by V J Lee
“We have medics who can take care of this.”
Trevor could only stare at the blood dripping down the large boulder onto the ground.
Tate turned her shoulder, then her back, so he could survey the damage and whistled, impressed by Rissa’s ability to endure. Tate couldn’t be any more masculine, with a tall, muscular frame, tan skin and long, flowing black hair. Classic Native American features paired with a body honed by running through the woods in wolf form and working construction, made him look like a deity. He had the body of a god—a physique that men would envy and women drool over.
“That is going to leave a mark.”
“I want that asshole put down.” The vicious words were out of Trevor’s mouth, before he realized his word choice could anger Tate. Comparing wolves to dogs was never a good idea in present company, but Tate was touching Rissa, and that angered Trevor more than anything else at the moment.
“That ‘asshole’ has no idea what he did. It’s not his fault,” Rissa ground out between clenched teeth, clearly annoyed at Trevor’s verbal affront.
“You can rest assured we will take care of this. He is young and didn’t feel the transition coming on. He’s a good kid, and I know he is going to feel like shit when he finds out what he did. Still, he was out past curfew on a new moon, so there will be consequences for his actions.” Tate’s men had the other wolf loaded up without a sound. No evidence was left to prove he had even been there.
Rissa was pulling little sticks and leaves out of her hair. “Don’t be too hard on him. Finding true love is a bitch, so give the kid a break.”
“Rissa, you are a one-in-a-million. You know that, right?”
She shrugged, then winced.
The Washington brothers came jogging up to the group. “We’re going to go round up the people at the mall, and make sure no one’s seen or heard anything,” Jones said. “You need anything, Rissa?” When she shook her head, he replied, “Okay, then. We will be back in a bit to get you home.”
“No, I will be taking her to the medics,” Trevor found himself saying.
“What do you mean? Rissa, you okay, girl?” Davis asked, concern in his eyes.
She just waved them on. “Go on, get out of here. Business first and foremost.” Not really wanting to leave her alone with Trevor, but having no other option, the men trotted off toward the mall.
Tate turned to him. “I hear some congratulations are in order for you, my man. So, yeah, congrats on the engagement.”
Trevor sent Rissa a ‘how the hell does he know’ look.
Tate looked from Trevor to Rissa, then back again. “The full-page announcement in today’s paper has everyone buzzing about it. Tip said we got a ‘save-the-date’ card already. Yes, we will be there. Two for the beef, as rare as you can make it. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m starting to get itchy. That means it’s time to find my mate.” Tate turned to Rissa. “My love, take care and please reconsider the date with my brother. You are exactly the kind of woman Timber needs in his life.”
Rissa smiled. “I will. Just tell him I still need a little time.”
That made Trevor’s heart jump. She still wasn’t over him. He immediately curbed the emotions. He was marrying Petra.
Up against the rock, Rissa looked as disheveled as she felt. Dirt and blood were smeared on her lips, up to her cheek. Twigs and leaves were tangled in her hair, which was now half-in and half-out of an elastic band. She had holes in both knees of her pants. Despite all this, she was still the most beautiful woman Trevor had ever seen.
He bent down to pick her up, and she protested. “Please, don’t help me up. The last thing I want, is for you to think I’m weak or vulnerable.”
He stopped, then held out his hand to her, and her small hand reached up for his, trembling slightly. When he pulled her up, she nearly went down again, her legs buckling under her. She fought through the pain and stood strong.
He picked her up. “Rissa, I would never think of you as weak. No one would.”
It wasn’t until he cradled her against his chest that he realized (1) what a perfect fit she was in his arms, (2) how small she really was, and (3) just how freaking deep the wounds on her back and shoulder went. He now knew she was pale, not only from the loss of blood, but probably pain as well.
