by Fiona Archer
None of that mattered to Quinn as he carried his precious cargo to the couch then laid her down gently. Cupping her face with his hands, he checked that the blood splatter on her cheeks wasn’t hers, then spoke gently. “Sugar, listen to me.”
Amidst tears and gulpy breaths, she quieted.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” He used his knife to carefully slice through the cord at her wrists and ankles, cursing at the deep, red lines left by her bonds.
“N-no.” Her chin wobbled. “I, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see you again.” She flung herself into his arms. “I love you, Quinn Sullivan.”
“Oh, sweetness. You have no fucking idea how much I love you.” He kissed her with all the love and possessiveness inside of him. For the last hour or so, he had to stand outside helpless as she’d faced down a fucking mad bastard all on her own. He’d never felt more impotent in his life.
“Is he…” She broke off on a sob, her shoulders heaving.
“He can’t hurt you now, little one.” Trying to be as gentle as possible, he ran his hands over her body, searching for any evidence of a wound.
Reagan had other ideas. She grabbed his upper arms. “He confessed, Quinn. He killed my mom. Made it sound like an accident.” Another sob. “And Vicki. Oh, God, Quinn, she’s dead.”
“We know.” He ran his fingers over the back of her head.
“Ahhh.” She winced, drawing away.
Wetness coated his fingers. What the hell?
He dragged his hand away.
“You hit your head?” He leaned around her, carefully pulling at the strands of her hair to reveal a gash, clotted over, at the back of her head.
“Leonard hit me at the café.”
“She’s injured.” Quinn spoke sharply to those in the room. “I need to take her to the clinic.”
“Quinn, it’s not an emergency.” She looked around at the men who nodded gravely as he lifted her up in his arms.
“Quiet, little sub.” He placed a quick kiss on her forehead. And he was selfish enough to admit it was as much a comfort to him as to her. “I’ve just had to stand outside while some bastard held a gun to your pretty head. If you think I’m now going to sit here like some pansy-ass boyfriend and not take control, you have seriously underestimated my capacity to turn into the Domonster from hell.”
Her soft huff tickled the side of his neck as she laid her head on his shoulder. “Where’s Mike?”
Shit, in the relief of seeing Reagan, he’d forgotten about his buddy. “Mike, Flynn?” he spoke into the coms.
“Over here,” Flynn called from a waiting ambulance. Mike, sans coms unit and vest, his face pale, lay on a stretcher which was being lifted into the back of the emergency vehicle.
“Mike!” Reagan scrambled to get out of Quinn’s arms. He tightened them around her, keeping her prisoner against his chest.
“Hush, Reagan,” he ordered sharply, standing still until she ceased her struggles. “Now, let’s go see.” In a few strides, they were beside Flynn.
His buddy opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly, as if fighting to gain focus. “Reagan.” His voice was heavy with drugs and fatigue.
“What’s wrong with him?” Reagan cried.
The Aussie’s gray eyes warmed as he reached out to stroke Reagan’s cheek. “Luv, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward Mike. “Mike’s out of it on pain meds. His fall on the stairs was worse than I imagined. He collapsed after taking the shot. Doc will want to see him first thing.” He broke off, frowning as he looked at Reagan. “That’s if your lady doesn’t need his attention.”
“Oh, seriously, it’s just a small cut.” She pouted, straining in Quinn’s arms to get a better look at Mike.
Flynn’s brows met into one dark line. “What is?”
“Bastard knocked her on the back of the head at the café.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Get her to the clinic.” Flynn waved him to the ambulance and held open one door while Rick Clark, one of the paramedics, held open the other door.
Quinn managed to get Reagan into the vehicle a second before she wiggled out of his arms to lean over Mike. She placed kisses over his face, laid her hand on his forehead, and generally fussed to the tender amusement of the men. Mike’s eyes stayed closed the whole time, his breathing even.
While Quinn didn’t like the color of his comrade’s complexion, he noted the IV already pumping fluids and whatever happy mixture Mike needed to take away some of the pain. For that, he was grateful.
