"You mean Bee," Jack guessed.
"Yes. I nearly lost her. I realize how lucky I am that she gave me a second chance to fix things and make them right between us. She's it for me, Jack. She the one. She's the woman I'm going to marry someday. Right now? She needs me here. That's right where I plan to be."
Pride welled upside him. He reached out and tousled Kelly's short hair. "Listen to you! Talking like a big boy!"
Kelly smacked away his hand but couldn't stop the grin that tugged at his mouth. "Screw you."
Finn joined his laughter but Jack could tell he was equally as proud of their younger brother for growing up and doing right by Bee. Her career was about to skyrocket, and she needed the full support of her man. It was good that Kelly was willing to take time off and commit totally to her.
When his brothers were gone and he was satisfied with the patch job they had done on the window, Jack locked the front door and grabbed his bag. He ducked into the kitchen, but Abby had already finished her chore. Heading down the hallway, he checked on Mattie who slept peacefully before continuing his search for Abby.
The room next to Mattie's had a locked door. He assumed it had belonged to their grandfather and left it alone. The door across the hall was slightly ajar. He heard the sound of rustling fabric and knocked softly. "Abby? May I come inside?"
"Yes."
He pushed open the door and stepped inside her bedroom. The serene space felt instantly relaxing with its soft gray walls and crisp white bedding. Dressed in tiny shorts and a tank top, she displayed inch after tantalizing inch of her trim legs. His tastes had always run to thicker, more voluptuous women, but there was just something about Abby and that perky dancer's frame that revved his engine.
The dimmed bedside lamps cast a warm glow to her rich, dark skin. His fingers just itched to get on her, to glide along her calves and up her thighs. He wanted to peel away those clothes and feel her naked beneath him while he worshipped her with his hands and mouth. He couldn't wait for his chance to pin her down and slide his tongue between the delicate petals of her pussy. He would have her screaming his name in no time.
Shaking himself from those tempting thoughts, he said, "We have the window boarded up for the night. Kelly offered to hit up the hardware store in the morning. If you don't mind, I'll keep Mattie with me so he can help us get the window replaced and fix the dishwasher."
"Are you sure? He can be difficult when it comes to tasks like that."
"I'm a patient man." He needed her to know that he was up for the challenge and in this for the long-haul. "Mattie likes hands-on work. I'm sure he'll love getting his hands dirty and learning some new skills."
"He will." She pinched the front of her shirt and rubbed the cotton between her fingers. The vulnerability reflected on her sweet face hit him right in the gut. "You're staying, right?"
"I'm staying." Dropping his bag, he crossed the space between them and dragged her into his arms. He sat down on the edge of her bed and tugged her between this legs. She perched on his thigh, and he wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her in place and sharing his heat with her. "I'll keep you safe, Abby."
She clutched at his shirt and nuzzled into him. "I keep thinking about what happened. I know they wouldn't have stopped with a brick if your truck hadn't been parked in the driveway."
He had been thinking the same thing but didn’t want to frighten her by confirming it. Instead, he kissed her long and slow and deep. When he felt the tension leaving her body, he eased off and peered into her eyes. "I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere. No one will hurt you or Mattie."
She let loose a relaxed sigh and snuggled into him a little more. Detective Santos' instruction to ask Abby about her relationship with the Albanian mob boss ricocheted around his head, but he didn't think this was the right time. After such an incredibly long and stressful day, she needed to rest. Tomorrow he would get the truth out of her.
"If you'll let me borrow a pillow, I'll set up on the couch in the living room."
Her fingers tightened around the fistful of his shirt that she held. "No. I…" Her voice trailed off, but he didn't push her. She had to be the one to ask. Running her finger along the collar of his shirt, she eventually worked up the courage. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
He tipped her chin with his fingers and traced her full lower lip. Grinning, he said, "Try and get rid of me."
She issued a sarcastic snort. "Once you get a good look at the whole package that comes with Miss Abby Kirkwood, you'll probably go diving out that broken window."
She said it in a way that told him every other man she had dated had done the exact same thing. "Abby, I've been friends with you for quite a while now. I'm fully aware of the dynamics. I won't sit here and say that I understand what it's like to be a twenty-four-seven caregiver and guardian to a special needs adult, but I know what it's like to sacrifice for family. I understand that dating might be tricky."
"Tricky? Jack, it's a minefield."
The imagery that word evoked was too harsh and too violent for the lighthearted way she had used it. Memories of the IED that had claimed Finn's leg and the one that had nearly killed him a few months later blasted him. The chaos, the pain, the panic—it all came flooding back to him. He tried not to show how it affected him, but Abby caught the small flinch and wince.
"Oh God! Jack! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—ugh. That was really stupid of me."
"Stop." He admonished her firmly but gently. "You don't have to walk around on eggshells around me." He cupped her face. "Baby, we've both got baggage. It's been four years since I left the Corps, and I still have nights where I can't sleep, where I just sit in front of the television and play an endless loop of my deployments in my head."
She pressed her lips to his cheek. "You're the strongest man I've ever known—and I don't mean physically. Everything you've been through and everything you've accomplished? It's amazing, Jack. When I see what you've done for your brothers and your dad, I'm just blown away by you."
