Magdalena shoved that thought into the dark corner. With her awkward shuffle she headed straight for the bed. She didn’t care whose it was. So long as mice or cockroaches didn’t try to snuggle she’d be fine. Justice-1943, Law, or whoever the hell he was, moved to the windows. He peered out while she collapsed onto the surprisingly soft duvet. Every muscle in her body melted from her bones as finally the last drop of adrenaline leaked from her system. If bad guys stormed the tower, they could take her. Right now she wasn’t worth killing.
But then she wouldn’t have to move, would she? Law, her self-appointed guardian, crossed the room to a small closet. He hung her bright pink bag on the door hook and rummaged in the outside pocket. At the tile countertop he spread wallets and phones across the space, studying each in turn.
Fingers as deft as a teenage girl’s flew across the keyboard of his phone as he, and she guessed here, sent the information he’d promised to K. Slaughter. When she’d heard the term, at first she thought it was more code speak. After eavesdropping on the one-sided conversation, she supposed it was his superior, but she couldn’t be sure. Not about anything.
Magdalena’s ordered world had shifted a bit during her internship. Her eyes were opened to the wonders and horrors of humanity. The shift gave her a sense of purpose. It quieted the static in her head that had played in the background since her mother’s death. The events of the past two days flipped her shit completely upside down. Unwilling to lift her head, she raised her swollen knuckle into view. Purple tinted the fair skin already. But her hands hurt more from holding tight to the fabric of her toppled world than it did from the rude meeting with the glass door.
“Laird.”
Magdalena’s skin seemed to leap off her body for an instant then snap back into place. Law’s voice. Nothing to worry about. She reassured herself. But who’s he talking to? She raised her head and scanned the room. Aside from Law, who spoke into his phone, the room remained empty. Gravity gathered her back to the mattress.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” Law said. “There’s been a threat. I need you to coral Pops and Poppy for a couple days, Lill and the kids too, and warn the others to be alert.”
Suddenly her exhaustion vanished. She bolted upright and her gaze tangled with Law’s.
He watched her. Consumed her with his eyes. “I should have it squared in a day or two. I’ll let you know.” He disconnected the call.
“I’ve waited, very patiently, but I need to know what’s going on. Who were you talking to?” Her plea echoed in the room.
Law walked around the counter. The black leather hugged his body like an expensive glove. He should’ve looked ridiculous in lounge pants, thick boots, and a riding jacket. But the mixture of textures had her fingers itching to feel them again. His shoes stopped only a foot away from her clasped hands, draped over her knee. She could touch them, if she’d only reach out.
Magdalena craned her neck to maintain eye contact. The usual disparagement in their height brought her gaze to his pecs. Should she look now she’d get a full view of the heavy package he toted at the juncture of his thighs. The inequity in their stratum could have bathed her in feelings of inferiority. But lust flashed over Law’s schooled features, sending a heady sense of power coursing in her veins.
One of his hands gripped his phone and the other took the familiar detour over his close-cropped hair. “The bloke you called Davis had this in his back pocket.”
She accepted the piece of paper Law retrieved from his own pocket and unfolded the banal white sheet. Her breath caught as she read the list of names and addresses. The first three she knew. Her name and address at Cardiff. Her father’s name with Baine’s address and a note, indicating he lived in the guesthouse. Baine’s name and address and a note, demanding they discern his relationship to her.
Mags placed her hand on her stomach in an effort to settle her rattling nerves. Of the last five on the list she only recognized one thing they all had in common. The last name. Pierce.
“Oh no,” she gasped. Her hand shot up to her mouth as her stomach threatened another revolt.
Law plucked her from the bed and hurried to the water closet. As they turned the corner, the white toilet gleamed in the bulb light like the greatest gift she’d ever received. Her feet met the ground, but Law braced her back with one arm and collected her hair with the other. The lid and seat leaned against the high tank attached to the wall. Mags gripped the open lid and waited for the retched churning in her gut to expel itself from her body. Maybe then she could breathe without the weight of a Red Bus parked on her ribs.
