Most of all, she wanted a different life. One where she grew up in a stable home with a parent who didn’t make her do things McKenna wished desperately to take back.
She couldn’t go back, but she could go forward. A different way, new direction. All she had to do was outlive Salim and his shit and diffuse the RJ situation. No ideas yet on how to do either one. If she had any suspicion the truth would work on RJ, the real story, she’d share. Tell him what he wanted to know. He’d get rid of Salim and she’d be all clear, but McKenna didn’t think that would be the case.
She’d seen the way he’d looked at her mother, a brief glimpse of compassion, of sorrow. But she didn’t trust RJ, couldn’t afford to, and she’d wait until she had something concrete. Still, something whispered in her ear, a warning that she wouldn’t come out unscathed in her dealings with RJ.
Pushing all thoughts of her fucked-up life to the backburner, she focused on her school work with Herculean effort, losing herself in the things that she could actually solve. By the time she finished and lifted her eyes from the computer screen, night had fallen and her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d skipped any kind of meal for the day.
After placing an order for Chinese from the restaurant two blocks over, she changed out of her jeans and sweater into a pair of bright blue leggings and a white tank. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and made her way into the kitchen. Her place was small, but she did her best to keep it clean, make it homey.
It wasn’t. This wasn’t a home, but it was where she laid her head at night so she had no complaints. There’d been moments of homelessness back when she’d been a toddler and again in her early teens. She didn’t want to go back to that.
She did her dishes, cleaned the kitchen she rarely cooked in, and finished in time to greet the delivery boy when he pounded on her front door. She collapsed on the couch with her food, only to jump out of her skin when a knock sounded on her back door.
What the hell? Who the hell? She clutched the white plastic fork in her palm, a hysterical reminder of exactly how ill prepared she was to deal with a hostile someone. But would an intruder knock?
“Open up, McKenna.”
Well, shit. RJ had arrived and her appetite fled in response. She remained seated, seriously contemplating not getting up, not answering, but she didn’t peg him as the sort to simply up and leave her be.
Nope, he wouldn’t go away unless and until he got what he came for.
Shit. She placed her food down on the couch and got up, muttering under her breath. May as well get it over with. The sooner she dealt with him, the sooner he’d be gone for good.
She yanked open the backdoor and stared at him. Again with the hood over his head, the patch over that one eye. He was dressed differently his time, gray sweater under a tan leather coat, faded blue jeans fitting him close and boots—looked like steel-toe—in deference to the still-melting snow on the ground.
He held her gaze, his green eye solemn, deep, and something else. She stepped back from that “something else” with a scowl.
“Since when do you knock before you barge in?”
His massive shoulders moved slightly. “I do what I want.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, that makes one of us.” When he didn’t make a move to enter the house, McKenna lifted an eyebrow. “Is there something in particular you’re here to bully me into, or did you come just to stand there and stare at me?”
His lips twisted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Pushing his face up to hers, he snarled, “You’d like it if I came just to watch you. That way you could pull out your bag of tricks, try to use it on me like I’m sure you’ve done to many men countless times.”
Well, tell me how you feel, why don’t you? He really thought she was a whore, and McKenna was too damn exhausted to fight him. Besides, he was right. She used her body to keep a roof over her head, food in her belly, and her mother in the best health care facility possible. And she’d continue to do it, if it meant her mother stayed where she was instead of locked up. She didn’t tell RJ that, though.
Why fuck with the shitty image he already had of her? McKenna smiled at him, right in his face, making no move to step away. “You’re protesting too loudly, RJ old boy. There’s no one here but you and me. It’s cool to admit you want to know what the fuss is about.” She winked. “I’ll bet good money you lie in your cold bed at night and wonder why Salim keeps me around. Is the kitty that good?” She lowered her voice. “I keep it tight. Military style.”
His face didn’t move, not a muscle, but his one good eye did. The pupil dilated, green rapidly disappearing under the widening pupil. Yeah, proof he wanted her, but what the hell could she do with it? What did she want to do with it? Heat unfurled in her belly, a thread unraveling, the ground under her feet suddenly unsteady.
Her lips parted and she backed up.
RJ followed her though the door, a look of utter concentration on his face. McKenna wanted to turn tail and run, but she kept her gaze on him and continued backing into her living room. He stalked her, footsteps quiet, moves calculated and sexy.
Fuck. Why was this shit happening to her now? Why was she finding this man attractive? She bumped into the wall and stopped with a gasp.
RJ crowded her, arms caging her in. He leaned close, and she caught a whiff of him, all sweat and leather and…Jesus. A sound left her throat and he growled in response.
Growled.
Her panties dampened.
He put his mouth to her ear. “I’m not Salim,” he whispered. “My life isn’t about getting laid or how many women I fuck.” His breath tickled the side of her neck, and McKenna tried desperately to hide the shivers that came with the sensation of him.
The air grew thick, tense, until she couldn’t breathe it in.
“I can be attracted to you,” RJ continued, “and not do anything about it. I don’t think with my dick, and getting to taste you is not on my to-do list.”
