Tripp

by Irish Winters

  Damn it, she’d just tossed his words back at him. Tripp knew he was losing ground. “Yes, I do. I knew it last Friday. B-b-but it was happening so fast. Too soon. I mean…”

  Shit, damn, and son of a bitch! He couldn’t believe how badly he was screwing this up. But the thought of losing her, along with the weight of Alex’s enormous gift, and what Trish’s critical condition was doing to his poor mother... God! Ashley was right. Everything was too much! He was overwhelmed, but he finally knew what he wanted.

  Tripp wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and took a deep breath to settle his nerves. “I love you, woman, and I want to date you,” he breathed. “Is that asking too much?” And there he was again, stressing Ashley out, making the desire of his heart sound like an accusation instead of a promise.

  “Date? Just date?” she asked. But when she leaned into him and placed both palms on his chest, he knew she’d forgiven him for being a man.

  Tripp trapped her lush, warm body against his, his arms crossed behind her back, his hands in her hair, and his fingertips unraveling that damned tight braid. “Yes, date. You’re right. It has been a rough couple days, and I am emotional. But that’s who I am. I cuss too much, and I can be one hell of an ass. I don’t think things through, and sometimes, I follow my heart instead of my brain. But I finally know what I want. At least, I know what I can’t live without, and it’s you, Ashley. It’s you. I love you and I’m keeping you.”

  There. He’d said it, and somehow, that heartfelt declaration smoothed over the troubles of the day, like water poured over dying plants in the desert. At last, the crimped wonder of all that ebony silk cascaded over his hands and tumbled through his fingers and back into his life. Tripp could breathe again. Cherries and Ashley, his life blood.

  He got it then. He knew. Somehow, between him and his mom, and, God bless him, Alex, things would work out. Trish would be okay. Well, as okay as she ever could be. Tripp knew he could look his boss in the eye tomorrow morning and not feel like a poor relative or a charity case. All because Ashley believed in Alex’s kindness.

  But she needed to know what she was getting into. He took her head between his hands, tipped her chin up with his thumbs, and told her, “I’m not an easy man to live with. Nearly every penny I make goes to my mom and Trish. I never knew my dad, and there are days I wish I didn’t know my sister. She’s a vampire, a drain on my mom and everyone who comes into her life, and she’ll suck the life out of you, too. She’s a user in every sense of the word. Not just booze and drugs, but people, Ashley. Men especially. You don’t need someone like me and my family dragging you down. I come with a shitload of crap and—”

  “How do you know what I need? What I want?”

  “Look at me, for Christ’s sake, just look at me.” He bent his knees to peer into her eyes. “What do you see?”

  Ashley lifted her hands to his face, her fingers stretched into his hair and her thumbs on his cheeks. “I see your mother’s gorgeous green eyes and her blonde hair. I see her strength and her devotion to you and Trish. I see her love.” Ashley inhaled a deep breath. “It’s written all over you, Tripp. I see the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and he comes with a wicked sense of honor and pride, which he got from his mom. I see a man who spends most of his days and nights helping people who can’t help themselves.”

  “I do love my mom,” Tripp admitted, wishing he didn’t sound like such a crybaby loser.

  “And you love your sister. Even Driscoll could see that. That’s why he wanted you to suffer. You have everything he didn’t. Why are you so angry with Trish if you don’t care about her? Why’d you send money home when you were in the Army?”

  She had him there. “She’s my twin,” Tripp answered quietly, the truth, as hard as it was, finally faced. “She’s a pain in my ass, but, yeah. She’s my sister.”

  “And you love her.”

  “I do.” Tripp took a deep breath of the luscious sweetness that was Ashley to her core. “I want you beside me for the rest of my life. I know it’s too damned soon, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve changed your mind about me, but I love you and—”

  She lifted onto the tips of her toes and swallowed every last one of his fears.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Ashley leaned into Tripp’s side on the short drive back to the hotel. After they’d walked Andy to her room and made sure she was settled in for the night, Tripp had all but dragged Ashley out of the hospital to his truck. He had to be as exhausted as she was. The minute she got into their room, she intended to find a phone number for Tate Higgins, to ask how Peewee was. Poor bird was probably scared—or not. Funny. She hadn’t worried about her baby until now. What kind of bird mother was she?