She waited, but the release never came. Neither did relief. The water in the bowl rippled once, twice, three and four times as tears fell from her eyes. A sob broke through her lips and there was nothing she could do except hold on until her body finished with her. Law turned her into him, tucking her face in the lee of his chin and encircling her quaking body in his arms.
He slid down the wall, settling them on the floor. His torso rocked slowly side to side as he held her close, comforting her like one would a child. After a while Magdalena’s sobs receded to hiccupped breaths then finally quieted. The thump of his heartbeat resonated in her ear, lulling the last of her pent anxiety.
She swallowed and cleared her throat to speak. “I don’t want anyone else hurt because of me. Not your family. Not mine. I don’t know how I’d—"
The pad of Law’s thumb pressed onto her lips, but fell away too soon. “Enough of that. You’re not responsible for the actions of crazy people. You’ve done nothing wrong and even if you did, you wouldn’t deserve what those three had in mind.”
Mags snuggled closer to the rumble of his chest as he continued. “Your father and Ruth are guarded. Baine is in no danger. And my family can take care of themselves.”
When he spoke of his family pride, deepened his voice, and it brought the first hint of a smile to her lips in far too long. “Your brother, Laird? Is he…does he do what you do?”
He huffed, but it held no anger. Only a little irritation. “Laird is in the Royal Marines. Larkin the Royal Army. Lovella is a detective. But even Luca and Lilliana, our not-so-starving artists, can hold their own against any of us.”
“Does your dad run a military training academy or something?”
Law’s chest shook with laughter. “Or something.”
When he didn’t expound she poked him in the ribs. “That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna say?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes,” she answered emphatically. Law intrigued her, as did his massive family, but more than that, if he talked about this she wouldn’t think about all the other stuff.
He nodded. “Okay. My grandfather was a diplomat and Pop grew up in the states. He trained with Royce Gracie. Learned Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. And he started teaching all of us before we could hardly walk.”
“Who’s Royce Gracie?”
“You’re killing me, Magdalena,” he said with an exaggerated shake of his head. “Only one of the best martial artists of all time.”
She actually giggled at his mock exacerbation. “You have a big family.”
“Yeah, big and loud, and growing by the years. Lilliana, my older sister, married four years ago and has two kids with another on the way. Then there’s Khani and Zeke Slaughter who my mom practically adopted when we were all kids.”
Law tilted his head to meet her gaze and again his virile beauty struck her silly. His eyes still glimmered from laughter and a relaxed smile curved his lips. “You know a little about me. Now it’s time for you to share a little more about you.”
His tone implied, Why don’t you tell me how you got yourself into this mess in the first place?
She shrugged, not knowing the correct response.
“Not going to cut it. Start at the beginning again. We need to see if we missed anything.”
Mags opened her mouth to protest, but a vibration against her hip stopped the words on her lips. She levered ba
ck, allowing him to retrieve the device, and awed at their closeness. It seemed so comfortable only seconds ago. But his hand grazed her hip and suddenly the currents shifted. The strength of its pull, his pull, flushed her body with heat that gathered in a pit of molten desire between her legs and frightened her to the edge of his lap.
When she teetered, his thick forearm steadied her. Some of the impact of his affect ebbed as his gaze left her to check the screen of his phone. A tiny fraction of the overwhelming urge to wrap her legs around his hips and never let go fell away, allowing her breaths to flow more evenly and her brain to shift out of fuck him gear.
“Hey, Poppy, I can’t really talk right now,” he answered.
She wondered if Poppy was another in his long list of siblings, or a cousin perhaps. Law’s furrowed brow told her he didn’t like what he heard from the other side of the phone.
“He’ll take care of it. He’s not a kid anymore. Trust him to do what’s right. I have to go.” After a pause he said, “I love you too, Mum.”