He swallowed nervously. Receiving praise had always been an uncomfortable exercise for him. He deflected his discomfort by turning the praise around on her. "You're the amazing one. After everything your mother did, you're still filled with such kindness. The unconditional love you show Mattie and the way you defend and support him and fight for him to have every opportunity he deserves? That's what makes me lo—care for you so much."
At the very last possible instant, he caught himself before blundering into a full accounting of just how much she meant to him. The way Abby made him feel couldn't be denied. When she was near, his heart raced, his palms tingled and his body thrummed with such excitement. One smile from her, and he felt as if he could slay dragons.
But it was too soon and too new to tell her all that. He had only just worked up the courage to kiss her. She needed time to get used to their friendship changing from just friends to us before he confessed that he had been pining over her for years. And that's where it was heading. Just as Kelly had started making plans for his future with Bee, Jack had hopes for a bright, happy future with Abby.
Come hell or high water, Jack intended to keep her right where she was—safe in his arms.
Chapter Four
"Abby?"
"Yep?" I glanced up from my paperwork to find Marley, one of my part-time pawn brokers, leaning against the door frame of my office. The women's studies student was one of my hardest workers and had been here since she was in high school. She was one of those employees I could count on without question, and I absolutely adored her.
"Mr. Beciraj is here." She pronounced his name with a full Texas twang—beecher-eye—and put emphasis on all the wrong syllables. "He says he'd like to speak with you."
I set aside my insurance forms and followed Marley back to the sales floor. I spotted Besian loitering near the jewelry counter but didn't immediately join him. A customer hassling another broker in the luxury goods section caught my eye.
Sizing up the woman
, I made my way behind the counter. Though her designer clothing and shoes screamed money, the way she clutched the fur coat with fingers decked out in expensive gold and platinum betrayed her desperation. There was bound to be quite a story to this one.
Catching Mark's gaze, I smiled and slid into the transaction. I held out my hand and greeted the woman. "Hi, I'm Abby Kirkwood, the owner of the shop. Is there something I can do to help you?"
Not making a move to shake my hand or remove her tortoiseshell sunglasses, she blew out an annoyed breath. Her lips hardly twitched, and there was very little movement to her cheeks. Apparently, she was quite a fan of her plastic surgeon. "He's saying that I can't pawn this coat, but it's chinchilla. Surely, you understand what that means."
I didn't let her testy tone bother me. People with money problems weren't really pissed at me. They were pissed at themselves. "It is a gorgeous coat." I ran my fingers along the fur, taking in the silvery, silky guard hair and thick underfur. "Unfortunately, we don't sell very many of these."
"But it's chinchilla," she said, seemingly stuck on the fact that it was one of the finest, rarest furs on the market. "It's worth thousands of dollars."
"Easily," I agreed. "The problem, ma'am, is that it's almost July. In Texas," I added. "It was nearly ninety degrees when I stepped out front door this morning. No one is buying fur coats right now."
Instead of lashing out as I had expected, the woman crumpled right in front of me. She pushed her sunglasses to the crown of her head, the dark shade of them contrasting starkly with her white-blonde hair. Her red-rimmed eyes were slightly puffy from crying.
"Please," she said finally. "My housekeeper said you're the fairest shop in Houston. I need help. My husband's company is being investigated. They've tied up our assets, and now everyone is suing us. My husband is sick—and they just canceled our insurance. I need cash. Fast."
I studied her face for a long moment. Some people came in here with fake sob stories to try to get one over on the shop, but I could tell this woman was at the end of her rope. One good tug, and she was going to tumble over the edge.
Deciding to help her, I put it out there in black and white. "I won't buy the coat, but I know a lady who runs a luxury goods boutique. She has an online component to her business so she's more likely to take a chance on something like this." I snatched one of our cards from the holder on the counter and tugged free the pen I kept tucked behind my ear at work. "Here's her information. Tell her I sent you. She'll treat you right."
The woman accepted the card. "Thank you."
Looking at her jewelry, I said, "If you want, I can appraise the rings and bracelets you're wearing today and offer you a fair price. We can pawn or sell."
She considered her hands with an almost mercenary glint. Piece by piece, she peeled off the ones she was willing to part with and said, "I'd be willing to sell these."
I took my time appraising the small cache. Everything was top quality and much loved considering the careful care that had been taken of them. Because it was such a large amount of money, I wrote the number on a notepad and slipped it across the counter to her. Poker face in place, the woman stared at it without showing an ounce of emotion. Finally, she nodded. "I'll take it."
"Fantastic." I handed off the items and the slip of paper to Mark. "My associate here will write this up and get you situated." I glanced at him. "Make sure we have one of our security guys walk her out to her car."
"Will do, boss."
"It was a pleasure doing business with you." I extended my hand and this time she shook it.
"Thank you."
The situation resolved, I joined Besian who now leaned back against the jewelry counter and watched the bustling store. I noticed his gaze seemed zeroed in on the electronics department. My lips thinned with displeasure when I realized he wasn't staring at the televisions and game systems. No, his intense stare was fixed on Marley.
"You in the market for a new PSP?"
