Way of the Warrior

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Yeah, he definitely needed his friends to keep him in check while they pulled this off. Because if he killed Jared Lewis, life would be over for Gavin, too. And for the first time since he’d lost his sight, he considered the possibility of a future.

  • • •

  Stacy stacked paper plates and tucked them into the trash can, still a little overwhelmed by the people who’d dropped everything to help her—or rather help Gavin. “Your friends are nice.”

  “Almost felt like a normal supper.” Gavin wiped the kitchen table, feeling with one hand ahead of the damp rag.

  A normal supper? Like a normal couple having a dinner party. How things could have been if she’d been brave enough to leave town with him. If she hadn’t been so stubborn. If she hadn’t been foolish enough to throw away the love of this incredible man for some idea of home and family that had never happened for her anyway.

  She shook off the regrets that gained her nothing. Focus on the present. She’d been able to get to know Gavin’s friends over pizza and tea, learn a bit about his world since he’d left her. And to her surprise, they’d also spelled out a plan to lure Jared out of hiding sooner rather than later. The prospect made her gut knot with terror, but the thought of living her life in limbo was even more unpalatable. “Lucky turn that you own this whole duplex.”

  “So you can have your own room here on my side?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She folded down the three pizza boxes and tucked them in the trash as well, only two slices left to store in the refrigerator. During that brief time that she and Gavin had lived together on their own after turning eighteen, they’d shared midnight snacks of leftovers. Those two pieces of pizza called to her to make new memories.

  He walked to the sink, his hip brushing hers as he passed, then pitched the rag over the faucet with an almost perfect aim, leaving three-fourths of it trailing off the side. “Why did you marry him?”

  Her hand went to her side, right over the spot where her skin hummed from his simple touch. She wanted to reach out for more, to hell with being smart, and lose herself in the passion they shared.

  But his words gave her pause. Was he judging her? That notion hurt. So much. And dissecting the reasons was tough, how she fell into the battered woman pit. Jared had appeared to worship her, played the adoring husband almost too well, flowers and chocolates and jewelry. The signs had been small at first. He’d started dictating what she wore, but she’d written it off as too much stress at work and taking it out on her. Then he took away the credit cards for “fiscal prudence” and put her on an allowance, a move she’d countered by job-hunting to help their cash flow. Except then he was insulted. Adamant about her not working. So many signs that seemed minor taken individually, then the temper, the explosions and apologies. She didn’t realize how truly twisted their relationship had grown until the first time he’d hit her. By then, she was already isolated. No job. No means of support.

  And it didn’t help that she’d felt so…humiliated. Embarrassed. All the things abusers counted on a woman feeling to keep her silent. She’d walked that victim path and told herself she could fix it, even when the bruises multiplied. But then her lung collapsed while she was grocery shopping.

  She’d passed out and woken up in the hospital, knowing she could never go home. “Does it matter now why I married him?”

  “To me? Yes, it matters.” He turned to face her, one hip resting against the counter, his face taut with intensity. “We loved each other. We exchanged vows and maybe they weren’t legal, but we have a connection. History.”

  She blinked back tears at memories of that waterfall “wedding” where they’d pledged themselves to each other with words…and then their bodies. “I loved you, but you made it clear you were never going to settle down. We were both too stubborn to compromise. But I still wanted a life, a marriage, children. I settled for a man I thought I could have that life with. That was wrong of me, and he knew it.”

  He shook his head sharply. “Don’t even suggest for an instant any of what this bastard has done to you is your fault.”

  His fierce defense soothed a part of her battered ego. Jared had been an expert at eroding her confidence, and trusting her judgment again had been a damn hard row. “That’s a part of the mind game of abuse that’s hard to shake.”

  “But you’re going to.” He reached for her hands, sliding his fingers along the insides of her palms with a gentle stroke, his sightless brown eyes so close to meeting hers. “You deserve better from life. He’s a twisted man who should be in jail.”

  “I know. I just wonder if I’ll ever be free. He’s so…obsessed. There’s nowhere to hide.” She swayed closer to him, her breasts skimming against the rock-solid wall of his chest. She ached with the need to press closer, to put her lips to him, explore the hard planes of his body. “And to think I turned you down because I thought military life would be too difficult.”

  “You were right,” he said darkly. “Look at me now. Your fears came true.”

  “You look…strong. Handsome.” And every bit as dear to her now as he’d been all those years ago.

  She surrendered to temptation and leaned the rest of the way in, her mouth to his, holding still, their breaths flowing back and forth between them in a frozen moment in time. Then his hands slid up, bold and sure, palming her back and bringing her body flush against his. She moaned her pleasure and consent, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The ever-present attraction between them flared hot and ready, as if the past decade had never happened. But there was a mature edge to the need, a sense of just how much life could steal from them if they were foolish enough to waste this gift.

  “Anastasia,” he murmured against her lips, then along her neck, “are you sure this is what you want? I need to be clear you understand where this is going if we don’t stop soon.”

