by Joss Wood
They all turned and Reagan saw Eli jogging down the street toward them. He flicked a small smile at Tally before turning to Reagan. “I left the bar shortly before you did, and so did those morons on the dance floor. I think they might be looking for you.”
Reagan frowned. “Dammit.”
“Let me walk with you to your car,” Eli suggested.
She could easily handle two drunk guys. If she couldn’t, then she shouldn’t be working for Caswallawn.
“I’m sure we’ll be okay,” Reagan told him and saw Tally widening her eyes at her in a silent plea to agree. Reagan just stopped herself from rolling her eyes and shrugged. “Sure. Thanks.”
As they approached the parking lot Reagan saw them leaning against the chain-link fence. She twisted her lips as she flipped through her options, and she sighed when they straightened from their lounging position and stepped forward. The taller of the two, the one who’d been the most verbal in the club, smirked at her. His eyes, in the low wattage of the streetlights, looked hard and cold as he strolled up to them as if he owned the world.
Ah, shit. The other side of the road was the fenced parking lot, and they either had to get past the asshats or walk in the busy road.
She’d try to talk them past the morons. Reagan took a step forward, pleased when Eli pushed Tally to stand behind him. Good guy, Eli.
She felt Eli suck in a hard breath and mentally urged him to stay calm. Neither of these bozos considered any of them a threat, and why would they? They looked like four girls out on the town, looking for some fun.
“I’ll try and talk them down,” Reagan whispered to Eli, “but if I go in, I’m going to go in low and hard. A kick to the groin would come in handy.”
“Okay,” Eli whispered back, his eyes wide with surprise.
“Hey! We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Reagan rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You couldn’t think of anything original to say?”
“I want to dance.” Asshat One pointed to Tally. “With her. So we can either go back to the club or do it here.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Reagan tossed him a cold, hard smile, but he was too stupid to realize that she was seriously pissed off. She’d had a nice night, and he was spoiling their fun and, worse, had put fear back into Tally’s eyes.
She was done talking to them. She wanted to go home and fall into a hot shower and then into bed.
Reagan’s arm shot up from her side as the bottom of her palm connected with Asshat Two’s nose. Spinning around, she kicked the back of One’s thigh and he fell to his knees. His friend cupped his bleeding nose and gurgled his pain. He wasn’t any threat. Reagan slapped One’s greasy head down and smiled when his cheek scraped the sidewalk. She placed her boot into his neck to pin him there, and grabbing his hand, she twisted his arm and applied pressure on his thumb joint, one half turn away from dislocating that digit.
“So much for talking,” Eli muttered, folding his arms and trying to look menacing.
“Sometimes, it’s just better to hit first and talk later.” Reagan shrugged. “Eli, search him for a weapon.”
Flick threw her hands up in horror. “Be careful, you might catch something nasty.”
Pippa nodded her agreement. “I’m with Flick on this one. He looks like he needs a damn good scrub and bottle of disinfectant.”
“You two are such girls,” Reagan muttered, bending down to pat down the youth, bending his arm against his back as she did so. Eli removed two knives and a knuckle-duster and threw them onto the property beyond the chain-link fence, ignoring One’s protest. Reagan looked up at Tally, who had her hand to her mouth. Unlike Flick and Pippa, who looked like they were enjoying themselves, Tally looked a little freaked out. “You okay, honey?”
Tally nodded, her hand on her throat. “You . . . so fast . . . wow!”
Reagan laughed. “I spar with guys all the time, it’s part of my training. I learned to hit first and ask questions later.” Reagan pulled the youth to his feet and dropped his arm, and he rubbed his hand to get blood back into his white joint. He looked around and saw that his friend, so big, so brave, had run off and left him on his own.
“Your friend has slid back into whatever hole he crawled out of. I suggest you do the same,” Reagan said, bored.
“And feel free to tell your mates that you got your ass handed to you by a girl,” Eli told him, grinning.
“Screw you.”