  Tripp cranked the wheel into the hotel parking lot. At this time of night, all the close parking stalls were taken; he had to park in the rear lot. But there was plenty of overhead lighting, so Ashley didn’t think twice about their quick walk to the secure side door, not with the grip he had on her hand. Opening the door, he bent over and scooped her over his shoulder.

  “Tripp!” she exclaimed from her upside-down view of the hallway and lobby. “Put me down.”

  “No, ma’am,” he answered, his fingers splayed over her backside, holding her in place, and her hair flouncing over the backs of his long, lean legs. “You wanted a guardian angel, you’ve got one.”

  “What will people think?”

  That earned her a gentle smack on her ass. “You should know by now that I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Only you, Ashley. You’re all that matters to me.”

  At least no one was in the elevator on the way up. He didn’t put her down. Just tapped his fingers on her butt while Muzak played, until the doors opened. A man and woman stood there waiting to go down. Oh, darn. Ashley buried her face in the back of Tripp’s leather jacket, embarrassed to death.

  “Umm… Excuse us,” the man said with an amused hitch in his voice.

  “My goodness,” the woman exclaimed, her tone more cheerful than his. More excited. “Looks like you two kids are going to have a good time tonight.”

  Tripp didn’t reply, and Ashley was mortified that her butt was all of her they’d seen. “Put me down,” she ordered as soon as the elevator closed.

  “No, ma’am,” he growled, his long strides eating up the distance to their room, his big hand still warm on her butt.

  Electric sparks shivered up the back of her legs. Damn. He hadn’t really touched her yet, and she was coming undone, just from the terribly erotic display he’d made of her. What the heck?

  “Hurry,” she mewed, needing more than just that hand on her ass.

  That earned her another smack, only this one stung. And that was all it took. Her legs stiffened. Ashley grabbed hold of his belt, arched her back, and moaned like a cat in heat, as the craziest, hottest orgasm exploded up her spine. Like a fountain, it ripped through her and into the stars. What he did to her!

  Tripp had the hotel door opened and closed, and her on her back on the mussed bed in no time. “Jesus Christ, you’re so—”

  “Kiss me! Now!” She grabbed that big square head of his and all but chewed his lips to get at his tongue.

  “Where? Kiss you where?” he mumbled around her determined mouth.

  “Everywhere,” she breathed, her body on fire with scintillating aftershocks that threatened to morph into another orgasm if he didn’t hurry up and... “Do something!” She’d turned into a wanton alley cat that craved being petted, stroked, and tasted.

  Tripp had her out of her clothes in a heartbeat, his face between her legs, and his hands behind her knees, pushing her open, making room for his broad shoulders, and…

  Oh. My. He knew what to do with that tongue and those teeth. Ashley growled at the intense pleasure assaulting her body. She was rocket fuel, and he was the spark she’d needed to blast her into the universe. Into life. Her butt muscles clenched as it happened again. Ashley’s fingers de
lved into his hair as a blinding light roared through her. The heat! The rush of coming!

  Suddenly, his hips were cradled between her legs, and he was inside her body. So, so deep. So big. His hands were on her breasts, his fingertips pulling and pinching her nipples. With every thrust of his hips, with every push and slap of their naked flesh together, her body clenched like a wild cat ready to pounce. And then… It got better.

  “I can’t wait,” she ground out. “Come… come… with me.”

  “Always,” he breathed, his body so big and heavy over hers that it blocked the lights and the world and—

  “Yessss,” she hissed, then cried, “Tripp! Yes, yes, yes!”

  “Ashley,” he breathed, and with one more deep, grinding thrust, he roared a few cuss words, then flew with her. And they really were starlight. Quick, bright meteors that burned together before they crashed softly to Earth.

  She panted through her pursed lips, undressed and undone, so in love with this man that she fell apart and cried again. Tripp was everything, her springboard and her jumping off point, her beginning and her ending. He was her launchpad. Her tether and her anchor.

