by Peggy Jaeger
“Why did you?” She’d been dying to know the answer for four years.
Rick bent to her ear, his chin tickling the skin at her neck. The club was warm from the heated sweat of the dancers and the crush of bodies lining the bar and the perimeter of the room, but when Rick’s hot breath sailed over her skin, Abby shuddered. His hand moved to her naked back, smoothing and rubbing along her skin, tantalizing her, seducing her. Making her want to beg.
“I’ll tell you later,” he said. “Right now I just want to enjoy holding you like this.” A swift kiss to her temple and he spun her around again.
Abby threw back her head and laughed. Glee and a deeper pleasure gamboled through her as her hips swayed to the music. She did something she rarely, if ever, did: relinquish control. Control of the dance, control of herself. Rick was the master, she his partner. A willing, captive partner.
Rick never let go of her as he dipped her backward. With her hair flying loose, almost touching the floor when he arched her back, she bent one leg up and felt her knee graze along the front of his pants. He pulled her back upright and held her against the length of his body.
The glaze in his eyes turned feral when she ground against him, moved back, and then plunged again. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. The sense of feminine dominance bounding through her was heady and erotic. If they’d been alone in her apartment instead of in a crowded nightclub she would have stripped him naked, jumped up, and filled herself, with him.
When she bumped against the front flap of his pants, he jumped. Over the deafening drum of the music, she heard him growl. Nothing had ever felt as exquisite, as fulfilling, as the sense of power slamming through her.
So she did it again.
With another deep grumble, Rick pulled her flat up against him, caging her hips between his hands. Abby slid her hands up his chest to twine behind his neck. There wasn’t an inch of space between their upper bodies as they continued to rock together.
“Abby. Stop.”
“Stop what?” She lifted her knee and rubbed it along the length of his thigh, dangerously just missing the part of him she really wanted to rub.
“Abigail.”
For once, the use of her name didn’t bother her in the least. She settled her pelvis against his and rocked side to side.
“I’m gonna have to punish you for that, Abigail,” Rick said into her ear. His words told he was angry, but his voice…well, his voice told her anger wasn’t what he was feeling at all.
Abby let go a dramatic sigh. “Promises, promises…Fred.” She bit down on his earlobe.
Rick hissed in a breath, his shoulders lifting with the effort. In the next instant, he was pulling her from the dance floor, his hand a ball of steel wrapped around hers.
“Sit.” He pointed to her chair, his command clipped and strained.
While Abby slid back into her chair and took a sip of her drink, Rick stood and gulped his water. He slammed the empty glass down on the table and said, “Be right back.” He pointed his finger at her this time. “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. Understand?”
In answer, she cocked her head and saluted him.
He weaved through the throng of dancers, aiming for the restrooms.
While Abby took another sip of her drink, secretly smiling at the effect she’d had on him, Ellie nailed her with a wide-eyed look of surprise.
“Holy shit!”
It was so unusual to hear her sister curse, Abby couldn’t help it; she laughed.
“What was that?” Ellie asked, her eyes practically jumping out of her head.
Ever the lawyer, Abby deflected. “We were dancing.”
“Sister dear, I’ve seen you dance thousands of times with all manner of boys and men. What you two were doing on that dance floor in no way, shape, or form resembled dancing.”
Abby took another sip of her drink. “What would you call it, then?”
“Dry humping? Sex, fully clothed? A standing lap dance? Any of those will do.”
Like Rick had earlier, Abby sputtered her drink.
“That’s a little graphic, even for you,” she said while she swiped at her wet chin.
“Are the two of you hooking up off the dance floor, or was that some kind of pent-up sex-amba because you’re not?”
“What the heck is a sex-amba?”
“Like a sex-infused samba.”
Abby stared at her, dumbfounded. “How is it you’re the baby of the family and know stuff like that, and I’m way older and have no clue what you’re talking about?”
“Don’t change the subject, Abigail June.”
Under her stare, Abby’s face heated because, of course, that was what she’d been doing.
“Rick has been around you constantly for what I’m guessing is at least a week, if not more. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Abby said. When her sister opened her mouth again, Abby quickly added. “Really, El. I’m helping him with a case he’s working on. That’s all.”
“What kind of case?”
“Nosy, much? I can’t tell you. Really. It’s confidential.”
Eleanor blinked a few times. “Okay. I get it. But the two of you look like you’re doing more than just”—she added air quotes—“working on a case. He can’t keep his eyes off you. I noticed it in the hospital in Kandy’s room, but even before that when you were sick. He tracked every move you made.”
Abby swiped a hand carelessly in the air. “He was afraid I was going to pass out, and he didn’t want to have to scrape me off the floor if I did.”
“Okay, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told outside of a courtroom.”
“And that’s too insulting for a response.”
Eleanor squinted at her. “Are the two of you sleeping together?”
“Well, he is sleeping in my apartment, so technically, yes.”
“Stop it, Abby. Stop being an obnoxious lawyer for one minute, nitpicking every word I say, and tell me the truth. Are you having sex with Rick Bannerman?”