He got her to his car and checked the wounds to see how bad they were. He was barely able to keep the gasp he felt from breaking free. Most men would be down for the count from this kind of damage, but this tiny woman didn’t even act like she was hurt. Not to mention, she out-ran a Spirit Wolf in his mating form. He had never heard of a human being able to do that. This job was her calling. She was the best, and he was so damn proud of her.
As it turned out, the brothers wouldn’t let him take her in. They absconded with Rissa, putting her in the company van, bent on taking her straight to the medics, and telling him they would keep him in the loop. They reassured Trevor of how tough she was—that it would take more than a few flesh wounds to keep Dynamite down. The nickname “Dynamite” had caught on quickly, because even though Rissa was little, she was powerful.
Chapter 4
Pulling his standard-issue black sedan into the six-car garage, Trevor couldn’t help but think of how much his life had changed. He once had a small, three-bedroom, two-bath cottage with Rissa. It sat on a huge lot in the middle of nowhere. The little yellow house, which was painted by the previous owner—there was no way in hell he or Rissa would choose the color yellow and depreciate the value—had white trim and a wrap-around deck. It was cute and quiet, with very little upkeep.
Now, he lived in a gated community with every damn covenant imaginable, an HOA that wanted to know your every move, a security patrol who’d use binoculars to watch you fuck your wife if you left the blinds open, and an ACC that had to permit anything you wanted to build on your own multi-million-dollar property. Petra argued their need to get married quickly, because the community frowned on people living in sin. It was a three-ring circus to prove they had the worth to live there.
This house was a sprawling ten-thousand square feet. There were thirteen bedrooms and twenty bathrooms. He could take a shit in a different bathroom every day for three weeks. Have more than a couple of drinks, and you’d need a map to find your bedroom. Every room was monitored by cameras and security, since Petra was scared of her own shadow. The big house, all stone and pillars, sat on an acre of land, backing up to an eighteen-hole golf course—as if he had the desire or time to play golf.
As he sat in the darkness of his garage, he realized that the two houses were just like the women who lived in them. Rissa was small, cozy, and low maintenance, while Petra was large and elegant. And a pain in the ass.
Trevor noticed Jock standing in the doorway of the garage. Worry lines stretched across his forehead and branched out from the corners of his eyes. Trevor stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him.
“I just got off the phone with Davis. Shit, Trev, they have to go in and rebuild muscle. It’s going to be over three-hundred stitches, with staples inside and out. Her knee caps have bruises and abrasions on them, but she doesn’t need surgery on them, thank God.” He kept talking, as Trevor hung up his keys on the key keeper by the door. “She’s lucky to be alive. That thing could have killed her.”
A woman’s voice cut in. “Personally, I think she did it on purpose. You know, for the attention.”
Both men turned toward Petra with what must have been looks of horror.
She shrugged her slim shoulders. “What? I mean, really, who does that kind of thing? You have to have a death wish to drench yourself in pheromones, then run through the woods like a maniac. She’s certifiable. Then she gets hurt, and everyone comes running to save poor little Rissa.”
Jock stalked to the front door, clearly repulsed by Petra’s comments. “I’m going to check on Rissa. I will see both of you in the office, first thing in the morning.” His gray gaze swept to Petra. “And do not be late.”
<
br /> Petra turned to Trevor. “What’s his problem? Geez, I’m just saying what everyone is thinking.”
“No, you’re not. No one thinks that, but you.”
She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “I just don’t get why everyone seems to think she is so freaking perfect. She’s not, you know? She has issues. I mean, if she were that great, you would have kept her.”
Trevor bit his tongue, literally, to keep from saying something he’d regret. Rubbing the back of his neck to try and release some of the tension, he fought back the desire to defend Rissa to a woman who could make both of their lives hell if she knew how he really felt.
Petra sauntered over to him and ran her perfectly manicured fingertips up and down his chest. “You look so tense, darling.” Her hands came to rest on his belt buckle. “Why don’t you let me take care of you?” Nimble fingers began undoing his belt. Petra never went down on him unless she wanted something, so the only thing he could think of was how much this was going to cost him.