Maybe it should be. The words floated across her mind, but she clamped her lips shut before they spilled out. He was right, of course, but damn if she could remember the last man who made her want to just spread 'em. How fucked was it that she knew nothing about him, didn’t trust him, but could still consider getting fucked by him?
His lips brushed her earlobe, barely, and she whimpered. He didn’t move, she didn’t breathe, and they stood there, with her panties soaked and her nipples hard and aching. Jesus Christ. Her knees knocked together. How could this happen?
“I want to know about your mother.”
RJ shattered the tension into a million pieces with those words.
McKenna blinked and tried ducking out from under his arms, but he caught her wrist, the rough pad of his fingers rasping across her skin. She swallowed a moan and turned her face away
“She’s your weakness,” RJ said. “If I can see it, then Salim already knows. Am I correct?” His words were serious, almost apologetic. She couldn’t look at him to be sure.
“I’m not talking about this with you.” She pulled away from his hold and walked into the living room, but he was right on her heels. She felt his heat.
“You have to trust someone sometime, McKenna.” The timbre of his voice rumbled, low but reaching in the quiet. Reaching out to her. “Let me help you.”
“I do not trust you,” she spoke without looking at him. “I cannot trust someone I don’t know. That’s a mistake I will not repeat.” One of so many mistakes. Countless. Him being in her home, inches away from her, was also a mistake. When would she learn? She sat on the couch, and picked up the container of shrimp fried rice she’d opened earlier. Her appetite was nonexistent, but she forked some into her mouth anyway. Anything to keep busy, to distract her.
“We’re at an impasse, McKenna.”
Goose pimples blanketed her arms at the way he said her name. She fidgeted. Swallowing food with a dry throat was difficult.
“I want to gain your trust. You want to gain mine.”
“You want to trust me.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I want to trust you. We’re at an impasse. How do we bridge it?” His face had gone all soft on her, his tone controlled yet expectant.
Like she had anything to add? Nope. She dropped her gaze to the food in her lap and continued eating. He towered above her, too close for her peace of mind, too quiet for her sanity. His presence hinted at a safety she couldn’t afford to accept, but she wished she could. He was an attractive man, in a scary sort of way, but what pulled her in most were his grit and the knowledge she got, from where she didn’t know, that he was someone to count on.
“I used to be his bodyguard. Salim’s. Until he framed me and got me locked up in an Irish prison for five years.”
She swallowed in surprise then doubled over coughing when the rice went down the wrong way. Shit. RJ dropped to his knees and patted her back carefully. His hands on her…McKenna wanted to pull away from his touch. She wanted to lean into it. Hell, she wanted her head examined.
“Here.” He handed her the bottle of water at her feet, and she took a grateful sip. “Better?” He lifted an eyebrow.
She nodded in embarrassment. “Thanks,” she croaked. Blinking moisture from her eyes, she peered at him. “Why are you telling me this?”
He sat back on his haunches at her feet, gaze steady on her face as he lifted his hand. His knuckles grazed her cheek, the pad of one finger wiping at her left eye. McKenna’s lashes fluttered.
Jesus.
“You want trust,” he pointed out gently. “I want the same, and someone has to make the first move for that to happen.” He shrugged. “Figured since I’m the one who approached you, I’d go first.”
She snorted. Approached. Was that the word they were using now for breaking and entering and scaring someone within an inch of their life?
He cupped her chin and tilted her face up so their gazes met. “What I just told you, no one knows. Not even my brother who’s my best friend.”
Lord. There was another one like him roaming around the place? McKenna frowned at him. “I don’t need to know this, do I?”
“What do you need to know, McKenna?”
She licked her lips, pulse racing when his attention dropped to her mouth. “I—Is RJ your real name?” Why she asked that she had no idea. It wasn’t like she could answer in the affirmative if he asked the same question.
“Yes.” He nodded.
“What is it short for?”
The fingers on her chin tightened then flexed. His thumb brushed her skin before his hand fell away. “Ren Junior.” He spelled it out. “Not short for anything.”
She nodded. Ren. His name formed right there on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say it out loud, watch his face when she did. She wanted to ask him to hold her, deliver on the promise of his strong arms, keep her safe. She didn’t.
“What about you, McKenna?” The whispered words heated her skin all over. “Anything you wish to share with me?” He sounded hopeful, but there was no pressure in his tone. Only hope and curiosity.
She bobbed her head at his question. “I’m not in love with Salim,” she said fiercely. “I have never been in love with him.” She wanted to make that clear to Ren.
He didn’t appear surprised. “Then why be with him at all?”
She took a deep breath, inhaling Ren’s musk. Her stomach cramped suddenly at the thought of what she was about to say, to reveal. “My mother is wanted for some very serious crimes down south.”
Ren lifted an eyebrow. “Blackmail.”
It wasn’t a question so she didn’t bother saying yes.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked. “Your mother. What’s the matter with her?”
McKenna swallowed, tasting acid on her tongue. “A pissed-off boyfriend and a baseball bat. She’s all messed up in the head. Seizures. Barely any memory of who she is or where she’s been.”
Small mercies.
“How did Salim find out?”
