Within a couple of minutes, he’d maneuvered the vehicle into the driveway of a tidy white ranch-style house. Betty jumped out of the car and made it to a row of hydrangeas before throwing up. Apparently she’d eaten a salad for dinner. Finally, she turned and waved. She scaled three steps up the porch until tripping and landing in what looked like shrubs.
Damn it. He could just leave her there. But his sister-in-law was an accountant, a lightweight drunk, and he’d kill anybody who left her floundering in shrubs. He may not understand women, or people who had no regard for their own safety, but he didn’t want to be a guy who left a woman helpless. So he put the car in park and glanced over his shoulder at the woman now singing “Living on a Prayer.” “I’ll be right back.”
She stomped her feet on the roof in time with her off-key song.
How the hell had he ended up in this mess? He stepped out of the vehicle and shook his head. Give him two drunk farmers who wanted to fight any day. Reaching the struggling accountant, he grabbed her under the armpits and picked her up, walked to the front door, and set her against it. “Keys?”
She handed him a key from her pocket. He opened the door and moved to assist her, but she stumbled against him, her palms spreading along his abs.
Tilting her head back, she gasped. “Are those real? I mean, really real?” She hiccupped and yanked up his shirt, ducking her face to his stomach. “Oh my. Wow.” Her fingers dug into his ribs, and her breath brushed his skin. “Those abs should be on television. Or billboards. Or me.” Her teeth snapped closed on his flesh.
Good God. The woman had bitten him. He jumped back, sending them both sprawling into the shrubs. Stems cracked as his weight landed, plunging him to the ground. Needles dug into his neck. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he muttered, reaching with one hand for the porch railing and one for the giggling woman.
A headache roared front and center. Frustration dried up his mouth.
He was one of the most dangerous men ever created by people who studied danger. If his brothers could see him now, they’d never obey another one of his orders. Ever. He hauled himself up, tossed the accountant over his shoulder, and stalked back up the steps.
She shoved her hands into his back pockets and dug in her nails, her jeans-clad legs happily swinging. “Here’s my card.”
He flipped her over, set her gently inside the front door, and then closed it. “Lock the door.”
Once the bolt slipped into place, he turned and headed back to the SUV, yanking needles and shrubbery out of his hair. Upon reaching the vehicle, he hit reverse to the road as Claire sang “Runaway.”
Once out of the subdivision, he cleared his throat. “Claire? I don’t know where you live.”
Her feet struck the window. Humming, she quickly popped up by his head.
Jesus. Only unnatural reflexes kept him from swerving. “Your home?”
She dove headfirst into the front seat. Her elbow nailed him in the ear, and he did swerve. Hell. Controlling the wheel with one hand, he settled Claire into the passenger seat as gently as possible.
Her boots hit the console as she wiggled into the seat and blew hair off her face. “I live in the same subdivision as Betty.” Frowning, Claire looked around the car. “Where’s Betty?”
Matt drew in a slow breath. “You live in the subdivision we just left?”
Claire rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I guess. Two streets over from Betty.” She turned toward him. “Did you get attacked by a tree?”
No. A horny, drunk accountant. He flipped a U-turn and drove back into the subdivision. “Which house?”
“Pebble Street, the third house on the left.” A lopsided grin twisted Claire’s lips. “You sure are pretty.”
Whether he liked it or not, that was his cue. He returned the smile. “How long have you been a vet?”
“Assistant. Veterinarian assistant.” She rubbed wiggled her feet on the dash. “About eight years, I guess. I mean, I really like animals, so I’m good at it. But I wouldn’t want to do all the schooling… or have to actually do surgeries. I can hand over implements, but that’s all.”
“You didn’t go to college?”
“Nope.” She eyed him again. “Really pretty. Like on those romance novel covers.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Not that I read those. I mean, okay, I read those… Don’t tell. They can’t know.”
Heat flared down his back, and his instincts roared to life. “I won’t tell,” he lowered his voice to a conspirator’s tone. “But… who can’t I tell?” While he didn’t think the commander would give a shit if his surgeons read books, maybe Claire felt differently. “Are you hiding from them in Charmed?”
“Kind of.” She lifted a shoulder and turned to stare out the window.
If Claire was the woman he hunted, this was probably his only chance to get her to open up. A hiding woman didn’t drink like this often. He pulled into the driveway in front of a two-story brick house. “Tell me more, Claire.”
She swallowed and glanced back at him. “Do you want to come in?”
No. Absolutely not. He wanted to go home, get the shrubbery needles out of his skin, and take a shower. “I’d love to come in.”
She clapped her hands together and scrambled for the door handle. The woman was still fumbling by the time he’d crossed around the SUV to open her door. She fell out, and he caught her before she hit the cement. Broad and bulky, she regained her balance.
“Um, thanks.” She shook her head. “Come inside.” Throwing back her shoulders, she led the way across the driveway, up the steps, until she opened the door.
He stopped cold on the front porch. “Your door isn’t locked?”
“Nope.” She glanced around the quiet neighborhood. “Are you gonna come in or just stand on my porch? I do, ah, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Have a reputation and all of that. You know.”
