“You’re lethal,” he said against her mouth.
“I’m gonna walk funny for a couple of days.”
“You know we have to get ready and pretend we aren’t doing the nasty.”
She nodded. “Give me a second to put on my bitch face.”
Declan eased her off the dresser and pulled her close in an embrace, chuckling. “Not working.”
“Fuck.”
He pulled her toward the bathroom. “We have an hour to get ready.”
“You go first, you take more time than I do.”
He laughed. “That’s just wrong.”
“Truth be painful sometimes.”
“I’m going to do something I’ve been dying to do since I met you.”
“What could that be?”
“I’m going to wash your hair.”
“I have never had a man wash my hair.”
He laughed again. “Cool, our first first.” He smacked her on the ass. “Prepare to be dazzled by my hair washing skills.”
“You are a strange guy, Declan.”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m good in bed. That’s counts for something.”
Hell yeah it did.
So Declan washed her hair and Jane came all over herself again. Shit that man had some mad hair washing skills.
Chapter Twelve
MICK DIDN’T SEND her packing for which Declan was eternally grateful.
Earlier that evening, at Hawkman’s farm, Gavin frolicked in the fields with Hawkman’s grandkids proving again, he was an over grown kid. Jocelyn, Malcolm, and Vaughn spent the evening enjoying Hawkman’s homemade hooch. Shane was in farm boy heaven learning about growing rice. Travis and Charlotte spent a lot of time out in the barn, ‘looking at the horses’. Declan picked out two Rhodesian Ridgeback puppies which would be his as soon as his stalker issue was resolved. Then he nailed Jane behind the woodshed. He had a great time.
Back at the house he ran his finger down Jane’s naked spine. Her skin was so soft and warm. She smelled enticing like sex and jasmine. He always liked the way women smelled, but Jane was different, he was never going to forget how she smelled. It haunted him when she wasn’t around.
“What are you doing?”
“Touching you.”
“That’s all you’ve been doing for the last hour.”
“I like it.”
“You’re just stuck with me.”
“What do you mean?”
She snorted. “I’m the only available woman.”
That made him feel odd. He could have gotten laid, if he really wanted to, but from the second she stepped into his life, he’d zeroed in on her and all he wanted was her. “Don’t underestimate your appeal.”
She laughed.
“I wasn’t joking.”
“I’m laughing at you.”
Declan leaned over and nipped her butt cheek just above her scar.
“Ouch.” She tried to smack him.
He traced his finger along the jagged line. The skin was pale and puckered from the bullet wound. “Does it still hurt?”
“No.”
“The Taliban has no appreciation for art.”
“That’s random.”
He palmed her butt cheek. “Putting a bullet in an ass this perfect is like putting your foot through a Botticelli.”
“Your comparing my butt to a Botticelli?”
“It’s better.” He slipped his hand down the curve of her butt and in between her thighs.
She clamped her legs together trapping his hand. “My scars don’t bother you?”
Never, he thought. She’d told him how she’d gotten them. The knife wound on her stomach. The cordite burn on her arm. The broken pinkie finger that didn’t heal right. She had the body of a warrior, wrapped up in a beautiful woman. “They prove you believed in something enough to pay with your flesh and blood.”
“That makes me seem like some super hero.”
He kissed her spine. “I’d love to see you dressed up like Wonder Woman.”
“Kinky.”
“I wouldn’t turn down a French maid’s outfit.”
She rolled over on her back and stared up at him. “Are you ashamed of your scars?”
“I don’t like to talk about it.” He knew she knew what happened in general, but she didn’t know the details and he wasn’t sure he wanted to share. Even after all these years it was still painful.
“Someone beat you. You hide it with a big ass tattoo.”
“My father.” He couldn’t believe that slipped out.
“Bastard.”
“I escaped.”
She touched his face. “You shouldn’t have to escape.”
For a second the old rage crept on him. “I was lucky, Malcolm’s parents protected me. If it wasn’t for them he’d have killed me.”
“They protected their investment.”
“It wasn’t like that. Cherry wasn’t my first agent. The first two looked the other way as long as the money rolled in. Malcolm told his mom what he suspected and she conned my dad into becoming my agent and as soon as she could, she started to get me away from him.”
“She seems like the storm-the-castle type.”
“She can break some balls, but she dug under the castle to rescue me. She outsmarted my dad and made sure I was bullet proof.” He loved her for it.
“She sounds like a tough lady.”
“She’s going to be here for Malcolm’s birthday.”
“How are things between you two?”
“He’s in a lot of pain.”
“More than you?”
He couldn’t believe he was talking about it, but Jane for all her toughness was easy to talk to. “Different from me. His confidence has been shaken.”
“Why?”
“He’s got some crazy baggage. He has to live every day with a comparison to his father.”
A shadow passed over her face. “Fox Elliot?”
Declan turned over on his back and put his arm over his eyes. “Yeah. It’s been twelve years and five albums and they still mention Fox every time they talk about Malcolm. Malcolm is a musical genius. His father is good, but he will never be the musician or lyrist that Malcolm is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Malcolm is a poet, he’s a master pianist, Grammy award winning producer, he’s written symphonies. He could do my job.”
