by Lora Leigh
Her lips tightened in irritation. "As I said, she was upset. Very protective." Rather than the sneer he expected, there was a slight softening to her lips, a glimmer of respect in her eyes. But her next words came close to pissing him off. "Did she finally manage to get you to knock her up? Is that why you're getting married?"
He shook his head, admitting that maybe he was in shock. His mother had more nerve than he gave her credit for.
"She isn't pregnant," he said, dazed when he knew he shouldn't be.
The knowledge that Morganna had been there shouldn't have surprised him. He should have expected it. She was like a tigress. It didn't matter that in this, he needed no protection; he had been defending himself against his family most of his life.
For all her makeup, girlie-girl habits, and social skills, Morganna had a core of pure steel. He would never get anything over on her, not that he would want to, but she would never allow it. No more than she had allowed his mother to.
"Of course she's pregnant." His mother laughed softly "You loathe the idea of marriage. You always have. She's obviously trapped you and thought she could cement it by appearing here and raging at me over motherhood and protection. It was an obvious ploy of some sort."
"No, Mother," he said gently. "There was no ploy, just as there is no pregnancy. Because I had a vasectomy years ago to ensure I never fucked up like you and that bastard you married did." He ignored the surprise in her gaze. "I'm sorry I bothered you today. I'll be leaving now."
"I would have liked grandchildren." The sudden regret in her eyes sickened him. Regret, from a woman who had never allowed her son an iota of hope that he could escape the next beating, that he would ever have a father.
"Then hope Raven never learns how cold you can be," he sighed. "Because God as my witness, I could never trust you with a child of mine."
He turned from her, stalking to the door and jerking it open as he felt the regret sinking into his bones. What had he expected after all this time? June Cleaver?
He pulled the door shut as he dug the keys from his pocket and moved to his truck. Hell, he had wasted enough time on this, enough time letting the past and his own fears ruin the one dream that had clung to his soul no matter how hard he had fought to be rid of it.
Morganna. And if there was one thing he was damned certain of, even if the monster of his father did lurk within him, Morganna would make sure it was kicked out fast, while she kicked his ass to hell and back. No one would ever threaten a child of hers.
He wiped his hand over his face before unlocking the truck and moving into the driver's seat. It was time to find his future, rather than fearing his past. And his future was with Morganna.
CLINT'S PICKUP REVERSED FROM the driveway and accelerated down the street, Raven stepped slowly down the stairs. She wasn't supposed to have been there. The cab had arrived on time, but she had forgotten some pictures she wanted upstairs. Pictures of her father. The man who had sung to her, laughed with her, who had treasured her. The monster who had beaten Clint. She had sent the cab back and re-entered the house, never thinking that her mother hadn't heard her.
As she had listened to the conversation downstairs, the past flashed before her eyes. Clint as a young teenager, no more than fifteen, claiming he was sick, pale and weak after his father returned home, every time his father returned home. How he would stay in bed for days, sometimes not even eating unless Raven badgered him. He had left when she was still a child. The night her brother had turned seventeen he had walked out of the house and joined the Army. He hadn't even finished high school.
She had been young, too young to understand, but the guilt ate at her anyway.
She stepped into the living room, watching as her mother turned from the large window, where she had watched Clint leave. Her cool gray eyes widened, darkened, then filled with wary fear.
The emotion Raven saw in her mother's eyes as she realized she had overheard every word should have made her feel better. Raven had been the princess. The treasured child-She had been spoiled and loved and had felt nothing more than a strong resentment to her mother for driving her father away. Raven had never known about the affairs or Clint's pain. And she hated herself for that. Hated the fact that she hadn't seen how Clint had suffered.
Raven laid the pictures on the table beside the door and stared back at the other woman as pain rose within her.
"I knew you were cold-hearted." She could barely force the words past her lips. "I knew that somewhere, somehow there was something missing in you that could have allowed you to love-"
"This isn't your business," her mother snapped, her eyes darkening in anger. "You weren't supposed to be here. And I have always loved you, Raven. Always."
Raven lowered her head and stared down at the picture that lay on top of the small stack she had chosen. Her father. He looked so much like Clint. He had been so gentle to her; he had loved her. Hadn't he? She shook her head. You can't love one child and nearly destroy another. It couldn't be possible.
"I can't see you for a while, Mother," she whispered painfully as she laid her hand on her stomach, resting her palm against the child she suspected grew there. Her child. Hers and Reno's. A child who would never, ever know the fear Clint had lived through.
"It's all his fault," her mother snarled as Raven lifted her eyes. "That damned Clinton's. He was always raining things. If he had learned to lie when he was a boy he wouldn't have been beaten near as often. All he had to do was lie to his father."
"He was your son."
Her mother's face was twisted into a grimace as her eyes narrowed with icy warning. "He has always been a thorn in my side. I won't allow him to rain what we're finally rebuilding."
Their relationship had deteriorated after Raven's father's death. She had believed the fights revolved around her father's career, the danger it represented, and many had. But the underlying reasons were suddenly clearer. It wasn't because he'd gone to war; it was because of her mother's own selfishness and her father's cold determination to punish someone for it. Anyone but the woman he had married.
