I run my hands over my arms as I watch the coffee brew. I don’t think he meant to scare me, but I feel a lot more nervous now than I did in the car.
He’s going to push his luck before he leaves here tonight, I just know it.
I also know I’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t. I’ve thought of nothing since dinner except kissing Miah and finally finding out if his lips are as soft and smooth as they look.
Now I’m also thinking about that damned package sitting in the entryway and the fact that Nick knows where I live and that my darn windows aren’t secure.
“It’s done. I’ve jammed the latches closed and lined those cat figurines of yours along all the sills. It should do till Jared can sort you out,” he says, strolling into the kitchen and leaning against the counter beside me with his front turned my way.
Why oh why does he have to smell this good?
“Thanks, uh, here’s your coffee.”
I pour him a cup and grab my own before sitting on the only single seat in my living room. His smirk and knowing look make my cheeks heat, but instead of looking down as I usually would, I force myself to meet his eyes and keep our stares locked.
“You’re nervous, Clari,” he drawls, leaning back against the sofa with an arm slung across the back and one foot propped on my coffee table.
The move is so male and casual, I can’t help admiring his ease and the little slice of skin revealed when his shirt rises up.
“Yes. I’m not used to having men in my home.”
“Technically, that’s not true. You were in a relationship for six years, after all,” he muses, smiling.
“That’s not what I meant,” I argue, feeling my cheeks heat more.
“Then what did you mean, Clari? Did you mean to say that you’re not used to having a man you’re attracted to in your home? Or is it that you’re afraid to have me here when you know that fighting this thing between us is hopeless?”
“I don’t want a relationship, Miah, and I want a fling even less.”
His smile falls and his eyes narrow in that way that makes me feel intimidated and wanted at the same time. It’s weird and unsettling.
“Why no relationship? No, Clari, no back talk and half answers, please, just answer me. Why no relationships?” he insists, sitting forward in his seat.
“Because I don’t want the whole white picket fence and the million babies, okay? I just want…I want to do my job and have my own life without being looked at like I’m a piece of property who just so happens to have a uterus attached.”
He looks at me quizzically before his mouth twitches into a smile that shows teeth and two dimples that make my breath catch.
“No kids, Clari?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe one day, if the urge strikes and I suddenly feel the need to lose sleep, my figure, and half my mind,” I say, shaking my head and looking away. “I don’t want to look back at my life and resent a kid for all the things I missed doing. Not that that’s a possibility right now, anyway, because unless you haven’t noticed, my life’s about as exciting as a dead log covered in termites.”
Sometimes I have the ability to lie to myself just so I don’t feel shitty, but right now, tonight, all I feel is depressed and really drained by it all.
I’m single and yet I have about as much drive to go into the dating scene as Ellie has to give birth to an eight-pound baby.
“Clari, babe, your life is just fine as it is. Okay, with a few changes down the road, since I can’t see you living here indefinitely no matter how much security Jared wires this place with…my point is, you’re fine. Or you will be since I intend to catch you and start showing you a good time.”
“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I may never want children, Miah, so starting anything with me is not a good idea.”
God, is it possible for those dimples to go any deeper?
“That’s great, actually, since I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mind having you all to myself for the foreseeable future.”
His eyes have gone this weird smoky blue and I swear he just licked his lips and growled a little when I sighed.
“You don’t want kids?”
“Dunno, babe. Maybe ten years from now I’ll change my mind and have a small hankering to be a father, but I’m pretty sure I’d get over it without much trouble. They’re great and all, but I’m a cop. I don’t want my innocent children living in this messed-up world, and if I did, you can bet your ass I’d buy an island and keep them there till they’re forty and savvy enough not to get hurt.”
Great, now part of me wants to have little rug rats because I just know Miah would be a great dad.
That thought disappears as he rises and pulls me up from my seat and into his chest. I watch Miah Lane’s head lower slowly towards mine. His hands cup my jaw and tilt my face up to his as his lips settle over mine in a warm heated caress.
The sensation is soft and warm, and yet it hits me so hard that I gasp at the intensity, opening my mouth for his tongue and the growl that reverberates into my mouth.
The kiss he gives me starts slow, just a slide of wet tongues and lips as he pulls me closer and tastes me with languid pleasure. It’s me who gets impatient and pushes closer, my mouth opening wider and sucking at his as need and a lust I haven’t felt, ever, streak through my blood.
Once he gets the message, the real action starts and he devours me in a show of male strength that has me gasping and pulling away to suck air into my lungs.
I’m lightheaded as he pulls me into his arms and just holds me, his heart beating hard enough that it echoes into my chest. I feel his erection poking at my belly.
“I knew you’d be perfect, Clari. I just knew it, babe. That’s why I fought this so hard,” he murmurs into my hair, his lips trailing from my hairline, down my temple, and across my cheek.
“This is a bad idea.”
I’m screaming inside as the words leave my lips, because if this man kisses like he’s at a gourmet feast, I can just imagine what he’d do to my body if I give him that chance.