Rick Clark’s voice held a throb of authority. “Reagan, I can’t have three of you in the back. There’s only room for me and I need to be here to monitor Mike.” He carefully untangled her fingers from the front of Mike’s T-shirt and then eased her back into Quinn’s waiting arms.
Rick ignored her heated sigh. “You need to listen to Quinn and let him help you. If you follow behind us, I’ll make sure you get to see Mike as soon as you get to the clinic.”
Another Dom? Married with a toddler, right? The man’s steady gaze met his without flinching. And here the MacKenzies were wondering if they’d get enough local members for their BDSM club.
Quinn managed to keep his smile hidden while Reagan huffed and puffed as she allowed Quinn to lower her back out of the ambulance. If he had his way, he’d never put her down again.
Who said tough guys weren’t vulnerable. The tiny woman had captured his heart and brought him to his knees emotionally and physically. And dammit it, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
* * * *
Reagan locked her knees as they threatened to buckle beneath her. The room hushed. Every pair of eyes in the community center were trained on her and the man standing to her left. It was judgment day.
The town’s newly arrived veterinarian, Boone Knox, checked the paper on his clipboard. Dressed in a black shirt and jeans that matched his coal-black hair, he took his time reading over the results. Poor guy, only here a month and therefore viewed as being impartial, he’d been nominated, no, make that dragooned in as an official by Noah King.
Forcing a breath into too-tight lungs, she ignored the odious scent of Wagner’s aftershave. You. Can. Do. This.
Hell, after last Saturday, she could face anything.
And as her men had so clearly displayed for the whole town to see, so could they.
She searched the human sea of townsfolk, taking in the large pockets of pink T-shirt wearing supporters, until her gaze landed on her heroes.
Surrounded by their friends, Quinn sat with his hands fisted, as if he wanted to punch Boone if the poor man read out the wrong result. After the news yesterday that Hagarty had been awarded parole, Quinn’s patience was thin on the ground. Reagan knew Quinn would keep surveillance on the scum. He was a protector through and through. Even from here, Quinn’s caramel-colored gaze warmed her in all the right ways. He lifted his chin at her, as if daring her to collapse before him.
Beside him sat Mike. She reminded herself the wheelchair was simply a precaution. Jackson refused to take any chances in her man’s healing, despite the fact it had turned out to be more a bad fall and wrench of his knee but no further permanent damage. However, when walking unaided had seemed an impossibility months ago, such an injury wasn’t the paper cut it would be for others.
Despite Mike’s protests, she’d sided with Quinn and Jackson that he needed to use the wheelchair for a few days. She laughed to herself. Since this was Tuesday, his time was nearly up. And from the way he shifted in the chair, his frown matching the uncompromising line of his mouth, she could put it down to minutes instead of hours.
“I underestimated you, Reagan.” Karl Wagner’s tone held bemusement more than respect. “Seems you managed to drag together some semblance of support.”
Okay, so buying into his crap was a mistake, but dammit, sometimes a girl had to stand her ground. She curled her hands at her sides, lest she use them to slap the man’s smug smile from his face.
; “It’s called community involvement, Wagner. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand that I’ll soon hold the real power in the town and whatever grassroots bullshit you think you have going will be demolished, along with your damn library.” Karl’s face widened in a smile as he waved to someone in the crowd.
Don’t bite.
Her stomach knotted. But, if he did win?
Stop it. No point worrying now. She’d fought hard and pushed herself way outside her safe zone. She’d stood up for what she believed in.
And learned so much about herself and those around her.
Like what really matters. Love. Family. Friends. Living a life true to yourself.
Next Thursday her mom would be laid to rest beside her father in the plot he’d insisted on keeping for his wife, even as his own time drew near.
That was love. And faith.
Tears burned the back of her eyes. Oh, God, she couldn’t cry. Not in front of this asshole.
But, dammit, she couldn’t step down from the stage tonight without saying one important thing.