"We were rebuilding nothing," Raven finally told her hoarsely. "Maybe, later, I'll be able to look at you without remembering all the years Clint suffered. One day, maybe. But I'll never forgive you for what you and Father did to him. I'll never forgive either of you."
She left the pictures where she had laid them, opened the door, and walked out. She ignored her mother's cry, the sound of her name echoing from inside the house as she pulled her cell phone from the fanny pack she wore and dialed her husband's number.
"Hey, baby, are you home yet?" His voice came over the line as she began walking down the sidewalk. "Reno-" Her breath caught as the tears began. "Raven? Baby, what's wrong?" She heard the alarm in his voice, the fear.
"I'm fine. I'm safe. I need you to come get me." "Where are you?"
She stared around her. There was a deli at the end of the street. She could wait there. She told him where she was, breathing in roughly, fighting to hold back her tears as she wiped her fingers over her damp cheeks.
"I need you," she whispered as she ducked her head, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. "I need you now."
"I'm heading your way." Of course he would be.. She could hear the squeal of his tires, the concern that radiated over the line. "Stay on the phone with me, baby. I'm twenty minutes away. I'm coming."
"Do you know I love you?" She had to tell him. "How sorry I am that I ran from you for so long?"
"I'll spank you again for that later. How does that sound?" The forced teasing in his tone had a smile trembling on her lips.
"Promise?"
"Always, baby. Forever. You sure you're okay, Raven? You're crying." His voice was tight, and though he was holding back, she could hear the dread in his tone.
"I've been at Mother's." Not "Mom's." Never "Mom" again.
"Yeah. I knew that. Did you argue?"
"No."
"Are you hurt?"
; "Not physically."
His muttered curse was filled with regret.
"Just come get me, Reno." Her breathing hitched as she entered the thankfully nearly deserted deli. "I just want to go home."
She wanted to lie beside him, feel the warmth of his arms holding her, and let her tears fall. She needed to cry, not just for herself or the shattered image of the father she had loved, but for Clint.
At least she had known the fantasy of a loving parent. Her mother had always been cool, disinterested, but her father-She breathed in jerkily. She had thought he was a hero. Clint had never been given the chance to know the love of either parent, and it was breaking her heart.
She just wanted to go home, find solace in her husband's arms, then kick her brother's ass for keeping such secrets from her. That was, if Morganna didn't kick his ass first just for being a stubborn male.
Chapter 29
CLINT SLIPPED INTO MORGANNA'S HOUSE several days later using the spare key that had been kept hidden at the bottom of the mailbox. She was mad, steaming mad, but clearing up the mess of the date rape drug hadn't been easy. He had no more left his mother's home than Joe Merino called. Jenna had talked, and they had the location of the lab.
Clint had been damned surprised to learn that Morganna wasn't a part of breaking down the lab. Even more surprised to find out that she had accepted a position training to work in the local intelligence-gathering office.
Yeah, she would be good at that. She was as nosy as a damned cat. And it would keep her out of the line of fire for the next two years at least. Until he could retire. Until he could devote himself to her and maybe raising a kid or two.
The sound of the shower running upstairs caught his attention as he closed the door carefully and relocked it. He had been five days returning to her. Five days of hell. Sleeping wasn't an option; all he thought of was Morganna. He missed the warmth of her, missed the sound of her laughter, her smart-assed comments. Hell, he craved the sound of her whispered moans, the feel of her lips beneath his. Her presence.
He shook his head as he walked into the living room, drawn to the pictures Morganna kept on the light wood shelves. Unlike the pictures his mother kept, these were filled with laughter, with family. And even some who weren't family. There were several small frames of Rory Chavez with his son, Reno, and with Clint. Rory was between the two boys, his arms around both of them.
There were similar pictures of Lisa with Morganna and Raven. Pictures of both parents with their children, as well as the two Chavez children.
Rory Chavez had been a good man, and Lisa, God she had loved her kids. They had birthday parties every year, went to the beach on summer weekends, and damn, would Lisa chase after them all while they were around the water. She never let her kids out of her sight, and if the kids brought company, then they were as cherished and well loved as the Chavez kids were.
What the hell had he done with his life?
As he stared at the pictures, he thought of Lisa and Rory, their strength, their love for each other, their children, and even children who weren't their own. They had taught him more than he had realized. Too bad he had forgotten it in his determination to run from the only person he couldn't defend himself against.
Morganna.
As the sound of the shower shut off, his head lifted, turning toward the staircase at the entryway. Just that quickly his body hardened, his erection filling his jeans with a sudden, intense demand.
Clint grimaced at the hunger that spiked through his body. Damn her. In a matter of days she had anchored herself inside his soul tighter than she had ever been. Why?
His lips quirked as he turned on his heel, moving silently through the living room as he headed for the entryway and the stairs.
She was more than he had ever imagined. For so many years he had allowed his mother's actions to taint his view of women. Morganna loved to look pretty, to dance, to laugh and enjoy people, just as his mother had when she was younger.
That slim resemblance to the woman who had helped make his childhood so miserable had kept him running from the one woman he had ever truly loved.
