“You,” she stated, pointing a finger at him, “are trying to avoid the elephant in the room.”
“We’re not in a room.”
“Semantics. I meant, you’re trying to avoid talking about it.”
His face paled slightly. She watched the motion of his throat as he swallowed, and a delightfully evil glee rose inside as she realized he thought she was talking about their unspoken chemistry.
So, she made the man nervous did she? Good to know. Hopefully, the nerves came from a good place and not a “how do I let her down gently” place.
Julie thought about dragging out the torture, but decided the poor guy had been teased enough for one day. “Yes, you lost the bet.”
Visible relief filled his face. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.” A shame to bring it up when he looked so content, but… “And now you have to pony up. Literally.”
His lips curled with distaste. “You’re really going to make me ride that thing?”
Stepping closer, she invaded his personal space until their bodies were touching. Her breasts brushed against his chest. Her nipples tightened at the contact, thighs clenching in anticipation. She heard him draw in a breath, his body going ridged. Tension hung like a thick cloud, turning the thin, mountain air muggy.
Going up on her toes, she pressed her cheek against his. The slight stubble rasped against her soft skin, creating a delicious friction she could feel deep inside. Licking her lips, she whispered in his ear, “You could always save a horse and just ride a cowgirl.”
With that, she turned, opened the car door, and slid into her seat. There. It was out there. She’d laid out her cards.
The next play was his.
Chapter 9
Did the woman not understand how hard it was to drive with a damn erection?
Stupid question, idiot.
Of course she didn’t. She probably didn’t even realize what her loaded little comment did to him. Julie liked to yank his chain. Had ever since they met years ago. Only in recent years, the jovial teasing had become…heated. Innocent quips sounded downright dirty to his ears. His lust misinterpreting…or her intention?
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t do anything about it, and that pissed him off.
They arrived at the drive-in—he still couldn’t believe those things still existed—just as the movie started. He sat through the two-hour spy comedy all the while willing his hard on away. No such luck with Julie sitting six inches from him, her sweet floral scent filling the truck cab. His gaze involuntarily drifted from the ridiculous actions of the film to all that soft, exposed skin. The dress ended just above her knees, riding up even higher when she sat, leaving just a hint of thigh in his sightline. Call him a bastard, but he couldn’t keep his gaze off her chest either. The damned neckline did that heart thing a lot of woman’s clothes did—crisscrossing over the breasts to accentuate the cleavage.
He would go to hell for staring, but he just couldn’t help himself. He’d been good all night, but here in the darkness of the car with the movie bathing them in alternating lights and darks, it was like a damn cock-tease. One moment, he could see her in all her beauty, and then next, they were plunged into darkness where his mind imagined all the things they could be doing in the dark.
Once the movie ended, Liam hightailed it back to Ryder’s place. He needed a cold shower and a good night’s sleep. Wouldn’t hurt to bang his head against the wall for an hour either. He deserved it for all the pervy glances he’d snuck over the course of the evening.
“Okay, I can’t hold it in anymore.” Julie turned to him as he pulled into the driveway. “’Fess up.”
Shit. She’d caught him looking. He was such a creep. Here he’d gone and ogled his best friend’s little sister, and she knew it. Probably wanted him to leave and never speak to her again. Couldn’t say he’d blame her. He behaved like a jackass. Shame filled him to his core.
“Is that really what it’s like?”
Confused as to what she was asking, he drew his brows down.
“The movie. Is that really what being a spy is like?”
Oh. He let out a small sigh of relief. She hadn’t been referring to his barely restrained lust at all; her question had been simple curiosity about the movie. Of course that was what she meant. Julie Ryder was sweet and innocent. Another reason the woman was out of his league. She was way too good for him.
“First of all, I’m a special agent, not a spy.” He chuckled. “And second, it was a movie—of course it’s not accurate. Do you really think spies commandeer cars and go on high-speed chases through the streets of Paris? Kind of defeats the purpose of spying.”
Her nose scrunched up. She was so damned adorable it took everything in him not to reach out and touch her.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Makes for a great movie, though. I thought it was hilarious.”
Honestly, he had no idea. He’d been too focused on her the entire movie.
“I’m going to check on Wind Chaser before I turn in.” She hopped out of the truck, heading toward the barn.
“You sure you want to do that in…that?” He had no idea how to take care of a horse, but he was pretty sure a cocktail dress and high heels were not the proper attire.
“It’s fine. I’m just going to look in on her.”
He watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. The woman was killing him, and she didn’t even know it. Or maybe she did. Hell, his brain felt like it had been spun in a blender on puree for hours at this point. Lust, confusion, and guilt all warred for dominance. He had no idea what the hell he was doing anymore. Which was why, even though he knew it was rude, Liam climbed the porch steps, headed inside, and went straight to bed. The less time he spent around Julie the better. Even if it did make him a coward.
****
The sharp sting of cold metal pierced her skin as David pressed the knife against her throat. She whimpered, the warm, wet feel of her own blood dripping down her neck, fear skyrocketing.
“Please don’t.”
An evil chuckle rose from the darkness, chilling her deep into her bones. “All you have to do is tell me where she is.”