When she pulled his penis out of his pants, her touch did nothing to spring life into his cock. She took his flaccid organ and shook it. Yeah, like that was going to help.
He bent down and put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re right, Petra. I’m stressed and tense. I don’t think this is going to work.”
“I think I can blow some life into Little Trevor.”
Calling his manhood little was not going to help this situation. Petra again lowered herself to the hardwood floor that was buffed to a brilliant shine, always smelling of teak oil. Maybe he should be thinking of something other than what kind of oil they used on the hardwoods.
Rissa used to call his manhood a magnificent beast. Petra hated giving blow jobs. Rissa, on the other hand …
He remembered how they would sit on the dark brown, well-worn leather couch watching some stupid, mindless comedy or some action flick, the room filled with the scent of popcorn and Rissa’s musky jasmine fragrance. Rissa was never one to watch the sappy romantic crap that Petra forced him to see all the time.
Rissa would say out of the blue, “I need the magnificent beast. I want … no, I need … to suck him dry.” And boy, would she ever. Right there on the living room couch, she would give him “bedroom eyes” and then dive at him. Pulling his shorts down, she would take him in her mouth so deep, suck him down so good, and moan and groan like he was the most decadent thing she ever had in her mouth. The vibration made by her groans on his cock brought him to climax more quickly than he would like to admit. Her hands would lightly caress and stroke his balls, and when he would ejaculate in her mouth, she would swallow it down, then clean him up with her tongue. She would pull up his pants and then lay her head on his chest, going back to watching the movie like nothing had happened—like she didn’t just give him the most mind-numbing orgasm of his life.
All he needed was visions of Rissa’s lips wrapped around his hard cock, Rissa taking him all the way down the back of her throat, and he came for Petra. The thought of his Rissa’s mouth on him sent shivers down his spine.
No, not “his” Rissa. She was not his—not anymore, because he threw her away.
Unlike Rissa, Petra never swallowed his seed. She gagged on it and spit it out, letting it hit the hardwood floor.
“Eww, gross. You know how much I hate that shit. I’m going to rinse my mouth out and take a long, hot bubble bath.” She got up from him and walked to the hallway, dusting off the knees of the gray pantsuit she had paired with a cream-colored button-up and dark gray heels. He heard her heels clicking on the floor, then she stopped and turned to say, “Oh, by the way, I need another twenty thousand for the caterers.”
“What? We’ve already spent thirty on food for the wedding.”
“So then, what’s another twenty? Besides, because of the announcement in the paper, I have so many people telling me that they want to attend the wedding of the century. How can I say no? I mean, everybody will be there—all of our neighbors, everyone from the country club, my family, your family, everyone from the Agency … well, everyone, but her.” She stalked to the bathroom. “Oh, and clean up that mess on the floor before you come to bed,” she spewed over her shoulder without breaking stride.
* * *
Rissa wanted to move, but knew the instant she did, the pain would slice through her like a hot blade. She was on the couch in her living room, covered up with the dark brown comforter from her bed. The doorbell rang again. Damn it—she was going to have to get up and answer the door. Flowers had been coming all morning from the guys at the Agency, and a huge arrangement came from Runningwolf construction. It smelled like a freaking florist shop in her house.
She gingerly made it to the edge of the couch, but as soon as she put pressure on her legs, her knees protested, and she fell back onto the couch. Ding, dong … ding, dong. “I’m coming! Give me a second.”
Finally making it to her feet, Rissa shuffled to the door. The young delivery boy stood on her front step with a big smile on his face. “Another delivery, Ms. Jackson. You sure do have a lot of friends.”
“I just wish they would all get together and send me one big delivery. Hey, do me a favor. If any more show up, just leave them on the front step.” She handed the kid a twenty.
