by Diana Duncan
The world started to spin.
“Baby, it’s all right,” Dallas soothed. “I’ll take care of you.”
She gritted her teeth, wrenching every drop of self-control, every ounce of strength from deep inside. She was not going to hurl. Or scream. Or cry. “I just want to go home.”
Holding her tight, he sighed, his heartbeat thundering beneath her ear. “If you can walk to the Jeep without any help, I’ll skip the hospital and take you directly home.”
* * *
Dallas paced his bedroom, acid roiling in his belly while he waited for Mia to finish her shower. She wasn’t as steady as she was pretending to be, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t slip, or pass out.
The second he’d realized Death’s bony claws had reached out to grab her, the entire world had lurched to a halt.
And now every time he opened his damned mouth something reckless—something irrevocable—nearly shot out.
So he’d locked down his emotions, executed the necessary compartmentalization. Kept his mind and his mouth firmly shut.
Mia had not only walked on her own to the car, she’d insisted on a stop at the police station before they came home, so she could give a statement and enlist a sketch artist while the incident was fresh. Dallas had studied the big man’s stout, leathery features until he was sure he could recognize that face in the dark at fifty paces.
Reluctant admiration for his wife warred with frustration, fear, and raging, unwanted desire. Few civilians had the wits and courage to survive a firefight, battle the backlash of nearly being burned alive in an explosion, then retain the presence of mind to describe the man who’d tried to kill them.
His wife had a backbone of tungsten.
But being an eyewitness to the attempt on Esteban would move her to the top of the cartel’s hit list. He fisted his hands, fighting the urge to punch a hole through the wall. He’d promised to defend her … and then he’d put her directly into the enemy’s sights.
He needed to make her his so badly he ached with longing. Dallas caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror over the bureau. The ruby in his left ear gleamed back at him, an accusing beacon of guilt. Selfish thoughts, selfish needs.
The earring was there to remind him that the last time he’d been selfish, his baby sister had paid with her blood.
His jaw tightened until he thought it might snap. This situation with Montoya and the Graysons was reaching flashpoint. All he had to do was stay in control, keep his hands off Mia, keep her alive long enough to finish this … and then muster the strength to do her the biggest favor of all … walk out of her life.
Sorrow knifed his heart.
Way, way easier fucking said than done.
Chapter 15
The bathroom door snicked open, and Mia emerged wearing one of his shirts, her shiny hair damp and tousled, her dewy skin as sweetly fragrant as the pink rose petals she liked. He knew she had on the Marvin Martian panties he’d bought her, because she’d carried them into the bathroom with his shirt beforehand. He also knew, that just like himself, she had her emotions firmly harnessed.
Dallas hated to admit it, but they shared more than a few similar traits.
She smiled at him, and his heart stumbled. “You want the shower now? The steam really helped clear the remaining smoke from my lungs and ease the stiffness from my muscles. I’m sure it’ll help you, too.”
“Yeah. As soon as I get you settled in.”
“Other than a slightly scratchy throat and a few aches, I’m fine.” She brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I know what you overcame, what it cost you to run straight into those flames for me today, and I can never, ever repay you. I owe you my life.”
His gut twisted. He’d frozen outside that factory for long, horrible moments. If he hadn’t pulled himself together—
Shit. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now. “I did what I had to,” he said gruffly. “Go downstairs and rest. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Okay. Take your time. See you there.”
Mia walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, resolutely keeping her mind blank. She would not fall apart. Would not cry.
Dallas had enough to deal with at the moment, between the awful memories the explosion must’ve trigged inside him and trying to wrap up this dangerous mission they’d embarked on together. The last thing he needed was a whiny, clinging female blubbering all over him.
She’d almost cost him the ultimate price today. She refused to distract or endanger him any further.
She lit the gas fireplace in the living room, then busied herself in the kitchen making coffee and opening cans of tomato soup to set on the burner on low heat.