“Whatever tonight’s vote count, I know I fought fair and with honor. I didn’t have to pay someone to move away to another state to get my name on a ballot.”
Wagner whipped his head around to face her. His face slacked for a second before a cold glint entered his eyes. “You can’t prove a damn thing.”
“Not yet. But I’ve given a full statement to the police and they’ll want to investigate Leonard’s bank accounts. So I’d be nervous if I was you. And never forget, gossip has a way of getting out, as you well know.” She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction as his eyes narrowed. Yeah, he should be worried.
“The independent audit I organized of the library’s accounts proved your and Darcy’s accusations were nothing more than an attempt to discredit me. You made an innocent woman suffer for her simple mistake.” Her throat tightened. All Vicki had wanted to do was help. “You’re a vile creature, Wagner.”
But a man like Wagner didn’t let guilt stand in his way. “Darcy’s the one who made those accusations in public. It won’t fall at my door.” He shrugged. “Like I told you before when I last visited your hallowed library. You have to look at the big picture.”
Her hand jerked by her side. “God, you’re a—”
“Ladies and gents, kids, it’s great to see such a turnout tonight.” Boone’s deep voice boomed around the room, cutting off people’s chatter.
She pulled in a deep breath and faced the crowd. Quinn and Mike sat up straight, the love shining from their gazes thawing out her chilled insides like hot cocoa. No matter what happened in the next few seconds, she was loved and loved in return.
Boone glanced toward her and Wagner.
“Candidates, you’ve had to wait a while so I vote we get right down to the matter at hand.” A few hearty cheers sounded around the room. Yep, this guy would fit in just fine.
“We had a total of twelve hundred and seven votes. Karl Wagner had five hundred and sixty-two. Reagan Edwards collected six hundred and forty-five. That makes Reagan King’s Bluff’s newly elected councillor.”
“What?” Wagner roared beside her.
Reagan stared down at her two men, barely conscious of the deafening cheers. Pink-clad humans formed a waving mass as they jumped up and down.
Quinn rose from his chair with one arm stretched out over his head, pumping his fist in triumph. His other arm supported Mike, who with additional help from Noah, struggled to his feet. He didn’t blink once as he cheered.
She’d done it. She’d really done it.
Clapping her hands over her mouth, she let the tears flow freely. Oh, heck, she’d shed so many over the last couple of days, for her family and Vicki. But right now, these were the best kind possible. Happy tears.
I hope you’re proud of me, Dad.
She swiped at her eyes, trying to clear her waterlogged view. People were moving up the stairs toward them. Quinn was out in front, Noah and Flynn helping a determined Mike behind him with Chloe, Purdy, Phyllis, Lark and oh, everyone, following behind.
Giggles rose up her throat. It was wonderful and happy and heck, she didn’t know what to say.
Quinn swept her up in his arms, twirling her around before dropping her to the ground. He kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. “We’re so proud of you, sugar.”
He guided her to Mike. Her burly Dom wrapped one arm around her and dragged her up against him, using Noah as his support so they both didn’t topple to the floor.
“Little reader, I…” He broke off, his eyes misting. “I’m glad my vote counted.” His attempt at joking faltered under the huskiness of his voice.
Oh, wow, that did it.
She buried her face into his chest, wetting his shirt as he kissed the top of her head.
“Bullshit,” an angry voice yelled beside her.
She turned. Mike’s arm tightened before she laid her arms on his chest. With a reluctant sigh, he let her go.
“Count again. You’ve got it wrong.” Wagner’s mouth pulled back in a snarl as he glared at Boone.
“We counted them three times, Mr. Wagner.” Boone moved to stand before Karl, who had to look up at the taller man. “Now’s the time for you to show your mettle and accept the decision of the folks that voted.”
Was it her imagination or did the vet’s cobalt eyes darken in silent challenge?
Behind him, a few of Wagner’s supporters glared at her as if she’d stolen their presents from under the Christmas tree.
Reagan’s happy bubble might have dented around the curves but she’d be damned if she’d allow Wagner and his supporters to burst it outright.
