Necessary Action

by Julie Miller

  But she couldn’t stand one more second of Silas pawing at her, either. She’d find another way to get away and help Tom escape. She wrenched her mouth away from Silas’s. “Let go of me!” She scratched her fingers over his scalp, startling him into drawing back. She shoved the butt of her hand up against his nose and heard a pop.

  He grabbed his face and tumbled backward. “You bitch!” Anger and pain must have cleared his foggy brain enough to see her running down the hall. After just a few steps, his hand clamped over her wrist, jerking her back into the hard slap of his hand across her cheek. Melanie’s knees buckled as white dots swam across her vision, blurring her senses to a banging sound and a shouting voice. Silas shoved her up against the wall. “You uppity, teasing—”

  A massive forearm closed around Silas’s neck and dragged him away from her. Suddenly free, Melanie collapsed against the wall. Silas kicked his feet and clawed at the bulging muscles that were choking him. Blood dripped from his nose onto the rolled-up white sleeve. She blinked her eyes clear to see Tom’s furious expression as he strangled his prey.

  “Tom! Tom, stop!”

  Silas’s bloody face turned red, then purple. His struggles became little more than flailing hands. Then his arms dropped to his sides, his eyes closed and he went limp like a rag doll. Silas’s bulky frame bobbed up and down as Tom heaved several deep breaths. Melanie looked up into Tom’s narrowed green eyes and found them burning through her. “You okay?”

  She pushed herself up straighter and nodded. “Is he dead?”

  “No. But he’ll be out for a few minutes.” He glanced up and down the shadowed hallway. Had any of them screamed or cursed loudly enough for someone to hear them? “You up to helping me?”

  Again, she could do little more than nod.

  “Grab his feet.”

  Melanie pushed away from the wall and lifted Silas’s heavy boots after Tom shifted his grip beneath the big man’s arms to haul him into Henry’s office. Adrenaline was still pumping so hard through her system that it was hard to concentrate. “What are we doing?”

  “Creating a plausible reason for him to be passed out here.” Tom dumped the unconscious body onto her uncle’s leather couch. She positioned his feet while Tom pushed him onto his side to retrieve the flask from Silas’s back pocket.

  “When Silas comes to he’ll tell Henry about us. You should get out of here. You should get in your truck and just leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. And he won’t talk.” Tom opened the flask and poured the amber contents all over Silas’s shirt and the couch. “Getting drunk on the boss’s whiskey and passing out in his office isn’t going to earn him any brownie points. If he wakes up before he’s discovered, he’ll leave to cover his tracks. If he’s discovered here, he’s got too big of an ego to admit he lost a fight.” He tossed the flask onto Silas’s sleeping body. Tom’s fingers curled into a tight fist at his side. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I could hear what was happening and... I’m sorry.” He reached over to lift the braid of her hair off her shoulder and Melanie flinched. “You’re not okay.”

  The adrenaline must be wearing off now because she was suddenly so chilled she was shaking.

  * * *

  IT WAS THE second time Duff had seen Melanie charge across the compound into her cottage, desperate to escape the toxic hell of her family and so-called friends. Although she’d avoided his touch, at least she didn’t slam the door on him this time, shutting him out of her pain and anger.

  To think that that bastard had hurt her...to realize she’d put herself in that position to protect him... The rage at seeing Silas strike her was still coursing through him. But Melanie didn’t need rage right now. She needed... Well, hell, he wasn’t sure what she needed, but he wasn’t about to walk away and let her deal with Fiske family crap on her own. He didn’t plan to leave her alone again until they were miles away from this place. And, even then, he didn’t think he ever wanted to be far from her.

  Still, when she marched straight to the sink and turned on the water to soap up her hands and arms, he quietly closed the door and waited for her to vent. She didn’t. She dried off her hands, then turned on the water again to wash her face. “How did you get past Silas?”