She turned on her side and slung a leg over his legs. “Declan Shaw is replaceable?”
“Malcolm doesn’t like the spotlight. If he did, the band wouldn’t have needed me.”
“Shocked.”
He stared at her silently thanking her for the ego stroke. “I may have the biggest ego in this hemisphere, but I know the truth.”
“Would you step aside, if Malcolm wanted the spotlight?”
Shit this woman didn’t pull her punches. Amazingly he liked that about her. “I never had to think about it.”
“Would you?”
Declan swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d give his life for Malcolm. “I would.” It wouldn’t be easy. The answer sort of surprised him, but it did make him feel better about himself, because that meant he wasn’t the huge asshole he thought he was. “Don’t tell anybody that.”
She put her finger over her lips. “If you ever get kicked out the band, you could be on Broadway.”
“Thank you.”
“You know what I like best about you?”
He nipped her ear. “I am the best lay you ever had.”
“You’re a survivor.”
Where the hell did that come from? “I am?”
“You are.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“I think there is something you aren’t telling me and you owe me another secret.”
She rolled on top of him and sat up. “Later.” As much as he liked hearing her secrets he hoped later was a long time from now.
* * *
MALCOLM SAT ALONE in the ballroom at hi
s piano. He’d had the grand piano since he was five years old when his mother had discovered he had been teaching himself how to play. It was his wasted attempt to get his father’s attention. All Daddy Dearest was interested in was his booze and his endless string of women. The ebony wood felt smooth and cold to the touch. It used to be when he put his fingers on the ivory keys music would whisper to him. For a long time he thought he was crazy, until Elton John sat with him one night and told him he was lucky because pianos were fickle beasts. He had to go look up the word fickle, but then he embraced his fate and began to write music he’d hoped would make his father proud. His father never bothered to show up at his recitals, but his mom, stepfather, and Declan were always there.
Right now he couldn’t be there for anyone. Andy’s death had ripped him apart and he felt like he was going nowhere. Travis had fallen in love. Not that he resented that. Charlotte was a wonderful woman. She was kind, and funny, and supportive of his friend. Somehow she’d brought him back to life after he’d lost his best friend. In a strange way she’d become an honorary member of the band, by giving Travis his voice back and introducing them to Hawkman Turner which had in turn infused some Scorned classics with a new life when they gave them a blues make over.
He felt like he was losing Declan and he didn’t know how to stop it. They hadn’t really talked since the stalker had entered the picture. More like when Jane had entered Declan’s life. A woman never interfered with their friendship before and Jane wasn’t even his girlfriend! Gavin swore they were sleeping together, but Malcolm hadn’t actually seen anything to prove that they were.
The way they looked at each other sometimes Malcolm could tell there was attraction there, but he wasn’t sure if Jane would give into it. She was very self-contained and controlled, but Declan could talk anyone into anything.
He leaned his head back and studied the painted mural of cupid and half naked goddesses frolicking in a wooded glen. Dear God just send me one good song. “Anything?” He stared at the cherub with the harp.
“I can make you a sandwich.”
Malcolm turned at Jane’s voice. “I need a decent lyric.”
She held up a plate which had the biggest sandwich he’d ever seen. Maybe it was a lifetime spent around people in the entertainment business, but he’d never seen anyone eat like her. It impressed him.
“I can’t help you there, but I have some left-over prime rib on sourdough.”
“Are you sleeping with Declan yet?”
She plopped down next to him on the piano bench. “You just go straight to the point.”
“I figured you’d appreciate that.”
“Why are you so obsessed with Declan’s love life, the bromance deeper than just best friends?”
She didn’t have any tact. It was kinda cool, because most people treated him with kid gloves. “No.”
“I’m not judging.”
“I like girls.”
She winked at him. “From what I’ve seen girls like you.”
“Not lately.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I can live with it if it keeps Declan safe.” Declan’s safety was more important than his dick. But he knew if he wanted to get laid, he could find someone his security team would approve of, he wasn’t in the mood. His art had abandoned him.
“What are you doing in here all alone?”
“Trying to be a musician.”
“How’s that going for you?”
“Like crap.”
She leaned an elbow on the piano. “Have you ever thought about not trying so hard?”
“Are you the therapist-bodyguard?”
“I do have an intense psychology background.”
“What did you do with that in the military?”
She jiggled her eyebrows. “Mind fuck the enemy.”
“I thought you were a translator.”
“Among other things. My real job was to advance the Army’s agenda.”
He could only guess about those ‘other things.’ “That sounds like a smoke screen.”
She laughed. “At times.”
“How the hell do you get through something like that? Weren’t you scared?”
She let out a long breath. “All the time, but you get through by savoring the little victories.”
She was the most interesting woman he’d met in a long time. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure of her, he found himself wanting to like her. “Such as?”
“A hot meal at the end a mission. A shower. Everyone making it back in one piece. Saving a goat, because you know that goat is keeping a family afloat financially.”
“You saved a goat?”
“Hoss was our team medic. He did some field surgery after this baby recruit shot it for shits and giggles. I had to kick in some CPR.”
