by Lori Foster
“And with good reason, hon. His dad somehow knows where you live, and was ballsy enough to come here.”
She didn’t really live at her house much anymore, but she knew that was beside the point. She was watching Armie, so she saw the second he glanced at her.
Then at his truck.
He was thinking of leaving! “Later,” she said to Cannon as she took off in a jog toward Armie.
Hearing her approach, Armie turned to her, his brows down with both lingering anger and concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she reached him.
Merissa threw herself against him and held on tight.
“What is it, honey?” His hands went up and down her back. “You’re okay?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she knew things were very wrong, and it scared her even more. Tucking her face against Armie’s neck, she breathed in his addictive scent and it helped her collect herself. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Your dad being here. Freaking out on you.” Clutching his shoulders, she pressed him back so she could see his face. “You were thinking about taking off.”
“Going after him,” he agreed. “I probably still should.” Fury reignited in his dark eyes. “He needs to understand—”
“Cannon talked to him.” Taking his hand, Merissa attempted to tug him toward the house, without much success. “Why don’t you see what agreement he and Cannon came to before you—” Leave me “—go.”
“It’s not Cannon’s problem to deal with.”
So sad that he considered his father no more than a problem. “Well, then, there are things I need to tell you. Stuff Mac said while he was here.”
“All right, tell me.”
With her thoughts tumbling one over the other, Merissa bit her lip, considered her options and gave it one stab. “Armie, please, come in with me. Then we’ll talk.”
His gaze moved over her face, first searching her eyes, then lingering on her mouth. He leaned in for a kiss.
Thinking it’d be short and sweet, Merissa accepted without reserve.
Only Armie didn’t keep it easy. Nope. He turned his head, took the kiss deeper, teased with his tongue and easily made her toes curl—and they were in the street!
Breathless, her hands still gripping his shoulders, she pulled back, licked her now-tingling lips and frowned at him. “You’re impossible.”
Still too solemn, he took her hand and now it was him leading her to the house.
“You want to tell me why you did that?”
“I like kissing you, that’s why.”
She knew it was more than that, but what? Resisting his pull, she slowed his pace and said again, “Armie.”
He stopped at the closed front door, dropped his head for only a moment, then pinned her with his dark, incendiary gaze. “Before I left the rec center I got a call. Bray is missing.”
“Oh no.” Knowing how he felt about the boy, she ached for him. Any responsible adult would worry for Bray, but Armie felt personally attached. “I’m sorry.”
“Then I show up here and my asshole father is hanging around and regardless of whatever details you tell me, I know he was here to make trouble.”
Merissa swallowed. What could she say? He was right.
“So I kissed you because I can. Because it’s one of the few things I can still control.” He drew a breath. “And I enjoy kissing you a hell of a lot more than dealing with the rest of this shit. Now is that answer enough?”
For one of the few times in her life, Merissa felt small. “Yes.”
Armie popped his neck. “Then can we get this over with?”
She understood he was angry, frustrated and worried about Bray. For those reasons only, she let him get by with taking it out on her. But she couldn’t be gracious about it.
Stepping around him, she opened the door and held it for him. “I really am sorry to hear that about Bray. I hope he’s okay.”
Armie started to reply, but she went quickly up the steps, then down the hall and to her bedroom. Rather than slam the door, she closed it very quietly. Dropping facedown onto her mattress, she snagged one of her pillows and hugged it to her.
It wasn’t like her to be tearful, but damn, she felt like having a good cry and she couldn’t even say why. It wasn’t Armie’s soured mood; she’d been raised around Cannon and his friends and while they all treated her nicely and with respect, she’d seen her fair share of frustration and aggravation.
She felt achy and too tired and blah.
A deep breath didn’t help much, but she fought off the tears all the same. She refused to be whiny and instead concentrated on ways she might be helpful. Her brother had great reach in the community, so maybe she could help organize the effort to find Bray.
When she thought of the boy out on his own, the tears threatened again. Stop it. He’ll be fine. She had to believe that.
But on top of worrying for Bray, it brought home the resemblance to Armie’s upbringing.
That awful, crude, hateful man was his father.
It was almost too terrible to bear. When she thought of how he’d been raised, and then his outrageous sexcapades as a grown man, she had to wonder: would she ever really reach him? She knew Armie trusted his friends, but would he ever trust a woman romantically?
Would he ever trust her with his heart?
Lately, he’d been amazing. Even though he spent a lot of time prepping for his fight, he remained attentive to her. He was never too tired to talk and laugh with her, to watch over her—or to have sex. Whenever they got together, which pretty much happened every day, if not twice a day, he gave it his all.
His all was pretty darned spectacular.
Her thoughts flickered around, going from one fact to the next. Armie liked her. He treated her with respect. He made time for her. He joked with her.
Flopping onto her back, Merissa groaned, because that seriously described how Armie felt about almost everyone. And as to the sex, well, she couldn’t offer him anything new in that arena. So how special could their relationship be?
Turning back to her side, she again hugged her pillow and wished she knew what Armie was thinking.