But someone has to be sensible here. I don’t want future dinners with the Lanes to be awkward if things didn’t work out between us. I’m not willing to lose my adopted family for one or two really good nights with Miah Lane.
“Clari, this is the best idea I’ve ever had, so get used to it. And be ready for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll be by to pick you up at seven. Wear something casual, babe, and sensible shoes.”
“What? We’re not—”
“You’ll be ready at seven or I’ll call Jude and sic her on you.”
“You will not tell your mom—”
“Course I will, babe, she has a knack at getting us Lane boys just what we want, and unfortunately for you, she seems to want you in my life as much as I do. Be ready, or that terror will come knocking and you’ll end up on a chaperoned date not too long after,” he warns before kissing me deep one last time and walking out.
The snick of the lock ricochets all through the room as I stand there stupefied and somewhat amused at his tactics. No man has ever threatened to tell his mommy on me if I didn’t agree to a date, and while I’d be both horrified and laughing my ass off if one did, I find the move endearing and way too amusing to dislike.
I’m still standing in the same spot minutes later, considering my options, when my phone rings in my bag.
“Hello?”
“I forgot to say thank you,” he drawls, making my heart beat faster and my lips tingle at just the sound of his deep voice.
“Thank you?”
I’m a schoolteacher whose idea of fun and entertainment includes watching old reruns of the nineties classics and eating homemade potato chips. What the heck is happening here?
“I forgot to say thank you for the best first kiss I’ve ever had. Sleep tight, Clari,” he whispers before ending the call.
I have to drag my ass to my bedroom on shaky limbs Then I spend the next hour reliving every touch of his lips and every wor
d like some mealy faced teenager.
Thank goodness I don’t have a diary. Or one of those cheesy mixed tapes.
***
Someone is outside. That’s the first thought that pops into my head when I hear footfalls a second before the sound of porcelain shattering reaches my ears.
Correction. Someone is inside right now, and all I’m wearing is an old ratty tank and my granny panties that are gross but so comfortable to sleep in.
Stop that and hide, you ninny!
I dive from the covers and fall to the floor in a lump of limbs and scrambling feet when the unmistakable creak of the old floorboards out in the hall reaches me.
Never having been robbed before—I lived in the ugliest trailer in creation when I was a kid and then a house that made the Kremlin look unguarded—I’m not sure what to do.
Improvising when I’m about to have a panic attack followed by a stroke, I grab my phone from the nightstand and start crawling when it strikes me; the first place anyone would look is the closet. And under the bed.
Shoot, Clara, think girl.
The bathroom cupboard is out because I’ll fit maybe a breast and thigh in the cramped space. And the shower curtain scene gives me the creeps…window seat!
By the time I’m inside the tiny space and slowly lowering the cover, I hear my door creak open slowly and almost screech with nerves. My hands are shaking so much by now that dialing the phone is twice as hard, and the sweaty palms don’t help either.
Footfalls reach my ears and I can almost see whoever it is walking over to my bed and discovering me gone. That’s when I almost wet myself for real, because instead of getting out of dodge at the knowledge that I know that they’re here and likely even now calling the cops, I hear…yup, the closet door followed by a hissed curse.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“S-s-someone is in my house,” I whisper low and in a trembling voice that sounds nothing like my own.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, please repeat that.”
“S-someone’s in my house.”
The clanging of the bathroom cupboard reaches my ears and I flinch at the violence of the sound.
The operator demands my address, and after two attempts she finally assures me that someone will be despatched immediately. I’m staying on the line and clutching the phone to my ear hard enough to bruise, though I can’t say a thing at the moment.
Those footsteps come closer and I just know instinctively that the burglar is standing right beside my hiding spot.
I don’t breathe or make a sound, too terrified to even draw a breath lest they hear it.
Thank God Miah had taken a look at my windows and set them up to alert me, or I’m sure that I’d be in a whole lot more trouble right now than I currently am.
Although, considering I’m about to perish from terror, I can’t be all that grateful just yet.
“Ma’am, are you still there?”
Yes! But I can’t answer because the psycho standing right beside my window seat will probably hear the chattering of my teeth if I unclench my jaw.
“She’s not here.”
“Bullshit. Her sheets are still warm and the bathtub is still a little wet from her bath. The bitch is here.”
Two men?
I’ll be dead in under a minute and I know it.
“Ma’am, do not panic. Whatever you do, don’t move if you’re hidden. A unit is pulling up at your house as we speak,” the operator says calmly.
She’s right and I know it the minute I hear the two men curse followed by their hard footsteps a second before a loud bang ricochets around me.
“Police!”
The relief is enough to break that leash I’ve had over myself and I start sobbing into the phone like a baby, my brain and muscles exhausted, as if I’ve run a marathon.
“Ma’am? Are you in here?”
“Ma’am, you need to go out there and let the officer know if you’re okay.”
“I…thank you.” I wheeze, fighting for breath as the choking sobs get louder and force me to finally reach my shaky arms up and push at the lid of the seat.
