Slow Ride

by Lori Foster

  Laughing, Ronnie swiped her shoulder over her face and then patted his hip with affection. “You big lummox.”

  He thumped his tail and gave her a big, loose-lipped doggy grin.

  Around the corner came Peanut, tail in the air, fur ruffled, as he tried to catch up. The kitten made a leap for the couch and missed. Howler jumped to assist, but Ronnie quickly said, “Stay! I’ll get him.”

  The dog relented with a whine—until Ronnie scooped up the kitten and put him in the curve of Howler’s body. He gave Peanut a long lick that almost knocked the kitten over, but then allowed him to crawl up to his scruff and groom himself.

  Ronnie laughed.

  “What?” Jack asked, busy spreading the blanket over both of them.

  In the most natural way, she settled into his side, allowing his arm to go around her. “Look at his face.”

  Jack leaned around her, and grinned. Howler’s eyes were wide, wary, but he held perfectly still so he wouldn’t upset the kitten as he got settled in Howler’s neck roll.

  “Such a good, gentle boy,” Ronnie told him, resting a hand on the dog’s lower back.

  Jack turned on the television but kept it low. Only the glow of the intruding porch lights and the flat screen lit the room. He propped his feet on the coffee table and put his head back.

  After a minute, the kitten settled down, and then so did Howler. The two animals dozed back off again.

  For a while, Ronnie was silent, introspective. Then she turned her face up to his.

  Jack brushed back her long bangs, drifted a thumb over her high cheekbone, and waited.

  She turned away again before quietly speaking. “You didn’t need to do this.”

  Inwardly, he sighed. It’d take time for her to understand. He could just state that when she hurt, it hurt him, too, and only being with her helped. If she’d left, he would have felt tortured in the worst possible ways.

  She wasn’t ready to hear all that yet, so instead he asked, “Aren’t you comfortable?”

  “Very comfortable.” She proved it by laying one leg over his and cuddling closer.

  His heart seemed to fill up his chest until there wasn’t room for his lungs to draw oxygen. How did you tell a woman you’d only known for a week that she was it, the one, and that everything good and bad was different, better, with her? How did you convince a person who’d been hurt so badly, whose love had been disregarded, trampled by those who should have been there for her no matter what?

  For now, his number one priority was to make her feel safe. If he could accomplish that, he’d consider the night a win.

  Trailing his fingertips up and down her slender arm, Jack asked, “Is it better, not being alone?”

  Her fingertips toyed with his stomach, brushing over the hair that led from his navel to his cock. “Yes.”

  “Good.” If she didn’t stop touching him like that, he’d get hard. His touted control seemed sorely lacking around Ronnie. “Sleep if you want. Or we can talk if you prefer.” Jack waited, hopeful.

  Time came and went. She wasn’t as stiff anymore, and her breathing was more even, less strained. Luckily, her teasing hand left his stomach as she hugged around him. “It’s just...sometimes in the dark I can almost feel myself back in that trunk. There’s not enough air and it’s too hot. There was something under my hip, here—” she carried his hand to her side “—and it left a big bruise on me that lasted two weeks.”

  Jack spread his hand protectively over the spot.

  “When the memories come back, it hurts all over again. Like it’s fresh. I can’t...can’t breathe right.” With a small gasp, she wiped at her eyes, then gave a shaky, self-deprecating laugh. “Sometimes it puts tears in my eyes, too, just like it did way back then.”

  God, his heart just completely shattered. His own eyes grew damp. “You’re not expected to be a rock all the time.” She started to object, but he continued. “Hell, Ronnie, hearing about it makes me want to cry. I can’t even imagine living through it.”

  She gave a choked snort. “You don’t cry.”

  “Ah, babe. Everyone cries sometimes, even badass chicks with loads of ’tude.”

  Laughing, she tucked her face into his side. “I don’t have attitude.”

  “You have more attitude than a pack of lions prowling through sheep. But I like it, so it’s not a complaint.”

