Shield Her (A Bad Boys in Her Bed Menage, Cop Versus Biker)

by Cop Versus Biker) Christa Wick - Shield Her (A Bad Boys in Her Bed Menage

  As we breached the doorway, a raw voice scratched out two rough syllables.

  “Tilley…”

  A lump immediately formed in my throat. I swallowed it down and looked over my shoulder, one arm bracing against the door frame so the doctor couldn’t push me out.

  “Tilley? That’s your name?”

  He blinked once then closed his eyes, but not before he answered.

  “Yes.”

  I managed to stumble my way into the changing room and collapse on a bench. Carson had followed me and Maddox in. Both men wrapped their arms around me and let me sob out my relief. When I was all done being a giant bawl baby, the ICU charge nurse gave me a brief update on Tilley’s status while Maddox called his contact at the FBI and told him we had gotten a name from the patient, one we weren’t sure whether it was his first or last name.

  Two months passed before the information filtered through the witness protection program the Feds put me, Carson and Maddox into that Tilley had made it out of the hospital alive. Many more months would pass before I randomly saw his scarred face as I flipped through the morning news channels. And I didn’t know if I would ever find out how his story ended. But I was content enough that it had continued.

  Epilogue

  Two years later…

  Standing on the kitchen counter as I strained to snag the picnic basket from atop the cupboard, I heard the approaching cough and wheeze of an old pick-up truck. Swearing, I gave a little bounce, hooked the basket’s handle and scrambled down.

  Opening the basket, I pushed everything on the kitchen island into it with a one-arm shoveling motion, then rushed to the bathroom and hid the basket in the tub behind the shower curtain.

  Wiping at skin suddenly turned sweaty, I stepped onto the porch and tried to look normal as the truck came into sight. It was almost two decades old, rusted in parts from many a Montana winter before we bought it, but it had working four-wheel drive and wouldn’t be missed if it got stuck at the back end of the sixty acre homestead we had bought.

  The truck was coming up fast and I squinted to see who was driving — Carson or Maddox. If it was Maddox driving that fast, something was wrong. Shading my eyes against the mid-day sun, I squinted again and saw my ginger-haired daredevil behind the wheel.

  Now that I knew it was unlikely that either one of them was hurt, I was free to scowl over their early return. Going back inside the cabin, I checked the surface areas to ensure I had left nothing incriminating out.

  Carson could overlook almost anything out of place as long as that place wasn’t his work shop. Maddox, on the other hand, would catch it immediately.

  The basket was in the bathroom, the sparkly cider chilling was — chilling, damn it.

  I rushed over to the refrigerator, removed the bottle and put it at the very back of the cupboard surrounded by bigger bottles.

  That left the wrapping paper and boxes, which had been on the kitchen island.

  A slight panic seized me as I remembered the other boxes. Like the basket, they were hanging out in the bathroom, only in plain sight!

  The truck pulled to a stop as I dipped into the bathroom and hid the two empty boxes under the sink. Seeing that I was sweating even more profusely, I kicked the door shut and patted at my face with a hand towel.

  Living on a sixty acre spread with goats, chickens, one malicious milk cow and a solar hot house for year round growing, I didn’t bother with make-up most days. But I had put some on to mark the occasion. Now it needed fixed because they’d come home long before they should have.

  “Babe?” Carson called as he came into the cabin.

  “She knows we’re here,” Maddox told him. “She saw us from the porch.”

  Two seconds later, Maddox knocked on the bathroom door, concern lacing his voice. “You okay, Reg?”

  “Sure,” I answered, the assurance ending on a warbling note.

  “Coming in,” he said, his tone switching instantly to that of an interrogator.

  Dropping the foundation brush back into my cosmetics bag, I slid onto the counter and watched him walk in.

  “Why is your pulse going a hundred miles a minute?”

  Gaze narrowed in suspicion, he reached for the shower curtain as he questioned me.

  “It is not,” I stalled.

  “He’s right,” Carson said, standing in the doorway, teal colored eyes bouncing between us.

  “Because you were driving so recklessly,” I accused. “I thought one of you might be hurt. Why else would you be back from mending the fence so early?”

  “Let me get this straight,” Maddox said, coming to stand in front of me while Carson flanked my side. “You thought one of us was hurt so, instead of waiting on the porch, you came into the bathroom?”

