by Shayla Black
“You’ve gotten what you came here for, pal. Thanks for stopping by.” Decker stood and rounded the coffee table to stand over Owen expectantly.
“I . . .” He looked at Rachel. “That’s so much to contemplate. You’re talking about changing the way I do everything, the way I approach life. Sex is actually important to women?”
“Yes, Owen. I know it’s a lot, but—”
“Look, this girl is either important to you or she isn’t,” Decker cut in. “If she is and you want to keep her, then use your head. There’s a reason she sent you to talk to Rachel. Women don’t usually want their man talking to an ex unless they’re at the end of their rope. And when did you get the stupid-ass idea that sex wasn’t important to women?”
Owen frowned, gaping. “I know it’s important to most men, but . . . I assumed women were less interested in such things.”
“The amount of pleasure you give her is a direct statement about how important she is to you, ass-hat. If you can’t make the effort to make her feel good when she’s yielding her time and body to you, then how can she feel valued?” Decker shook his head. “Didn’t you ever learn to kiss and sweet-talk girls in high school out of their bras and into their panties?”
A red flush swept up Owen’s face. “No. I let beer in college do that for me.”
Which probably explained why he’d kept a few bottles of good wine in the house when they’d been married and given her a glass or two when he’d been “in the mood.”
“Well, now you know that females like conversation with their orgasms. They like to feel special.” Decker dragged Owen to his feet, and her ex stood as if in a daze. “Try that with Carly. Ask her what she likes and listen. Put a smile on her face. And fucking call next time you’re thinking of dropping by to see Rachel.”
He managed to scoot her ex out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door without a protest from Owen. The way Decker had handled her ex had been nothing short of brilliant.
The second Decker shut the door behind Owen, he locked it and flashed her a sharkish grin.
“Decker?” She backed away.
“Beautiful . . .” He urged her against the foyer wall, kissing her absolutely breathless. A girl could get used to this . . .
Too bad he wouldn’t be around.
Rachel broke the kiss. The thought that he would soon leave and she would probably never see him again bothered her way more than it should. It was a good idea to part ways soon, before she started losing her heart to Decker. Or maybe it was already too late?
“Do you want those pancakes now? I really do know how to make them. I don’t want to send you off hungry.” She tried to wink and tease and not let on that his imminent departure was breaking her heart more than it probably should.
She expected him to agree, maybe share a casual breakfast with her. Then she supposed he’d smile, offer some thanks, along with a kiss or two, then climb on that gleaming motorcycle of his and leave. The last thing Rachel had ever imagined was for his face to thunder over, for his blue eyes to penetrate her bravado, and for him to press every inch of his hard body into her possessively.
“If you want pancakes, fine. If you don’t want to send me away hungry, then let’s skip the kitchen and go back to bed. I’m famished for you.”
SEVEN
DECKER HELD RACHEL, NAKED AND WARM, CLOSE TO HIM IN postcoital bliss, and eyed Val meowing on the far side of the bed. No doubt, they were both hungry, but that wasn’t his biggest problem.
Fighting down a mild panic, he dropped a kiss on Rachel’s brow as she slept, then he covered her up. Away from the bed, he stepped into his jeans and tucked the gun into the small of his back before making his way to the kitchen. As he did, he jammed his hand in his pocket, searching for his phone. Val followed, and he kind of wanted to high-five the cat for hissing at Owen.
Rachel’s diva pet turned cheetah and ran straight for the pantry. In the cheerful white kitchen, Decker flipped on the lights and opened the door. The cat purred and rubbed up against his bag of dry food, then looked at him with a plaintive wail.
No wonder Rachel was a sucker for Val. He’d nearly perfected crying like a baby to get his way.
With a faint grin, Decker scooped some dry food into Val’s bowl. The feline immediately darted to his dish and dived in, dismissing him.
“Lucky thing.” Decker only wished he could solve his own problems that easily, but he was going to have to make a call to even start in that direction.