Reagan took a step forward and Eli laughed when he took one look at her and scuttled away. Reagan wiped her hands on the seat of her pants and grimaced. She definitely could do with some hand sanitizer. She nodded to the parking lot across the road. “Shall we get moving since the entertainment portion of the evening is now over?”
“Damn sight more fun than listening to Nicks murder that Garth Brooks cover,” Flick stated, her tone dry.
“Hey!” Eli and Tally protested in unison.
Flick shook her head in disgust. “Your generation has no appreciation for decent music. Seriously, Tally, you need to be introduced to the greats I grew up listening to.”
Tally rolled her eyes. “Like who? Elvis and the Beatles?” she cheekily asked.
Reagan laughed and, like Pippa and Flick, watched in interest as Tally not only kissed Eli on the lips, but also allowed him to envelop her in a long, not very friendly hug.
Nice kid, she thought. Give him a couple of years and he would be an interesting man.
But still too young.
***
Reagan and Pippa waved good-bye to Flick and Tally and turned to walk up the path to Pippa’s home. Asshats aside, she’d had fun tonight, hanging out with the girls. She’d enjoyed the connection. She’d even enjoyed Pippa and Flick ragging her about her love life.
Reagan shot Pippa a look, and her lips curved up in a smile. “So, were you just torturing Flick by saying that you were seeing someone, or are you?”
Before she could answer, Reagan saw movement on the porch and she went into combat mode, pushing Pippa behind her as Eli had pushed Tally behind him earlier.
“It’s just me, Reags.”
Reagan relaxed and placed a hand on her heart, allowing the tension to leave her body.
“Stand down, tiger, he’s one guy you don’t have to take on. Besides, I don’t think you could take him as easily as you took that thug earlier,” Pippa said, rubbing Reagan’s bicep before taking the steps that led onto the veranda and to the front door.
“What does that mean?” Axl demanded, coming to stand next to her. Axl grabbed her hand and pulled her underneath the porch light, his eyes doing a quick top-to-toe scan.
“We ran into a bit of trouble and Reagan resolved it,” Pippa said.
Reagan slashed her hand across her throat, and Axl caught her gesture and scowled at her. “What happened?” he demanded.
“I’m going to bed,” Pippa said cheerfully. “Thanks for a fun evening, Reags.”
Reagan tossed a hot look at Pippa’s departing back and sighed when the front door closed behind her. She turned to face Axl, who looked big and brooding, his face covered in shadows and a three-day-old beard.
“When did you get back?” she asked, jamming her hands into the pockets of her coat to keep from touching him.
“About an hour ago. I came straight here,” Axl admitted, rubbing his hand across his lower chin. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“So what happened?” he demanded.
“Two guys looking to cause trouble. They didn’t appreciate the fact that Tally didn’t want to dance with them. They followed us out of the club.”
“I thought you went to a concert.”
“We did. Then we went on to a club. They accosted us close to the car.”
Axl lifted his eyebrows, asking for more. Reagan sighed, wishing she felt
comfortable enough to step into his arms and rest a while. “I broke a nose and nearly dislocated a thumb of the other. But Tally met a really nice guy,” she added, smiling as she remembered that piece of information.
“I really don’t care,” Axl replied. “I just want to make sure that you are fine.”
Reagan bit the bottom of her lip. “They didn’t lay a hand on me, but—” She hesitated.
“But what?”
“But I’d feel so much better if you were holding me,” Reagan admitted, dropping her head to look at her boots. Dammit, what if he laughed at her, dismissed her? What if he . . . Reagan felt Axl’s arms slide around her waist, felt his lips in her hair, and sighed. Yeah, this was what she needed.
This. Just Axl and his hot and hard body, strong arms around her, his delicious scent.
“Missed you.”
“You too, Reags.”
Reagan heard his words dance over her skin, and she gripped the back of his jacket, snuggling into his chest. She rarely missed anyone but she had him. That sounded like she might be making this personal, Reagan thought, and wasn’t that against the rules of having an FWB?