By the time the coffee was done, and before the soup was even warm, he strode into the kitchen. In a white tank shirt and black drawstring pants, his feet bare, his tall, lean body and dark hair still damp and smelling of warm, clean man and pine forests, the sight of him almost undid her hard-won composure.
She stuck her head in the fridge, pulled out a block of cheddar and the butter. “Wow, that must be a world’s record for showering.”
“Didn’t want to leave you alone too long.” He laid his phone on the countertop. “Why the hell are you cooking?”
“Because I’m hungry, and I figured you might be, too.”
“Mia—”
She opened the bread. “You like grilled cheese? One or two sandwiches?”
“I can grill my own damned sandwich. Go sit down.”
“Moving around makes me feel better. Probably still all that extra adrenaline.”
He growled. “And when it crashes, you’re gonna hit bottom fast.”
She set a skillet on the front burner, flipped the knob to medium high. “Well, when that happens, I’ll sit down. In all the excitement, I forgot to ask, were you able break into Esteban’s safe?”
“Yeah.”
“Well? C’mon, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Remember I told you he’s old-fashioned, doesn’t trust modern technology? Apparently, he also believes in having a rainy day fund that’s not in any bank. It was crammed full of money. An ass-load of hundred-dollar bills, in the millions.”
“Wow. No intel, though?”
“Nope. Wherever he’s keeping his information, it wasn’t in there.”
They ended up making and grilling sandwiches together. Then they sat at the island to eat them in taut silence, the turbulent, unspoken emotions ricocheting between them scarier and more dangerous than bullets.
Mia had walked over to put her empty plate and bowl in the sink, and turned to pour another cup of coffee when Dallas’ phone chimed.
He looked at the screen. Snatched it up. “Zane.” He listened. “Yeah, okay.” Dallas frowned at Mia. “What?” A hurricane of reactions stormed across his face. He rubbed his forehead. “All right. Thanks.” He disconnected the call.
“How’s Esteban?”
“Lost enough blood to weaken him, and he has a concussion and an irregular EKG. Due to his age, they’re keeping him several days to recover, and they want to run some cardiac tests. But he’ll make it. Zane and Carlos will take shifts guarding him and switching back to the house with Soledad, so I can watch over you.”
“I appreciate that, but honestly, I—”
“The cartel will have a bounty on your head by now. They don’t leave witnesses behind.” Dallas prowled over to where she stood. His hand shook as he cupped her cheek, urging her to meet his cobalt laser gaze. “Zane said you threw yourself into the line of fire. Saved Montoya’s life.”
“Not really. I saw the guy, saw the gun, and then suddenly, I … I … was shoving Esteban out of the way. Hardly a death-defying act.”
“Jesus Christ, Mia.” He stared at her, chest heaving, expression stricken. Then he turned his back and propped his palms on the fridge, head down. She could barely hear his tortured whisper. “What am I going do with you?”
“Dallas—”
He whipped back to
face her again, jaw set. “When I got there and … I saw the smoke, the flames— When I found out you were trapped inside, I locked up—” He stabbed trembling fingers through his hair. “I couldn’t— I can’t— Goddammit!”
He grabbed her and pushed her against the refrigerator door, crushing his mouth to hers. His tongue swept inside with desperate hunger. His lips alternately caressed and plundered, while steely arms banded around her as if he would never let her go.
Dazed, she went still. His trembling increased, his kiss deepened, until his taut body vibrated with restrained violence. Keeping his mouth fused to hers, he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
His solid strength pinned her in place, his tongue plundered, his hands ravished. An inferno ignited inside. As if wracked with fever, she flashed both hot and cold.
His savage possession should have terrified her. Instead, her inhibitions evaporated. She gripped his broad shoulders and kissed him back.
He staked a warrior’s claim, consuming her. Branding her as his. His devastating mouth commanded her, binding her to him with the heat of his passion. Swamped by his hot, male scent and his dark, heady taste, rational thought fled.