Peeking down the hall, glad that Rachel hadn’t stirred from bed, he called Xander, who answered just before the fourth ring, sounding distinctly pissed off. “This better be good.”
Which meant that he’d caught his boss having a little nookie with London.
“Hang up!” Javier snarled on the other end, clearly near his brother.
Which meant they were both having a little nookie with London.
Talk about bad timing . . .
“Don’t need me for a few days. I still can’t figure out who’s trying to off Rachel. She’s not safe alone.” And he hated lying to her about why he’d picked her up at that dive bar, but the truth would scare the hell out of her. He would stay for a while, protect her, make this asshole go away . . . then decide what to do with his life. He’d have to come clean with her eventually, but what they had was too new. She might not understand or believe him. If he was still seeing forever with her after the danger had passed, then he’d sit her down, spew the truth, and they’d hash it all out.
“Got it. I won’t call you unless the world is ending. If you promise from now on not to call on a Sunday morning,” Xander growled.
“No problem.”
Without another word, Xander ended the call. The man was almost as devoted to the operation of S.I. Industries, the family business he ran with Javier, as he was to London’s pleasure. Almost, but not quite . . .
With that, Decker pocketed the phone, then helped himself to Rachel’s laptop. In less than ten minutes, he figured out that Owen and Carly had flown into Lafayette on Saturday about noon, not necessarily enough time to have made it to the bar by two to solicit him to commit murder. That would explain why he might have hired a go-between. And provide Owen a great alibi if suspicion ever turned his way. They were scheduled to fly home tomorrow evening.
Another interesting tidbit jumped out at him. Owen and Carly had applied for a marriage license. They’d blown past the three-day waiting period. In fact, they hadn’t married in the sixty days since applying. The license had expired. What was that about? Had Carly gotten cold feet? Had that been the bump in their relationship Owen had alluded to?
To compound Decker’s problems, Rachel clearly expected him to leave anytime now. She’d probably wake up from their latest round of breath-stealing, eye-crossing sex, try to feed him, and assume he wanted to go. He had to put a stop to that shit now so he could fix everything else. Time was ticking, and whoever wanted Rachel dead was expecting a call to confirm completion of the job any minute now. What was he going to do once Monday morning rolled around and she wanted to go into work? Tie her to the bed?
The idea had delicious possibilities, but only with her consent. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d agree to miss school for just about any reason. Fuck.
His thoughts racing, he strode to the pantry. He was no Chef Ramsey but he got by. Pulling out a loaf of bread and retrieving some eggs from the refrigerator, Decker managed to scrape together something that looked like sustenance within ten minutes. By that time, Val was happily purring around his ankles and meowing his thanks.
Plating everything onto the first dish he found in the cabinet, he tossed on a banana from the counter, grabbed a couple of forks, and poured them each a glass of juice. As he made his way down the hall, he heard Rachel stirring. Val darted to his mistress, and by the time Decker entered the bedroom, she was cuddling with the little fur ball.
She looked up at Decker with sleepy dark eyes and rosy cheeks. A little smile playe
d at her lips. Barely concealed by the sheet, Rachel looked a bit rumpled and a lot sated. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d seen, not because she was perfect or belonged in a magazine. Because he had put that look on her face. Because she looked like his.
Oh fuck, he was in deep.
“Did you cook?”
“Just for you. I did my very best to make it edible, too.”
“You mean it won’t taste like something the school cafeteria sells?”
He hesitated. “I can’t promise that. It might be worse, since I don’t really cook. But I get points for effort, right?”
“Sure.” She smiled at him, looking really happy. And what did it say that seeing that expression on her face gratified him?
“Good. I can trade those points in on . . . favors, can’t I?”
“Like?” She flirted coyly from under her lashes.
He set the plate on her nightstand and bent to nuzzle her neck. “Hmm, suck your nipples like candy. Or spend lunch between your legs. Feeling your mouth all around my cock? I know, how about spending the afternoon inside you.”
