Renner (In the Company of Snipers Book 19)

by Irish Winters

  At last, Renner fell back to earth with his arms and soul, his heart, finally full again—filled with Tara. He lay there with his eyes closed, breathing hard but so much at peace, content to absorb the sublime sensation of her body weight on his. Her warm breath in the hollow of his neck. Her hair spread like a luxurious cape over him. What a ride. But what a landing, too.

  “Umm, hey there,” she murmured, her heart still pounding. “Do you have any tissues or… Oh, wait. There’s my underwear.”

  “You had underwear? When?” he teased. He couldn’t remember anything once she’d unsnapped her bra and those soft, sweet breasts fell in his face.

  “I don’t want to make a mess,” she said as she eased her panties between them. “You say when.”

  He shook his head. “Never gonna happen. I’m happy right here.” And then it hit him. Shit. “Please tell me you’re on some kind of birth control, because, baby—” Yeah. Right. B.A.B.Y.

  She winked. This delightful woman winked. “Are you kidding? Do you honestly think I’d take a chance of that bastard knocking me up? Ever?” She shivered. “Of course, I’m on birth control. He never knew but then he never asked. He just assumed he owned me.”

  Ugh! Renner squeezed his whole face shut. He should have asked, too. He’d never had unprotected sex before now, and he didn’t know what made this time different, other than the goddess in his hands. His mama didn’t raise no fools. Until now. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked earlier. Hell, I should’ve—”

  “Oh, stop,” Tara purred, those magnificent breasts still delightfully warm against his chest, her nipples turning into diamond-hard tips again. Made Renner forget what he was saying and thinking and worrying about and… Oh, hell. Whatever.

  “It’s my body. Sex and birth control are my responsibilities, too,” Tara told him, a glint of rowdy mischief in her eyes. “It’s the twenty-first century. What do you think I am, some poor little housewife who lets her big, strong man make all her decisions for her?” She wriggled her backside when she said that.

  He couldn’t help that his palm landed a gentle spank on said ass. “I could see you in an apron. Naked. When I get home from work at the end of a long hard day.”

  Those sparkling blue eyes widened. “I could see you with a ball gag,” she said with attitude and a toss of her head.

  “A what? Are you into…?” Oh, God, no. As much as he’d love seeing her in leather, Renner’s manhood cringed at the thought. “Whips? Chains? BDSM?”

  She made the cutest frowny face and shook that red silk cape of hers into his face. “No way! I just had to top that apron insult of yours. But no. Eww, no. I don’t get the thrill in letting a man beat you. Been there. Done that. The hard way. Trust me, rape it isn’t sexy and it wasn’t fun.”

  Something inside Renner broke then. He tugged this audacious, competitive woman down to his level, cupping her stubborn winner-take-all jaw carefully between his palms, thumbing the warm blush on her cheeks and blinking to keep his tears at bay.

  “I will never hurt you, Tara,” he told her as he tipped her lips to his and kissed her gently. Completely. “Ever,” he breathed in her mouth. “If you don’t know anything else about me, please know that.”

  But Renner could definitely understand how she’d gotten herself into trouble. Tara led with her chin. She tended to come off tougher than she really was. He and she were quite the pair, him with his never-back-down-from-a-dare chip on his shoulder, her with her tough-girl want-some-of-me? routine. They’d both made stupid decisions that they were living and dealing with now. Guess that was called life.

  She moaned then as he rolled her over and planted his knees between her legs, making sure he didn’t bump her head. A word crawled up his throat from his over-flowing heart, not choking him, just sitting there, letting him know he could call on it if it needed to be spoken. Looking down on her, watching the glow in her eyes and the way she licked her lips while eyeing his mouth, Renner knew he loved this woman. Yes, she’d made her share of mistakes, but didn’t everyone? Tara fought for her friends with her whole heart. She should’ve been a Marine.

  But things had happened so quickly between them these last couple days, and she’d already told him she didn’t love him, that she might want to spend time with him. Might. Not marry. Not move in. Just get to know each other better.

  Yet his heart ached to tell her. To ask her.

  “So umm…?” He thrust his hips forward suggestively.