Unfortunately, before she could answer, two things happened. One, the DJ took that moment to stop pouring the music into the room so he could have a break, and Rick came back to their table. He’d heard the question, as had everyone within ten feet of them. His gaze zeroed in on Eleanor’s face, and his lips hardened into a thin line.
“That’s none of your business, Eleanor.” Abby was surprised his voice was calm because the expression on his face was anything but.
“She’s my sister, so yes, it is. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“He’s not the one who’s going to hurt me, Ellie. He’s the one protecting me,” Abby said before Rick could answer.
“What the hell does that mean? Abby, are you in some kind of trouble?” Eleanor reached across the small table and grabbed her hands.
Maybe it was the alcohol killing her rigid inhibitions, or the pent-up emotions running through her concerning Rick, but whatever the reason she tried to give herself, the simple fact was Abby had divulged something she shouldn’t have because now Eleanor would do the one thing she’d wanted to prevent: worry about her older sister.
“Abby?”
With a shake of her head, she downed the remnants of her drink and then said, “Let’s get out of here. I’m…I’m tired.”
Without a word of protest, Eleanor grabbed her purse and followed them though the nightclub, Rick leading the way this time, Abby’s hand in his.
Once out in the night air, Abby took a deep breath while Eleanor wasted no time going into interrogation mode.
“What did you mean by Rick is the one protecting you? Why? Are you in some kind of danger?”
As succinctly as she could, Abby let her younger sister know what had been happening for the past week.
“You’re as stubborn and pigheaded as Kandy and Gemma,” Eleanor said. “They never let anyone know when they were in trouble, either. What is it with this family’s compunction for keeping secrets?”
Elli
e’s voice rose, a true indication of how upset she was because the youngest Laine never shouted. She was the most like their grandmother Sophie in that regard.
Abby stepped away from the crowded nightclub, pulling her sister with her. She wanted to give the three of them some privacy, especially if Ellie was going to rant and rave at her.
The moment Abby stepped down from the curb, something flashed past her. Before she realized what it was, Rick jumped in front of her and shoved her back. She stumbled, lost her balance, and fell hard onto the concrete, flat on her butt. Rick grabbed someone in a full body hold while something metal fell to the ground. Garbled shouting, cursing, and grunting blasted around her.
Rick yelled for someone to call 911, his voice harsh and ragged while he held on to the person screaming and struggling against him.
“Get the fuck off me. Get off me. Let me go.” The voice was pissed, arrogant, and young.
Ellie helped Abby stand back up. By now, the crowd waiting to enter the club had circled around them, cell phones pointed at Rick and the person he was fighting to hold on to, video cameras recording away.
“Abby, are you all right?” Rick shouted at her. “He didn’t get you, did he?”
“Who didn’t get me? What’s going on?” She’d fallen out of a shoe when she’d dropped to the ground. Slamming her foot back into it, she stood fully upright. Something glistened on the ground near her, and when she squinted down at it reality washed over her in an instant. Her head whipped back up to view the person Rick had in a death grip.
Someone in a hoodie.
His face was hidden, but his body was long and skinny. He squirmed and thrashed against Rick’s hold, but the boy was no match for Rick’s strength. Her gaze slid back down to the knife on the curb and the glossy moisture covering it.
Blood.
When that fact hit home, the screaming noises around her quieted and the voices echoed through her head as if she were in a tunnel. Bile swelled in her throat as a rolling ball of nausea careened up from the bottom of her stomach. The taste of metal coated her tongue, and her fingers started to tingle at the tips.
Eleanor’s voice pushed through the mental haze. “Rick, you’re bleeding.”
Right then, Abby dropped back to the ground.
Chapter Eighteen
Memories drifted back in spurts.
A police cruiser screaming to a halt beside them, its lights flashing against the inky night.
Two cops pulling the boy out of Rick’s hold.
Rick yanking her into his arms, calling her name.
The sight of the blood oozing through his shirt.
When she opened her eyes, consciousness finally coming back fully, Abby sat up on a gurney. A heated blanket covered her body and an oxygen mask enclosed the lower part of her face, the cool air swishing in front of her nose and mouth.
Eleanor’s quiet voice drifted through the hospital curtain surrounding her.
“I’m glad I didn’t have any booze. If I had, I wouldn’t be allowed to stitch you up, and believe me, you want me to be the one who does. The plastics guy on call tonight is a real douche.” She clucked her tongue. “You’ve got skin like a baby. No matter how tiny and precise I make these stitches, you’re still gonna have a scar.”
A deep chuckle slammed through the curtain. “Chicks dig scars,” he said. “It’s a great conversation starter.”
Ellie chuckled. “You must start a lot of conversations.”
“I do okay. Listen, El, about Abby and what’s been going on—”
“Don’t say another word before I can apologize.”
“For what?”
“The crack I made about you hurting her. After what I saw you do tonight, I know down to my bones you’re the last person who’s ever going to hurt her.” Eleanor took a deep breath. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to her.”
Tears grew in Abby’s eyes.
“No thanks required. It’s my job to protect her.”
The room grew quiet. Abby scooted her butt forward so she wouldn’t miss anything said.
