Shattered Vows

by Maggie Price

  He snagged his Glock off the table, then turned back to face her. He looked dangerous standing there half naked, the automatic clenched in one hand while flames in the hearth leapt behind him. Compelling, reckless. Lethal.

  Heaven help her, she wanted to drag him down onto the love seat with her. Wanted his mouth streaking down her throat, his teeth raking her flesh. Wanted that hard, muscled body pressed against hers. Inside hers.

  She clenched her fists against the desire that continued to scrape through her system. Her palms were damp, but she refused to sacrifice the dignity she was trying to rebuild by wiping them on her robe.

  He studied her with his cool, assessing cop look that gave nothing away. “I’m going back to bed,” he said finally. “Try to get some sleep.”

  “Right,” she muttered. Despite her intention not to, she watched him stride toward the hallway. His low-slung sweatpants clung to his backside and muscular thighs like a second skin. Thinking of the body beneath the soft gray material sent another frisson of desire clawing through her with savage intensity.

  He turned so suddenly she didn’t have a chance to divert her gaze. When he saw she was watching him, his eyes darkened and the intimacy of the look he sent her went straight to her gut.

  “Apparently,” he said softly, “you’re not done with me, either, Mrs. McCall.”

  When a knock sounded on the front door of the safe house two days later, Bran bypassed the peephole and looked out the window. Danny Dewitt stood on the porch, fingers jammed into the front pockets of his well-worn jeans, shoulders hunched beneath a faded denim jacket. Although the morning sun beamed sparkling clear, he stomped his scuffed boots against the cold while his breath made puffs of steam on the air.

  Bran sliced his gaze to the driveway. The windows on the idling black sedan were too dark to see in, but he knew FBI Special Agent Mark Santini was behind the wheel.

  Pulling the door open, Bran motioned his brother-in-law inside, then gave an acknowledging wave toward the sedan. The dark, sleek car reversed out of the drive and headed off.

  He took an extra minute to check up and down the street of old, well-maintained houses. He saw nothing amiss.

  “Thanks for setting it up for me to see Tor,” Danny commented. “Having her tell me on the phone that she’s okay helps, but I’ll feel better when I see her.”

  “Understandable.” Bran returned his Glock to the holster clipped inside the back waistband of his jeans. While his brother-in-law swept his gaze around the small, tidy living room, Bran studied him.

  With thick, black hair worn in a short ponytail, a thin, lean face, lopsided grin and green eyes almost unnaturally vibrant, Bran supposed most women would term the kid “a hunk.”

  “Guess this isn’t such a bad place to hide out,” Danny observed while blowing on his bare hands.

  “It meets our needs.” Bran frowned. “Where’s your coat and gloves?”

  “In my pal’s car. Rocco was supposed to drop them by my place last night. He never showed.”

  “I just put on a pot of coffee. Want a cup to help warm up?”

  “That’d be good. So, where’s Tor?” Danny asked trailing Bran down the short hallway.

  “In the shower.” Which, since their close encounter two nights ago, is where he had spent a good amount of time, standing under a stream of lukewarm water.

  When they passed the bathroom he heard the shower’s faint spray. He didn’t have to imagine what her lean, fit body looked like with steamy water cascading over every inch of her flesh. Or what that yard of incredible golden hair looked like slicked back from her stubborn, sexy face. He knew. Which is one reason all the tepid showers he’d taken had done nothing to cool his blood. Heaped on top of everything else were the erotic dreams of her that continued to plague him, conjuring up memories of the past to mix with present needs. Needs that had coiled into a knot in his gut after that long, slow taste he’d had of her. During the three months they’d been separated he’d convinced himself he’d gotten her out of his system. The dreams and that kiss had proved him wrong. Now, he wasn’t exactly sure what all he wanted from her, but it was more than just that one taste.

  A hell of a lot more.

  “I feel like some sort of undercover snitch,” Danny commented when they stepped into the kitchen. “First, I get picked up by Alex Blade.” He furrowed his forehead. “Which one of your sisters is he marrying?”