Law set the cell on the floor beside his leg and met Magdalena’s gaze. Her anger must have shown on her face loud and clear because he recoiled. A shrug came next. “What?” he asked incredulously. “I’m a little busy.”
“Not too busy to talk for five minutes,” she retorted.
His lower lip tucked into his mouth then he dragged it through his teeth, considering her. “You’re just trying to avoid my questions.”
“No,” she said in a whisper. “I’d give anything to talk to my mother just once more. You have yours. Don’t waste the time.”
“That’s a balls-hard blow, if I’ve ever taken one.” Law shook his head, but grabbed his phone.
Mags seized the opportunity for some space. “While you talk to your mum, I’d like to get cleaned up. If that’s all right?”
The point of his knuckle smoothed the skin just above her cut lip. “Sure. Towels are under the sink.”
When she stood and headed for the main room, his hand curled over her shoulder, and it took every bit of strength she had not to arch into his touch.
“I’ll fetch your bag,” he said.
His fingers remained, soaking through the thin fabric of her blouse for a moment longer then his sturdy boots thudded across the floor. Magdalena’s cheeks puffed as she billowed a huff. This was no time to fall into bed with a man. But old habits apparently lived long and died hard.
Law returned with the phone to his ear, nodding as he listened. His left lid closed over his wicked green eye in the signature wink that acted like a welder’s torch to her resolve. He turned away and Magdalena’s gaze zeroed in on his nape. She never found the area erotic. Until now. The curve of his skull sloped down and tapered slightly. Tan skin shown through the base of his prickly hair and four distinct grooves grew from his hairline. They defined two cords of grainy muscles that disappeared behind his short collar, connecting with the framework of brawn she’d seen earlier.
Damn.
Mags stepped up to the mirror and immediately regretted the action. Her hair could house a family of raccoons with all its knots and fly-aways. Judging by the black smears around her eyes, she could join them. A red nose and flushed cheeks from crying, or embarrassment at her appearance, accentuated the blood red of her crusty upper lip. A lip that had nearly, or just barely, touched Law’s.
She started pulling pins from her fallen hair and set out to shower and make something presentable of herself. It took some scrubbing, some huddling in the corner to keep from flashing her generous ass, and some careful combing to straighten her hair without hurting her arm. But she rounded the partition about an hour later with a slow, confident gate. As assured as she could strive for in an unfamiliar place, wearing a cotton tank and shorts, wondering who in the world was after her, why, and who in the world her brother’s housemate actually worked for and if Baine was part of it too.
Magdalena’s head pounded from ramming into too many dead ends. Law didn’t look like he faired any better. His playful demeanor from earlier had vanished. In its place his expression bordered on harsh. The set of his jaw froze in flex. His gaze followed her, but never softened as she neared the bed. She sat her bag on the wooden floor at the end of the mattress and took another step, bringing her even with Law where he stood rigidly on the other side of the pallet.
“How’s your mum? Scared, I’m sure.”
“Nah, she’s pissed. Laird won’t let her go on her girls’ weekend to Hugh Town.”
“I’d boil too. It’s beautiful there. The ocean outside your window and the sand only a stroll away. I hate she can’t go because of me.”
“They’ll reschedule,” he said flatly. His gaze dropped to the bed then rose to her. “I’d offer to sleep on the floor, but I’m not that chivalrous. I need some sleep or I won’t be good for anything tomorrow.”
Her fingers knotted behind her back, but she bobbed her head. “It’s fine by me.”
“Yeah,” he growled. “Just stay on your side.”
Magdalena threw her hands up. “I’m not some perv who’s going to try and cop a feel while you’re dozing.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he said.
The wide and wild range of her emotions over the past few hours looped her in a fair ground ride of uncertainty. Her right toe pivoted on the scuffed wood planks like it was trying to tunnel her way out of this awkward situation. “You no longer fancy an interrogation?”