  Once again, she went quiet. They were twined together, him slouched on the couch, feet up, her draped over and around him. Next to them, Howler snored and the kitten purred. Only the quietest hum came from the TV.

  “That was a first for me.”

  Jack smiled. “Coming while I ate you?”

  She tucked closer and gave him a smack. “Don’t talk about it.”

  Her scandalized order brought a rumbling laugh from his chest. “You liked it,” he teased.

  “Shut it.” She dared a quick peek up. “I thought my firsts were behind me, you know? But since meeting you, everything is different.”

  “Different better?”

  “Fishing for compliments?”

  More like fishing for reassurance that she’d stick around for a while, but hell if he’d admit it. Doing so might just scare her off. “I heard you, saw you, and felt you, babe. I don’t need any compliments beyond that.”

  She scrunched her nose as she scrutinized him. “I was going to do the same to you.”

  Lust had no place in the moment, but still it kicked him in the gut. “The same?”

  “You know. A blow job.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I was going to try that on you.”

  How the hell was he supposed to not get hard? Though Jack did his best not to visualize it, his breathing deepened. “Yeah, just so you know, I’m on board with that idea.”

  Looking up at him, she asked, “Now?”

  Ah, hell. His dick jumped up with an enthusiastic yes, but his heart and mind, always more reasonable, claimed the timing wasn’t right. Ronnie was finally opening up, not just with facts but with honest feelings, and that took precedence over everything else.

  Trying for a look of mock sternness, he said, “Right now we’re talking.”

  “No, I’m whining and you’re forced to listen.” She turned away. “I hate being pathetic.”

  “You aren’t and never could be.” Jack hugged her, then put a kiss on the top of her head. It took him a second to find the right words. “You can’t know what this means to me.”

  “This?” She peered up at him again, her eyes bright with the unshed tears she disdained so mercilessly.

  It was all he could do not to take that soft, lush mouth. Her skin was so smooth and warm, her hair tangled. And she wanted him. Again.

  Priorities, he reminded himself.

  He smoothed down her hair, brushing it all to one side the way he’d often seen her do. The silky strands fell into place. “This feels like we’re building something, like we’re getting closer. I want that with you.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “I want that a lot.”

  Their gazes held while she visibly wrestled with her thoughts. “I don’t want anyone, especially you, to see me as weak.”

  “Ronnie. That’s not what this is about.” Jack threaded his fingers into her hair again, then gave her head a waggle. “Weak is not a word I’d ever use to describe you. Stubborn, yes. Antagonistic. Independent. Resilient, tenacious, strong.” So many emotions crossed her expression, he forgot about his erection and her interest in blow jobs. “No one can doubt your strength, honey. I’m just saying that you don’t always have to be strong, not with me.”

  Breath shuddered into her, came out as whimper, and then the tears spilled down her cheeks. Jack felt his lungs constrict as he gathered her up against his chest, rocking her slightly, crushing her as close as he dared.

  Howler lifted his head in question, his dogg
y eyebrows beetled up in worry. “She’s okay, buddy,” Jack assured the dog, but damn it, he sounded a little choked up, too.

  Ronnie gave a watery laugh and turned to see Howler. “Oh, baby. I’m sorry.” She stretched out an arm to scratch under his chin. “I really am okay. Promise.”

  Howler’s gaze went from her to Jack and back again. He licked her hand before dropping his head, closing his eyes, and letting out a long sigh.

  Ronnie smiled a little crookedly. “See,” she said, dashing angrily at her wet cheeks. “No good comes from crying.”

  Already her nose had turned red and the skin under her eyes was blotchy. It was enough to dismantle him. “How often does it haunt you?”

  She rolled a shoulder that was too small to carry such a burden. “Often enough to piss me off.” She choked on the words, sniffled. “Often enough that I...sometimes grab a one-night stand so I don’t have to spend the whole night alone.”