  “Morgan.”

  “Then Blade handed me off to Linc Reilly. He’s hooked up with Carrie, right?”

  “Right.” Bran pulled two mugs out of a cabinet. “They called yesterday to let us know they’re getting married the same day as Alex and Morgan. Double wedding.”

  “Cool.” Danny leaned against the counter. “So, Reilly drove me around a while, then handed me off to the FBI dude, Grace’s squeeze. Kind of a roundabout way of getting here.”

  “A necessary one.” Bran poured coffee into the mugs. “We have no idea if Heath knows you exist, but in case he does we need to make sure he hasn’t set up surveillance on you. You’re Tory’s only blood relative, it’s logical she’d contact you to let you know where she is. Maybe even set up a meet. That’d be the only way he or one of his pals could get to her again.” He had to clamp down on cold fury. “I’m damn well not going to let that happen,” he added, handing Danny a mug.

  “I feel better knowing you’re watching over Tor.” Taking a sip, he frowned at Bran over the rim of the mug.

  “Something on your mind?”

  “I’m wondering if you and my sister are divorced yet.”

  “We’ve got a few legal loose ends left to tie up.” Emotional ones, too. “Why?”

  “Just asking. Knowing Tor, she put up a fight over coming here. She doesn’t like anybody doing things for her. Guess you know that.”

  “I figured that out about two minutes after we eloped,” Bran said dryly, then shifted his gaze toward the hallway. He could hear the muted sound of a hair dryer. “She ought to be out here in a few minutes.”

  “I was hoping to talk to you alone.”

  “About?”

  “A car.”

  Bran’s fingers tightened on the mug’s handle. “Before you get started, you need to know I told Tory you hit me up at the hospital about borrowing her car.”

  “I know. She chewed me out on the phone—about took off a piece of my hide. Says she’s got this new ‘Danny policy’ about forcing me to stand on my own two feet.”

  “What brought that on?”

  “She said I turned eighteen and it’s time she cut the cord.”

  “She’s doing you a favor, even if you don’t see it that way.” He set his mug aside. “Since you’re bringing up the subject of cars again, it sounds like you didn’t take her policy to heart.”

  “It’s not that.” Danny stared somberly down into his coffee. “Some stuff has happened over the past couple of weeks.”

  Bran furrowed his brow. He’d never seen the kid so serious. “What stuff?”

  Danny glanced across his shoulder to check the hallway. “My girlfriend, Jewell, said if I don’t get my act together, she won’t see me again. Can’t let that happen.” He took a deep breath. “We’re gettin’ married.”

  “You and the strip…” He caught himself. “The exotic performer?”

  Danny slid onto one of the long-legged bar stools at the counter. “Doesn’t bother me if you call her a stripper. Jewell’s a sweet girl who got tossed out of the house by her stepfather. She needed money to live, so it was dance or do tricks.” His mouth curved. “Lucky for me she chose dancing.”

  The dreamy look that accompanied the kid’s smile had Bran hooking a brow. “Sounds like true love.”

  “It just hit me between the eyes.”

  “Yeah.” He had felt the same way when he’d met Tory. And look where marrying in haste had gotten them. “I take it your sister doesn’t know yet?”

  “Thought it’d be best to tell her in person.” Danny leaned forw
ard on the stool. “Thing is, Jewell’s pregnant.”

  Bran whistled. “Your whole life is about to change, pal.”

  “It already has. Jewell knows this guy who owns a hamburger joint and he hired me. Jewell’s not dancing anymore, she’s tending bar instead. My shift overlaps with hers, so I can’t use her car to get to work. That’s why I wanted to use Tor’s, just until I save enough to buy my own.”

  Bran studied the kid through narrowed eyes. Every cop instinct he’d developed over fifteen years on the job told him Dewitt was being sincere. “Why didn’t you tell me this at the hospital?”

  “Get real.” Danny met his gaze head-on. “You weren’t open to listening to anything I had to say after I asked about borrowing Tor’s car. When you jumped me, my pride got scratched. Figured I’d show you I didn’t need your help.”