  “Didn’t have to. I climbed out the attic window and dropped onto the roof of the back porch. Shimmied down that oak tree shading the porch from there.” When she started rinsing out her mouth, as well, Duff had to go to her. He picked up the towel she’d tossed onto the counter and handed it to her.

  She dabbed at her face. “And then you circled around the house to come in the front door. That’s good thinking. No one will suspect we were in the attic.”

  When she put the towel down, Duff saw the red handprint on the side of her face and cursed. Her brown eyes widened with surprise, but instead of apologizing for startling her, he reached for her hand and led her into the infirmary. When she protested his caveman need to protect his woman, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the examination table, warning her to stay put while he searched for an ice pack. “Damn it, Doc. I feel like I’m always on the wrong side of saving you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He fumbled with the ice he pulled from the minifridge but, eventually, forced several pieces into a towel before folding it into a rudimentary packet. “When Silas puts his hands on you or Deanna insults you or I know your brain is making comparisons to dead bodies that have to be breaking your heart—I want to protect you from all that.”

  “It could have been worse. You taught me how to fight him.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “I know. Because you’re brave and resourceful and stubborn to a fault. You’re so used to saving yourself...” He gently pressed the ice pack to her bruised cheek. “But can you blame a guy for wanting to keep someone he cares about safe?”

  “You couldn’t have stepped in to stop Silas any sooner—not without giving away why you’re here. We both heard you moving the shelf in the attic, although I think he was too drunk to know what it meant.” She reached up to cover his hand with hers, holding the ice pack in place, cooling the protective rage inside him, too. “I need you to succeed. I need you to put these people away. Forget about Dad. You have to stop the guns and the violence.”

  Uh-uh. He slipped his fingers into the hair behind her ears, tilting her turbulent brown eyes up to his. “I’m not forgetting anybody. Once we get the players into custody, they’ll be willing to talk. I’m not giving up on your father. We’ll get these guys—as soon as the lab gets back to us, the task force should be able to obtain warrants. I’ll put them away in prison and then I’ll take you away from this place. I promise.”

  She nudged him back a step and this time he let her hop down off the table. “Did you find what you needed to solve your case?”

  “Yes.” He followed her through the cottage to her bedroom, where she opened the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out her father’s watch. “We’ll have to play this game out another day or two. We can’t let anyone know what we’re up to until my team is ready to move in. Otherwise, Henry and Silas will move the guns again, and we need to catch them with the evidence. Can you handle that?”

  She nodded, but he didn’t quite believe her. “What’s next? Another rendezvous at the old fire tower?” She ran her palms over the hips of her dress, searching for a spot to put the watch. “I should put on a pair of jeans.”

  Instead of changing, she scurried around him into the bathroom. Duff put the watch in his own pocket to carry it for her. She dumped the ice into the sink, inspecting the mark on her face before dabbing at her face and lips with the towel. She turned her back to him and pointed to her zipper. “Can you undo me? I want to shower.”

  Instead of undressing her, he wrapped his arms around the top of h
er chest and pulled her to him, hugging her from behind. “You’re okay, Doc.”

  She struggled only momentarily before sagging against him. “I know. I mean, in my head, I know I’m okay.” She reached up to hold on to his arms. “But I got really scared tonight.”

  “I know, babe. I’m so sorry.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her hair. “You want to get out of here?”

  “Kansas City?”

  Duff tightened his hug. “Not yet. But I’ve got an idea. My truck is parked out in the parking lot. Trust me?”

  A few minutes later they were bouncing over the gravel road that led to the old dock. The moon was bright enough that any time they cleared the canopy of leaves and branches, he got a glimpse of Melanie’s face. To his relief, the farther they got from the compound, the more color he detected on her freckled skin. She rolled down the window to breathe in the fresh night air. “This was an excellent idea. I’m feeling better.”

  If she was strong enough to listen, he had something he needed to say. “You could have told Silas I was upstairs. You could have told him I’m a cop and what I’m doing here. He’d have come after me instead of you.”