Instead, she mentally hoisted up her big girl panties and held out her hand, offering it in the time-honored tradition of goodwill.
If anything, Karl’s mouth pulled back further. His gaze swept over her, bathing her in contempt.
She straightened her spine and dropped her hand.
So be it. Now it was her turn.
“Karl, remember that big picture? Looks like you’re out of it.”
He opened his mouth, ready to vent more poisonous barbs, then his gaze landed somewhere behind her.
A large body pressed into her from behind before big hands squeezed her shoulder. She’d recognize Quinn’s touch anywhere.
“You all think you’ve won.” Karl’s ruddy complexion turned darker when his gaze centered on Noah. “It’s not over, King.”
“It will never be over for you, Wagner. And lucky for you, you’re guaranteed a continued fight. We’re not going anywhere.”
Wagner clenched his jaw so tight, Reagan was sure she’d hear it crack under the strain. He stalked off the stage and then down the stairs, nearly knocking over Darcy Richards, whose mouth hung open like a clown at a fun fair.
With no grand victory, she was left standing alone as Wagner’s supporters followed him out of the center in a procession of the vanquished. She turned her disbelieving gaze back to Reagan. All Darcy’s plans, whatever they entailed, lay shredded at her feet as surely as the squares of pink confetti thrown by Reagan’s supporters.
For a second, Reagan felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman. After all, those teenage years were a world away. Then she remembered Vicki and the look of total devastation on her sweet friend’s face the night of the Q&A meeting.
Reagan lifted her chin and met the woman’s stare, contempt hardening her jaw.
“You’re a bitter, twisted human being, Darcy. Whatever beauty you possess outwardly is ruined by the poison that lurks within. You’re a fool for aligning yourself with Wagner.”
Darcy’s eyes shined bright with the venom that always lurked just below the surface. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“He’s going to let you take the fall for your false accusations about the library’s books. You’re the one who first raised them, and in public too. You knew it was Vicki that worked on them and that the fact it was her mistake
would eventually come out, but you didn’t hesitate to shame her as a way of getting to me.”
Darcy’s chin lost its defiant tilt. Her eyes scanned behind Reagan, no doubt noting the scorn Reagan guessed was on the faces of those who had known Vicki and were horrified at her loss.
“Think about it. He never once raised those same concerns, did he? Not in public.”
Darcy opened her mouth to refute the claim then froze. Gotcha!
“You’ve always wanted to be treated differently from the rest of us. Well, now you’ll have your wish. You’ll be viewed as a pariah, Darcy. Nobody will trust you, like you, or want to be known as your friend. At least those of us that have any decency.”
The former beauty queen could only stare, her mouth hanging open as the full enormity of her situation hit home. Then with clouded eyes, as if she still couldn’t believe such a thing could befall her, Darcy walked away, her shoulders hunched.
Reagan felt no thrill of victory, only the ache of a friend lost but not forgotten. You shall have justice, Vicki.
Purdy clapped her hands, shattering the quietness that had enveloped Reagan. “Okay, I say it’s time we party.”
Flynn stepped forward, pulling a somewhat wary-looking Chloe behind him. “And I say it’s time you ladies lived up to your slogan.” His eyes gleamed as he stared at the front of his wife’s pink T-shirt.
There it was, in bold white lettering. Spank One for Reagan!
Mike’s dark chuckle burned the tips of her ears. “Flynn’s got a point. Don’t candidates state their name and say they stand by their ads? You can’t back down on your word, Reagan.”
She jumped as Quinn’s knuckles skimmed over her right butt cheek.
Damn those T-shirts!
Epilogue
Reagan studied the members of the Bound by the Books Club as they sat on various couches and chairs that filled the family room at King’s Haven. The eclectic bunch of woman of all ages and beliefs had one major thing in common. They loved erotic romance, and the kinkier the better.
And this month’s offering, a ménage with two alphas and a female sub, certainly showed their various limits of what each reader found acceptable.