She didn’t care. Right now she just needed to be in his arms, being held by him.
“Rio?” Reagan asked. “Did you find the girl?”
“She was returned after the ransom drop.” Axl’s arms tightened and she heard the anger in his voice. “She’d been . . . she wasn’t good.”
“Raped?”
“No, but they threatened to do it. They took her clothes, kept her naked.”
Reagan pulled her head back to look at him and she sighed at his bleak eyes. “The poor kid; I’m so sorry, Axe.”
“Yeah, it happens. Not often but it happens.” Axl pushed her hair off her face and stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You are so beautiful.”
Reagan placed both her hands on his face and stood up on her tiptoe to rest her forehead against his cheek. “You collected her from the drop-off point, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Not fun.”
“Ah, honey.” Reagan sighed, moving her lips to touch his, trying to give a little comfort, to chase the recent events from his mind. She knew that they wouldn’t be that easily dislodged, but she was sure that she could distract him, if only for a little while. Her mouth explored his lips and her tongue slid into his mouth, soft and oh so slow.
“Reags.” Axl groaned when he pulled back for an instant. “I need you.”
“I know,” Reagan whispered against his mouth. “Come upstairs with me.”
Axl looked at the closed front door. “Pippa won’t mind?”
Reagan grinned. “She coped with having Kai in and out of her house. I’m sure she won’t have the vapors about you in my bed.”
Axl, for the first time, smiled.
Reagan took his hand and placed her hand on the knob, and as she pushed open the door she looked back over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare repeat this but I think that Pippa is seeing someone, that she’s having her own little fun that no one, especially not Flick, knows about.”
Axl looked surprised. “Sawyer won’t like that.” Axl pushed the door closed, flipped the locks, and looked at the stairs. “But, as interesting and as gossipy as that is, right now the only thing I care about is getting you naked. As soon as possible.”
Reagan slid out of her coat and hung it up on the peg by the door. “Now that sounds like a really good way to end the evening.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “But you can’t spend the night.”
“Why not?” Axl asked as he placed his foot on the first step.
“It’s an FWB rule.”
“What the hell is an FWB?” Axl growled, his hand on her butt as they quietly moved up the stairs.
“Friends with benefits,” Reagan replied as they hit the landing on the second floor and turned right.
“I can’t believe that you didn’t know that,” Reagan hissed.
Axl’s mouth covered hers in a brief, hard kiss. “Right now, I wish that my friend would shut the hell up and get to the benefits. You, naked, is what I need.”
Reagan stepped into the room and turned to face him, placing her hand on his chest after he closed the door behind him. “We do need to discuss the rules, Axl.”
“Reagan?” Axl held her hand and bent his knees so that he could look directly into her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Shut up and get your clothes off.”
Reagan realized that they’d discuss the rules later. Right now there was a hot, gorgeous man in her room who wanted to do delicious things to her. “Okay.”
***
Axl could’ve left after the first time they made love, but nothing but a gun to his head could’ve persuaded him to leave Reagan’s comfortable bed, leave her fragrant naked body. Every time he thought about returning to Sawyer’s house, to his guest room and big but lonely bed, he’d looked at Reagan and just snuggled closer.
He wasn’t a cuddler and he never, not once, ever spent the night with a girl, making love, cuddling, sleeping . . . rinse, repeat.
Axl smiled at Reagan’s little piggy snort and pulled his head back to look at her. Her face was half mashed between his shoulder and her pillow, her mouth half open, her hair falling across her cheek. Her lashes were dark smudges against her skin, and he could see a little stubble burn along her jaw. Axl felt himself harden, thought about pulling the sheet back and waking her up with his mouth between her legs. But when she sighed and snuffled, he realized that he had had her twice already and that she probably needed to sleep more than she needed another round of sex. Amused at his spurt of nobility, he gently pulled his arm out from under her and rolled out of bed. Thankful that Reagan’s bedroom had an en suite bathroom, he walked naked into the small room, used the facilities, and looked at himself in the mirror above the basin. He looked as rough as he felt, rubbing his fingers across his heavy beard. Brazil had been five days of extreme tension and little sleep. Axl wrapped a towel around his waist and, knowing that he wouldn’t go back to sleep, thought about climbing back into bed with Reagan. But if he did that he wouldn’t be able to resist waking her up . . .