  That’s what I got for falling in love with a police detective. Even if he didn’t wear a badge anymore, he was still a cop. Except witness protection prohibited us from working the jobs we used to and, for Maddox and me, our phony identities wouldn’t get us through the required professional background checks any way.

  I huffed at him for seeing through my charade, but tried my damnedest to keep it going. “Panicked behavior is often irrational.”

  Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the shower curtain.

  “Don’t open it,” I whined.

  His hand paused, the fingers lightly trembling.

  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” I said, pouting as I stared at the floor.

  “Dude, it’s not like she’s got some guy hiding in our shower,” Carson added, rubbing my arm to comfort me. “Shit, you’re worried she does?”

  “Panicked behavior is often irrational,” Maddox deadpanned as he quoted me.

  Shoving his hand into his jeans pocket, he turned and looked at me.

  “I made a picnic lunch,” I confessed. “I was going to bring it out while you worked. Only now it’s all in there topsy turvy because I shoveled it in to hide it.”

  “Aw, babe, I’ll un-topsy turvy it,” Carson volunteered.

  “No!” I grabbed at his arm, then pulled back in embarrassment. “Please, let me do it.”

  He looked at Maddox, a wrinkle of concern that maybe his friend’s paranoia wasn’t so paranoid after all. Maddox shook his head, then captured my face between his hands.

  “It was too cold to work on the fences, the wire was snapping,” he explained. “And it’s too cold for a picnic outside. You can fix the basket while we get a fire going. I’ll spread a blanket out and it’ll be as good or better than being outside. Okay?”

  I nodded, eyes misting. Damn, I loved them. Even when they were being a little crazy, especially when they were crazy because I was crazy, but they still found it in them to trust me. That was when they were at their awesomest.

  Leaning forward, I wrapped my arms around his neck and rewarded Maddox with a slow, soft kiss. Clearing his throat, Carson sidled up next to us.

  “Pretend I just said all that.” He bounced like a little kid, a slight begging tone in his words.

  I curled one arm around his neck, embracing both my men, and gave him the same sweet kiss that I had given Maddox.

  Pulling back, I ordered them out and set about sorting the mess in the picnic basket.

  Luckily I had already put the spillables into sealed containers that had survived my bull dozer approach. That left a few dented sandwiches and silverware that needed sorted — plus the two gift-wrapped boxes with their names on a small card.

  Sticking my head out the bathroom door, I scanned the room to see which one of them wasn’t doing anything. I nodded at Carson.

  “Babe, I hid some chilled cider in the cupboard by the fridge. Could you get it out and get the glasses?”

  He jumped up and went into the kitchen wearing a smile.

  Fighting a fresh wave of worry, I shut the door again and looked in the mirror. I could hide the presents, I silently argued with myself. The gifts would wait. It didn’t have to be today.

  But it h
ad to be soon. The surprise factor definitely had an expiration date.

  Sucking in a huge breath, I hefted the basket on to one arm and headed into the open living area. Maddox had spread several blankets on the ground and had the fire going. Carson had placed the glasses on a side table, along with a bucket of ice and the cider. Taking the basket from me, he kissed my cheek and placed the food on the ground.

  “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” Maddox asked. “You’ve been a little high strung lately.”

  High strung was a polite way of saying I’d been bat shit crazy, only I had been trying to save that for the days they were both occupied outside the cabin — Carson in his wood shop and Maddox at the local one-room library working on his next police procedural novel.

  “If we need to make some changes…” Carson said, his hand rubbing anxiously at my knee. “You just have to tell us what’s wrong.”

  I blinked back tears and leaned forward to open the basket. As I took out the wrapped sandwiches, I nodded at Maddox.

  “You’re closest to the glasses, could you pour?”

  “Of course.” Grim faced, he uncapped the cider and grabbed the first glass, a shadow darkening his features until Carson let out a little squee.

  “Presents, baby?” Carson went from momentarily relieved back to worried. “Did we forget something?”

  “It is two years since the Steel Tide busts,” Maddox said, filling the second glass and handing it to me, his attention on the gift-wrapped box I had placed next to his sandwich. He reached for it just as Carson reached for his.

  “Not until after you eat,” I reprimanded and managed to slap both their hands at the same time without upsetting my glass of cider. “And, no, you didn’t forget anything — although maybe we should consider some kind of anniversary that we can celebrate. I hear girls like things like that.”

  “Challenge accepted,” Carson said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “We were talking about something like that today.”

  I shook my head. “Always talking behind my back, you two.”