  “I was preoccupied, having just seen your sister almost get murdered on my account.” He raised a hand, dropped it. “That’s no excuse. I was wrong to take my anger out on you. I should have let you have your say.”

  “Yeah, well, that night I was still thinking I could depend on Rocco to drive me to and from work. Last night he forgot about me. I had to call a cab, which made me late. That pissed off my boss, big time.”

  “Sounds like a rough night.” Bran glanced toward the hallway. He could no longer hear the hair dryer. “You still haven’t explained why you want to talk to me alone about your sister’s car.”

  “Not about her car, a car. I need to know if you’ll loan me the down payment for one. I swear I’ll pay you back at any interest rate you set.”

  “Why hit me up instead of Tory?”

  “I was thinkin’ about doing that, but Jewell won’t let me. She says Tor’s got big problems of her own right now. Hell, I know Jewell’s right. There’s some bastard trying to kill my sister.” Danny pursed his mouth. “That’s bad enough, but then she had to move back in with you.”

  Bran barked a laugh. “Can’t decide which is worse, can you?”

  “I bet Tor knows.” Danny rested his forearms on the counter. “Look, I’m asking for your help, man-to-man. I’d appreciate it if we could keep this between us.”

  Bran retrieved the coffeepot, topped off their mugs. Until—or if—a judge pounded a gavel to mark the end of his and Tory’s marriage, Danny Dewitt was family. Despite the fact the kid was mostly being forced to accept responsibility for his actions, he seemed sincere. And Jewell-the-stripper sounded like one hell of a smart woman.

  “Agreed, we’ll keep this between us,” he said. “And I’ll help you get a car.”

  “Man, thanks.”

  “Listen up, Dewitt, if you think I’m going to hand you cash and send you off to a car lot, think again. What I’ll do is cosign a loan.” Bran dipped his head. “You miss one payment, start looking for me across your shoulder. I’ll have the car towed back to the dealer. Then I’ll take a bigger piece out of your hide than Tory or Jewell ever thought about taking. Understand?”

  “Got it.” A look of immense relief spread over the kid’s face. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Don’t mention what?” Tory asked as she stepped through the door.

  “How much better my coffee tastes than yours,” Bran said smoothly while Danny whipped his head in her direction.

  As if on automatic pilot, Bran’s gaze slid downward while she moved to the counter and dropped a kiss on her brother’s cheek. Her jeans were intriguingly taut, worn with a short red sweater. It wasn’t her outerwear, though, that gripped his attention. Lately, he couldn’t see her without thinking about the damn thong panties his sisters had packed in her suitcase, and wondering which assorted color was currently snugged against the most intimate part of her body.

  “My coffee’s best,” she said, keeping her gaze focused on her brother’s face.

  For the past two days, she’d sensed Bran’s gaze drop to her rear every time she walked by him. Although a few choice comments had popped into her head, she’d kept quiet. She couldn’t exactly hammer him for leering when she’d spent so much time thinking about those condoms his sisters had smuggled into his suitcase. In assorted colors.

  Danny grinned. “I’m not gettin’ in the middle of a coffee war.” Using a finger, he nudged back one side of her hair and checked her throat. “At the hospital your neck was wrapped in gauze.”

  “No more bandages,” she said, forcing her voice to remain light. She still had occasional flashes—almost vision-like in their clarity—of the first link of chain dropping before her eyes. Then the second. “Just a few scrapes left to heal,” she added, even as her stomach tightened against the memory of the attack.

  “Good, that’s good.”

  Sensing the nerves behind her brother’s smile, she took a step back and examined his face. “What’s going on?” She looked at Bran. “And don’t feed me the line about coffee.”

  Bran crossed his arms over his chest. “Danny has some news.”

  Since Bran’s expression told her nothing, she turned back to her brother. Whenever he showed up with “news” it was always bad. “You’re here because you’ve gotten yourself into another bind, right? Did you get more tickets? Wreck a car? Danny, you’re out of luck if you expect either Bran or me to deal—”

  “I came here to make sure you were okay,” he snapped.

