The Good Girl In My Bed (Dangerous Desire Book 2)

by Lexxie Couper

  When Ronnie began to lap the pool in backstroke, her breasts and nipples breaking the water’s surface, the exquisite curve of her pussy doing the same, I knew it was time to join her in the pool.

  I headed for the stairs to the yard from the back deck, and then changed my mind. Not about joining her in the water, but my approach. After the caveman-like fucking I’d given her earlier that day, perhaps it was time for some romance.

  I’d never had a desire to be romantic until Ronnie entered my life, and to be honest, I wasn’t very good at it. A life fighting in gangs, a life brutalizing anyone not capable of standing his own against me in the underground MMA cage did not lend itself to nourishing a romantic.

  Ronnie was changing that though.

  The few times I’d been romantic during the last seven days—making her breakfast in bed, giving her an unexpected foot massage as we watched a movie on Netflix, shampooing her hair in the shower—she’d looked at me with such open love it had damn near stopped my heart.

  Right now, in the pool? The perfect time to sweep her off her feet again. To show her I wasn’t just the bastard I knew I was.

  I made my way back into the kitchen and snagged a bottle of white wine from the bar fridge. Humming, I chucked some ice into the bottom of an ice bucket, shoved the wine into the bucket, and then grabbed a packet of potato crisps from the pantry. Hey, I never said I was good at the whole romance thing, just that I tried.

  I was grinning when I walked back out onto the deck. Horny, naked, and grinning.

  I was also completely focused on the pleasure I was about to give Ronnie, which meant it took my brain longer than it should have to process the fact she was out of the pool, reaching for a towel on one of the sun loungers, her stare locked on the tall man standing directly before her.

  Man.

  Tall.

  Tattoos.

  Gun. Pointed at Ronnie.

  The last thought was a shard of ice through my head.

  I moved fast, breaking into a sprint, dropping everything but the bottle of wine. That I gripped by the neck, ready to crack the fucker’s head in.

  The ice bucket clattered to the wooden deck, the noise like a gunshot in the calm afternoon quiet.

  I saw the man standing in front of Ronnie flinch. Saw him swing towards me as I ran towards him.

  Saw Ronnie snatch up her towel—and something else, something that looked like a police baton.

  Tonfa. She’s got the Chinese melee weapon from the gym. She’s armed herself.

  Pride rolled through me, just as she swung her arm upward in a blurring arc and smashed the end of the tonfa into the man’s jaw.

  Bone cracked. There was no mistaking the sound. Blood spurted from the man’s mouth in a bright red spray a heartbeat before he lurched backward.

  His calves struck the sun lounge. His head lolled back on his neck. His body turned boneless.

  Ronnie brought the tonfa down in a sweeping strike, hitting him on the cheek as he began to collapse.

  His head snapped to the side under the blow, and he crashed to the ground, motionless, his gun clattering across the pavers just as I reached Ronnie’s side.

  I grabbed her, hauling her to my body, enveloping her in my arms.

  “Did you see what I did?” she asked, wriggling against my hold. Her voice was high. Almost brittle. She pushed her palms against my chest, her eyes shining with adrenaline. I recognized the light in them. It had been there when Detective Dewey had tried to use her to bring me to heel last week. The whole flight side of fight-or-flight didn’t seem to exist for her. “Did you see?”

  Checking the fucker was still motionless on the ground, I kicked his gun into the pool with a slashing swipe of my foot, and then allowed Ronnie a little freedom in my arms.

  A little.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, she’d been in danger. Right here. In the safety of the home I’d built for her.

  I looked at her, fighting to calm the insane rage building inside me. Whoever the guy was, he would be wishing he was dead when I finished with him.

  And then he would be—

  “Did you see, Lucas?” she repeated, her fingers gripping my biceps. “I took him out. I freaking knocked him out! I freaking knocked him—” She slid her wide-eyed stare to the unconscious fucker on the ground behind me. “Is that blood?”

  The color drained from her face.

  She blinked. Once. Twice. And then pressed a shaky hand to her mouth. “Oh God, that’s blood,” she said, the whispered exclamation muffled by her palm.