  Maddox put the cap back on the cider and raised his glass at me. “Not talking behind your back if it’s positive, love. And it’s always positive.”

  “Eat,” I ordered as they both eyed the present next to their food. “You’ll thank me for making you wait.”

  Unwrapping my sandwich, I took a huge bite, Carson and Maddox quickly following my lead.

  “Are we supposed to talk as if we didn’t have these intriguingly shaped boxes wrapped and with ribbons right in front of us?” Carson asked around his roast beef and pepper jack sandwich.

  “Absolutely. How was your day dear?”

  Maddox chuckled and swallowed the last of his sandwich. Brushing off his hands, he reached for his box.

  “Wait!”

  “You didn’t say we couldn’t eat quickly, Reg.”

  “And I didn’t say all you had to eat was the sandwich. I made potato salad and coleslaw and there are freshly pulped cranberries…”

  They leaned in at the same time to kiss a cheek, their hands sneaky and snatching up the boxes while they had me distracted. For once, Maddox followed Carson’s methodology and ripped at the paper and ribbons.

  “These look like the kind of boxes you get fancy pens in,” Carson said, mouth twisting with the suspicion that I really had made all the earlier fuss over pens.

  Maddox said nothing. His box was already open, his jaw hanging down around his tight, sexy nipples. His mouth snapped shut and then he swallowed hard. He looked from his box to Carson’s and back to me.

  “Two boxes, love…”

  “Yes,” I agreed, not understanding his confusion.

  “Two,” he repeated, his gaze going wide.

  “Oh,” I laughed. “I don’t know.”

  My amusement at the face he was pulling faded. What was he really asking?

  “Reg, you’re pregnant?” Carson asked, staring at the stick with its plus sign — the stick I’d had to pee on, which was why I wanted them to wait until they had finished eating to open their gifts.

  “Yeah…”

  Damn, this was going so wrong. Neither of them looked happy. Was each wondering if the baby was his? Would either of them really care? We had agreed about this eventuality in the first few months of our new relationship. There would be no paternity test, both of them embracing any children as if they were the father.

  Had the reality of it changed their minds?

  “But you just peed on two sticks, right?” Carson said, his gaze now as wide and lost as Maddox’s. He looked at my stomach then around the small cabin. “I mean, you can’t know yet if you’re actually having one or two or even three?”

  “Right,” I answered, my voice growing more and more distant. I dropped my head and started stuffing the food back into the picnic basket, my gaze increasingly averted because I knew I was on the edge of tears.

  Maddox grabbed my hands, his grip tightening when I tried to pull away.

  “Baby, we were both just thinking two tests meant two babies.”

  I shook my head and wept softly as I answered. “I didn’t know how to tell you guys and this was the only way I could figure out how to show you.”

  Carson pushed the food and basket out of the way so he could slide next to me and wrap his arms around my waist, his chin resting softly on my shoulder. “Love, you’ve been scaring the shit out of us since we got home — hell, before that. You’ve been buggy for the last two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “We thought maybe you wanted to leave us…or just one of us.”

  I shook my head, vehemently denying the possibility. I turned into Carson, my heart acutely aware Maddox hadn’t come close to sounding like a baby was something he wanted. Had he ever? Or had my subconscious twisted his words and behavior into something I could fool myself into believing.

  Leaving me to be consoled by Carson, Maddox cleared the food and glasses, taking them into the kitchen and putting everything away. When he returned, he put another log on the fire. Then he sat next to where Carson had pulled me onto his lap.

  Carson tried to guide me toward Maddox, but I refused and buried my face harder against Carson’s chest. I didn’t want to lose them, either of them, but if it was going to happen, I wanted it to occur before the baby arrived — not after.

  “Babe, look at him,” Carson urged, gently fighting me into position then lifting my chin up until Maddox’s face swam in my blurry field of vision.

  “She can’t see me,” Maddox choked, his thumbs coming up to lightly brush at my tears.

  I pushed roughly at his hands and swiped hard at my eyes. When they finally cleared and I looked at Maddox, my heart broke all over again.

  He had been crying, too, was still crying, the tears as restrained as he so often was. Another sob tore me in half and I crawled onto his lap. I didn’t know why he was upset. He had given no reason. But it didn’t matter if it was because he was happy or finally realized it was time to end this experiment. I needed to hold him anyway — needed to pretend it was all okay even if it wasn’t.