Unstoppable (The Untouchable Series)

by Skaggs, Cindy

  She licked her lips. “The music’s not right. Lights are too bright.”

  “Timing’s off, too. Guess we’ll have to settle for a kiss.”

  “Right here, right now?” Her hand fisted in his shirt.

  “Let’s show good ol’ Derek what he’s been missing.”

  Her lips curved into a brilliant smile. “You have a mean streak as wide as the Rockies.”

  “I’m a big guy. I hold a big grudge.”

  “I appreciate that in a man. How do you want to play it?”

  “Let’s just play it by ear.” Last night he took it too fast, so this time, he leaned down, took it slow, let the anticipation build. Her eyes swirled a darker blue this close and her lips looked softer. Sweeter. Two days ago, he’d have said she didn’t have a sweet bone in her body. Now he knew better, which made the want building inside him deeper and wider. He slid his lips across hers, gently, took his time to explore, to put his stamp on her. She changed the pace when she leaned up on her toes and wrapped an arm around his neck.

  Now we’re dancing. He let his hands trail down the small of her back, felt her shiver in response. He rubbed his tongue over her bottom lip and she opened for him. He swept inside and forced her to yield, to surrender to the passion neither of them had known was there. She moaned into his mouth, rubbed her fingers on the back of his neck. His cock went hard. He wasn’t playing anymore. Wasn’t dancing. He wanted Dez and didn’t care who knew.

  She broke the kiss, leaned back for one last nip before stepping back. “That should do it,” she said, her voice husky. She could pretend it was all for show, but she was affected. They both were. Dez turned, went to the back, and Mick sat down before the whole bar saw his hard-on.

  Peg glanced over at him, a glint of amusement in her eyes. She waved her hand over her face like a fan. “Quite a show you put on. You’re a dangerous man, Mick.”

  He leaned back in the booth, stretched out his long legs. “I like undercover work,” he said softly.

  “What you like is my niece.”

  “There’s a lot to like,” he said easily.

  “What do you plan to do about it?”

  “Are you asking my intentions?” Irritation had him sitting up straight.

  “I failed her by not having a chat with that little weasel she’s dealing with right now. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

  “She gets her backbone from you,” he said with a wink.

  “Mm-hmm. You certainly are a charmer.” Peg leaned forward and rested her chin on steepled fingers. “If you hurt her—”

  “Dez is more than capable of cutting me open if I do something she doesn’t like. So while I appreciate the sentiment—”

  “Bugger off,” she finished for him.

  “Exactly.” Mick nodded. “She really is a lot like you.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I think the hard outer shell protects a soft and vulnerable inside.”

  Mick was starting to see how Dez hid behind a tough exterior, but he didn’t need the aunt giving him a lecture. “What’s between me and Dez is our business. If—”

  “Stop it.” Nate’s voice rose sharply above the crowd noise. He pointed toward the back with the crayon in his hand.

  The man with Dez wasn’t much taller than her and was nearly as skinny. He wore jeans and a T-shirt covered in a dark flannel shirt. The brim of his cap covered his eyes, but there was no mistaking the angry flush climbing his face. When the man grabbed Dez’s arm, a hush fell over the restaurant that made the music suddenly too loud.

  Dez could take care of herself. Mick had seen her take down bigger and meaner drunks in her time, but it never hurt to have backup, especially when three even uglier men inched closer to the tense conversation. Weasels like Derek didn’t fight fair, so Mick figured to even the odds. He stood, felt the weight of attention follow him to the dartboard in the back of the bar. Blood pumped through his veins with a furious beat. Things were about to get interesting.

  …

  The grip was clammy but strong and sent Dez’s pulse zipping and sputtering back to a time she liked to forget. Muscle memory, that’s all, her body responding to a trigger. She could master that; she did master it, every day on the job. Still, she took a moment to even out her breathing, slow her heartbeat. The adrenaline was there, but manageable, necessary even. She didn’t shake, and she refused to back down.