Axl padded over to the window seat and pulled back the curtains to reveal the still-dark morning. It was sometime just after five, he estimated and glanced at the watch on his right wrist. Yep, five oh three. He sat down on the square cushion and leaned his head against the wall, content to sit in silence for a while.
He glanced across the room and saw that she’d rolled onto her stomach, the sheet a twisted bundle around her hips and her hair a cloud around her head. She didn’t realize how beautiful she was, how his blood heated every time she stepped into a room. She was all fire and heat and beauty, rolled up into a tight package. She was stronger and more resilient than he realized and . . . she didn’t need him.
In between their bouts of hot sex last night they’d chatted about their time apart and she’d explained, in more detail, what happened earlier that evening when they’d been accosted. She’d protected the other three girls, and judging by her matter-of-fact tone, he knew that she’d barely broken a sweat. She was fully capable of defending herself, and he knew that if she would’ve used the small pistol he’d removed from her ankle holster if she thought a bullet was necessary. .
Axl looked at the bedside table where her pistol lay alongside his holstered Glock. Normal people didn’t shed weapons as well as clothes. In a normal relationship, the guy was the protector, the woman the protectee, but Reagan didn’t need him for that. Caswallawn had done a fine job in training her to take care of herself and whoever she was protecting.
Why did he need to protect her? Why was that so important to him? And how was he supposed to act when the woman he desperately wanted to keep safe was perfectly capable of looking after herself? Reagan needed nothing from him, not his protection or his money. She
barely needed his friendship. She was perfectly able to function by herself.
It seriously sucked.
Because, fuck, being needed was an essential part of his makeup. When he started running the house when he’d been a kid was the first time that he felt like he had his parents’ attention. It was the only way he could feel connected to otherwise self-absorbed or self-involved parents. The only way he still could. There was nothing he could do about it now. He’d created the monster he was still fighting, and all he could do was ride its tail.
Speaking of . . . how could he stop his parents from taking in this new child, from making such a huge commitment to another person who would, ultimately, be foisted off on him? Money wasn’t the issue. He was worried that the novelty of raising a kid would wear off, that his parents would quickly get bored with the idea. Hadn’t he seen that happen with his half siblings? “Yeah, move in with us!” his parents had cried, and a couple of months later, when the said half sib got sick or bratty or irritating, his parents would distance themselves and leave the child floundering. He’d pick up the slack.
It had happened to him and all his half sibs and Aiden . . . God, if he didn’t stop it, it would happen to this new kid as well. There were better people for the kid to live with than his selfish parents. Yelling at them hadn’t worked, he realized. All that had done was make them more determined, make them dig in their heels. No, he had to be sneaky, had to manipulate them into doing what he wanted them to do.
Hell, just thinking of them drained his energy.
Axl felt Reagan’s feminine arm across his shoulders, looping around his neck, and he immediately slid his hand behind her back and pulled her into his side, inhaling her sex and sin and citrus scent. The fabric of the T-shirt he’d been wearing last night lay beneath his cheek, but he could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric.
“Why are you up?” Reagan asked, resting her chin on the top of his head.
“Couldn’t sleep and you were snoring,” Axl said, smiling.
“Do not snore,” Reagan murmured, dropping a quick kiss into his hair.
“You really do.” Axl pulled her onto his lap and she immediately changed her position. Axl felt the knot on his towel give way as she sat between his legs, pushing the towel down to mold his legs. Her back rested against his chest and he kept one foot on the floor to keep them from tumbling off. Reagan grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms across her chest and rested her temple against his left bicep.