“For that, I’ll give you lots of points.” Then she shifted her gaze away. “I’d love for you to spend a little more time with me if you’ve got it. And you want to.”
Decker kissed her cheek and handed her the plate. Here’s where he had to lie to Rachel again. And fuck all if he didn’t hate that. Maybe he should tell her the truth. It was her life, after all. But he hated to take away her upbeat attitude about the world. He didn’t want to be the one to make her afraid. His role was to protect her, shelter her. He might not be Mr. Happily-ever-after, but by damned, keeping her safe and unaware of the danger was a job he could do well.
“I’d love to, beautiful. In fact, I’d love to spend a lot more time with you today, especially since you probably have to return to work tomorrow.”
If he hadn’t managed to solve this by tomorrow morning, no fucking way was she stepping foot outside this house without him. He’d think of something to keep her near him.
“Actually, I’ve got next week off for fall break. I’ve been looking forward to this time to finish unpacking my boxes and get my garden ready for the winter before the weather turns cold. I have a feeling this Florida girl might find the chillier winter here a bit of a shock.” She popped a bite of egg into her mouth and moaned. “I don’t even know if this is good, but I’m so hungry, I’ll say it’s delicious. Aren’t you going to eat?”
He plopped down beside her, relieved as hell. She was off for another week. With any luck, he’d have this wrapped up pronto. After that . . . well, he’d have to decide what came next. Somehow, he didn’t picture wanting to walk away from her. Which meant that someday he was going to have to come clean about his lies and pray she didn’t hate him.
Plucking the toast off the plate, he took a bite and washed it down with juice. The shit wasn’t half bad. Nice to know he hadn’t poisoned her with his lousy cooking.
He hoped his next lie went over half as well . . .
“Well, as soon as I move my stuff from the Santiagos’s place into a motel, I’ll come back and take you to dinner. How’s that?”
“Sure.” She frowned. “Why aren’t you going to stay with your friends?”
“They’re newlyweds, and I’m in their way. I need to find a place of my own since it looks like they might put roots down here for a while. While I look, there’s a motel down the road . . .” He rattled off the name of a flea-infested, rent-by-the-hour place he’d passed a few times.
Rachel looked appropriately horrified. “That’s murder central. I haven’t been in Lafayette that long, but it’s mentioned all the time on the news. Lots of body bags.”
“Really?” He shrugged. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“Why not somewhere else? There are much better places . . .”
“If there’s a bed and a shower, that’s all that matters to me. It’s just for a few days, tops.”
Biting her lip, Rachel looked at him uncertainly. “Why don’t you stay with me until then? No pressure,” she blurted. “I’ll understand if you say no. You might feel awkward, but—”
“I’d like that. If you’re going to be free, I want to be here with you. I like waking up next to you, beautiful.”
She’d taken the bait well. Now, he could settle in and investigate. If he had to wait out this fucker for a few days, he didn’t have to let her out of his sight. It was perfect.
Rachel took his hand. “That settles it, then. Do you need to grab anything from the Santiagos’s place?”
“Yeah. It won’t take long. I’ll take you to lunch . . . then we can see about working off all those brownie points.”
And somewhere in the middle of that, he was going to have to figure out a plan of attack. It wasn’t acceptable that he didn’t know who was trying to kill his woman. Decker meant to solve that fast.
• • •
AN HOUR LATER, they’d finished their meager breakfast, showered, then straddled the back of his motorcycle. Rachel had been adorably anxious about riding one. Apparently, he’d be responsible for another first for her. That made Decker smile.
She’d relaxed quickly, learned to lean into the turns with him gently, and stay fluid the rest of the time. It felt right having her behind him with her arms wrapped around his middle and her cheek between his shoulder blades.
It didn’t take too long to cross town on a lazy Sunday before noon. The new day was still in its golden infancy, shining through the branches of the green trees that Decker suspected would soon lose their leaves to the coming winter. Though the town’s population was well over 100,000 people, it functioned a lot like a small town. It was both typically Southern and possessed an interesting, laid-back charm.