  While she focused, Dez took a good long look at the face she’d once kissed, and wondered what she’d seen in Derek. He’d been bigger back then, meatier with some definition. She’d always had a thing for a hard body, but his was no longer hard. It was skeletal like the druggies they busted. If there was a good-looking man in there, he was hidden in a deep abyss of drugs. He stank of body odor and addiction. Bloodshot eyes glared at her. She met his gaze with a fierce one of her own. “Take your hand off me or you’ll be singing soprano.”

  Instead of letting go, he pulled her close so his bad breath hit her like a physical blow. “No one here is going to stand up and defend the daughter of a dirty cop. They remember exactly who you are, you skanky—”

  “Say it.” Mick’s voice held menace as he stepped up behind her. His heat brushed her back. “Say it and I’ll break your jaw.”

  “Not your business, buddy.” Derek’s words slurred.

  “You mess with my woman, you mess with me,” Mick said.

  Oh yeah, he had to say it loud enough for the entire bar to hear. Heat rose in her cheeks.

  Derek squeezed her arm as if he hadn’t heard the threat in Mick’s tone, in his stance. What a waste of oxygen. Dez didn’t need Mick to fight this battle. She glanced back. “I got this.”

  “Didn’t doubt you for a second.” Mick folded his arms over his chest and nodded at three men standing a few feet back. “I’ll just make sure it stays a fair fight.”

  They looked vaguely familiar, the way most people did in a small town, but she hadn’t noticed Derek’s posse until Mick pointed them out. She’d been too focused on Derek and the humiliation of being back in this place, having this conversation with nosy and mean-spirited witnesses. They might not like Derek, but they liked her even less. “You take those three. I’ve got this piece of crap.”

  She twisted and pulled back in one swift move, freeing her arm from Derek’s grip. She followed with another twist that spun Derek around, his arm like a chicken wing behind his back.

  …

  Detective Destiny Harper at full throttle was like watching an action flick. All good all the time, with moves so sweet they’d bring Schwarzenegger to his knees. Mick settled in to watch, until Idiot Number One dove in. Mick intercepted, throwing him back with ease. Mick braced himself so he stood back to back with Dez. He scowled at Idiots One, Two, and Three. “You boys are sticking right here while they finish their conversation.” Mick didn’t threaten. He let his size intimidate. Idiot One clenched his fists like he didn’t have the good sense God gave him. Any other day, Mick would tell him to bring it, but they weren’t here for a good time. They were aiming for quiet, although that wasn’t working out the way they’d planned.

  Idiot One grinned, exposing rotting teeth, warning Mick of danger a second before Dez yelled, “Watch your back.”

  Mick turned to see the downward slash of a hand. A burning stab jolted up his arm. Damn thing hurt. He glanced down to see a dart sticking out of his bicep, blood bubbling. Derek smirked. Prick. Mick wanted to knock that shit right off the other man’s face. “Want backup now?” he growled.

  “I said I got it.”

  “Yeah, I see that,” he said, pointing to the dart.

  She scowled at him before kneecapping Derek. The man crumbled at the same time someone jumped on Mick’s back. Not much weight, and they clawed his neck like an animal.

  “Looks like you got a monkey on your back,” Dez teased.

  Damn, but he loved her smartass grin. Mick threw back his head and laughed. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

&n
bsp; “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  A man stepped between them before Mick could respond. “Want some help?”

  Mick was about to tell the man in the cowboy hat to piss off, and then he saw the uniform. The badge—county sheriff—changed things. “Wouldn’t say no.”

  The sheriff pulled Idiot Two off Mick’s back and tossed him against the back wall. “Stay down, Jake.”

  Squashing the little prick would have been more satisfying, but this way brought less trouble raining down on their heads. They weren’t exactly on their home turf. In short order, the sheriff had Derek and his idiot crew lined up against the back wall. Mick had the sense they’d been there before. Someone had turned off the music so the crowd could hear everything. Probably part of the routine as well.

  The laughter and smile melted off Dez’s face, and she sent him a deep frown. With a quick move across her lips, she mimed for him to zip it. They’d screwed up. This little bit of fun brought too much attention. And local law enforcement. Considering the fact that she was wanted for questioning, law enforcement was a problem.