  Tripp huffed in her face and asked, “You know Jameson?”

  Ashley stared up at her wild, crazy man. “Really? You want to talk about him now?”

  The sexiest, devil-may-care grin cracked Tripp’s rugged face. “Hell, no. Just wanted to tell you that he asked Maddie to marry him within days of meeting her.”

  “Why’s that important?”

  Tripp smoothed a hand over her cheek, wiping her tears away and tugging a strand of hair out of her mouth. Tipping forward, he closed the distance and pressed a warm, wet kiss to her sensitive lips. My gosh, they felt swollen.

  “Because they’re getting married the first of the year. Crazy shit, love. It shows up when you least expect it, doesn’t it?”

  “Like guardian angels?”

  Tripp leaned his head back and roared. “Okay, okay. Like guardian angels. You’re right. I’m the guy who interrupted that losing fight you were in Friday night. That was me. Are you happy now?”

  Ashley loved the strength in the cords of his neck. The whiskers he hadn’t shaved when he’d showered. The musky, male scent of his skin all over her. “I’m always happy when I’m with you. Especially after we make love.”

  Her big mean guardian angel peered down at her with love shining in his bottle-green eyes. “Move in with me? I mean, after we buy our own house, which we should do as soon as we can. Like the first thing tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “How long should we live together?”

  “Long enough to grow old?” Tripp said with an endearing smile.

  What else could Ashley say but, “Deal.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Alex could be damned formidable. Downright scary. The man wasn’t a big bruiser like Mark Houston, Zack Lennox, Beau Villanueva, or Tripp. He was more of a hard-as-nails, straight-up, in-your-face, wiry, street fighter. He wasn’t blustering thunder, but Tripp knew damned well he could bring the rain. Alex was the number one legend in The TEAM, and he knew how to lead from the front, instead of pushing his troops from the safety of the rear. The man had seen more combat than any other warrior in both the East or West Coast TEAM offices.

  But after working with the guy to save Ashley from Driscoll, Tripp wasn’t intimidated. He settled his butt in the chair beside Alex’s tidy desk, kicked out one long leg, and made himself comfortable. “You wanted to see me?”

  Staff meeting would follow what Tripp knew would be a one-on-one butt-chewing. But he’d been disciplined before, Army style. This couldn’t be any worse.

  “At ease,” Alex said, even though he sat ramrod straight in his upholstered leather executive chair, those laser eyes of his raking over Tripp from his head to his booted toes.

  Tripp met the man’s gaze and raised him one. “Good job taking Driscoll down yesterday, Boss. Great shooting.”

  “Thanks for working with Tucker’s team. They can be…” Alex thumbed his clean-shaven chin like a prizefighter between rounds. “…challenging.”

  “It was Eden who located Ashley, or we would’ve been chasing our tails, what with that elevator out-of-order ruse.”

  “Driscoll thought he was smarter than you.”

  Interesting word choice: you. Not us. Alex knew how to play the game.

  “He damned near was, but Jameson sensed he was still on my floor.” Tripp always gave credit where credit was due. There was no I in TEAM. No asses, either.

  “We need to talk.” Dipping his hand into the pencil drawer at the center of his desk, Alex withdrew a single folder and tossed it across the desk.

  Thumbing the file open, Tripp faced several high-res, black and white action shots of… Shit. Himself. Whoever’d taken the photos was good. All were high-clarity. Good angles. Taken from both Seattle and Alexandria, each shot showed his profile or his face. He couldn’t deny the truth. These shots were all of him.

  Going for broke, Tripp slid the eight-by-eleven glossies onto Alex’s glass-covered desktop and arranged them in chronological order. The line-up started with the shot taken the night he’d rescued that five-foot-nothing woman from those thick-headed morons on Pike Street in Seattle. It ended with the shot of him tossing those punks into the Potomac River, after they’d roughed up a harmless, down on his luck, Vietnam vet. Once he’d lined up the evidence, all photos faced his boss. Tripp asked, “Now what?”

