Meanwhile, I stand here muddy as fuck because Tag scared the hell out of her tonight. Not a grand thought. I walk to the shower, turn it on and don’t even wait for it to warm up. I step inside. She wastes no time joining me. She grabs the soap and pours it on her and me, the warmth between us not about sex right now. It’s about us taking a moment, our moment, together.
When we finally step out of the shower, it’s not until she’s back in her robe and I have a towel around my waist, that she asks, “You want to talk about what set you off after that Adam visit?” she asks. “Because we both know you fuck hard and fast when you’ve been triggered.”
It’s a question and a statement that works for me. It works because it reminds me that she does get me. She does know I have my demons to battle. And she knew enough in that kitchen, and even in the shower, not to push me to talk until after I’d tamed those demons. Or more like, she tamed those demons.
I scrub a hand through my hair, turn away, and then face her again. “My father is working with Tag.” My hands settle on my hips.
“And you know this how?”
“Walker found the house Tag and his men are staying in. Apparently, my father was brought in to attend to Tag’s injuries, though he didn’t need a fucking surgeon. I didn’t shoot him. Hell, I didn’t even choke him out, but I fucking wanted to.” The words are out, guttural, heart-fucking-felt, and I don’t apologize.
She doesn’t ask for one either. She doesn’t even blink at the brutal words. “He has medical training. He could treat any type of injury, right?”
“You have met my father, correct? The one who is too good for anything but surgery and a bottle?”
Her brows furrow. “Right. Of course. That’s him, for sure.” Her next thought widens her eyes and she holds up a finger. “But,” she says, “do you tell someone like this Tag guy, no? I mean, we know I’ve been used against you. Why not your father?”
“You’re giving my father too much credit.”
“Your father might be a horrible person, Rick, but he’s brilliant. Too smart to refuse the likes of Tag. He could be an unwilling participant.”
“And too dumb to tell me? We were on your porch, alone.”
“Maybe he didn’t get pulled into this until tonight.”
“That doesn’t feel right,” I say, and thinking out loud, I add, “Maybe he was wearing a wire.”
“Is Tag’s operation that advanced?”
“Baby, that’s basic, easy shit, but yes. Highly advanced in ways I hope to never explain to you.”
“You’re one big contradiction. You want to scare me away, but you shut me down when we get too close to the bad stuff.”
She’s right. I do. I need to work that shit out. I step to her and lift her off the sink. “Let’s go to bed and pretend the bad stuff doesn’t exist until morning.”
“To bed? You and me?” Her voice turns hopeful. “Here?”
“Yeah, baby,” I say softly. “You and me, right here.” I catch her hand and kiss it. “Any complaints?”
“Zero complaints, Rick Savage. I know you’ve answered this, oh two or three or six times, but are you sure we really are safe here?”
“Nothing has changed,” I say, happy to repeat any reassurance she needs. “Gabriel’s in Austin. I have men watching him and us.” I tug her forward and lead her to the bed, where I waste no time sliding her robe off her shoulders, my gaze raking over her naked body. “Get in bed and cover up before I break that thirty-minute rule you set.”
She laughs that sweet musical laugh of hers, pushes to her toes to kiss me, and then crawls under the covers. “Undress,” she says. “That’s an order.”
I can’t get in that bed with her soon enough. I grab my phone and quickly set it on the nightstand. The charge is low, but it’ll get me through until morning. And then for the first time in eight long years, I slide into bed with Candace. I’m barely under the covers when she scoots next to me and presses her body to mine.
“Can we make a deal?” she asks when I shift to angle our bodies together.
“Depends on the deal.”
“Wrong answer.”
“Okay, baby. Yes. We can make a deal.”
“Good. On my end, I’ll do my very best to stop beating you up about the past. You’re here now, and I’ll start living in the present.”
I stroke her cheek. “And on my end? I do what?”
“Stop trying to scare me away. Stop calling yourself a killer. I know you’ve killed people.”
“A lot of people.”
“A lot of people,” she repeats and then pushes me to my back and leans over me. “You took orders.”
“I made a lot of money killing people.”
“Did you do it for the money or because my father convinced you that it was where you needed to be?”
“I don’t know anymore. Somewhere along the way, it all got fucked up. I got fucked up.”
“And you got out. I know that story. Adam told me, not you.”
“Candace—”
“Do you do good things with Walker?”
“Yes.”
“Then live in the now with me, Rick. We need each other in the right here and now. I need to live in the now and I think you do, too.”
“Because you think there won’t be a tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but while you were talking to Adam I really gave this some thought. What if we don’t make it through this?”
“We will. We damn sure will.”
“We never have a guarantee of a tomorrow, none of us. My mother, your mother, we both saw that early in life. You’ve seen it in ways I can’t imagine. Make the deal.”
She’s right. I’ve seen too many people die not to know that for a fact. “Deal,” I say. “But, baby—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. Not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” I agree, folding her in my arms, settling her at my side before I reach over and turn out the light, darkness cloaking the room. “Get some rest,” I say, stroking her head.