  “I’m not judging you, not in any way,” Jack said. “It’s important that you know that. But from now on, you’ll come to me.” Using the side of his fist, he tipped up her chin. “Okay?”

  “Long as you’re delivering like you did tonight, sure. Be glad to.” She flagged a finger between them. “But that goes both ways. Not that you can’t sleep at night, but I don’t think you should sleep with anyone else.”

  Did she really have any doubts about that? She consumed his thoughts. Every part of him wanted her, only her. Jack gave a nod and settled on saying, “As long as you’re here, no one else exists.”

  Her lips twitched. “Aww, aren’t you romantic.” She barely smothered a yawn before getting comfortable with him again. “I don’t know what triggers it.” Her voice went soft again, with embarrassment, regret. Maybe resentment. “Some days will pass when... Well, I never forget, you know? But a lot of the time it doesn’t plague me. It’s not front and center. Then suddenly, it’s there, more alive, dark and scary. It... I don’t know. It smothers me, taking me back to that day, to how panicked and confused I was when he grabbed me. You can’t know, can’t imagine what it’s like to be angrily shoved into a trunk.”

  “No, I can’t. I’m listening, though, if you want to tell me.”

  She paused, swallowed. “I tried to scramble back out. You should know, even shocked and scared stupid, I didn’t just let him do it.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say to that. As a girl, she wouldn’t have stood a chance against a grown man intent on harming her.

  “I fought him, but he slammed the trunk. If I hadn’t jerked my hand back in time, or my knee, he’d have crushed them.” She stilled, trembling. “It didn’t matter to him. I didn’t matter to him.”

  Jack rubbed his hands up and down her slim back, over her shoulder. He wished he could get his hands on the bastard who’d done this to her.

  And on her fucked-up family, too. They’d abandoned her when she needed them the most and he wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave them.

  “Sometimes,” Ronnie continued in a whisper, “it seems like it happened so long ago it shouldn’t even be a memory anymore. Other days, though, it feels like it happened yesterday.”

  “Have you noticed any triggers?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He couldn’t keep his hands from touching her, coasting over her skin and hair. Assuring himself she was okay. “I would think what just happened, being attacked by a thug with a knife, could bring it front and center. You have a dangerous job.”

  “Not usually.”

  Too often for him to rest easy. “Do you think that could have anything to do with it? The danger today maybe ignited your memory of the kidnapping?”

  “Maybe.” She yawned widely, avoiding further discussion. “We should get some sleep.”

  The finality in that statement told Jack not to push—except he couldn’t resist one little suggestion. “I’m comfortable here. How about you?”

  Her gaze jerked up to his. “You want to sleep here?”

  “We’re all settled in. Why not?” Jack saw the suspicion in her eyes, as well as the relief. She probably dreaded going back to the bed, but Ronnie would never admit it. So he gave her an easy out. “No reason to disturb the animals since they’re already up.”

  Her gaze searched his. “Yeah, true. You can sleep here?”

  “I’m halfway there already,” he lied.

  “Mmm.” She squirreled around, getting situated, ensuring the blanket was over her toes, then said around another yawn, “Okay, then. If you insist.”

  Because it’d make it easier for her, he said, “I do.”

  Within minutes, her deep breathing joined that of Howler’s snores.

  It was a gift, to help her rest, to know that he’d played a part in making her feel secure enough to go back to sleep. Jack stayed awake for another hour, loving the feel of her in his arms. Loving her.

  No reason to deny it. Hell, he’d probably fallen a little in love with her that very first day and every minute after that had just secured the feeling. He kissed her lightly on the crooked part in her pale hair, then closed his eyes.

  He needed time. Time to win her over. Time to convince her.

  Time to show her exactly how good it could be if they stayed together.

  As long as she was with him, he had a chance.

  That is, if he could resolve the threat against her first.