“That’s not what I fancy at the moment,” he ground between closed teeth. He breathed and his mouth loosened slightly. “Just go to sleep. So I can.”
Magdalena flung herself onto the mattress like a cranky child, yanked at the covering, and curled into a ball beneath them, facing the wall. After a minute of struggling to convince her tears to evaporate, Law’s zipper moaned open. The sound of metal against metal perked her ears as he did something with those bloody guns that made her palms sweat. The room plunged into darkness. When the mattress sagged under his weight, her upper lip joined in the sweat fest.
How in the hell am I supposed to sleep?
Before long the tension seeped from her muscles and she stretched into her sleep pose. One arm straightened beneath the pillow. The other balled and tucked in the valley of her breasts. One leg elongated as long as the stubby thing would go toward the end of the bed while the other flamingoed out, snuggling the bed with her hips. Her eyes roved the stacks of books visible in the moonlight. And sleep came.
15
Law one-armed the paper bag of groceries he’d amassed at the corner shop on the end of the street and opened the white door to his building. Showered and in real clothes after the best sleep he’d gotten in years, his outlook on life should’ve been rockets and race cars, but guilt shadowboxed his heart. And that pissed him off. He had no cause for angst. His hands had stayed folded over his chest like a good boy.
The keys jangled as he slipped them from his jeans and inserted the correct one into the lock. Millimeter by millimeter he turned the mechanism to keep the smack out of the retracting bolt quiet. When he’d left, Magdalena had been sleeping like a dead bird stuck to the front of someone’s windshield. Her arms and legs spread out to all corners of the mattress. Just thinking about it brought the smile back to his lips.
He eased the door open and stopped dead in the entrance. Magdalena curled on the floor in an inside out ball. Her belly button winked at the ceiling while her legs and arms tucked beneath her back, touching each other in a straining angle. This left her full breasts pointing toward the closet and threatening to fall out of her skimpy tank onto her neck. His lips both tucked into his mouth and he bit down to keep from laughing or running over to suckle the two erect nipples poking the fabric of her shirt.
“What are you doing?” he asked after collecting his wits.
Her head snapped to the door and he feared it might fall over at that angle. She wiggled her feet from where they rested under her long blonde hair. Her arms moved from compressed V’s
to L’s and she kicked off the ground, raising her ass and legs into the air. Magdalena held the pose while he picked his jaw off the floor, closed the door, and set the groceries on the counter. Then she folded over onto her toes and stood.
Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her face and bountiful chest flushed from exertion, but her breath came slow and steady. Palms together and fingers toward the sky, she bowed her head. Her loose hair framed her face as she turned and flashed him a radiant smile.
“Trying to keep fit,” she said in answer.
“I know a better way,” he blurted. Dumb ass.
Magdalena’s brow quirked and she investigated him. Her eyes searched his face then traveled down his body, which responded to her attention. A wave of heat rolled over his skin and it had nothing to do with the rising temperatures on the London sidewalks. It had everything to do with the pursed lips and scorching stare across the room.
She winked at him, thieving his signature move. “All right.” She walked to him, her gate even and the swing of her hips determined.
Every nerve in his body screamed for him to take her. To grab two handfuls of her full ass and hoist her onto his erect penis. To coil a hand in her hair, holding her just where he needed her, while he pumped into her slick pussy. To drive her over the top until she screamed his name and moaned her pleasure. Until his own climax dragged him to the ground with sweet repletion.
Law shoved his fists into his pockets as she stopped a mere foot away. Her scent crowded his air, spurring his hard-on to unseen heights. The damn thing nearly peeked out the waist of his jeans, challenging her to a winking contest. When was he going to learn to keep his trap shut around Magdalena Wells. She didn’t frighten like he’d expected her to. Sure, last night she’d been scared when things got buggered up, but that was understandable. Unlike with other women, his full-on cocky self-preservation techniques had the opposite of their intended effect.
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