He wasn’t sure if he should laugh, because that sounded hilarious. “That’s crazy.”
“I had the great pleasure of ordering said newbie to help that farmer. A big part of my job was winning hearts and minds.”
“Not a good thing to get on your bad side.”
“Tell that to Possum ‘cause I’m going to kill him.”
Take a number sister, he thought. “I won’t stop you.”
“You know you’re going to get through this don’t you?”
“I’m not feeling it. What if I don’t write another song.”
“So what?” She shrugged.
“Did you just say so what?”
“I did. You’re still going to be you and I’m sure you got other things you can do. You’re a smart guy.”
“What if you can’t be a bodyguard-slash-bounty hunter anymore?”
“I’m thirty three, that day is coming.”
“What are you going to do with yourself?”
“I might lay on beach and pick lint out of my bellybutton, get my PHD, or open up a yarn shop. I’m not my job.”
“You knit?”
She nodded. “Want me to make you sweater?”
“You don’t look like a knitter.”
“You don’t look a piano virtuoso either.”
“It’s the tattoos.”
“You could make a nice living playing Chopin.”
“I don’t just want to play music I want to write it. Did you want to give up your Army career?”
She looked sad. “I had to so I can’t live in the past. I got out before the bullet with my name on it found me.”
“I see.”
“Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone.”
“Who said that?”
“Madonna. Words to live by.”
He cracked a smile. Sometimes she was funny. “Thanks.”
“Sometimes you have to let things happen around you not to you. If nothing is coming it’s because it’s not done in your head yet. Maybe you should stop writing to be writing and wait for the good stuff. No one in your band is judging you.”
“I’m judging me.”
“Stop it.” She held up her plate. “Enjoy the city. Eat a sandwich.”
“Thank you.”
She stood. “You’re welcome. I have to eat. Declan is taking me to a rich people party and you know they don’t eat.” She picked up her plate and walked out of the room. Again that nagging feeling that he knew her from somewhere attacked. Which was followed by the realization that she’d never answered his question about whether or not she was sleeping with Declan.
Chapter Thirteen
DECLAN WALKED into the kitchen to see Gavin sitting at the table holding his fork and knife straight up. Jane put a slice of pie in front of him. He took a forkful and slowly put it into his mouth and chewed. Jane caught his eye and winked at him.
“Well?”
Gavin dabbed his eye. “It’s a pie with ham and cheese and mashed potatoes.” He dug in for another forkful. “I love you Jane.”
“Of course you do.” She shook her head. Then turned to the stove and brought two more pies to the table. Gavin kissed his fingers. “I
have never had something like this before.”
“Because you’ve never been broke. No more if you want to have some for your study group tonight.”
“Study group?” Declan asked.
Gavin grinned. “Everyone in my study group passed the I-don’t-want-to-kill Declan test. And even better there is this hot blonde I’m gonna nail tonight. All is good in Gavinland.”
Thank God, Gavin is getting laid, he thought. But even more so he was. “Good for you man.”
“I know right.”
Everyone laughed.
“Sam tell us another one.”
Jane rolled her eyes although she smiled.
Declan winked at her as he grabbed a chair and sat. He intercepted a plate. Who knew Jane could cook.
Sam cleared his throat. “Jane had been in country for about five minutes and she was still getting her feet wet. We were bitter to have duty with a girl ‘cause that meant we weren’t going to be seeing any real action. I mean we’re operators we want to blow shit up and kill people. That’s why you go through all the crap they hand out. So we go see this local warlord and he’d got his panties in a twist ‘cause they sent him a woman to talk business. After about two hours of spinning our wheels we finally leave and were heading back to the FOB--”
“What is an FOB?” Declan asked still trying to learn the military lingo.
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Forward Operating Base.”
Gavin was learning a lot. By the time they caught his stalker he was going to run off to play Army man.
Sam continued. “We’re strolling through this valley and Duck says that we’re being tagged ‘cause that man can smell a thought on the breeze. We’re casually hunting for cover ‘cause you don’t want to spook the enemy and let them know they aren’t going to be able to ambush you. That’s just no fun for anyone. Ten minutes later and shot wizzes by my nose and we drop and we’re taking heavy fire, but dumbasses don’t seem to be able to hit anything, They have good cover up on the hill about thirty feet away, so none of us can get a good shot. I take a gander at Jane expecting her to be pissing her unis, but she’s pulling the pin out of a grenade. I’m thinking ‘what the fuck?’ She's counting to herself, then she pulls the pin on another one and then she tosses the first puppy over the hill-boom. Then the second boom. Then the third. Then no one is shooting at us anymore so we run up the hill and there’s some random body parts, but I see two of them running away and I take aim and Jane yells for me to lower my weapon. I’m thinking but they are getting away. She is a sparkly baby officer so I gotta listen. She pulls her sidearm, fires, and hits one in the shoulder and the other one in the leg. She holsters her sidearm and walks over to them like she’s got all the time in the world. We follow ‘cause no one has a clue what she going to do. She gets over to them and I recognize one of them as the son of the dickhead warlord. Jane smiles at him all sweet-like. Then tells them the next time his daddy wants the job done right he should send a woman.”
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