But since she was pretty sure they weren’t thinking the same things, maybe she was better off not knowing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AFTER GETTING ALL the deets from Cannon and seeing that Leese was settling in—and that he understood the rules—Armie decided it was time to go after Rissy. For sure she’d been peeved when she’d all but run away from him. Not that he blamed her. Lately it seemed he had so much coming down on his head that he kept a perpetual frown.
He never minded shouldering responsibility, for himself and for others. His shoulders were broad enough to carry plenty. But damn, he was starting to feel weighted down, and a lot of that had to do with worry for Rissy.
After all but begging him to stay, she’d run off and avoided him for the forty minutes he’d been at her house. It wasn’t a problem; he’d put the time to good use and he was, if nothing else, at least in a better frame of mind now.
Cannon had promised to put word out about Bray. He had incredible contacts in the community, so hopefully someone would find the kid before he got into any trouble. Fifteen was too old to have to put up with seeing some abusive ass knock his mom around, and yet it was far too damn young for him to be out on his own. For a hundred different reasons, Armie felt responsible. He checked his phone again, but Bray hadn’t called.
Cannon had also laid out major consequences to his dad—or so he’d said. Somehow Armie had his doubts that it mattered. He knew his old man, knew that when cornered Mac Jacobson reacted like a rabid dog.
He went for the jugular.
Right now his dad might’ve acted compliant, but it wouldn’t last, so on top of worrying for Bray, he now had to wait to see what his seed-donor might do. That rankled big-time, almost cranking his frustration back to the combustible level.
Then he
thought about seeing Rissy, maybe talking her into some good old-fashioned physical relief, and his thoughts veered wildly from emotional frustration to sexual awareness.
With his ear to the door, Armie listened to Rissy’s bedroom and heard nothing. He started to knock, changed his mind and quietly turned the knob.
When he was younger, and she’d been too young, he’d had more than one fantasy about visiting her in her ultrafeminine room. About seeing her on her frothy comforter naked. About joining her there. About the things she might do in there all alone during the years she’d been so obviously infatuated with him.
He’d have given a lot to watch her touch herself, to see her get off all hot and sweet while thinking about him.
Predictably, he was already hard as he stepped into the heavy shadows in her room. She’d drawn the drapes but he still saw her on the bed—sound asleep. His heart turned over, expanded, went soft and full. It was an odd combo to feel so tender while sporting a hard-on.
The full-size bed hadn’t changed. She’d gotten the updated furniture when she was seventeen. Armie remembered helping Cannon to carry everything into the house. Back then, she’d had much girlier curtains and the fluffy bedding he remembered so well.
Now everything was classy, but still comfortable and homey—like her. She’d long ago outgrown posters on the walls and stuffed animals on her bed.
Somehow she’d never outgrown her infatuation with him.
He’d thought she would. He’d figured on her moving on, settling down with some nice guy and maybe having a kid or two. Rissy had a very big heart and mothering tendencies that everyone enjoyed. By far, she was the most domestic woman he knew. If you showed up at her place, odds were she’d want to feed you.
Unless, like now, you’d managed to piss her off.
Knowing neither Cannon nor Leese would intrude, Armie slowly stretched out behind her. With one arm around her waist, he drew her against him.
Part of a fantasy, come to life.
Now if only they were naked…
Sounding sleepy, she whispered, “I used to fantasize about this.”
Huh. So he hadn’t been the only one who’d thought of hanky-panky in this particular room? Fascinated, Armie nuzzled against her hair and said, “Wanna share?”
She twisted to face him. Even in the dim light he could see the softness in her blue eyes and the serious way she studied him. Her fingertips traced his mouth. “I didn’t think I’d ever have the incredible Armie Jacobson in my bed.”
He tucked her closer, but didn’t kiss her. Not this time. It’d be in very poor taste to get carried away with her now, with her brother and Leese only a floor away. But God, she tempted him. Always did.
Always would.
He turned his head just enough that her palm settled against his jaw. “I’m sorry I was surly earlier.”
“You’re forgiven.” She took her hand to his neck, over his shoulder, around to his chest and down, until she could slip it up under his shirt. “But only because I know so much is going on, and you have an upcoming fight.”
Grateful and turned on, Armie grinned. “You don’t have to protect me, Stretch. You know that, right? I can take your ire whenever you need to dish it out.”
“And I would have—if you hadn’t apologized.”
“Mmm. One of these days, I might enjoy seeing that.” He scooted closer until her breasts pressed to his chest. “But I am sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you just because I had a shitty day.”
“When we get home,” she whispered, her fingertips seeming to count his ab muscles, “you can show me how truly sorry you are.”
Again it struck him that they needed to talk about the situation. Her calling his apartment “home” made little to no sense. But with everything up in the air, the timing didn’t seem right to go into it.
Would the timing ever be right? He just didn’t know.
“Hey.” She pushed him to his back and crawled half up over his chest. “Why are you not answering?”
“I was just thinking.”
Her eyes narrowed. “About what?”