Rachel seemed at home here, too.
Wondering where the hell his head was when it should be on the fucker who wanted her dead, he focused, coming up with a rough plan as the bike ate up the couple of miles of road to his destination.
A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the sprawling house the Santiagos were renting until their own was built. He had a key for security purposes, and his stuff was in the guesthouse out back, but for this ruse to fly, he needed to put on a show. And he needed the guys to play along.
As he stepped off the bike, Rachel did the same, tugging off his helmet and trying to finger-comb her hair back into something less tangled. While that occupied her, he surreptitiously pulled his phone from his pocket and sent Xander a quick text.
Here. Play along. Got plan.
Then he headed for the door. Halfway up the stairs, Xander sent a reply text with his agreement. Then Decker was ringing the doorbell. To his surprise, it wasn’t his longtime boss and friend who opened the door, but the wife he shared with his brother. London smiled and glowed, pale hair framing her angelic face, her plump cheeks rosy. She wore a loose-fitting blue cotton shirt that hid any baby bump she might have and matching polka-dotted pajama pants. He was pretty sure that was the most clothing London had worn in the house since their wedding.
“Morning, Decker. Come in,” she greeted warmly.
He hesitated in the doorway. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“That was earlier, when you called, asshole,” Xander quipped as he approached, wearing hastily donned jeans and a collared shirt inside out. Standing behind London, he planted a kiss on the back of her neck.
“Stop giving him a hard time and let him in,” Javier called, suddenly coming around the hall from the bedroom and stepping into view. The elder brother wore a gray bathrobe and probably not a damn stitch more. A morning shadow covered his lean cheeks and cleft chin, but no missing the relaxed mien full of lazy satiation. “He didn’t actually come by while we were busy, so give him credit for that.”
Decker smiled. This couldn’t be more perfect if he’d scripted it.
When London and Xander stepped back, Decker entered, holding Rachel’s hand and bringing her with
him into the airy, barrel-ceilinged foyer of the elaborate house.
As the door shut behind them, Decker grinned. “Thanks for getting out of bed for me. I’m going to get my things and vacate, like I promised.” He tugged on Rachel’s arm and brought her to his side. “Gang, this is Rachel Linden.”
The Santiago brothers both said a polite hello and shook her hand. London stepped forward with a smile and wrapped her arms around Rachel. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m a hugger.”
Sweet as always, Rachel hugged back. “Not at all. Me, too. It’s great to meet you.”
“Likewise. Have you lived here long?”
“Just a few months.”
London gave a little squeal. “Same here. We should have lunch soon and talk about places to shop. I’m still making friends in town. I’ve only got a few, and I’d like to get out before I get too big with the baby . . .”
“You need others besides us, little one?” Javier murmured in her ear, teasing. “I’m hurt.”
“You’re not very good at girl talk, Javi.” She tsked. “Xander is even worse.”
Javier looked displeased. “I don’t know whether to be happy that you think I’m better than Xander at anything or annoyed that you find me a better representation of female companionship.”
“Blow it out your ass, brother.” Xander grinned, then turned back to Decker.
Everyone drifted to the living room. London sat in the middle of the sofa, and the brothers took their respective places on either side of her. Javier’s hand tousled their wife’s long, loose hair. Xander’s hand dropped to her thigh. Decker risked a glance at Rachel on the loveseat beside him. She looked both a bit shocked and envious, and it occurred to him that she deserved to feel as desired and adored as London. Could he fulfill that need for her?
“Coffee for either of you?” the blushing blonde asked, trying really hard not to be affected by her husbands’ touches and failing more than not.
“No, thanks,” Rachel replied.
“None for me,” seconded Decker. “We won’t stay long. I’ll just grab my things . . . Rachel has been kind enough to let me crash with her for a few days while I find a place of my own, so I won’t interrupt your newly wedded bliss anymore.”