Morganna would die and go to hell before she would ever allow anyone to hurt a child of hers. The thought of children scared the hell out of him, Clint admitted, but he had been a fool to allow the past to mar the feelings he had never been able to truly run from where Morganna was concerned.
As he took the first step upstairs, he heard her in her bedroom. Dresser drawers were slamming and she was muttering angrily to herself. She would be pissed that it had taken him so long to return, but he could handle pissed.
Morganna was like a fire in winter, heated, capable of burning a man clear to his soul even as she renewed the life within him.
He could do this.
He kept his steps silent as he moved to the landing, easing his way toward her bedroom, feeling the fires she lit within his body burning higher with each step he took toward her.
"Kitty Chesney, I've about had it." He rolled his eyes as he heard her talking to what could only be the cat Reno said she had acquired. She would call the damned thing Kitty Chesney. For all her love of the hard-pounding music in the clubs, Morganna still had a soft spot for one particular country artist.
He heard a distinct little meow.
"Stubborn men." Another drawer slammed. "Tell me again why I decided he was worth waiting on. He's not worth kicking anymore."
He could hear the pain in her voice, felt it clenching in his heart as disillusionment colored her tone.
"That's okay. Who the hell needs him?"
He winced at her monologue.
"I can live without him."
His eyes narrowed.
"And the captain was very pleased with how well I handled that assignment. So happy that he gave me my pick of positions."
Her voice was growing angrier.
"Screw him. He's a pain in the ass, arrogant, take-over
male, and I don't need that. Do I? Tell me I don't need that, Kitty."
Meow.
"Exactly."
He could imagine the sharp little toss of her head, the narrowing of her eyes.
"You know, Kitty, the next time I see him, he better be wearing a protective cup."
Meow.
His lips quirked almost in amusement.
"Kitty," Morganna sighed. "He's not coming back, is he?"
His chest tightened at the pain in her voice.
Shaking his head, he moved into the doorway, then came to a cold, hard stop. Sweet merciful heaven grant him strength, because the sight of her took his breath.
She had her back to him, dressed in a black silk thong, her back covered by the long, silken fall of her hair. Rounded smooth buttocks tempted his hands, caused his erection to jerk in sudden, hungry demand.
"Sometimes, he's just a little slow." Clint spoke softly, leaning against the doorjamb, as Morganna whirled around to face him.
Whew. Damn. He was going to keep his head, he promised himself he would, but the small triangle of silk covering her mound and the sheer lace of the bra covering her full, firm breasts were stealing his sanity.
"You're late." Slender arms crossed over those heaving mounds as her irritated voice snapped through his lust-dazed senses.
"I see you got the cat." He cleared his throat, watching Morganna carefully.
Her eyes were storm-dark, fierce, and narrowed. Her pouty lips were thinned, her cheeks flushed. Oh, she was pissed. Pissed he could deal with.
"And tonight, I'm going to find a redneck," she snapped back at him. "I'm done with you, Clint. Go away." She waved him away with a mocking little flip of her hand. "Me and Kitty Chesney have decided to just cut our losses and deal. You're not wanted now."
She turned away from him, stalked to the closet, and disappeared inside the clothing-filled depths. Clint waited. Following her into that closet would be like following a she-wolf into her lair. He was lust-crazed and so in love with her he couldn't breathe for the hunger ri
sing inside him, but SEAL training was tough, and every instinct he possessed warned him to tread carefully where Morganna was concerned right now.
A minute later she stalked out. It was possible she was a bit angrier than when she'd gone in. She carried a pair of jeans and some kind of white top. It didn't look like there was much to the top. And she carried boots.
"I have a date. Go away." She flashed him a glare. Clint hid a grin. "You little liar. You have a meeting with Joe later."
A little moue of displeasure pouted her lips as her gray eyes flashed back at him.
"You think you're so smart." She tossed the clothes on the bed as the cat watched them curiously.
"I think I know you." He arched his brow. Morganna could fool a lot of people, but he knew her. Well. Too well, he was starting to realize.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe I have a date after I meet with Joe." She picked up the blue jeans.
"Do you like those pants, Morganna?" Clint asked curiously as she pulled the first leg over her ankle. "Would I be wearing them otherwise?" "Finish putting them on and I'm going to cut them off you later," he informed her gently. "I'd hate to have to ruin a good pair of jeans."
"I'd hate to have to hurt you, Clint." Her smile was tight, hard, as she finished putting the jeans on.
She stared back at him defiantly, challenging. He chuckled at the deliberate dare in her expression. He watched as she dressed. She buttoned the jeans, then reached to the bed for the white sleeveless blouse. Not that she should have bothered. It barely reached her navel, flashing that little gold ring that pierced it.
He shook his head, braced his feet apart, and pushed his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans as he watched her. Yeah, she was really mad.
"It's only been a few days, baby," he murmured. "It's been five days, Clint. You left; you walked out again-"
"I love you, Morganna."
She shut up, staring back at him with wide eyes a long second before she blinked. "What?"
"I love you," he repeated. "I knew I loved you five days ago. I knew I loved you more than ten years ago."