Her fingers tangle in the hair on my chest, seconds ticking into a full minute before she asks, “What are you going to do about your father?”
“The last thing I want to think about now is my father,” I say, which is true. “Not when I’m in bed with you, where I haven’t been in eight long years. Sleep, baby. We’ll deal with shit and assholes tomorrow.”
She laughs a soft, musical laugh that slides into my soul and settles there with every good moment we’ve ever shared. And then, thankfully accepts my answer, her body slowly softening against mine, her breathing growing steady with sleep. I shut my eyes with every intention of making this, holding her at the end of every day, my life. And to do that, I have no doubt that it’s going to get bloody. And a man needs his sleep to excel at that kind of killing.
CHAPTER TEN
Candace
I wake to sunlight piercing a crack in the curtains, Rick on his back, me snuggling to his hard body, my head on the pillow next to him, my hand on his chest; his heart thrumming a steady, relaxed beat beneath my touch. It’s a surreal, joyful moment that packs an emotional punch. We’re here in this bed together as I thought we never would be again, but for how long? I chide myself for such a thought, giving myself a mental talking to over entering that defeating headspace.
If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't, they never were. A quote my mother attributed to Richard Bach, from his book Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I never actually found it in the book, but it never really mattered. The sentiment of the quote mattered. And the book mattered because of its hopeful content, and because my mother loved it so much. I read it again a year after Rick left. It was that book that snapped me back to reality. That made me look ahead and not behind. He didn’t come back. Until he did.
I kiss his chest and then ease the blanket back, admiring his tattoo, stunned when I find more than the skull wearing a Beret’s hat. There’s a
heart that says San Antonio on it. “That’s for you,” he says, drawing my gaze from it to him. “My way of keeping you with me.”
“It was?” I ask, stunned and pleased by this news.
“Yes. It was. It is.”
“Don’t let my state of awake discourage you. Keep exploring. See what else you find. Me and my cock are mighty happy about that right about now.”
I laugh and kiss that tattoo, my heart warmed by the idea that he got that for me. “How happy?”
“Really fucking happy,” he assures me.
I kiss the stubble on his jaw. “I’d rather see for myself.”
I shift to my knees and reach under the blankets to wrap my hand around his impressive morning wood. “Hmmm,” I murmur. “Seems you are happy to see me this morning.”
I lean in and kiss his belly. The soft, rough sound he makes spurs me onward. I’m living in the moment, and it’s a really fun moment. I move between his legs, holding his shaft in my hand and meeting his burning hot stare. “What are you doing down there?” he asks.
“I thought we’d both like to know I still know how to do certain things.”
“No need to fret, baby. If you forgot, I’ll teach you.”
“Generous of you.”
“Isn’t it?” he asks.
I laugh and my tongue snakes around the head of his cock, which earns me his groan. “I don’t think you need a lesson, baby.”
I laugh, giving him a look that I know is brimming with mischief. “No?”
“No.”
“Let’s be sure. You tell me if I get it wrong.”
“Just to be clear, there is nothing you can do with your mouth on my body that is wrong.”
I lick him again, swirling my tongue around the slick head of his cock, the salty taste of his arousal on my tongue. When he leaves, I’m going to give him more than a tattoo to remember me by. I suck him into my mouth, just the head, and use my tongue again. I know I’ve teased him enough when his hand comes down on my head and his hips lift. I suck him deep and then ease back, licking him like an ice cream cone before I take all of him.
“Oh yeah, baby,” he murmurs. “More. Deeper. Suck me harder.”
I smile because he’s just so raw and real, so very Rick Savage, but I don’t give him what he wants, not just yet. In fact, I want him on edge, beyond the point of no return, and I know how. I stop sucking him and give him a coy look. “Deeper? Harder? I might hurt you.”
He laughs, an almost pained laugh. “Payback is hell, baby. How many ways do you think I can almost make you come?”
I laugh now and lick his head again before drawing him back in my mouth, sucking him harder. And yes, deeper. He doesn’t ask if he can come, because he knows I’m just fine with it. He knows that’s what I want. Because we still know each other so very well. His fingers tangle in my hair, his body tense as he murmurs, “God, baby, you’re so fucking perfect.” And then he’s shuddering with the release. I suck and lick, slowing down, softening my mouth with the ease of his body. I’ve barely removed my mouth from his body when I’m on my back and he’s between my legs.
“My turn,” he says, spreading my legs wider, his fingers stroking down the seam of my slick sex. “You liked doing that to me.”
“Yes,” I say, sensations rocking my body. “I always did.”
He slides fingers inside me. “You did, didn’t you?”
“I do,” I correct weakly. Words aren’t exactly easy right now. My lashes lower and I pant with the stroke of his fingers in just the right place. He always knew just the right place.
“I haven’t started a day with you on my tongue in far too long,” he says, and with that wicked declaration, he proves that mornings with Rick Savage are as perfect as the orgasm I have far too quickly. With a few licks and flicks of my clit, I’m spasming around his fingers. When it’s over, when I’m utterly satisfied, he slides up my body, leans over me and says, “No one else will ever do that to you again. Ever.”