  I stole a moment to cup her cheek in my hand, bringing her focus back to me. “You brought the tonfa out here to protect yourself?”

  She barely nodded her head. “Just in case,” she whispered, the words a husky scratch.

  “Just in case,” I echoed, love and pride and contempt for the life I’d dragged her into searing through me. Fuck, I should never have spoken a word to her. I should have shut her out of my life years ago. “That’s good, babe. I’m proud of you.”

  Her eyebrows dipped. “Thanks.”

  Heart racing, I gave her a gentle smile. “Very proud. I want nothing more than to show you how proud of you I am right now, but I’ve got to deal with the fucker you KO’d, and I can’t do that with you here.”

  Her eyes grew wider. “What are you going to—”

  I shook my head, brushing my thumb over her lips to halt her question. She really didn’t need to hear the answer. “What did he say to you? That’s all I need to know right now.”

  She flicked the unconscious turd on the ground a quick look. Distaste and anger twisted her eyebrows. The latter made me want to smile. Anger meant she wasn’t scared. Distaste worried me though. Was it the blood? Or the violence that upset her? Because if it was violence… Fuck, so much of my past life was violent, and no matter how much I wished it otherwise, my gut told me my past life wasn’t done with me.

  Fuck.

  “Ronnie?” I whispered, the prompt drawing her attention back to me again. “What did he say?”

  She licked her lips. Her frown turned irritated. “He kept calling you Tripwire. Why?”

  My gut clenched. Tripwire. My old Trinity name. Fuck.

  “It was a name I went by in Trinity,” I answered, keeping my voice calm. “What else did he say?”

  Her frown deepened. “The idiot threatened to hurt me if I didn’t call out to you. As if I was going to do that.”

  I bit back my chuckle, even as a sense of unease settled over me. God, I loved her. “Did he say anything else? A name? Who sent him?”

  Who exactly had tracked me down here? The corrupt cops? Were Detective Dewey and Kitchner not the only two trying to fuck me over? Or was Trinity out for blood? I’d cut my ties to the violent gang. Loco, its leader, had declared me dead after I’d saved his little sister from being raped by a rival gang, as a way of showing his gratitude, but there were those in Trinity who would gut me in a heartbeat if they knew I was still alive. Not just because I’d pissed them off, but because it might have become known I was a C.I. Of course, that knowledge could only have come about because of corrupt-as-fuck cops with Trinity members in their metaphoric bed.

  Ronnie shook her head. “No. He was just here when I climbed out of the pool, told me he was going to…going to hurt me if I didn’t call out to you.”

  Something about the way she faltered over “going to hurt me” drilled a dark point of tension into my chest. “What were his exact words, babe?”

  I had to know. So I knew exactly how much to fuck the bastard up.

  She looked away, biting at her bottom lip. “He said he would tie me up and fuck me with his gun until I bled.”

  The second I heard the depraved threat, I knew who the guy was.

  Fuck.

  Grub. A sniveling worm with his nose planted firmly up the ass of Trinity’s wannabe leader, Rufie. Rufie was not a fucker to mess around with. Power hungry, ruthless, with a taste for violence that sickened me. We’d clas
hed more than once when I was a Trinity member. I’d broken more of Rufie’s bones than anyone inside and outside the gang. Loco had despised him but recognized him for what he brought to the gang—the ability to terrorize and kill. There were no empty threats with Rufie, only sincere promises.

  He’d promised me once he was going to skin me, strip by strip, until I was dead. Loco had told him to shut the fuck up and back off, threatening to do the very same thing to him. If Rufie was sending his grunt pets after me…if he knew where I was…

  Cold fear roiled in my stomach. If Rufie knew I was here, if he knew about Ronnie…

  Forcing a languid ease into my body, I gave her a calm smile. “I’m going to have a few words with our uninvited guest, babe. Go inside.”

  She didn’t move.

  I drew a slow breath, even as an inferno of dark excitement flowed through me. There was a reason I’d been drawn to a violent life. The reaction in me now unsettled me as much as it charged me with adrenaline.