He pressed closer, forcing her thighs wider apart, the thick ridge of his erection grinding into her clit and flooding her with molten heat. Mia’s fingers curled into his silky hair and she arched closer.
When hot, callused palms shoved beneath her shirt to squeeze her breasts, the fierce shock of need jolted her. She wanted to give him everything she’d always held back. Everything she’d always hidden.
She heard a whimper, only dimly aware the sound came from her own throat.
Dallas wrenched back, breaking the contact, and her legs nearly folded before she managed to stand upright, dragging in ragged breaths.
“Fuck!” He slammed his hand on the counter, sweeping his dishes to the floor to land in a clatter of broken shards. “Get out!”
There was no fear, only confusion. “Wh-what?”
“Go upstairs,” he gritted. “And stay there until morning.”
“Dallas—”
“Dammit, just go. Get out of my sight.”
“Okay.” Understanding he’d lashed out in distress—because as she knew all too well, anger was easier to handle than grief and terror—she turned and walked away.
* * *
Dallas leaned on the counter, eyes closed, lungs straining for air as he listened to Mia’s departing footsteps. He’d come so close to losing her.
Five minutes.
If he’d delayed leaving the restaurant even five minutes, Mia would’ve died.
She’d blown into his life like a sunny whirlwind and swept away a measure of his pain. She’d made him laugh, and banished most of the dark shadows that haunted him. At every turn, she’d surprised, amazed, intrigued him, annoyed the hell out of him, and challenged him.
The thought slammed into him like a baseball bat to the gut.
And he loved her.
Fear stabbed an icy blade into his chest, and he jerked. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
But damn his soul, he did.
And this was one battle he had no idea how to fight.
* * *
Upstairs, Mia lay in bed watching the moon glow through the trees. She’d spent the past four restless hours coming to some startling conclusions. Staring into the face of death had sharpened her vision to crystal clear.
A smart woman admitted when she’d been wrong, and changed course.
All this time she’d obstinately clung to her pride, doing things her own way, and constantly pushing Dallas away.
She’d been a stubborn idiot.
She never would’ve gotten this far in her war with Harper, Paul, and Montoya without him.
In fact, if not for Dallas McQuade, she would’ve suffered a horrific death.
She was alive for one reason and one reason only.
She shivered. Dallas McQuade had risked his own life to save hers.
Her prized independence was in reality false independence. Doing everything alone didn’t make her independent, it was a weakness that made her stupid.
Being humble enough to compromise, being open-minded enough to accept Dallas’ wise advice, being cooperative and pooling their resources … that would make them both stronger.
The unsinkable Mia needed someone after all.
And she’d nearly died without ever having truly lived—a mistake she intended to immediately correct.
When Dallas had lost it in the kitchen, she hadn’t feared him … she’d wanted him. The fire had to have been a torturous reminder of his sister’s death—yet Dallas had charged into Hell itself for her.
Mia’s heart ached. He was so damned determined to save the world … and risk his own death to do it. She didn’t understand what kind of demons still drove him, but inside that tough guy armor, he was as vulnerable and wounded as the frightened, battered child she’d been.
She set her chin. He’d saved her life, and she was going to help him exorcise those demons and get back his life … whether he liked it or not.
She wasn’t quite sure how, but she’d figure it out as she went. For the first time since she’d started her quest, she hoped for a delay, hoped the computer encryption program would take a little longer. Her throat tightened. She wasn’t ready to let Dallas go yet.
A sound caught her attention—a pained cry from the direction of his office.
Was he sick? He’d inhaled as much, or more smoke as she had, had taken the brunt of the fire’s fury.
She flung back the covers and hurried across the hall. Illuminated by silvered threads of moonlight, he flailed on the huge leather sofa, moaning, his tightly closed lids twitching rapidly, trapped in the horror of a nightmare.
She didn’t have to guess what had caused it.