He had no freakin’ clue. Scratching his head, he crossed the threshold and allowed her to shut the door. “Why don’t you lock your door?” There was no way in hell somebody on the run from the commander and his colleagues would leave their door unlocked. No way.
She sniffed. “Habit. I mean, where I grew up, we didn’t even have locks.” Boots hit the wall as she kicked them off and fell into an overstuffed chair. “Sit.”
He scanned the room. Plush, comfortable furniture, girly knickknacks, and pictures of animals all around. “Where did you grow up?” He slipped around and sat on the sofa, facing her.
“You’ll think it’s weird.”
If she had any clue where he’d grown up, she wouldn’t make such a statement. “Never. Come on, tell me.” He lowered his voice to cajoling.
She blinked. Twice. “The Chipperanti Commune in Western Virginia.”
His shoulders relaxed as a realization hit. That explained why she was so far off the grid. “You grew up in a commune?”
“Yeah. I love my family, I really do, but I wanted television and cars and stuff.” She sank into the deep chair. “You know?”
“Sure.” This was not the cold-blooded doctor he needed to find. But he had to ask. “Are you in danger? I mean, are they hunting you?” Though he doubted it, considering the unlocked door.
She wrinkled her forehead. “Oh no. Never. I could go home in a second. But sometimes, I feel guilty.” Her words slurred at the end, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Slowly, he exhaled. Frankly, he was glad it wasn’t Claire. The slightly snoring drunk seemed like a kind soul. He stood, unfolded an afghan to gently place over her, and slipped out the door, after engaging the lock.
He loped back to the car with a sigh. One suspect cleared. Two more to go.
Chapter 7
Laney set up the shot glasses and tried to cool her temper. While this wasn’t the first time a bouncer had driven home inebriated customers, this was the first time the bouncer was sexy as hell… and had kissed her. She wanted to be the one he was taking home—to his bed. Yet he was out with two
other women.
She shouldn’t care.
She didn’t want to care.
She cared.
Matt Dean sure hadn’t wasted any time in moving on… if he had moved on. Maybe the guy was as sweet and protective as he seemed and taking drunken women home was a kind gesture.
Yeah, right.
Tipping back her head, she downed the tequila. Her second shot. She’d finished busing the tables and wiping down the bar before sending Smitty home.
Now she was drinking.
Matt had been gone for over an hour. What if he didn’t come back?
She had always approached romance with a logical mind… and she’d never gotten this upset about a man. Ever. She’d had her first boyfriend in college, and even then, she’d liked the guy enough to hang out with him. Plus, she’d been curious about sex.
But her heart had never quite been involved.
Her heart needed to remain closed even now. No matter how appealing Matt could be.
As if her imagination had conjured him, he swept inside, a massive man wearing a scowl. Slamming keys across the bar, he growled, “You get to exchange the car tomorrow.”
She took a deep breath. “Why are you so late?”
“Mainly? Your friend’s treads are worn, and her spare sucks.”
“You got a flat tire?” Laney narrowed her eyes.
“Yes. I did.” He rubbed a purple mark on his hand. “I changed it after dropping the unsecured spare on my hand.”
Relief lifted her lips as she eyed the long scratch along his arm. “Problems?”
He reached for the filled shot glass. “Yeah. Problems.”
“Is that why you’re wearing a tree in your hair and are scratched?”
“Shrubs. I was dumped into shrubs by an accountant.” He downed the liquor and held out his glass for more. “According to your friends, I have great abs and am really pretty.”
She snorted and poured them each another shot. While she liked those two women, they probably couldn’t be considered friends. Friends were something she didn’t quite do. Since she’d spent so much time avoiding friends as a child, she’d never quite learned how to make many. “Well, I can attest that you are both pretty and blessed with great abs.”
The moment heated, as did his eyes. “Is that a fact?’
His voice should be labeled and sold with how fast his tone licked through her body. “That’s not exactly a matter of opinion, so yes, it’s a fact.”
“Well, you’ve seen mine…”
Tempting. God, he was tempting. But self-preservation was a skill, and she’d spent years honing it. “I thought we agreed to keep things professional between us.”
“I’ve agreed to no such thing.” He rubbed his chin and took another shot. “Though I do need to admit, considering I’m passing through town, temporary is best.” The glass clanked when he set it down.
Warmth spilled through her followed by surprise at how tempted she was to accept. The man was correct in that temporary was probably good for her. “I’m considering it.” Good God, had she actually just said those words? “But, well, there has to be something. Tell me something you either don’t want to tell, or you’ve never told anybody.”
“What is this, a slumber party?” A wry grin took the sting out of his words. “You go first.”
When was the last time she’d trusted somebody with the full truth? Never, really. But something about Matt’s level gaze inspired confidence, and she was so damn tired of holding everything inside. Some days she feared she’d just burst. “Smitty thinks I’m going to be arrested for how I came up with the funds for my bar.”
Matt lifted his chin. “God. Tell me you’re a bank robber.”
She chuckled and tried to enjoy the moment. Sometimes there were so many layers upon layers of secrets she became lost. “Sorry to disappoint, but, ah, no. The money for this bar came from a dubious source.”