  A low groan sounded at my feet, and my heart smashed into my throat. Grub was coming to. I needed Ronnie gone.

  Shifting enough to block her view of Grub, I cupped her cheek again. “Go inside, babe,” I repeated, holding her stare. “He’s not going to hurt me. I promise.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You think I’m worried he is?”

  I chuckled, loving her even more. “I’m not going to kill him, either.”

  “Okay.” She frowned again. “Do you want me to call Doctor Winchester?”

  Not the cops. She wouldn’t suggest the cops. Not after what Detective Dewey had done to her.

  “Lila’s in New York,” I answered. “Besides, I need our friend here to be able to report back with a message from me. Lila’s not a fan of leaving walking diseases to the human race like Grub alive.”

  Ronnie swallowed. Worry shone in her eyes again, the emotion growing stronger when Grub once more groaned.

  “Please go inside, babe.” I brushed a soft kiss over her lips. “And don’t look out the window, okay?”

  She gave me another one of those tiny nods and then hurried away. I began to turn toward Grub but stopped when Ronnie ran back toward us.

  “I forgot this,” she said, sheepishly grinning at me as she snatched up the tonfa from the ground.

  Before I could chuckle, she pivoted on her bare feet and left. She didn’t look back. Her grip on the tonfa was loose, exactly as it was meant to be.

  A finger of cold rage scraped up my spine at the sight—the toxicity of my past life was already impacting her. My good girl was already handling a weapon like it was second nature. Christ, what had I done to her?

  And was it too late to stop it?

  Grub groaned again, the wounded sound louder this time, more aware.

  I dragged my stare from Ronnie, a heavy weight on my chest, and turned to the fucker.

  He was trying to push himself off the ground, his shoulders wobbling beside his drooped head, his chest barely off the ground. Blood dribbled from his mouth and nose, pooling on the pavers.

  Lowering myself into a crouch directly in front of his head, I snagged a handful of his greasy hair and smashed his face hard into the limestone blocks. “Long time no see, Grub,” I said with a conversational tone, raising his head again.

  His eyes rolled. Blood and snot flowed from his mashed nose, a grotesque river on his top lip. “Trip…” he mumbled. “I’m gonna kill—”

  I smashed his face down into the pavers again.

  The satisfying crack of splintering bone accompanied the equally satisfying thud of flesh against rock. Vibrations tickled the bottom of my bare feet through the stone, sending a grim satisfaction through me.

  I jerked his head up again, my heart rate slowing. What did it say about me that I was growing calmer the more pain I caused Grub?

  Blood and snot oozed from his ruptured face. A glistening white stub on the ground told me I’d broken one of his teeth.

  Good.

  Adjusting my crouch to a looser squat, a distant part of my brain reminding me I was buck naked, I tugged Grub’s head up higher. His arms and shoulders trembled as he attempted to support his weight on his hands. Without a word, I whacked the side of my hand into one of his wrists. His arm shot out beneath him and gravity grabbed at him. I tightened my fist in his hair, jerking his head back towards his spine, turning his neck into a severe backward bow.

  “Fug,” he protested, blood and spit bubbling and drooling from his nose and lips. I assumed he meant fuck. “Gonna fuggen kill—”

  I slammed his face into the pavers once more.

  He wailed, agony clear in the muffled sound.

  “Now,” I said, lifting his head up so I could find his eyes. “We’re going to have a talk, you and I. It’s not going to go well for you. But if you do the right thing, you’ll walk away from here with a message for Rufie.” I paused, chewing over my declaration as I adjusted my grip on his hair. “Maybe walk isn’t the best word. But you and I both know that, right?”

  Grub tried to nod. “’Kay.” His right eye looked like a jellied Ping-Pong ball shoved into his eye socket. I felt no remorse or guilt at all. He’d set the playing field with his threat to Ronnie. It wasn’t my fault he wasn’t up to the game.

  “This is what you’re going to do, Grub,” I said, forcing his head back farther. He whimpered, clawing at the ground for my feet. His own feet drummed against the ground. I pictured the joints of his spine compressing as I forced them beyond their normal flex. “You’re going to tell me why you’re here. You’re going to tell me who sent you—I’m guessin’ Rufie, but you’re going to tell me for certain. Then you’re going to go back and tell whoever it was to not come anywhere near me or anyone I even think about unless they want to start wearing their small intestines as a neck tie. Got it?”