Rough rope abraded her skin as she struggled against invisible bonds. “No, I’ll never tell you anything!”
The ropes tightened, cutting off her circulation. Another whimper escape her at the pain and fear infusing every inch of her body. The knife sliced, cutting her again and again. Blinding hot pain speared through her body.
“You will tell me! You will betray her. You know why? Because you’re weak, Julie Ryder. A weak, pathetic girl who sacrifices others to save herself.”
“No!”
The horrifying laugh surrounded her. Wrapping her in cruelty, suffocating her with its malice. She had to fight; she couldn’t give in. But the pain…everything hurt. There was no stopping the tears from pouring down her cheeks. Cold, wet, tracks of failure exposing her weakness to a monster.
“You will tell me because you’re afraid. Aren’t you?”
The denial on the tip of her tongue was cut off when the blade pressed against her skin again, burning this time, like molten fire.
A sob broke from her lips. It was too much; she couldn’t last another minute. Her body begged for release from the torture. “Stop. I’ll do it. I’ll tell you where Kayla is.”
The chuckle rose from the darkness. “Good girl.”
David smiled, but then his face began to change. Dirty blond hair giving way to much darker brown. Pretty boy looks morphing into a hard, dangerous face.
Jason Kline.
“Hello Prosecutor. I’m coming for you. And when I find you. I’m going to gut you like I did my whore ex.”
Terror punched a hole in her stomach, stealing her ability to do anything but open her mouth and scream as the darkness enveloped her.
Julie sucked in a sharp breath, a scream dying on her lips. Sweat bathed every inch of her body. Her heart beat a fast tempo, trying to pound its way free o
f her chest.
A dream. It was just a dream, Julie. Get a grip.
She often had dreams about David’s torment. Not always the way it happened, but every time, she fell short of protecting her new sister-in-law. Because that did happened. She’d tried fighting David, but she hadn’t been strong enough. Fear won, and she’d put Kayla in danger. All to save her own skin. The fact still caused bile to rise in her throat while shame weighted her down.
Her therapist, brother, and Kayla herself all assured her she’d done nothing wrong, in fact, she helped to bring the man down. It may all be true, but her subconscious still had issues it seemed.
She hadn’t had a nightmare in months, though. Why now?
Thinking back over her dream, it was fairly obvious. Tonight had been the first time David Tyler turned into someone else—Jason Kline, the man who threatened to kill her. The same man who escaped from prison and was now on the run. The whole reason she was here hiding out at her brother’s in the first place.
Guess my subconscious is a little more worried about this Jason thing than I pretended to be.
Or it could have been the text she’d received from her boss moments before she slipped into bed. The one that stated they still had no idea where Kline was. The pleading tone of her mentor came loud and clear through the typed message. He’d once again strongly encouraged her to go into protective custody, reminding her of all the horrible things Kline had done. In graphic detail.
“Thanks, like I’d forgotten.” A shudder racked her body even though under the covers she was toasty warm.
Tossing back the bed sheets, she rose, the chilly night air cooling the sweat still clinging to her. She was just upset, that was all. Her emotions were running haywire lately, and her mind decided to act out her fears in dream form. All she needed was a glass of warm milk.
Or a scotch.
She knew her brother kept both in the kitchen. Grabbing her robe, she slipped it on over her nightshirt, tightened the belt, and headed out to find something to soothe her nerves. Who could blame her for being a little high-strung? With the David thing last year, Jason on the lamb, her brother eloping, and having to spend day and night in the vicinity of a man who made her crazy with lust, she had a lot on her plate. Who wouldn’t be running on fumes?
Easing through her bedroom door, she made her way down the darkened hallway. Light spilled in from the kitchen window via the full moon. Another contributor to her terrifying dream, she’d bet on it. Full moons did crazy things to people.
Jake kept his liquor in the pantry, on the highest shelf. On soft tiptoes, she made her way there. The door gave a soft creak as she opened it. Glancing up, she saw a half-full bottle of single malt scotch right out in front.
“Thank you, Jake.”
Grabbing the bottle, she moved to the counter, snagging a tumbler. The floor creaked behind her. Nightmare fresh in her mind, her heart raced, blood pounding in her ears and a swirl of David’s face mashed with Jason’s swam in her vision, blinding her. A scream rose in her throat once more. Dropping the glass, she whirled around, arms rising in attack. The shattering of glass didn’t faze her as she launched at her attacker. Strong arms surrounded her, and she struggled, but the hold was firm…yet gentle.
“Calm down, Jules. It’s me.”
She stopped fighting; her breath came in small pants. “Liam?”
“Who the hell else would it be?”
The man who tried to kill her? No, he was locked up. The man who threatened to kill her? He wasn’t locked up, not anymore.
“Sorry, I—I had a bad dream. Guess it stuck around.”
His arms softened, embracing her now. Julie snuggled into his warmth, fighting back tears of fear and frustration. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she muffled against him—against his bare chest she realized as the prickle of small, coarse hairs tickled her cheek.
Mmmmmmmm.
His deep chuckle sent chills—opposite the ones of fear from earlier—throughout her body.