This arrangement was the biggest bouquet by far, and all wildflowers. It was the most beautiful arrangement of sunflowers, daisies, red poppies, columbines, bluebells and cornflowers, with little baby’s breath and baby blue eyes mixed with green ferns. It took her breath away. She didn’t see a card, but didn’t need one. She knew who they were from.
“Jim, do you know who these came from?” she called after the delivery kid, asking to confirm her suspicion.
Shaking his head, he responded, “No ma’am I don’t, and even if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Do you have a pen and paper?”
He handed her his clipboard, the pen stuck up in the clip. She scribbled down an address. “Do me a favor and take these flowers to this address.”
“Uh … I don’t know if I’m supposed to do that … but for you, I’ll make an exception.” Jim gave her a dopey, lopsided grin.
Rissa smiled back. “Thanks, and please leave anything else you have for me on the step. It hurts like hell to get up.”
She waited until the kid jumped back into his delivery van and took off, before closing the door and locking it. Hell, seeing how she was up, she might as well go pee. Going to the bathroom, she flicked on the light. Yikes, the light was not her friend, nor was the mirror. She looked like that damn wolf chewed her up and shit her out. Oh, well. It wasn’t like she was planning on having any company. They were all working on covering up the mess in the forest last night. Was that really just last night, or was it a couple of nights ago? No big deal. She wasn’t allowed anywhere near the Agency until Jock said so, anyway.
Getting herself some ice water for her seemingly perpetual cottonmouth, she flipped on the television, then eased back down. Rissa wondered for a second if she was still asleep and having a nightmare, because right there on the news was Petra’s stunningly beautiful, stupid face.
“So, as I have already mentioned, there is no reason for panic. An agent from a private detective agency had a mental breakdown. We think drugs may have been involved. She was running naked through the woods, which caused some men to chase her, trying to get her covered up and get her under control. Sources say she was screaming about wolves attacking her. But we can assure you, after an extensive search of the surrounding area, wildlife and police officials have confirmed there is no sign whatsoever of any wolf activity in the surrounding areas. The agent in question has been suspended until a full psychological evaluation can be done on her. That is all for now. If we find out any other information, we will schedule another media conference. Thank you for coming out.”
Rissa stared at the television in horror. There was no way Jock signed off on that report; this was just another one of Petra’s jabs at her. She never did a th
ing to that woman, yet at every turn, she made her life a living hell. Rissa could handle the personal attacks, the snarky comments, even the very deliberate and public displays of affection she lavished on Trevor. What really hurt was that Petra didn’t want her seeing Jacob.
Trevor told her it was a mutual decision, that he and Petra thought it was in the best interest of their family, if she didn’t have contact with the boy. He said it confused Jacob, and seeing how Rissa was “nothing” to the boy, she needed to stop acting like his mother. Yeah, that last part had to have come straight from Petra. Out of everything the two of them did to her, that hurt the most and cut the deepest.
Rissa loved that little boy like he was her own. His birthday was coming up, and everyone was invited … everyone but her—just like the wedding. She did get Jacob a present, though. Ever since she, Jacob and Trevor went to see one of the Despicable Me movies, Jacob loved the Minions. She had a special Jacob Minion made with light blond hair. Like Jacob’s favorite Minion, David, the Jacob Minion had two big brown eyes and she had “Jacob” sewn into the little yellow creature’s overalls. He would love it. She smiled, thinking at least Petra couldn’t take that away from her. She would give it to Lizzy, to give to Jacob from her.
Her shoulder started throbbing. Every time her heart beat, she could feel the thumping pain in her back and shoulder. She wasn’t one for pain pills, but emotional and physical anguish will change a person. Rissa looked at the bottle, trying to find directions for use, but seeing as how the meds had come from their private medics, no such information existed. Had they told her to take two pills every four hours or four every two hours? She couldn’t remember, but figured three would be good. Washing the meds down with water, she turned off the television. She forced a little smile at silencing PR Petra. Then laid down and let the meds do their work, slipping her into sweet oblivion.