  A smile blossomed over her face. “Umm, yes,” she said as she matched his forward thrust with one of her own. Her nose wrinkled. “I could do this all night.”

  And yup. Renner was head over heels in love with this fierce, sexy woman. He could do her… All. Night. Long.

  Tara lay wrapped in Renner’s arms, watching the fire. He was asleep, or at least his eyes were closed and his breathing was even. He’d relaxed. That alone was a nice change from his normally tense demeanor. They’d made their mad dash into the restroom, but only to clean up enough to return to the blanket-bed he’d made in his living room. He’d grabbed a couple pillows and two comforters from his extra bedroom, one for a mattress, the other for a cover. Which Tara didn’t need. She’d never felt safer than lying with Renner with all her sins laid bare.

  The only thing she hadn’t bared yet was her heart.

  But her long journey from bondage was finally over. Did she dare dream that this interlude with this particular man could be more? And therein lay Tara’s problem. She’d been stupid before. Make that she’d been an outright raving idiot when she’d tossed her life and her freedom to the wind and married What’s-His-Name. Not that Renner had yet asked her to marry him. He hadn’t. Not that she’d expected he would or even wanted to. But if he did…?

  That was what scared her. She licked her lips, her heart thumping at how badly she’d suffered through her last mistake. Decisions that had once seemed obvious were now complicated and frightening. There was no such thing as happily ever after. True love was a joke. There were no princes on white stallions, either. There was only experience, and it was a cruel, hard teacher.

  The back of her head still hurt from where she’d cracked it on the concrete floor back in that butcher shop. Her thick hair covered the bump, and people were prone to forget it was there. But her ribs were still plenty tender. While the cuts Jorge had decorated her arm with seemed to be healing, the back of her hand where Grumpy Cat had once glared back at the world was damned sore. It couldn’t be stitched, and it hurt every time she flexed her fingers.

  And… okay, yes, she was scared of commitment. Scared shitless. As much as she wanted Renner to protect her, she knew that wasn’t the way life worked. You either stood up for yourself or you chickened out. How well she’d learned that lesson, not only at Jorge’s hard hand, but while staring down Chicken Springs, Mount Ogden Bowl, or shredding the halfpipe off Snow King, her favorite runs at Snow Basin, Utah. That was where she’d tested her mettle as an Olympic hopeful. That was where she’d crashed and burned. But by hell, she’d kicked back into her bindings, and she’d skied those dangerous runs again. Over and over until fear was just a jokester along for the rides of her life. Man, those were the days. She’d been on top of the world. Headed for fame and fortune. Her name on a box of cereal.

  So why was she afraid now? Why couldn’t she nestle back under the covers alongside this to-die-for naked, handsome man she knew she loved now that she was safe?

  “Hey,” he grumbled, his voice hoarse with sleep. “You’re taking the covers.”

  “Oops, sorry,” she said as she turned to pull the blanket over him.

  Instead, he rolled her into his arms and onto her back, the flames from that log flickering like magic in his darkened eyes, one hand cupping her skull. “Can’t sleep?” he asked as he smoothed her tangled tresses off her face while he nestled his hips between her legs.

  “Just thinking,” she said, opening wide for him, loving the way his body fit
into hers. Wanting him back again, tucked deep inside. The way Renner fit so easily into her pelvic cradle was so much more intimate than what Jorge had done to her body. This night with Renner had been about making love and discovery. He’d been careful and gentle. Playful and sweet. Never impatient. As strong as she knew he was, Renner didn’t have it in him to be cruel.

  “Don’t think so hard, Tara. Trust me, it’s not healthy, especially at night. That’s when I do all my worst imaginings,” he whispered as he planted a warm wet kiss on her mouth and gave her what she wanted. His length and his heat. “Things always look worse at night.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Tara ran a hand over his head, loving the lush cool feel of his hair sifting through her fingers. Loving him, but afraid to tell him even as she pushed forward to seat him deeper. “You really are my hero. I know you guys don’t like to hear that, but I owe you my life, Renner. Think about it. We’ve only known each other three days, and when I needed you most—”

  He covered her mouth with his, swallowing her fear and her doubts, rocking into her. Filling her. Making her believe. Tara closed her eyes and let the storm that was Renner Graves roll over her. If this truly was love, it was perfect. It was divine.