How I fit in here I will never know, but I’m just grateful to be out and alive as I struggle up and out of the small space and into the waiting arms of…Officer Gonzalez.
“Miss Elms, are you okay?”
“I…there were two men in my house,” I wheeze, still crying silent tears of joy and just…relief that I’m okay.
This whole episode could not have lasted longer than eight to ten minutes, max, and yet it’s as if I’d been in that box for hours.
“Officer Rourke is looking around, ma’am, but it seems they got away. Here. Let me get you a robe or something to cover up with,” he says, extricating himself with difficulty since my arms seem welded around the poor man’s neck.
It’s only then that I look down to see that my panties have ridden up my ass crack and my tank is so threadbare that I can see my own nipples through it.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks. Uh, can I call someone?”
“Sure, but we’ll still need you to come down to the station, Miss Elms.”
Great. yet another night without sleep and the terrific fear that not only will I have to come back here later, but I’ll have to stay here till I can afford to move.
I decide against the call just before I hit the send button.
I can’t tell you what I would give to see Miah right now and to feel his strong arms wrapping around me.
I want it so badly that I have to squeeze my fists together and shove my phone into the pocket of my robe. No way am I calling any of the Lanes and asking them to help me. Jude would have me living at the Lane house so fast, my head would spin, and I won’t even start with the hell I’’ll have to endure once the man currently pursuing me finds out about this.
And here I thought I could control at least one area of my life without wanting to run to a man to fix it.
“Miss Elms? We’re going to need you to come with us while they dust for prints. Have you called anyone?”
“Er, no, I’m okay. Just give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll be right with you,” I mumble, walking to the closet on shaky legs. I’m dressed in under a minute and grabbing my bag to follow Officer Gonzalez out to the squad car soon after.
To say that giving a statement and having to relive that ordeal is hard is an understatement, and it hits me hard just how strong Ellie must be to have survived her kidnapping and still have turned out a relatively sane person.
I’m rattled and keep jumping at every sound I hear as if just waiting for the intruders to be standing behind me, ready to drag me off.
Officer Gonzalez sits me down at his desk with a cup of coffee and a blanket to ward of the chills still racing through me despite the heat. As I sip the warm liquid, I’m struck by a thought. Those men weren’t there to steal anything. They were there for me.
“Clara!”
I look up from my daze to see a sleep-mussed and very pissed off Miah bearing down on me, along with what turns out to be the entire Lane clan.
I’m so disgustingly glad to see them all that I burst into tears the minute he pulls me up and into his arms.
“Clari, babe, why didn’t you call?” he growls, clutching me closer with arms that feel like vice clamps. “Goddammit, woman, you should have called me.”
“I’m sorry. I just…” I cry a little harder because I know exactly how pathetic I must look clinging to a man I don’t really know like a vine monkey.
“Oh hush you, Jeremiah Lane. Can’t you see the poor girl is still in shock? Come on over here to Mama, Clari dear. That’s it, honey, you go ahead and cry all you want.”
Jude keeps crooning to me after Miah lets me go with a curse. Her arms are so strong and gentle as she cradles me that I eventually find the will to stop bawling like some swooning damsel and pull back to dry my eyes.
“Sorry. I’m okay now.”
“Well of course yo
u’re not okay, silly. You had some animals climbing into your window intent on doing God knows what,” Ellie snarls, looking for all the world as if she could happily strangle those men with her bare hands right now.
The Lane men are all scowling and circling us as if they wouldn’t trust anyone in this place to protect a fly, but I don’t even take the time to think on that as Miah takes my hand again and starts pulling me along behind him, the rest following at a good clip.
“I’m taking you home so you can get some sleep. No, Clari, do not argue right now. I’m pissed enough has it is. Jace, go tell Gonzalez I’ll catch him later. Ma, stop that shit right now, okay? I’m not letting go of her again anytime soon.”
The words are meant for me more than anyone else, I realize this when I look up to see his fierce expression. I think Miah intends to have me ensconced in that monstrosity of a house of theirs and I can honestly say that after the ordeal I just suffered, I’m not about to complain.
Chapter Six
Miah
“What the fuck are you saying, Gonzalez?” I snarl into the phone, my teeth grit so tightly that it feels like they’ll shatter any minute.
“Whoever did this was good, man. We lifted a lot of prints, but the crime scene techs aren’t very confident about it. There weren’t any prints on the window frames, which we know was the point of entry from Miss Elms’s statement.”
“Fine.”
I slam the phone down with a snarl and turn to Roman, Jace, and Jared where they’re still sitting and waiting for me to calm down. Honestly, at this point, I don’t think I could calm down if someone sedated me.
The only thing stopping me from tearing into something right now is the fact that Clari is upstairs in my bed and sleeping after Ma forced a sleeping pill on her and tucked her in for the night.
“Christ, man, you got any idea how lucky you are that she woke up and heard them quick enough to have time to hide? I read that statement, bro, and from what she said, it’s definite that those assholes were there for her.”
Tell me something that isn’t already swimming around in my brain.
Miah (Lane Brothers #2) Page 4