  I relaxed my grip on Grub’s hand. A little. Just to see what he would do.

  He didn’t let me down. He reared back in a wobbly, unstable lurch and spat a wad of blood in my direction. With the blood came snot and more chips of his teeth.

  None of it struck me. Grub was too beaten to expel the energy required.

  I chuckled, clamped my hand into a tight ball in his hair once again, and drew my face closer to his. “I applaud your efforts, fuck-knuckle, as idiotic as they are. Of course, it’s only going to get worse for you from here on out. You know that, right?”

  Grub’s eyes rolled. He tried to scramble away.

  Tried. Failed.

  “No,” he gibbered, staring at me. “I’ll dalk, I’ll dalk.”

  I chuckled again, nodding. “Yes. You will.”

  We began our conversation.

  Chapter 3

  It took Grub roughly ten minutes to spill his guts.

  Ten minutes, two broken thumbs, a lungful of pool water, and one eye-gouge. I stopped before rupturing his eyeball. As violent as I can be, I’d yet to cross the line that would make me a monster. One day, Grub would sit back and thank fucking God for that fact. If he made it to one day, that was. It was very likely Rufie would kill him when he returned to the new Trinity leader and told him what I’d said and done.

  When Grub was finished answering all my questions, I made sure he wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry without assistance. Basically, I knocked the bastard unconscious and tied him to one of the pool fence’s poles with Ronnie’s towel.

  Checking he had no hope of reaching the knot, let alone undoing it, I walked back into the house.

  Ronnie waited for me in the kitchen.

  She watched me walk into the living room, her eyes unreadable, her hands cupped around what I assumed was a hot cup of tea. When Ronnie was stressed, tea was her go-to drink.

  There was no fucking way she wasn’t stressed right now.

  “Is he still alive?”

  Drawing a steadying breath, I gave her a brief nod. While I’d been talking with Grub, she’d dressed. The baggy sweatpants sitting low on her hips belonged to me. The retro Ghostbusters T-shirt h
ugging her torso was hers. The combination was sexier than I suspect she intended. It made me horny. If it wasn’t for Grub tied up by the pool, I’d strip her of the clothes and fuck the stress right out of her.

  Instead, I gave her a gentle smile. “I promised you I wouldn’t kill him.”

  A dry snort fell from her. “It sounded like he was dying.”

  “Did you watch?”

  She shook her head and then looked down at the mug in her hands.

  Fuck. She may not have watched, but she’d seen some of it.

  “I’m going to get some clothes on, get Grub off the premises, and then we’ll talk,” I said.

  She nodded, took a sip of whatever was in the cup, and turned away.

  My heart tore.

  Forcing a cold calm over my mind, I hurried up to our bedroom, dressed in appropriate Grub-handling gear, and made my way back down to the living room.

  Ronnie stood at the glass door leading out to the back deck. She wouldn’t be able to see Grub where she stood, but I still didn’t like she was near the door.

  If Rufie had sent Grub, it was possible he’d also sent others.

  I could count at least eight Trinity members who’d give their left nut to be the one to deliver Rufie’s message.

  “Don’t leave the house, Ronnie,” I said to her back.

  “Sure,” she answered without turning.

  Fuck.

  Grub was still out of it when I returned to him. I bound his wrists with two cable ties I’d grabbed from my office, and then released the towel tying him—by the neck—to the pole.

  He slumped to the pavers, blood still leaking from his face.

  A grim smile stretched my lips. Regardless of what he said to Rufie, my message to the new Trinity leader was clear—mess with me and you’ll pay for it.

  I hauled Grub to his feet, slung him over my shoulder, and carried him to the front gate of our compound. I dumped him outside the gate and then closed it.

  He knew what he had to do.

  He also knew what I would do to him if he was stupid enough to try and come back inside. He’d delivered Rufie’s message to me, now he had to deliver my response.