“Ways to show my sincerity,” he lied. Without thinking it through, his hands went down her back to her tight little ass and, with raging need, he drew her down while lifting against her.
Clearly, she didn’t miss his erection. Voice faint, breath hitching, she whispered, “Armie.”
So sweet. Before she could kiss him, he asked, “You ready to go, honey?”
Groaning, she went flat against him, her head to his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck. Then she said, “Yes,” and rolled off the bed to flip on a light. Arms out straight, she held her fingers in a way to frame Armie in a virtual box. With one eye closed, she murmured, “Just let me take a mental picture first.”
Armie laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” she teased right back.
And damn if that didn’t almost stop his heart. The words hit him, melded into him, filled him up. He stared at her, but she went about her business getting ready to leave as if she hadn’t said something so profound.
Was she crazy about him?
As in still infatuated? Because that wasn’t anything new. Or did she mean crazy as in more? Since they’d hooked up and become an item, she hadn’t mentioned her feelings much. In a dozen different ways she showed she cared, but she hadn’t said it.
Did he want her to?
As if she felt him watching, she glanced at him. “What?”
Catching himself, Armie rolled from the bed. “Nothing.”
At least nothing he could admit to because he knew the truth; if he couldn’t resolve the threats soon, he might have to put some time and space between them. Someone was gunning for him and the only way to ensure she stayed out of the line of fire was to stay away from her.
But thinking that only made him need her more, so after they each said quick goodbyes to her brother and Leese, he hustled her out the door and to her car.
“In a hurry?” she asked.
“Yeah. See, I figured we’d get to chapter two of your book.”
Her eyes rounded and her face flushed.
That wasn’t embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Armie smiled at her.
After clearing her throat, she asked, “Chapter two?”
“Come on.” This was a conversation better made in private. After he got her in her car behind the wheel, he leaned in and fastened her seat belt. “That’s the chapter where you offer yourself, quietly, staying still, so I can do anything—and everything—I want with your body.”
“Oh.”
“I’m thinking I’d like to start with you on your stomach.”
More breathless, she asked, “My stomach?”
“I like that idea.” Trailing a hand down to her hip, he murmured near her ear, “I could spend an hour on your ass.” She sucked in a breath and held still. “Then an hour on your tits.”
“Armie…” she whispered, sounding agonized.
“Then an hour—” He cupped his hand between her thighs and whispered, “—right here.”
Her eyes sank shut.
Knowing he played with fire, Armie stepped back. “I’ll be right behind you. Drive safely.” She said nothing more as he closed the door and walked to his truck.
Keeping his mind focused only on Rissy, which allowed him to block out everything else, he followed her to his apartment.
Déjà vu, he thought, watching as she parked in a rush and raced for his apartment.
He’d had a lot of women. Too many, truth be told. He’d done extreme things, some that he enjoyed, and some just for the experience of it.
Now, here with Rissy, it all faded away as unimportant. Nothing and no one could compare to her, especially when she wanted him, too.
With his problems temporarily on hold, Armie jogged after her. They went straight to bed, stripping off clothes along the way.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—say the words, but in the ways he touched her
he tried to show her how he cared, how he needed her.
How she meant the world to him.
While it lasted, he wanted to take all that he could, then give back more—even while knowing it’d never be enough.
*
AFTER CALLING MERISSA TWICE, and both times being roundly rejected, Steve wasn’t feeling very generous. As he walked, he worked his jaw, furious and fed up. Done playing her fucking games.
That’s why he set up another meeting with Keno and Boyd.
He checked the time on his cell and quickened his step.
To keep things secretive, they agreed to meet on the street near the park. The lights at night were low, the place abandoned. He rounded the corner and immediately spotted two large bodies near a bench. Just enough light touched on them for him to recognize Boyd sitting and Keno standing off to the side.
He slid his cell back into his pocket and approached them with a casual greeting. “Thanks for coming out.”
“No problem,” Boyd said, looking a little drunk and a lot lazy as he sprawled on the bench. “What’s up now?”
Steve looked around, saw no one, but still kept his voice low. “I need to make another run at her.”
“Her,” Boyd said, “meaning the banker lady?”
“Yes.” Who the fuck else would he mean?
“Why?” Sitting forward, elbows on his knees, Boyd said, “I thought your PI buddy was your go-to here on out.”
He should have been, but… “That’s not working out how I planned.”
“Why not?”
What was this? Fifty questions? He started to snap at Boyd, but Keno stood there looking suitably intimidating, so Steve sucked up his ire. “Armie Jacobson, the son of a bitch, is a damned rapist.” When the two men looked surprised, Steve nodded. “You believe that shit? I figured once Merissa found out, she’d run from him as fast as she could. Not that she’s a hard-core women’s libber or anything, but she’s damned independent and expects—”
“How do you know that?” Keno asked. “It’s a hell of an accusation, and if it’s true, why isn’t he rotting in prison?”
“He wormed out of it somehow. I don’t know the details. But I paid his old man to go tell Merissa. Only she’s still with him so I think the miserable old bum failed.”