  Alex leaned back in his chair, interlocked his fingers behind his head, looked at the ceiling, and said, “You tell me.”

  “Whoever took these shots is good.” Okay, that was lame.

  “The integrity of traffic and security cams has come a long way.”

  Which meant either Mother or Beau had busted their asses accumulating this specific intel. One or both of them must’ve scoured hundreds of miles of security footage to locate these few specific sightings. Also meant if Alex had this intel, someone else could put two and two together.

  “Technology…” Tripp breathed. Gotta love it and the computer geeks behind it. Damn them. They’d caught him.

  Alex had the stone-cold eyes of a sniper. Didn’t blink. Didn’t speak.

  Tripp chewed the inside of his lip, not wanting to fight his boss, but he refused to apologize for doing the right thing. If Alex had these shots, he also knew precisely what transpired before Tripp stepped in. “You want me to resign? Is that what this is about?”

  “Did I ask you to?” Alex shot back.

  “Then what? Do you want me to quit fighting for justice? Me to stop hunting bastards after dark? Me to let good people get raped or beat, while everyone else looks the other way? What?”

  Leaning his elbows onto his desk, Alex tented his fingers into a damned stiff-looking steeple. “I want you to decide who you’re going to work for, Junior Agent. If this is what you do…” He spared a quick glance at the photos. “…you’re on your own. Go for it. I don’t employ vigilantes, but I promise you, I will hunt them down.”

  “Despite the obvious fact that, without me, these victims could be dead?” Unbelievable.

  “No one gets to play cop, judge, and executioner on my watch.”

  Tripp wanted to ask, ‘Then why aren’t you out there saving innocent folks with me?’ But he sensed another big, fat ‘but’ coming up. So, like Alex had before, he waited.

  “If you want to circumvent the law,” Alex said, “I know someone who runs several black ops teams. You’ll fit right in.”

  That didn’t sound like a compliment. “Who?”

  “Senator Sullivan, Texas.”

  “He the man who went to bat for Walker Judge?”

  Alex shook his head. “No, that was me. If you go to work for Sullivan, you’ll make good money, but you’ll be overseas more often than not. Might work out better for you. Think about it.
”

  Not if he had to leave Ashley behind. Tripp held his breath.

  “But if you want to work for me…” Alex made that sound like a threat. Here it comes… “The son of a bitchin’ night hunts stop now.”

  “Like hell!” Tripp’s shoulder muscles flexed and his nostrils flared at that pompous demand. “Then who’ll be there when the police haven’t shown up yet, and shit’s still going down?” He stabbed his finger at the photo of the poor blonde in Seattle. “They had her half-undressed and backed against a brick wall when I stepped in. You think she cares who saved her, the police or me? You think her husband or her three kids care?”

  Lifting with deliberate grace to his feet, Alex leaned over his desk and stabbed the photo taken deep within the Winkler Botanical Preserve. “Do you have any idea who the young man you saved last Friday night is?”

  Tripp looked down at the shorter of the two kids, the one who’d called him a hero. “Of course not. I don’t check IDs when I’m working. Would you? I just do what I should. All I heard was a couple names in a biker bar and the location of an upcoming beatdown. Spencer something-or-other. I acted on that intel, located the boys, and it’s a damned good thing I did because…” Tripp lifted to his feet and faced the man who could destroy him with all this evidence. “I saved that kid and his buddy, and you know it! Those bastards went after them with chains and tire irons. They would’ve died that night if not for me. Sure as fuck didn’t see you there!” That came out a little stronger than he’d meant it to.

  Alex shrugged off the underhanded accusation like it meant nothing. Never even blinked. “The name Spencer Nantz ring a bell?”

  Oh, shit, damn, and son of a bitch. That wimpy kid was Spencer Nantz? The son of the newly appointed Secretary of State Karen Weatherford Nantz, wife of Calvin Nantz, the Ambassador to Israel? Ms. Nantz was also the only daughter of Ashley Weatherford, the entrepreneur who owned the largest construction company on the entire East Coast.

  As if wealth or status mattered to Tripp when he was doing his job. “So? He’s still alive, isn’t he?”