I know what he’s telling me. No more Gabriel. I don’t want Gabriel. I can’t stand Gabriel. Gabriel wants the people involved in the black ops operation dead. That means my father and Rick. I may have to play fiancée a little longer to save my father and Rick. I don’t even think about saying that now. I rasp fingers over his lips and say, “Yours is the only mouth I want on any part of me.”
Amber flecks of approval light his blue eyes and before I know his intent, I’m scooped up and carried towards the bathroom, and a few minutes later, I’m in the shower, water blasting hot while I’m pressed to the wall with Rick pressed inside me. The rest of the world, and its monsters, can just wait. We aren’t ready for them yet.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Candace
Surreal.
It’s all so surreal.
Rick unloads his bag in the closet and bathroom and soon we’re at the double sinks, sharing the bathroom together for the first time in years. He shaves all but his goatee, while I apply light make-up. We steal little glances at each other, our familiar bond growing more and more present with every passing moment.
He dresses in jeans and a Metallica T-shirt that fits his impressive chest to perfection and heads into the bedroom. I dress in black jeans and a black tank. Once I’ve slipped into one of my many hoodies, I then join Rick in the bedroom. My timing gives me a perfect view of him sliding a handgun into a holster at his ankle. With that sight, my spine stiffens and my nerves decide to dance a number on my stomach.
Rick straightens and glances over at me, and with that one quick look at me, his jaw sets hard. “You’re upset.”
“I’m a military brat. I’m not afraid of guns. You know that.”
He crosses to stand in front of me his hands coming down on my arms. “I will never be unarmed. Ever. Does that scare you?”
“Oh please. I like your big gun, Rick Savage,” I tease, my hand flattening on his chest. “I’m fine.” I push to my toes and kiss him, but when I would turn away, he catches my waist. “You didn’t look fine when you saw me with that gun.”
“It was a blast back into reality, that’s all. I’d blocked out Gabriel and my fears for my father, but it’s time to face this and find a way out.”
He gives me a skeptical look. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Positive. This is me, Rick. You know guns don’t freak me out.”
“I’m going to make this go away,” he promises. “And then you’re going to New York with me. I’ll convince you, even if that takes me bending at the knee.”
I laugh. “How very Game of Thrones of you. Tell me about New York.”
He catches my hand. “Let’s talk over coffee at the kitchen table, the way we used to.”
“I’d like that,” I say, pleased with this reminder of our past morning routine, talking and laughing. Starting the day with him was second only to ending the night in his arms.
Ten minutes later, we’re at the table with steaming cups in front of us. “What do you want to know?” he asks.
My first question comes easily. “Why New York?”
“It’s where Walker operates. My apartment is a few blocks from the main office.”
“What does your job entail?”
“When I started with them, I took high-risk overseas jobs for big paydays. The kind of jobs you don’t know if you’ll come back from.”
“And now?” I ask.
“I take local work only, and by local work, I mean stateside.”
“What changed?”
“Walker has a limit. You can only take seven high-risk jobs before they pull you back. They feel like you reach a sanity capacity.”
“Did you want to take those jobs?”
“I didn’t have you, baby.”
“That’s a yes,” I say, not sure how I feel about that. It’s like he had a death wish, or a need to be far away from anything considered normal. “You did,” I add.
“I have money now. Lots of fucking money. I can choose what work I take and when I take it.”
His cellphone rings. “Holy fuck, it always rings at the wrong times.” He pulls it from his pocket and glances at the caller ID. “One guess,” he says.
“Adam.”
“Adam,” he confirms before answering. “What’s cooking, asshole? I’d have said what’s cooking, good looking, but you’re ugly as fuck.” He listens a minute, his expression turning to stone. “Only if he makes me,” he says.
I catch Adam’s muffled curse right before Rick disconnects. “My father just turned onto our street.”
My eyes go wide and I set my cup down. “Any idea why?”
“None,” he says. “But we’re about to find out.” He stands up and I follow, grabbing his shirt.
“Rick,” I say. “Don’t let your history and anger get the best of you.”
“You mean don’t kill him?”
“Don’t do that,” I warn him. “Don’t assume that’s where my head is now or ever. And don’t put words in my mouth. He’s involved in this nightmare. He could prove helpful.”
“If I find out he has any role in threatening you or your father, he’s a dead man. And I won’t apologize for it.”
“Still not scaring me,” I promise, pushing to my toes and kissing him. “Remember the deal. And remember that he might know things that we need to know. Anger won’t get those things out of his mouth, and to your ears.”
My cellphone rings on the table next to my cup. I glance down to find Adam’s number. Rick grimaces and grabs it, answering for me. “You’re calling to tell on me?” he snaps. “Really? Are we twelve now?” He listens a few beats and then grumbles, “Fucktard,” before he hangs up.
The doorbell rings. He sets my phone down and I grab his arm again. “Rick.”
His hands come down on my shoulders and he pulls me close. “I’m not a young man anymore. He can’t push my buttons the way he once did. And I have never, ever, killed from an emotional place.”
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