  * * *

  THE BROTHERS WERE not what Jack had expected. Willowy thin, with straight inky hair that hung to their shoulders and flat blue eyes set against smooth pale skin. They were near-mirror images of each other, with only the subtlest of differences that helped him to tell them apart.

  They both stood around five-seven or five-eight, wearing matching black outfits. Drake had a very slight scar in his right eyebrow, and Drew probably weighed twenty pounds more than his brother, evidenced in a slight pouch at his gut. Their deep, modulated voices were no doubt fake, used for dramatic effect. Overall, they seemed harmless. Sad, actually.

  It didn’t take him long to realize that they relied on Ronnie. She appeared to be their grounding link to the real world.

  They urged her in and treated her like she’d only just been assaulted. Of course, she didn’t tolerate that for long.

  “Knock it off already.” Dropping into a padded easy chair, she huffed her annoyance and swatted away their hands. “You guys know how I feel about personal space.”

  They immediately took two horrified steps back, as if gravely afraid of her temper.

  Jack barely bit back a laugh.

  Until she flagged a hand at him. “Why aren’t you fussing on Jack? He was there, too, you know.”

  Owl-eyed, both brothers looked at him.

  Dryly, Jack said, “I’m fine.” He held out a box containing the thankfully preserved rat and snake that they’d collected earlier. On top was the envelope with the photos. “Where do you want this stuff?”

  “Oh.” Drew stepped forward, his bottom lip in his teeth. “Is it heavy?”

  Jack switched the box to one hand. “No.”

  “Excellent.” He accepted it as if handling something extremely fragile. “I’ll just go put this by the basement steps.”

  “Perhaps some coffee,” Drake intoned, “while you’re in there.” He gestured for Jack to sit. “That detective called.”

  “Yeah?” Taking the chair nearest Ronnie, Jack asked, “How’d that go?” As he spoke, he looked around. The house could belong to a great-grandmother...if the great-grandmother had never updated anything.

  “He asked many questions but there wasn’t much I could tell him.” Drake’s gaze shifted to Ronnie again. She stared back until he cleared his throat and looked away. “We’re very sorry for the trouble.”

  Jack nodded his understanding. Drake did look sorry—and fearful that he might lose their services. He co
uld have told the man that Ronnie wouldn’t be quitting anytime soon, but Jack decided to leave that up to her.

  “Will the detective visit you?” Ronnie asked.

  “No. He said the phone interview sufficed but if they’re able to lift any fingerprints or anything, they might need us to come to them.”

  Jack glanced around the old-fashioned house again, taking in the ancient architecture, glass doorknobs, and cove ceilings. “All we can do going forward is better prepare with some research. That means I check locations before you agree to send us after something.”

  “Entirely acceptable,” Drake promised. “I, um, might already have something. That is, if Ronnie is comfortable with—”

  Ronnie snorted. “What, where, who?”

  Drew slunk back in with a tray of coffees, sugar bowl, and a little creamer urn. “I brought cookies,” he announced solemnly.

  Jack got the impression that the brothers didn’t have company very often. If collecting oddities did it for you, he imagined it might be difficult to make friends other than the other weirdos who hung out on the message boards doing the same.

  Then he thought of Therman Ritter, Brodie’s main employer and his sister-in-law Mary’s pseudo family. Therman collected murderabilia, which was actually worse than a two-headed snake, but where things differed was wealth. Therman lived in a mansion, not a two-bedroom bungalow in a lower middle-class neighborhood.

  As Jack sipped his coffee, he glanced at Ronnie.

  She had half a cookie in her mouth and another on her knee while she dumped sugar into her coffee. For a woman so petite, she had a voracious appetite.

  After a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and potatoes, she’d helped him work around the house. He put away heavy tools in the living room while she’d insisted on finishing the paint job he’d only half completed. That freed him up to do some remaining work in the kitchen.

  In between letting Howler out and taking a few breaks, they’d accomplished a lot.

  Most helpful, though, was when she took another shower before they left, which allowed him to talk to Brodie again.