  The sheriff paced lengthwise in front of the dartboards. He was tall, standing a few inches shorter than Mick, and had a strong build. Even stronger jaw. He frowned as he paced, letting the dread build. Finally, he glanced up at Mick. “If I hadn’t seen this go down with my own eyes, I’d have picked you for the instigating party.”

  “I get that a lot,” Mick answered. Even with tattoos hidden behind a borrowed Henley, he stood out in a crowd.

  “I bet you do.”

  It was his size. Tall and broad, Mick stood a good head taller than the average man. Troublemakers took one look at him and figured to make a name by fighting him. Never worked the way they’d planned. He had been bar fighting before it was legal for him to drink, but his experience didn’t stop losers with a Napoleon complex from coming at him. Mick stared back at the sheriff. The less he said, the better. If the sheriff ran his name through the system, the jig was up. Someone on the task force was dirty. Or WITSEC. Running Mick’s name through the databases would draw unwanted and dangerous attention.

  A buzz built in the crowd as they waited for the sheriff to make his play. The fight had escalated quickly with no help given to Dez, and while Mick knew she could handle herself, the bouncer and other witnesses didn’t know that, which said a lot about the kind of place she’d been raised.

  Derek and his crew were bullies. They’d had years to pressure the people in the town into giving them whatever the hell they wanted. Dez had gone all badass cop on Derek’s ass, and right about now, people were wondering how she’d subdued him. Most people in town probably avoided Derek, but skinny little Dez, or Justice as they knew her, had taken him down.

  She glanced back at her aunt and Nate before turning her eyes to Mick. Hidden in her blue depths was a hint of uncertainty. Sure, she could take care of herself; didn’t mean she had to do it on her own. He lifted his good arm. She tucked under and burrowed into his side. They could chalk the embrace up to maintaining their cover if they wanted to lie about it later, but for Mick’s part, he needed his arms around her.

  Coming off a fight left a residue of rage and adrenaline, both of which trembled under her skin with no place to spend it. After a few minutes, a couple of deputies entered and had a sidebar conversation with the sheriff. One with red hair and freckles came up to Dez as he passed. “Hey, Justice. Long time no see.”

  She smiled at him. “Hey, Doug. I figured you’d have left town by now.”

  He shrugged. “Left for awhile, but came back last year. Missed the snow.”

  Took all kinds. Mick would rather have the sun beating down and the temperatures in the triple digits. Dez placed her arm around Mick. “This is my boyfriend, Mick.”

  “Doug,” the deputy said. “This is my partner, Vern.”

  Vern said hello before retreating a step. He was older than Doug, maybe mid-thirties, with a receding hairline and a cheesy mustache. Vern nodded while Dez and Doug carried on, looking like he wanted to get inside the conversation, but not knowing how. Both deputies moved on when the sheriff called them to escort Derek and crew to waiting patrol cars. Again, it seemed routine with no one fighting the inevitable. The sheriff came up to Mick and gestured to the dart still sticking out of his bicep. “Want help with that?”

  “Only if you bag and tag it.”

  “Most people let me lock him up for the night, sober up, and let it go.” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “You want to press charges?”

  “Wouldn’t need evidence if I didn’t,” Mick replied easily. He wasn’t most people, and he didn’t knuckle under to the local hood. “Seems like the dart is solid evidence in case any of the witnesses start remembering things differently. The dart has Derek’s fingerprints on the shaft and my DNA on the tip.”

  The news lightened the sheriff’s scowl considerably. He called Doug to bring an evidence bag, but while they waited, Dez pinched Mick in the side and gave a slight shake to her head. She didn’t want to press charges. Didn’t want to risk the sheriff running their names through the system. Mick understood, but the thought of letting the little weasel off the hook chapped his ass.

  The dart stung as much coming out as it did going in and starting seeping blood almost immediately. Deputy Doug sealed an evidence bag and wrote on the outside. The music came back on, and the crowd resumed their conversations. Not much excitement in the cleanup stage.