  She cupped his face in her hands, his five o’clock shadow rough against her palms. “I’m hoping it’s going to your bedroom.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Gavin wrapped his arms around Stacy, lifting her against him as he walked toward his bedroom. He didn’t need to see to move. He knew every inch of his home, so all his instincts could be focused on kissing her, feeling her gentle curves against him, drawing in the strawberry scent of her hair. A decade without her had left a hunger so deep inside him he didn’t know if he could ever fill it.

  But he sure as hell intended to try.

  He booted his bedroom door the rest of the way open, stroking and walking, then pausing at the foot of the bed. “Here or in the shower?”

  She purred her approval, whispering against his mouth, “The shower. Then the bed.”

  “I like the way you think.” He cradled her face and took her mouth again, anticipation, all the pent-up tension of the past twenty-four hours ramping him higher.

  She tugged at his T-shirt, pulling it from his jeans, sweeping it up and off. The brush of her cool, soft hands against his skin as she unzipped his jeans made him throb harder. He backed her toward the bathroom, sliding free the buttons on her shirt, parting the fabric and yessss, finally touching her. Anastasia.

  Even with the lacy rasp of her bra, he could feel her heat, the pebbling of her nipples in response to his touch. He ached to see her so damn much that the loss of his sight threatened to bring tears to his eyes. But he could touch, explore, learn the “look” of her again with his other senses, and he intended to make the most of that. He unhooked her bra and flung it aside before sketching his hands around to reacquaint himself with her gentle curves. Perfection.

  Inch by inch, he kissed his way down her chest to her stomach before kneeling to peel her jeans down, his mouth exploring each patch of soft skin, his hands roving down her sides. He felt the raised scar along her side, maybe four inches long. The reality of that sent rage pumping through him.

  She stroked her hands over his hair. “I’m okay
. We’re together. Don’t let anything or anyone steal this from us.”

  Nodding, he pressed a lingering kiss to her scar before standing.

  “Shower,” she demanded, “together. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He kicked aside his shoes and jeans, the rustle of hers coming off as well urging him faster toward the overlarge shower stall. Pausing by the medicine cabinet, he patted the shelf until his hand rested on the box of condoms. He pulled out a packet.

  She plucked it from his hand and backed into the shower… “Uh, which is the hot, and which is the cold?”

  Chuckling, he took her hand and pressed her fingertips to the braille words. “I’ve got this.”

  He cranked on the shower, and she squealed at the first splash of cold water an instant before the spray warmed over them. He pulled her flush against him, skin to skin, his erection pressing against her. Her hands speared into his hair, and she tugged him back to her, kissing him, open mouth and emotions. His hand slid between her legs, and he felt her slick core, finding her every bit as ready as he was.

  Urgency pumped through him and just when he thought he couldn’t wait longer, he heard her tear open the condom packet and slide it over him. With a low growl, he lifted her against the tile wall, and her legs hooked around him.

  Finally, finally, he slid inside her, deeper, her hips arching to bring him closer still. She rested her head on his shoulder, her face pressed to his neck, her fingernails digging into his back as she murmured her needs and wants. And how very much he enjoyed giving her that and more. She writhed against him, meeting each thrust as they rediscovered a rhythm they’d perfected back when they’d assumed they had forever together.

  Holding her in his arms, being inside her again, he couldn’t remember a time his life hadn’t been all about Stacy. Her face against his neck, her mouth on him, his on hers, had him bracing a hand to the tile wall to keep his feet under him. Their slick bodies moved in sync, the friction bringing him to the brink, but damned if he would go without her. He stroked and listened, waiting for her husky gasps, the kittenish purrs that told him…yes…her sweet cries of completion and the grip of her orgasm pulsing around him sent him right over the edge with her, his hoarse shout muffled in her hair.

  Aftershocks rocked through her, rippling through him as well as they held on to each other, the shower spray hitting his back. The years they’d spent apart evaporated as quickly as the water on their hot flesh. This was right, them together. If only he’d had the sense to come to her. He could have saved her so much pain. His life might have been different, too.

  He pulled her closer. The water on his face. The spray of the shower stinging his skin sent him back in time for an instant. So many missions had started in the water. He’d trained by swimming for miles. Jumped out of planes into rough waters. He’d loved his job, the mission, the adrenaline, and ultimately making a difference in the world. He was somebody. He had a purpose. And that had all been taken from him in a flash.

  He’d finally found his way back to this woman at the very time he had so damn little to offer her.

  • • •

  Basking in the afterglow of damn good sex, Stacy let the shower flow over her, her eyes closed as Gavin massaged shampoo into her scalp. There was something so seductive about focusing solely on his touch. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow or even their past. Right now, here in the shower, they had a narrow window of time to be together.

  And she intended to enjoy every second of it.

  His hands slicked over her hair, brushing suds down her shoulders and forward over her breasts. “Could you pass me the conditioner?”

  She forced her eyes open, the bottles labeled with words as well as stickers in braille. “Even your bottles, they have braille labels.”