“Sorry. I heard you moving around. Wanted to make sure you were okay. Shit, hold still.”
Suddenly, she was airborne as Liam scooped her up into his strong arms. She wrapped hers around his neck, snuggling into his warm embrace. He set her carefully on the kitchen counter, as if she were a priceless package. Emotions choked her at his gentle care.
“There’s glass everywhere. Don’t move ’til I sweep it up. Where’s your brother’s broom?”
Shoot, she’d have to buy her brother a new glass. Not that Jake would care, but still, she felt bad about breaking it over something so silly. “Beside the fridge on the hook.”
Liam turned to grab the broom, sweeping the broken glass into a pile then bending down to scoop the shards into the dust pan. The faint light coming in through the window reflected off his bare back. A small, red pucker of skin caught her eye. It looked like…
“Ohmigod!” Disregarding her bare feet and glass slivers that still might be on the floor, she hopped off the counter. Leaning over the crouching Liam, she touched his shoulder very much fearing what she touched was a—“Is that a bullet wound?”
He finished sweeping and stood, sloughing off her hand. His golden eyes glittered like hard diamonds in the dim light. “I told you to stay put.”
“Liam, did you get shot?”
Ignoring her question, he strode over to the garbage, dumping the broken pieces. They tinkled like wind chimes, and she thought the beautiful sound odd as she stared at such an ugly wound.
“Liam?”
Replacing the broom, he turned back to her. Shrugging his shoulders—one with a freaking bullet wound in it—he finally answered. “I have a dangerous job. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.”
She knew that, but this wasn’t just a graze. And it looked fresh…newer, recent. This looked bad. Bad enough she began to suspect he wasn’t here on vacation.
“You’re on medical leave, aren’t you?”
His jaw clenched, gaze refusing to meet hers.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Another shrug. God, what was it with men and emotions?
“It’s not a big deal. No reason to bother you with it.”
No reason to bother her? Like finding out one of your best friends had been shot was an inconvenience or something. The man infuriated her. She wanted to go over there and smack him upside the head. How could he think she wouldn’t want to know?
“When did it happen?”
When he still refused to meet her gaze, she crossed the kitchen to stand in front of him, staring at his shoulder. There was another red puckered wound on the front, identical to the one on his back, but slightly bigger.
“The bullet went through your shoulder, didn’t it?” Her years as a prosecutor viewing dozens of crime scenes and various injuries led her to the conclusion. She reached her fingers up, gently brushing over the angry scar.
Liam flinched, pulling away.
“I’m sorry. Is it sensitive?” Scar tissue often was. She knew that better than anyone.
His gaze burned with some emotion she couldn’t discern. “No.”
Great, now he’d gone monosyllabic. She wasn’t asking him to bare his soul, just tell her about his injury. Was that too much to ask? This didn’t look like a simple ER stitch job. She needed details on the severity. Had he lost consciousness? Needed a transfusion? The thought made her breath catch. Liam could have died. She would have lost him and never even told him—
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine, Julie. I swear.”
She felt Liam’s rough finger stroke her face, wiping away tears. Her cheeks were wet? Huh, she hadn’t even realized she was crying.
“What’s all this for, sweetheart? No use crying over me.”
Sweetheart? Since when did Liam use pet names for her?
Glancing up, she poked him—in his uninjured shoulder—with a finger. “I’ll cry over you if I damn well want to, you big idiot.”
“Idiot?”
&nbs
p; “Yes, idiot. How could you not call when this happened? Did you tell Jake? Anyone? Didn’t you realize that people would worry about you? I worry about you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
She stepped closer. “Why not? You’re my…friend. Friends worry about each other. Isn’t that why you flew out here after I was attacked?”
His gaze darkened, face taking on a stormy expression. The hand that wiped away her tears cupped her cheek. “I should have killed that bastard for what he did to you.”
She sucked in a startled breath. Wow. She’d never heard such anger from him before.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop him.”
Silly man. “You had no way of knowing he’d go after me. No one did. Besides, I’m fine now.”
“But it still affects you.”
Now, it was her turn to shrug.
“What was your nightmare about?”
Rolling her shoulders uncomfortably, she answered with a half-truth. “David.”
The emotions on his face were clear—anger, guilt, fear. Fear for her? When you were scared for someone it meant you cared about them. Just how much did Liam care for her? She knew he would say he cared like a big brother, but he wasn’t her brother, and it was time he realized she was all grown up.
“I’m fine. David is in prison. In part thanks to you.”
“I was just doing my job.”
She stepped closer, returning her hand to his shoulder, covering the horrible scar that could have taken him from her. “Your job, where you got this?”
He nodded, watching her through narrowed eyes. Slowly, allowing him time to stop her, she leaned forward, placing her lips on the bullet wound, wishing her kiss could heal every battle this man fought, real and internal. His hand came up, tangling in her hair, cupping the back of her neck.
“Julie.”
Her name came out as a ragged moan; vibrations from his chest tickled against her lips still pressed to his scar. She pulled back to gaze into his eyes. They were heavy lidded, clouded with desire. The same desire sparking through every inch of her.
“I—you should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
Love on the Forbidden Side Page 6