  This was his gift. He knew how much she needed soft and sweet and slow.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Brinnnngggg! Damn. Renner peeled one bleary eye open, his arm still snug around Tara. Her head was on his chest and her one palm was splayed delightfully low on his belly. But his cell was in his pants and his pants were… Hell, he didn’t know where they were. Brinnnngggg went his cell again, and he wondered why he’d selected that annoying old-style telephone ring instead of a nice quiet buzz he could ignore. Maybe because that call was his Mom?

  Tara yawned. “Your phone’s calling you.”

  That earned her a playful smack on her bare ass. “You think?”

  “Wait here, I can get it for you,” she mumbled sleepily even as she lifted to her hands and knees and—

  Holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. That woman had his glowing pink handprint on one cheek of her very fine ass. But when she turned that ass around and tossed his pants in his face, Renner’s whole body sprang to attention.

  “Stop staring,” she teased, wiggling her sexy derriere, which jiggled her breasts, which short-circuited his brain, and—

  “Come here,” he growled even as his phone rang again.

  “Phone first. Sex later.”

  “Awww…” All he heard was phone sex. “…but I’ve been good—”

  Brinnnngggg!

  “Damn it, Mom,” he complained as he fumbled his phone out his jeans pocket and answered, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “What kept you?” she asked, as sweet and as nosy as ever, not bothering with his question.

  “Just waking up. What do you want?” And make it quick, I’ve got someone to do.

  Tara was laying on her stomach by then, her blanket shoved aside and every inch of her body delectably bare and ready for breakfast. He licked his lips, eating her up with his eyes while his ears tried to listen to something about Christmas dinner and eggnog and Midnight Mass at Saint Patrick’s.

  Renner blew Tara a kiss, crooking his finger for her to come closer if she dared.

  Uh, uh, her head shake answered, but he was pretty sure there was yes, yes in her eyes.

  “Renner! Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “Umm…” No. “Yeah, Mom, you want me to bring eggnog to dinner and, umm…” Shit. “No. Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. Say again.”

  She laughed. “I said I guess we won’t be seeing you come Christmas morning, not with you being recognized by the honorable Governor Tillis and Mr. Jed McCormack for heroism in the line of duty. My guess is you’ll be too busy hobnobbing with the president by then to remember you’re making eggnog.”

  “Excuse me, but what are you talking about?” Renner honestly thought she’d been drinking a little early this morning. “Me hobnobbing with who?”

  “Never mind, but do me a favor, boyo of mine. Read the paper or at least turn on the news. You and that pretty woman you brought into my place a couple nights ago are front page news. Then call me and we’ll talk. Get a move on.”

  “Umm, yeah. Bye, Mom.” Renner traded his cell for the big screen remote in time to catch breaking news. “Come here,” he told Tara, motioning for her to sit beside him. She did, still naked, still delectable. He guided that cute ass onto his lap as some national news reporter talked over a camera shot of him carrying Tara out of Montego’s ghoulish meat-packing plant last night.

  “Wow,” Tara breathed as the camera zoomed in for a close, personal picture of Renner’s grim face, his hand firm at the back of her head and her head on his chest. She’d had her eyes closed as if she’d been saved, which she had. But he looked pissed and fierce and mad as hell, as if he dared anyone to step one foot in his way.

  “Alex isn’t going to like this,” Renner deadpanned even as the reporter said, “There he is now! That’s our homegrown hero with just one of the many people he rescued! Renner Graves, of—”

  “Don’t do it,” he growled, but the reporter beamed like giving the entire world his address was a good and right thing to do. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, angry all over again and his personal security violated.

  “I can’t believe she said that,” Tara murmured. “I wouldn’t like everyone knowing where I live.”

  “Me either,” he replied, trying to keep his cool.

  As if on cue, his cell buzzed like an angry hornet from the floor where he’d dropped it. “Speak of the devil,” Renner muttered before he answered, “Yes, Boss?”

