gap between them.

  “Goddamn bitch!” Cutter started after her. “I’ll cut you up!”

  Del ran right for the bushes, her only hope to lose them amongst the trees and bushes. At the same time she wondered if she’d be better off on the road where a passing car would see her, stop to help. But the men had a better chance of catching her in the open, and it could be awhile before a car passed on the side road.

  It was a no-win situation.

  She leaped over a bush.

  Cutter wasn’t far behind her, Fritz following, both swearing viciously.

  Suddenly a figure stepped out from the bushes at the side, an arm snaking around her waist to twist her to the side and forward, sending her staggering behind him.

  Cutter and Fritz skidded to a halt.

  “Well, well.” Cutter looked the man up and down. “What’s this?”

  Regaining her footing, Del looked at the back of the man. “Farris?”

  The young farmhand didn’t turn to her, keeping his attention focussed on Cutter and Fritz. “You all right, Del?”

  Geez, that was the question of the century.

  Cutter sneered. “Out of our way, boy.”

  “Not going to happen.” Farris shook his head.

  “Two against one.” Cutter grinned. “You like the odds, boy?”

  Farris shrugged. “Two, one, whatever.”

  Del stepped up beside him, her arm brushing his. “Two against two.”

  “Del,” Farris growled from the side of his mouth, “run. Now.”

  And leave her friend? She might be scared but she wasn’t going to desert him. “Not bloody likely.” She squared her shoulders.

  “Damn it, Del-”

  “Woman doesn’t know how to obey,” Cutter drawled. “Do you, Del?”

  “Suggest you go away and leave her to us,” Fritz added coldly.

  “Yeah, you see, I don’t like to see men beating up on a woman.” Farris flexed his hands. “How about you two just go and we’ll forget this.”

  “Forget it?” Cutter’s grin grew uglier. “Del will go squealing to her boyfriend and he’ll be after us.”

  “He’ll be after you if you hurt her,” Farris replied. “He’ll hurt you bad, I promise you. Leaving would be the better option.”

  “He’s going to come after me anyway, so I figure might as well make it worthwhile.” Cutter pulled something from his pocket, flipping it open with a click. He held the switchblade in the air. “Have a little fun with blondie before I mark her up some.” His eyes glittered. “Kind of ironic seeing as my name is Cutter, huh?”

  The man was as mad as a cut snake.

  “Del,” Farris muttered, “run. I’ll hold these two.”

  “No way.” Her heart pounded so loudly she wondered none of them heard it. “I stand with you.”

  Boy, she wanted to run, but no way was she leaving Farris to face them. He’d fight to save her at any cost, probably get himself badly injured on the way. No way was she leaving him.

  “You should have listened to him.” Cutter flicked the knife. “Fritz, you take him, I’ll take the bitch.”

  “And I’ll take a swing,” said a new voice.

  Cutter rocked forward as something heavy slammed into his back.

  Del could only gape as Dee swung the cricket bat once more and landed another blow to Cutter’s back.

  Fritz leaped for her, Farris jumped him, they went down in flying fists and cursing.

  Cutter rolled, grabbed the bat, wrenched it from Dee and started up.

  Holy crap! Del dived onto him, bringing him crashing down.

  A fist to her side, a slap to her face, and then he
was cursing, swearing, grabbing at his own hair as Dee took a good handful and started hauling him away from Del.

  “The knife!” Dee yelled. “Jesus, Del, get the knife!”

  Cutter gabbed Dee’s wrist, twisted viscously, forced her to her knees. But before he could do more damage Del was at his back, the tip of the knife pricking his throat, hands trembling with combined fury and nerves. “You bastard! You mongrel! Let her go or I’ll cut you, I swear! I’ll slit your bloody throat!”

  “I’ll break her wrist,” he grated. “I’ll do it. Put the knife down.” His stiffened as she exerted pressure, the knife tip indenting his skin.

  “I’m warning you, Cutter,” Del hissed.

  He released Dee. She slid out of reach, pushed to her feet.

  “Good.” Del swallowed. Now what?

  Dee picked up the cricket bat, swung it a few times. “Maybe I should just knock his block off. Do us all a favour.” Her voice trembled but her hands were steady.

  A hand touched Del’s shoulder. She glanced up to see Farris, the young farmhand’s face grim. His right eye was swelling, the corner of his mouth bloody. Crap, he hadn’t fared well.

  He gestured her back.

  She obeyed, moving quickly, not wanting to be within reach when Cutter was free of the threat of the knife tip at his throat.

  Dee’s hands tightened on the bat, face determined.

  Farris moved even faster. A step to the side, a hard punch down, catching the side of Cutter’s jaw, sending him down into the dirt. Cutter cursed groggily, tried to push up. Farris dragged him up enough to aim another punch, a third, hitting the man without mercy. After the fourth punch to the jaw, Cutter stayed down.

  Breathing heavily, knuckles skinned, Farris strode up to Del, gently taking the switchblade from her suddenly slack hand and clicking it shut. “You okay, Del?”

  “Yeah.” She embraced him suddenly, hugging him.

  He hugged her back.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  “Can’t have my hottest fantasy hurt.” He winked. “Ow.” Stepping back, he gingerly dabbed a finger to the corner of his eye. “Ooh, that’s going to go black.”

  “Ruin your good looks.” Dee came forward.

  Del threw herself into her cousin’s arms, feeling the answering tremble in Dee’s body. So, not as controlled as she looked. “Dee, where the hell did you come from?”