Besian slowly averted his gaze and smiled at me. Tall and lean like Jack, he had dark hair and even darker eyes, the irises nearly as black as his pupils. A long, thin scar bisected his left cheek. A matching scar followed the curve of his throat. I had always wanted to ask him how he had gotten those but didn't dare. I had a feeling it was a story I didn't want to hear.
Though he had only shown me kindness in all the many years he had been a fixture in my life, I held no illusions about him. Besian was one of the most dangerous and powerful men in Houston, second only to reputed mob boss Nikolai Kalasnikov. Considering the way that Russian had made a fortune with his many business interests, I wondered if the real hierarchy was a bit different these days. Nikolai might be the most powerful but Besian was probably the most dangerous. With a snap of this fingers, he could cause serious pain and trouble for me.
"No, but I see something that would be far more entertaining."
"Don't even think about it."
He seemed amused by my presumption to tell him what to do. "She's an adult. I'm sure we could have fun together."
"She's one of my girls, and—"
"One of your girls, huh? Careful," he said with a sardonic laugh. "You're starting to sound like me."
My lips pursed. "Your girls are strippers—"
"Entertainers," he cut in smoothly.
I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean. My girls at the shop are good girls who work hard, go to school and want to build successful lives. They're not doing nasty stuff on a stage to milk some poor loser for a couple of bucks."
"That's not very feminist of you." He had a teasing smile playing upon his mouth. "My girls are hard workers. Many of them are also university students. They're all trying to get into better situations. What you see as a degradation, they see as an opportunity."
Neatly put in my place, I wondered at this defensive side to the Albanian gangster. "So what? You're a champion of women's rights now?"
"I'm a lot of things, sweetheart. If you had taken me up on my invitations for dinner, you would know that."
I pinned him in place with a look. "Not happening."
He held up a hand. "Don't worry. I've heard that you're Jack Connolly's girl now."
A thrill zinged through me at the way he described me as Jack's girl. Last night, after all the fuss had died down, we had slid into bed together. True to his gentlemanly nature, Jack hadn't tried to make even the tiniest move. Other than a sweet and tender good night kiss, nothing else had happened between us. Yet, somehow sleeping so tightly wrapped up in his arms felt more intimate than anything I had ever shared with another man.
Considering how tight-lipped I was about my personal life, I asked, "Do I even want to know where you heard that?"
He shrugged, the fabric of his stone-colored suit jacket stretching easily along his shoulders. Like the woman who had just hocked her jewelry, Besian dressed in exquisitely tailored suits from the best designers. How he afforded that type of wardrobe was another discussion altogether. "When I heard about the robbery, I decided to keep an eye on you. I was told that Jack stayed at your house last night."
I was straight-up irked by the thought of a bunch of gangsters following me. "I don't need you and your guys creeping around my place, Besian."
"Not even after that brick went through your front window?"
I narrowed my eyes. "You know who it was, don't you?"
"Of course, I know. I know everything that goes on in this town."
I waited for him to give me the names of the punks who had vandalized my house. When he didn't volunteer the information, I held out my hands. "Well?"
"Well what?" he asked in that maddeningly calm and cool way.
"Are you going to tell me who it was?"
"You know who it was." He threw up the gang sign of the 1-8-7 crew, and I noticed the fresh scrapes and bruises on his knuckles. As if noticing my stare, he nodded. "It's been taken care of, Abby. You won't have problems like that again."
"Just like that, huh?"
"Consider it a favor."
"I'm not sure you're the sort of man I want to owe a favor."
To his credit, he didn't take offense. Instead, he cracked a smile. "That's because you're a smart woman." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed my concerns. "It's about protecting my business interests. I can't have that crew running wild in my backyard. They have to learn to behave themselves—or else."
It was the or else part that scared me. Besian wasn't the type of guy who would give someone a stern lecture. He was the type of guy who broke knees…or worse.
"Listen," he stepped closer, close enough that I caught sight of the thin gold chain just barely peeking out from the unbuttoned top of his dress shirt, "I don't like getting involved in other people's business—"
I couldn't help myself. I actually chortled. "Yeah. Sure you don't."
"Ha-ha," he said drily. "What I was trying to say before you interrupted me is that you need to take a closer look at your night manager Dan."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Let's just say that he isn't as squeaky clean as he would like you to believe."
"Bull," I replied forcefully. "That guy has been here forever. He and I don't always see eye-to-eye, but he's a good man."
"I'm sure he is, but that son of his?"
I didn't know much about Leonard. "He's working on a pharmacy degree. From what I know he's a good student."
Besian's expression turned unreadable. "You should ask Dan about Flea."
The mention of our resident crackhead concerned me. "Flea hasn't been allowed to come on the premises since he tried to sell me that leaf blower and weed eater he stole straight off a landscaping job happening down the street. The damned thing was literally hot when it landed on my counter!"
Besian quirked a smile at my description of that run-in. "He's not allowed on the premises when you're here, but what about at night when Dan is in charge?"
I shook my head. "I check the security tapes every morning. There are two security guys on the night shift. They would tell me if Flea was hanging around this place."
In Jack's Arms (Fighting Connollys) Page 5