  “I thought about it,” she admitted. “But I wouldn’t have had your back very well, then, would I?”

  Duff knew right then and there he was in love with this woman. He reached over to capture her hand in his. “Yeah, Doc. You had my back.”

  They drove in bumpy silence several more minutes until they reached the old dock and the wreck of the Edwina. After parking the truck, he untied his work boots and toed them off, tossing them into the back of the truck, along with his socks and belt. He locked his gun, wallet and phone in the gear box and untucked his shirt. Catching on to his intent, Melanie tossed her flip-flops into the bed of the truck and grabbed the old blanket he kept rolled up behind the seat. Then they walked hand in hand out to the edge of the dock, spread the blanket out to protect them from splinters and sat, dangling their feet in the water that was still warm from the afternoon sun.

  The moonlight bathed Melanie’s skin with an angelic glow and reflected off the lake, but the trees surrounding the cove still provided a feeling of privacy. The water lapped quietly in the grasses on either side of them, and splashed up to their ankles and calves with every gentle sway of the dock. A symphony of cicadas and frogs serenaded them.

  “It’s like an IV for you out here, isn’t it?” He loved watching her flex her legs and splash her toes in the water. “Feeling better?”

  “This has always been a special place.” She leaned closer and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I like it even better that you’re sharing it with me.”

  “Just trying to have your back.” Her wet toes came out of the water to slide beneath the rolled-up hem of his jeans to tickle his leg. His entire body warmed at the brush of her skin against his. Yep, he was totally gone on this woman. “I wish I’d been able to get to you sooner tonight. When I said I needed your help, I never meant for you to have to...” He muttered a choice word, then kissed her hair, apologizing for bringing anything harsh into this peaceful place. “I want to bust that jackass’s face again for touching you.”

  “I want to bust his face. You know, you never did show me how to do a good old-fashioned uppercut.” She studied her fist in front of her for several seconds before she drew her hand back to her heart. “It was different than when you touch me.”

  “I hope like hell it was.” Duff pulled his right leg out of the water, stretching it out on the blanket behind her so he could face her. He cupped her face between his hands and leaned in to kiss her.

  He’d meant it to be a gentle reassurance. But when she fisted her hands in the front of his shirt and pulled herself up into the kiss, parting her lips and sneaking her tongue out to meet his, he forgot about gentle. Her husky groan ignited his own hunger, and he slipped his hands down, trying to pull her into his lap, closer to the male part of him that always responded to her passion. But the angle was awkward and the dock was rocking and he needed her to understand the difference between his touch and Silas’s.

  With a groan of his own, he tore his mouth from her lips and rested his forehead against hers. He ran his hands up and down her arms. “I can’t keep my hands off you because you excite me. You challenge me and frustrate me and make me laugh and make me crazy. You make me want to talk about things I never talk about.” Her warm, whiskey-colored eyes looked up into his, and she looked so gorgeous that he couldn’t help kissing her again, taking his leisurely fill of her mouth, then touching his forehead to hers again. He needed her to understand. He needed her to believe his words. “There’s a difference between control and desire. Between respect and using. You need to know how special you are. How beautiful. And if any man doesn’t make you feel that, he doesn’t deserve you.”

  She flattened her palms against the sandpapery new stubble that was itching his jawline again. Her lips curled into a bemused smile as she rubbed her hands over his cheeks before sliding them around his neck to caress his short hair. Duff’s blood heated with anticipation, even as he held himself still beneath each provocative touch. He idly wondered if she knew what she was doing to him, if she could hear his heart thump faster in his chest or feel the quickening rhythm of his breath stirring her hair. She drew her fingers tenderly over his shoulder to rest beside the healing wound there. “I love the way you kiss me. And I like...” His eyes narrowed, waiting expectantly as her wicked hands danced across his chest. “I like exploring how you feel under my hands. You’re all different textures and hard planes and vulnerable places and...” Her blush intensified. “I love how your hands make me feel, too, and... I want you to show me what it’s like when a man cares. If you’re interested.”