  “Sheriff, it seems like—” he paused before he said the name. “Justice is feeling a bit nostalgic. Doesn’t want to press charges. I’m inclined to give, but I’d like to keep the evidence on file in case we have more trouble.”

  “Seems reasonable.” The sheriff took off his hat and rubbed the back of his hand over his brow. “You might want to take care of that wound.”

  Mick shrugged. He didn’t mind a little blood.

  “Son, you’re bleeding on my shirt.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Wait. What?” Dez said. How was Mick wearing the sheriff’s shirt?

  Mick chuckled. “Peg insisted I couldn’t go out in short sleeves. She gave me this shirt to wear. Insisted.”

  So this guy left a set of clothes at Peg’s. Dez got the significance and was instantly weirded out by it. Aunt Peg and the sheriff sounded like a bad book title, but it made a little more sense now that Dez got an eyeful of the sheriff. He had deep, strong lines around his Paul Newman eyes, and his build commanded attention. The man had a chest as broad as Mick’s and looked like he worked it just as hard. His uniform shirt was tucked into jeans that showcased powerful thighs. The sheriff had it going on.

  “No arguing with Peg,” the sheriff agreed.

  “You must be the on-again-off-again guy.” Mick thrust out a hand. “I’m Mick.”

  “Jerry.” The sheriff shook his hand and did the same with Dez. “There is no on-again-off-again. We’ve been together for near to ten years. Stubborn woman won’t commit.”

  “Must run in the family,” Mick teased.

  Right. Like Mick was a commitment guy.

  Jerry glanced between Dez and Mick. “Guess you’d know. Come on, I’ll walk you guys out.”

  Mick’s hand dropped to her lower back as they walked to the booth. Nate’s face was pale and drawn. While bar fights might be the norm for Dez, they weren’t anywhere near normal for the kid. She rubbed a hand through his hair and forced his head back to get a good look into his frightened eyes. “You okay?” she asked softly.

  He nodded. “Can we go?”

  “Sure.” Mick and Jerry talked while they pulled on coats. Nate reached back into the booth and grabbed his colored placemat. He handed the sheet to Dez without meeting her gaze. “For me?”

  He nodded. A knot formed in Dez’s throat. The picture was one of those pre-drawn coloring pages to keep kids entertained while waiting for their food. The printed outline was a white-tipped mountain with a meadow Nate had made a soft green with little yellow flowers. “No one has ev
er given me a coloring page before.” She nearly dropped back down in the booth until she got her feet under her. If she’d kept her baby, she’d have had so many coloring sheets they wouldn’t mean anything, but this one? Dez couldn’t process it.

  “Let’s go home, put it up on Aunt Peg’s fridge.”

  Nate looked up at her, tears shimmering in his blue eyes. He didn’t answer, but she saw what it meant, in the stream of tears rushing down his face. The kid missed his mom so much he couldn’t keep the grief contained. She didn’t mention the tears; she just wrapped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into a side hug as they walked out the door.

  Peg made sure Nate was buckled into the back of Mick’s truck and swiped the moisture off his face. “You settled in, Nate?”

  He nodded, tried to blink back more tears.

  “I’m headed off with the sheriff if you need me,” Peg said, to Nate as much as anyone.

  That was that. Peg wasn’t one to play games, and it wasn’t any secret she and the sheriff had a thing. If Jerry had a set of clothes at Peg’s, the same was probably true at his house. While Dez understood her own reticence with the whole relationship thing, she didn’t understand ten years of sleepovers, swapping houses and bed and clothes, but never sharing the whole picture. My house, my kitchen, my bed. Your kitchen, your bed, your life. Might work when the other person pissed you off, but it also precluded hot, sweaty make-up sex.

  When it came to the male-female dynamic, Dez didn’t want the picture-perfect lie her parents lived, but wasn’t sure Peg’s picture was any clearer. Mick climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Their breath steamed up the window so they had to sit a few minutes to wait for the heat to kick in. Cold air bit her fingertips and made her nose run. “I can’t believe you don’t need a coat,” Dez said to Mick.

  “More than I usually wear.”