After a moment, Eleanor’s voice came back. “Correct me if I’m wrong but I think Abby’s more to you than just a protection job. Isn’t she?”
Abby leaned forward so she wouldn’t miss his response and succeeded in tugging the oxygen cord out of the wall, setting off the alarm.
Before she could wiggle back up the stretcher, Eleanor slashed back the curtain and nailed her with a murderous glare.
“What are you doing?” She quieted the blaring alarm then plugged the tubing back into the oxygen container.
“I rolled over, and it came out of the wall,” Abby said, staring straight at her sister’s face.
“That’s twice tonight you’ve lied to me, Abigail June. Don’t try for a third.”
Abby couldn’t have prevented her face from heating if she’d tried.
“How are you feeling?” Ellie checked her sister’s pulse.
Instead of replying, Abby turned to see Rick slipping on a scrub top. Over his left bicep was a large gauze pad. She got light-headed again, wound her palm around the oxygen mask, and took a deep breath. From the way Rick gingerly slipped his bandaged arm into the sleeve, then pulled the scrub top over his head and opposite arm, he was in obvious pain.
“Wait. Let me help you,” Eleanor told him.
He shook his head. “You okay?” Rick asked her.
Abby nodded.
While he yanked the shirt down, he moved into her cubicle. He linked a hand into her free one and worried her knuckles with his thumb.
“What happened to your shirt? And your arm?”
“You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “Pieces. Somebody ran up to me. I fell, and I think I hit my head.”
“Luckily, Laines all have skulls coated with lead, so no damage done,” Eleanor said. “The first time you went down was because Rick pushed you out of the way of the kid with the knife. The second was when you saw the blood. Remember?”
Abby closed her eyes when the nausea swelled up again.
“Abby suffers from what the medical world calls hemophobia,” she told Rick. “To put it simply, she faints at the sight of blood. Any blood. It goes back to when she was a kid and saw Grandma decapitate a chicken.”
“Stop,” Abby pleaded. “Please.”
Rick squeezed her hand. When she opened her eyes, he was trying his best to hide a grin.
“You’re laughing at me? That’s so mean.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he held fast.
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m trying to reconcile the girl who watches sci-fi movies where there’s enough carnage and gore to last a lifetime with the one I saw kiss the curb tonight.”
“It’s different. I know that…blood”—she swallowed—“is fake. It’s the real stuff that does me in.”
“Every time,” Eleanor added.
“Can I go home?” she asked her sister.
“Give me ten minutes. I need to make sure all the paperwork is done.”
She pulled the privacy curtain back around them.
“Abby.” Rick kissed her hand, his gaze staying locked on hers.
She pulled off the oxygen mask. “Are you okay?” She pointed to his arm.
“Flesh wound.”
“Flesh wounds don’t usually need stitches.”
“They do when the blade is as razor sharp as that kid’s was.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I saw the knife, went for it, but the kid was fast. Crazy fast. Before I could knock it out of his hand, he’d already slashed me. I’m glad he never got close to you.”
“Tell me what happened? It’s all a blur after we left the club.”
“What happened is the Edwards kid almost got to you tonight. Something I’m pissed about.”
It was her turn to squeeze his hand. “But he didn’t.” Tears pooled in her eyes again. “You saved me and got hurt instead.”
“I’ve had bee stin
gs that hurt more than this. It’s an inconvenience more than anything.”
“Don’t do that. I saw how hard it was for you slip the scrub top on. I know it hurts.”
“Nah, it doesn’t. Not really. Ellie numbed me up good.”
“Don’t go all alpha-hole on me again. Please. Not after everything we’ve…” She shook her head and dropped her chin to her chest.
The gurney shifted, then Rick’s lips were against her forehead. “I’m fine, Abby.”
She lifted her gaze to his.
“But what’s more important is you’re not hurt, and the Edwards kid can’t get to you anymore.”
“Is he in custody?”
“Yeah. The bouncer called 911 and came to help me. He saw what happened. So, apparently, did everyone else waiting to get in, and they all recorded it as it went down. Probably trending on YouTube and Twitter already.”
“Oh, my God. We need to call my family. If someone sees it, they—”
“No worries.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it again. “I already alerted Josh and Ky. They’re dealing with it.”
Abby dragged in a relieved breath. “You said he’s in custody?”
“Yeah. I called Donovan from the ambulance after telling the cops who the kid was and how he was a person of interest in Judge Aaronson’s attack and Marty Field’s murder. The judge, by the way, has been upgraded to serious but stable. Donovan said he’d text me after the kid was processed and questioned.”
“Have they located his father?”
“I don’t know.”
Abby bit down on her bottom lip. “Do you think this is…over?”
“Like I said, we’ll find out soon enough. For now though, how’s your head? You went down hard before I could get to you.”
Her fingers found the bump on the back of her head, winced when she pressed into it.
“Like Ellie said, we all have hard heads.”
“We do,” her sister said as she came back to them. “The ER attending wanted you to spend the night to make sure you didn’t have any unseen issues with the hit to the head, but knowing how much you hate hospitals, I convinced him you’d be better off at home, with someone diligently watching you.”