The crestfallen expression in Matt’s face lightened her mood. “I was hoping for a dramatic bank robbery, or at least a classic bait and switch.”
“No. I mean, I borrowed from somebody I shouldn’t have.” She hated telling him only half the story. “I shared with you…”
He sighed, those incredible gray eyes darkening to slate. “I don’t plan to live past the age of thirty.” Surprise elevated his eyebrows as if he hadn’t meant to confess.
The moment held truth, and she breathed it in. After his time in the service, had he given up? “How close are you?”
“About six weeks.”
“It seems like a short time to give up, Mattie.”
His head jerked back, and his eyes narrowed. Emotion flashed across the hard angles of his face. “Very few people in the world call me that.”
She’d put no conscious thought into it. Yet the intensity pouring off the soldier caught her breath in her throat as a thrill swept through her. “Oh, ah, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” An unidentifiable light entered his eyes. The air in the room thickened. “I like my nickname on your lips.”
The man issued one hell of an innuendo. Need flooded through her, softening her thighs. “This is a bad idea.”
“I know.” His direct gaze held blatant male hunger.
She liked that he didn’t pretend to misunderstand her train of thought. Nobody had ever studied her so closely. A quivering warmth started beneath her breasts and spread down to her abdomen. So she poured them another shot. The night was hazing, and she needed to get out of her head. “Why aren’t you going to live long?”
He tipped back the glass, muscled neck moving as he drank. Her toes curled in response. The glass clanked as he set it down. “I can’t reveal all of my secrets in one night, darlin’.”
“That’s fair.” She sipped hers, and her eyes teared from the potent brew. The shot heated her desire into lava. “Um, are you dying of something contagious?”
“No. I promise, it’s nothing you can catch.”
“What is it?” Curiosity battled with the need roaring through her.
He shook his head. “Let’s just say the wrong people are after me.”
She could relate to that. Thank goodness he was physically healthy. “I’m sorry. That’s why you’re a loner?”
“Yeah. I rarely make connections, but when I do, they mean something.”
Sweet and probably a line. But sweet nonetheless. Her heart thumped. Hard. “How long has it been for you?”
His grin promised sin. “Too long. Way too long. You?”
“Quite a while.” They weren’t seriously talking about this, were they? She pressed her legs together and fought a groan of need.
“So, the pharmacist?”
“No way.” She shuddered. “Not even close.” A peck on the cheek at the end of the boring date was all she’d allowed. “I wish I could say differently, but temporary works for me right now.”
“Temporary is all I have.”
“I understand.” She had her own ghosts haunting her, and she couldn’t commit herself to anybody right now, and probably not ever. So she nodded and reached for the bottle, only to have him capture her hand and press it against the bar. His palm heated her skin and held with just enough pressure to show his impressive strength.
He leaned in. “I’m not one of the good guys, baby, but I’d prefer you somewhat in control of your faculties if this is going where I think it is.”
Her gaze dropped to his full lips. “You’re closer to a good guy than you believe.”
For answer, he curled his free hand around her neck and drew her over the bar. “Don’t look for traits I don’t have. I know exactly who I am.”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“The guy who’s going to have you screaming his name within the next hour.” His lips took hers.
Raw fire burst through her so quickly the ground shifted beneath her feet. Heat zipped along her nerve endings, rippling fire into her veins and softening her sex. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she fell into t
he storm.
He angled his mouth more firmly over hers, his tongue sweeping inside. The hand at her nape tightened, the fingers long and strong.
Demanding.
The kiss was many things… but mostly demanding.
She’d known. Instinct had whispered he was a force of his own, an uncontainable male.
For the first time in her life, she wanted to get lost. Taken over.
Maybe because she was ready… most likely because that’s the only way she could get Matt Dean.
And she’d never wanted anyone more.
Giving in to her own needs, she wandered her hands over his broad shoulders as his mouth worked hers.
With a low growl, he leaned down and wrapped an arm around her waist, smoothly lifting. Her knees hit the top of the bar, and she leaned into his strength.
He released her neck and skimmed both hands around to cup her ass. Heat rippled along her nerve endings.
Slowly, he drew back. His eyes had turned the color of storm clouds in a face stamped even harder than normal with desire. His hands flexed. “Are you sure?”
Oh, this was definitely a mistake. No question. She could barely breathe. “I’m sure.”
A mere second later she was cradled in strong arms, being swept from the bar. “Man, you’re fast,” she breathed.
His cheek creased. “I’m hoping to revise your opinion on that score.”
Humor bubbled up, giving her a brief reprieve from the painful desire, which still ebbed right beneath the surface. “Your place or mine?”
“I like your bed.” His chest shifted nicely against her as he moved. “The colors are sensual and gave me ideas right off the bat.”
She moved her hand up his chest to caress the hard cords in his neck. Only tough guys had necks like this. “What kind of ideas?” Was that her? Playing the flirt? Or perhaps not. She really wanted to know what kind of ideas a man like Matt had. The need to be inside his head, inside his heart, flashed warning through her desire.
His stride hitched as he maneuvered the steps. “Some you probably wouldn’t like.”
Sweet Revenge Page 8