“He saw me, he wanted me, and he needed a way to have me.” She shrugged. “I’m not really clear on the how.” She wasn’t about to lay it all out for him. Not yet. Her heart wanted to trust him, but her head wasn’t having it. Not right then.
Ren shook his head, the color in his cheeks deepening. “Son of a bitch.”
“Well, yeah.”
“To get you in his bed, he blackmails you with your mother’s freedom?’
“It’s how he operates,” she reminded him. “I didn’t have a choice, and he knew it.”
Ren gripped her arm. “You have a choice now, McKenna.” He shifted closer, voice dropping to a growl that sparked fires in her lower belly. “Help me make him pay, and you can get out from under him.”
She gazed down at Ren, refraining from making a joke about getting under him. It would be no joke, she knew that. And she knew that no matter the attraction flaring bright between them, Ren wasn’t interested in Salim’s seconds.
“I could help you.” She tilted her chin up. “If you tell me why you’re after Salim. You mentioned wanting information for someone, the woman he had before me.”
Ren nodded.
“Who was she to you?”
Chapter Five
RJ studied her while he contemplated how much to share. He wasn’t ready to spill how much he’d fucked up, how much all of it was his fault. Stella ending up in the clutches of Salim Najal was his fault.
All of it.
He took a breath, taking McKenna’s scent of cotton candy and warm chocolate into his lungs. He’d come this close to kissing her earlier, to burying his face in her neck in search of the source of that intoxicating smell. She’d pushed him and she knew he wanted her, wanted to spread her wide and lick her all over.
His body hardened and RJ cleared his throat. “Like I told you before, she’s the daughter of someone I know. He hired me to find her.” That was the truth too. The old man was financing their search for answers.
That didn’t appear to placate McKenna because she lifted an eyebrow. “Nothing personal for you?”
Her gaze searched his face, and RJ didn’t blink else she’d know. Those brown eyes saw too much too soon.
“Nothing personal. Business.”
After a moment, she nodded. “That’s what you do, find people?”
RJ snorted. Find people. Not by a long shot. He and Carter were hired muscle now. “I’m a jack of all trades.” He offered up a smile, but she laughed and slapped a hand to her thigh.
“But master of none, right?” She giggled at the question.
Her mirth was contagious, and RJ’s lips twitched. “It is what it is.”
“Uh-huh.” She glanced up at him, their gazes collided, and her laughter bled away. Her hand came up, hovered in front of his face. “This happened in that prison?”
He didn’t insult her by asking what she was talking about. He nodded, a jerky gesture.
“Gonna tell me why Salim framed you or what happened to you?” She hadn’t dropped her hand, just kept it in front his face, fingers curved.
RJ looked into her eyes. They were devoid of pity, only understanding shimmered. He didn’t want to tell her no, didn’t want to shut her down when she was warming up to him, but he also wasn’t ready or prepared to rehash anything that happened in Ireland. He doubted he’d ever be. So he didn’t speak, simply held her gaze and his tongue. She finally nodded.
“No talking then.” Her voice dropped lower, hitting him in the nuts. “Can I touch you, Ren?”
Fuck, he shouldn’t have told her his name. Shouldn’t have given her that piece of him because she marked him with the whisper of his name across her lips. Collared him, branding him as hers. Ren shuddered, fingers folding into fists in his lap. He could say no. Of course he could, but he wouldn’t. He wanted her touch.
“Yes.”
She took her ti
me, touching him first with the pad of her index finger against the scar on his cheek. Breath left him in a rush. His chest seized. Shit. He reached up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from taking him places he didn’t feel like going right then.
She didn’t struggle, didn’t question. She simply waited for him, waited on his next move. He didn’t move away, and after a while she stroked him, from the bottom of the patch covering his fucked-up eye to his jaw. RJ tightened his hold on her wrist but didn’t stop her this time. A fine tremor reverberated from her to him, the pulse under his fingertips galloping, matching his. Her breath warmed him, right there on his neck. RJ couldn’t move to save his life. He’d lost track of the last time someone, anyone, had touched him like that, reverently and so sweetly. It was certainly the first time anyone had touched his scars except for medical personnel.
McKenna was Salim’s. Even if RJ was in the market for someone, McKenna couldn’t be the one. The wrong thing would be to get accustomed to her, her touch and her smell.
It was damn hard, but he gathered up his strength and shifted away from her touch, her heat, her scent. Disappointment flickered in her eyes then disappeared.
“Help me take down Salim.” He cleared the frog out of his throat. “Help me get rid of the threat over your mother’s head.”
She dropped her hand back in her lap, tiny lines creasing her forehead. Her gaze flicked from him to over his shoulder and back. “What are your plans for him?”
“Do you really want to know, McKenna?” He threw the question back at her, but she didn’t flinch.
“I’m not going to get myself into some shit I know nothing about,” she spat. Anger flashed in her eyes, lighting them up. “That’s not happening so if you need my help—and you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t—come clean with the details.”
RJ tried not to smile, but it wasn’t easy. “I need information from him. What I learn determines how he’ll be treated afterward.”
“But you want him dead, yeah?”
“Don’t you?”
Coming Undone Page 4