Mia rushed over. Kneeling beside him, she patted his face. “Dallas, wake up.”
“No,” he groaned. He was sweating and trembling and gasping like he’d run a marathon. “Hurts.”
“Dallas!” She gently shook him. “It’s okay. Wake up, now.”
“No! My fault!”
She climbed on top of his thrashing body, lay down on him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Listen to me, cowboy,” she said sternly into his ear. “You’re okay. You just need to wake up. Now. Don’t make me have to do anything drastic like throw a glass of cold water on you.”
He went still. Gasped in a shuddering breath. “Mia?” he mumbled.
“Yeah … you have any other wives stashed around here I don’t know about? You were having a nightmare, but it’s done now.”
“Not.” His arms banded around her, holding on tight. “Don’t go. Stay with … me.”
Her heart turned over. “I’m not going anywhere, Dallas.” She kissed his jaw. “By the way, I haven’t thanked you properly yet for saving my life.” She touched her lips to his. “Thank you.”
“Couldn’t … do anything else,” he whispered. “I … need you.”
She didn’t know if he was awake enough to realize what he was saying, but her brave gladiator’s vulnerable admission had her fighting to breathe. “I’m right here. I’m here for you.”
“Sorry I lost control. Lost my temper. Sorry if I scared you.”
“Ha. It takes a lot more than a horny cowboy pitching a hissy fit with a few dishes to scare me.”
His laugh sounded rusty. “God. Mia. I can’t … I want …”
She nudged the rapidly hardening arousal pressing into her belly. “I’m pretty sure I can guess what you want.” She threaded her fingers through the soft hair at his nape, the tremor that ran through him at her caress pulsating into her.
“I want you, too. Very much.” Mia again brushed her mouth over his, whispered against his lips. “Make love to me, Dallas.”
He groaned. “Shouldn’t …”
She smiled, cocked a brow. “Just because you shouldn’t, doesn’t mean you can’t.”
His grin started slow … widened into a bright gleam. “What you do to me should be illegal, woman.”
He was still chuckling when he rolled her on her side with her spine against the sofa’s cushy leather back, and captured her mouth.
His evocative scent and dark, rich taste intoxicated her, dizzied her. His tongue invited hers to play, dally, dance with his. He teased her with short, fast kisses, courted her with long, lingering kisses, and aroused her with deeply powerful kisses.
Her world shimmered. Her bones went liquid.
He was definitely awake now, his huge, hot, hard body pressing her into the supple leather … a stunningly erotic contrast in textures.
“Dallas, I adore your kisses,” she murmured against his mouth.
His lips curved on hers. “Happy to hear it, because I’m fixin’ to kiss you all night long.”
“Yummy appetizer.” She nipped his earlobe, delighted to feel his erection jump. “What else is on the menu?”
A deep, wicked chuckle vibrated from his chest into hers. “I guarantee, sweetheart, by the time we eventually get to dessert, you’ll be well and truly sated.”
She ducked her head beneath his chin. She’d never run from anything that scared her. Except intimacy. “Don’t be disappointed in me if I can’t …”
“Darlin’.” The tip of his agile tongue traced the shell of her ear, inciting a volley of shivers. “I could never be disappointed in you, no matter what does, or doesn’t, happen. Let’s not worry about arriving at the destination. Just enjoy the trip.”
Relieved, she kissed the hollow of his throat. Though a thread of anxiety still twined inside her, she had confidence he’d guide her through the journey. “Okay. And based on our previous … excursions, I doubt you need a GPS.”
Warm breath chuffed in her ear with his chuckle as he slowly began to unbutton the placket of her shirt. “I think I can manage to navigate these luscious curves without help.”
She smiled as a callused fingertip traced down her sternum to her navel, dipped inside it to tickle and arouse. Then soft, moist lips cruised the same path. He slid the shirt down her arms and tugged it off, tossed it to the floor.