  She didn’t know Bran had stepped around the counter behind her until his hands settled on her shoulders. “Have a seat while I pour you some of my award-winning coffee.”

  “I don’t want to sit.”

  “Yes, you do.” She had little choice but to settle onto the stool beside Danny’s when Bran increased the pressure on her shoulders. “Just listen to what your brother has to say.”

  The mildness in Bran’s voice had her remembering what he’d said about his parents. If one went into orbit over something one of us did, the other made a point of calming things down.

  “Fine.” Her spine as stiff as wire, she shifted closer to the counter and began straightening the stack of folders filled with the information on Heath that Nate had compiled. All the while, she reminded herself of her new Danny policy. Tough love. No more enabling. Force him to stand on his own. Be calm.

  “There’s a lot of stuff going on,” he began.

  Wasn’t there always? She threaded her fingers together hard enough to snap bone, then settled them on top of the file folders. “What stuff?”

  “I’m gettin’ married.”

  “You’re what?”

  “To Jewell. You’re gonna love havin’ her for a sister-in-law.”

  Bran sat a mug of steaming coffee beside the folders, then put an index finger beneath her chin. “Your mouth is open,” he murmured.

  She snapped her jaw shut. “Jewell. You’re going to marry Jewell, the—”

  “Exotic performer,” Bran added before shifting sideways to lean a hip against the counter. “Might as well tell your sister the rest of your news, Danny.”

  She blinked. “There’s more?”

  “We’re havin’ a baby.” Danny grinned. “You guys are gonna be Aunt Tor and Uncle Bran. Well, until your divorce goes through.”

  “A baby.” She pressed her fingers to the thudding in her left temple. Why hadn’t she had the good sense to haul her little brother to a vet and have him neutered?

  Stay calm, she reminded herself and forced a smile. “Congratulations. I told you I’m buying a place of my own, right? A one-bedroom condo.” Although the folders were already aligned, she began tapping their sides against the counter. “You’ll have a wife and a baby to support—”

  “I’m not asking if we can move in with you, Tor. I got a job.”

  She bobbled the folders, spilling papers and photos onto the counter. “You have a job?”

  “Jewell laid down the law, said she wouldn’t see me if I didn’t shape up. Get an income that comes from somewhere other than gambling. She means a lot to me. I can’t lose her, Tor. I just can’t.”


  She stared at her brother, while tears threatened to sneak through her defenses. With his dark hair pulled back, his face looked sharpened, honed. The mossy green eyes that so often held a no-care-in-the-world look stared back at her with an intensity she had never seen. This, then, was the man beginning to emerge from the boy she’d raised.

  “It…sounds like Jewell is special.”

  “She is. Bran says it’s true love.”

  Tory slanted her estranged husband a look. “Are you suddenly an expert on affairs of the heart?”

  “Always have been. After all, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out everything depends on chemistry.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “I know a lot about chemistry. So do you.”

  While her stomach fluttered, she began shuffling reports and photos into a stack. Since the night they’d kissed, the chemistry between them had kept the air in the safe house so electrified she was surprised the place hadn’t imploded. Now, all he had to do was look at her mouth and she felt the pull. Dammit, they weren’t meant to be! The last thing she wanted was to get involved again and open herself up to even more hurt. So why was she consumed with red-hot, soul-searing need that peeled her resistance away one thin strip at a time?

  “Hey, the crow!” Danny pointed a finger at one of the photos she’d yet to shove into a folder.

  Although they weren’t touching, Tory sensed Bran’s spine going as stiff as hers.

  “What about it?” they asked in unison.

  Danny looked up. “What are you guys doing with a picture of the professor’s tattoo?”

  Chapter 8

  In the space of a heartbeat, Tory watched Bran’s demeanor transform from casual to steel-eyed cop as he snagged the photo off the kitchen counter.

  “Dewitt, are you saying you know a guy with this identical tattoo?”

  “Yeah. Well, no, I don’t know him.” Danny scowled. “Tor, remember that morning I brought your car back with the little ding?”