  “Mixing up shampoo and body wash, not to mention cleaners, is not a good idea.”

  He lifted her hand and rubbed her fingertips along the bumps as he had when they’d stepped into the shower.

  “I want to learn,” she said before thinking, then realizing that implied a future when she’d been so determined to live in the moment.

  “Reading in braille increases the sensitivity of touch.” His hot breath flowed over her.

  “I like the sound of that.” She angled back to kiss his bristly chin and pass him the conditioner. She relaxed against him, nostalgia sweeping through her. “Can we really just step back in time this easily?”

  “I don’t have the answer to that.” He massaged the conditioner into her hair, working it through to the ends. “I only know I’ve missed you every single day we’ve been apart, Anastasia.”

  She didn’t even bother blinking away the tears he wouldn’t be able to see. The shower hid the evidence. She let herself savor the touch of this man. Gavin. A man who cared about her. It had been so long since she’d had the luxury of love. So many took that for granted.

  She never would again.

  The patter of the shower echoed in her ears along with her heartbeat, so loudly she almost missed the ringing of the cell phone. Her cell. Water chilled on her body with premonition. She knew before even stepping out of the shower.

  Somehow Jared had risen to the bait even faster than they’d anticipated.

  • • •

  Two hours later, Gavin sat in the spare bedroom, Stacy tucked to his side, her hair still carrying the scent of his shampoo from their shower.

  The text from her ex had come in sooner than even he would have expected.

  He’d made Stacy read it aloud. You’re going to be sorry, cheating bitch.

  Gavin ground his teeth. He would never forget the quiver of fear in her voice.

  He and Stacy had thrown on their clothes. Hugh had been awake next door, taking the first watch while Liam and Rachel slept. They’d expected the reaction to come later. His friends had left technological breadcrumbs for Jared to follow that would lead him to this duplex. They’d allowed one of Stacy’s social media accounts to post using map data to pinpoint her whereabouts. The fact that Jared had responded so quickly said he’d escalated. Hell, the fact that he’d texted at all showed he was growing reckless. The text alone was a violation of his restraining order.

  You’re going to be sorry, cheating bitch.

  Cheating. Somehow Jared had more than followed breadcrumbs. He’d figured out she was with Gavin. How close had he been? Regardless, now they were all on alert. Including the dogs, Radar on the floor beside Gavin. Disco was in the duplex next door with Rachel.

  No matter what, he would keep her safe. Stacy didn’t know that they’d set things up so Jared would think she was next door where his friends waited with Rachel acting as a decoy.

  Gavin knew Stacy wouldn’t like that. But she didn’t have to know. She had been told they were simply outside securing the perimeter. But Gavin wanted more than a simple trespass. They needed to catch the bastard breaking in to show the pattern. No one was in law enforcement, so it wasn’t entrapment. And what digging Gavin had been able to accomplish told him the department’s hands were tied.

  For now.

  Hugh and Liam would secure Jared once he broke in. Then the cops would arrive. All would be neatly taken care of. As much as he wanted to be in the action personally, he understood this was the best—safest—plan for Stacy.

  Calming her after that text had been a major feat. She’d been so keyed up, so worried about putting others in danger, he’d been afraid the whole plan would backfire and she would recklessly try to leave. Not that he would let that happen. At last, though, she’d calmed and trusted him to take care of this, to help her, and that was soothing to his soul, to feel their bond was still intact.

  He stroked her hair, her head tucked against his chest. The spare bedroom was the most secure place in the duplex, fewest windows, farthest from the doors. He had a two-way radio at his side. He and his buddies could alert ea
ch other with the touch of a thumb to an alarm.

  Each shuddering breath Stacy took told him she wasn’t having any luck falling asleep. Not that he could blame her.

  He stroked her arm. “Tell me about your life these past ten years. The good parts.”

  Please, God, let there have been good parts. He wanted the best for her.

  Her palm rested on his chest, right over his heart. “After you left, I went to school and trained to be an LPN.”

  “You’re a nurse?” Just like they’d planned. He smiled. “That’s awesome.”

  “I was a nurse,” she amended. “Jared made me quit my job at the hospital. And since the divorce, I freelance write to pay the bills. Everyone’s looking for articles on health issues. Pays well enough. I also do some medical chart transcribing.”

  He wished he could see her face, gauge her emotions. “Are you happy with that?”

  She shrugged, the feel of her against him so familiar and good. “I have flexibility. I can work from home.”

  “All the time?” He frowned.

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “That sounds…solitary.” And like a woman in hiding.

  “You’ve always been known as a quiet man.” She drew circles on his chest, the night sounds from outside muffled, bugs buzzing and the rare car driving past. “I’d have thought you would appreciate a job with solitude and instead you’re the one working with people all the time. Talking.”

  “I had to figure out how to support myself and possibly put some of those emergency rescue and medic skills to use.” It hadn’t been an easy transition, but he was taking life one day at a time.

  “That’s really admirable how you’ve built a new life for yourself. Maybe I could interview you for an article.”