  Oh, he was interested. Very. More than he should be. But he needed her to be sure of what she was asking of him. He touched a fingertip to the blush climbing up her neck. “Am I your first?”

  Melanie nodded. “First kiss. First date. First time.” That blush intensified, just like the emotions burning inside him. “I’m twenty-five years old. Does that make me a freak?”

  Duff caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face to his when embarrassment made her look away. “It makes you special. I can’t tell you how honored—and how scared—it makes me to be your first.”

  “Scared? Of having sex with me?”

  “Of making love to you,” he clarified. “I want it to be a good memory for you. I’m scared I’m not up to the task.” He tugged her braid between them and pulled the rubber band from the end before slowly unwinding her hair. “Anything you don’t like...anything that frightens you...you tell me. I’ll make it right. Or I’ll stop. Whatever you need.”

  “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the job.”

  Her husky vow was as much of a turn-on as it was a reassurance. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He fanned her hair around her shoulders and sifted his fingers into the thick, sexy waves. “I need you to kiss me now.”

  He needed that, too. Once their lips met, conscious thought flew out of his brain and instinct took over. She wound her arms around his neck and crawled up his body, pushing her breasts against his chest. They pebbled and poked him and his hands were there in an instant, squeezing their weight and rolling the tips between his thumb and hand until she was panting “more” against his mouth.

  The woman had rock-solid instincts, too. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt and pushed the wrinkled cotton off his shoulders. He was groaning for more when she palmed his pectoral muscles and started playing with his responsive flesh. He unzipped her dress and wriggled it off over her head, hating that he lost contact with her lips but consoling himself by pressing a kiss to her abdomen and the underside of her breast and the fine line of her collarbone as every inch of her was slowly revealed to his hungry gaze.

  The dress joined his shirt somewhere on the d
ock and then they were skin to skin. Melanie crawled into his lap, straddling him. Her fingers brushed against his stomach muscles and trailed lower, tugging at the snap of his jeans. Her thighs squeezed around his hips and he rocked himself helplessly against her feminine heat. This was going too fast. She might think she was prepared for this, but he couldn’t simply strip her naked and bury himself inside her without making sure she was ready for him.

  “Trust me?” he whispered against her mouth, chasing her lips as they grazed along the column of his neck, eliciting tiny little shocks of electricity that threatened his resolve.

  With her nod, he wound his arms tightly around her and leaned over the edge of the dock, pulling her into the water with him. There was no startled gasp, no cold shock, only the tightening of her arms and legs around him. The warm water sluiced in between them, and for a few seconds Duff simply held her, treading water and enjoying the rocking motion of the waves around them, tempering the desire pounding through him. He moved his hands along her arms and back and around the thighs that wrapped his waist, gently bathing her, washing away any memory of Silas’s hands on her.

  Once the frantic energy radiating off her dissipated, they swam around for a few minutes, splashing each other, sneaking kisses in unexpected places, laughing and playing tag and kissing again. Melanie was like a water nymph, with her long hair floating in the water around her, hiding the best bits from his appreciative gaze until she moved and he caught a glimpse of a breast or bottom as she darted from his touch.

  A breathless Melanie grinned as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. “I’ve never been skinny-dipping with someone else before. Aren’t we supposed to be naked?”

  So much for cooling his jets. The weight of his wet jeans pulled his feet down to the solid bottom, but he was standing on shaky ground as she bared her beautiful breasts to him and the moonlight. Suddenly, Duff was hungry and impatient. The water couldn’t temper his need any longer. When she made a token effort to swim away, he caught her by the ankle and pulled her hard against him, lifting her breast to his mouth and capturing the tip in a needy suckle. She moaned, splaying her fingers at the back of his head, holding his mouth against her.