  “You and I need to talk,” Alex bit out. “My place. One hour.”

  “Copy that,” Renner answered, but then had to ask, “As in at your home or the office?”

  “My home, but make that two hours. Kelsey’s telling me you might not be up yet since you were late getting in last night.”

  “I’ll be the—”

  “And bring your girlfriend,” Alex ordered before the connection went dead.

  Renner stared at his phone, surprised it wasn’t smoking in his hand, just as surprised that Alex knew Tara was with him. Not like that was a big secret, but he couldn’t help wondering who else knew.

  “What’s he mad about now?”

  “Not sure, but if he already knows that reporter blew my cover, that’d be enough.”

  “Still, why would he be mad at you over that and not her?”

  “Not sure, but let’s get moving. We can grab breakfast on the way.”

  Showering together wasn’t as pleasurable or as long as Renner had planned, but driving west to Alex’s home with Tara at his side was great. He caught a quick glance at the woman by his side. Dainty, yet brave. A traumatized risk-taker. Beautiful despite her bruises and bumps, yet kind despite them. She sat there quiet and peaceful, watching the road and traffic.

  After the steady go-go-go of the last few days, Renner realized just how much he’d needed this quiet time with Tara. They seemed to fit together, like a pistol fits a hand. Okay, so that wasn’t the most romantic metaphor, but it felt right. It felt good. Pistols didn’t fit a guy’s hand until after hours and hours of practice and muscle training, until that weapon became an extension of that hand, like a finger or thumb. Until it became a part of him.

  There was no lightning bolt, no brilliant epiphany to convert him. Just his hand in hers and the quiet everyday silence that stretched between them. He could feel it happening deep inside. The warmth. The flood. This was what he wanted, this thing—whatever it was—right here. This sense of finally getting it right. Of belonging...

  But damn. She’d wrapped her wet hair into a tight bun after their first couple’s shower, and that bun had unraveled with every mile. By the time he pulled his TEAM vehicle up to Alex’s gate, she’d gone from prim and proper to downright sexy, X-rated hot, hot, hot. Es
pecially in his USMC t-shirt that came nearly to her knees.

  What Renner wouldn’t give to back this ride out of Dodge and grab a room at the nearest hotel. But yeah, not happening. Not with Alex on the war path.

  Several other vehicles lined both sides of the street. Harley’s red Jeep, Maverick’s new Chevy pickup, Taylor’s ratty old truck, which Renner knew had once belonged to Maverick’s brother who’d died in Afghanistan. A brand-new Mercedes he didn’t recognize. A Porsche—had to be Zack’s. Mark and Libby’s much larger family van.

  Interestingly, the driveway gate was open, something that hadn’t happened in over a year. Renner opted to park on the street in case Alex needed to leave in a hurry. No sense poking the bear.

  “Let’s do this,” he said as he ushered Tara along the brick walk to the Stewarts’ front door.

  Cute little Lexie swung it open before he had a chance to knock. “Hi, Unca Renner!” she squealed as she barreled into him and hugged his leg.

  “Women just can’t keep their hands off you, can they?” Tara teased.

  “It’s a gift,” he said as he scooped Lexie over his head and set her on his shoulders. “Brrrrr, aren’t you cold?”

  She snagged his ears, bouncing like they were handles and he was her horse. “It’s almost Chwistmiss!”

  “Yeah, well that doesn’t make me a reindeer. Settle dow—” Renner’s mouth dropped.

  “Surprise! Surprise!” Lexie squealed, bouncing harder and faster.

  Surprise nothing. It was—Lois McCormack. Standing there. Breathing.

  “Ma’am,” Renner managed to spit out. “Um, ah—you’re not dead.”

  She stood there very much alive, her palm resting on a very proud Jed McCormack’s forearm, with that genuine motherly smile she was so well known for beaming on her pretty face. “No, I’m not, Agent Graves, and thanks to you, I finally have my life back.”

  That almost made him sound like a miracle worker. Both silver-haired and kindly featured, Mr. and Mrs. McCormack looked healthy and happy, and, well, Jed looked smarter than he had in months.