Out of the Shadows

by Bethany Shaw

With hands on her soaked, skin tight shorts he walked backwards, never breaking their embrace on their way to the shower. Exploring her curvy legs with his hand he slid her shorts down to the floor. A black lacy thong greeted him; he smiled, appraising the beauty before him.

  Her thumb hooked around the loop of her panties, dragging them down. Devon tore his gaze away and reached into the tub to turn on the water. Lark gasped as he tugged her into him and lifted her into the tub, pressing her against the hard white tile.

  Devon lifted her leg, wrapping it around his hip as his hand trailed down her chest. He explored the peaks of her breasts, taking a moment to roll her sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Lark gasped against his lips as his hand drifted lower. She bucked against him as he inserted two fingers into her molten hot center.

  Grinning, he timed the thrusts of his tongue with that of his fingers. Her hands clung to him tighter, leg lifting higher around him. Devon stopped when her body began to pulse around him. She let out a muffled cry as he moved his hand.

  Positioning himself at her center, he pushed into her hot core, eliciting a moan from both of them. He placed kisses down her neck, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. The warm water glided down them removing the chill from their skin.

  He held her close as they moved together, the intimacy of the moment new to him. Lark was special - he cared about her. Devon wanted to make her happy; this was more than casual sex, there were deep feelings behind it. Her warmth invaded him, the way she held him, kissed him. He’d like to think it meant more to her as well.

  He stifled a yell as she groaned against his lips. Her body writhed against his, nails digging into his shoulders. He fisted his hand in her hair as he followed her over the edge, tongue dancing along hers in bliss.

  They clung to each other for a long moment, the steamy water pelting against their already heated skin. Lark panted breathlessly into the crook of his neck, hands wrapped tightly around him. Sated, he rested his head on hers, enjoying the moment.

  “If you want,” Devon paused closing his eyes, inhaling her sweet cinnamon-vanilla scent. “You can stay with me, in my room tonight.” He stiffened, waiting for her response, vulnerability washed over him. He hated that he cared what her answer would be.

  Lark kissed his shoulder, her lips ghosting along his skin pausing against his mouth. “Okay,” she whispered.

  He exhaled muscles relaxing, and eyes remaining shut. What am I doing? He already knew the answer; he was allowing himself to fall for her.

  “We should finish up in here before the water gets too cold.”

  ***

  Lark rubbed at her eyes tiredly as she waited for the coffee to brew. The scent of hazelnut permeated the kitchen, helping to jolt her awake. Her body was relaxed and satisfied. However, exhaustion had taken over. The late night romp had been incredible, but that along with the workout and the overwhelming events to come had physically drained her.

  “Hey,” Gene greeted as he walked into the kitchen.

  Lark stifled a yawn giving him a nod as he grabbed a mug from the cupboard.

  “I just started a fresh batch. Long night?”

  “It will be a long day too.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Gene’s eyes met hers, eyebrow quirked, his eyes staring at her.

  “I know Devon told you the plans have changed.”

  “Yeah, we talked.”

  His brow dipped into a frown, “Lark, I’m not sure what is going on between you and Devon-“

  “Gene, I’m fine,” she cut him off.

  She fiddled with the handle of her mug, nervous flutters filling her stomach under the scrutiny of his gaze.

  “Don’t get all big brothery on me. I’m allowed to have sex, and old enough to know what I am doing.”

  “Fine,” he huffed pulling the pot off and pouring the steaming liquid into their mugs. “When did you two go from hating each other to…other things?”

  “A few days ago, and we never hated each other. We just shared different opinions.”

  “Just be careful, Lark. Devon tends to push people away before they can get close to him.”

  Lark lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip of the piping hot liquid.

  “I’m not rushing anything, and I can take care of myself.” She wanted to tell Gene that she’d already broken Devon’s resolve against her, but held back. Whatever was going on between her and Devon wasn’t really his business. The things Devon told her had been private, some she wondered if he’d ever told anyone else.

  She and Devon certainly started off all wrong, but the feelings she was developing for him were growing deeper. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was already falling in love with him? The side he showed to people and the man he was were two different people. She’d only just begun to scratch the surface of who Devon Harris really was - and she liked him.

  “I know. I just don’t want either of you to get hurt. You are two of my favorite people,” Gene teased, throwing an arm around her.

  Lark smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Gene. But I know what I am doing,” she reiterated.

  Vincent strolled into the kitchen whistling a tune and snapping his fingers. He gave them a smile as he got a mug from the cupboard and got some coffee.

  “Ready for another exciting day?” He froze taking in their demeanor. “Am I interrupting a family moment?”

  “No, I was just about to head to my office,” Gene said giving her a soft squeeze. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Bye,” Lark called as Gene strode away, sipping his coffee. She turned to Vincent. “Where’s Marcus?”

  “Getting ready, Marcus has been dragging a lot lately. Em was the one who always kicked his butt in gear. I think it’s beginning to wear on him. Preston said he would come by later when Sarah comes in at ten.”

  Lark nodded. “Emily will be back in a few days though.”

  “An optimist like myself, I like it.” Vincent grinned as he shoveled a spoon full of sugar into his mug.

  ***

  Lark covered her mouth, closed her eyes, and yawned yet again. Marcus had offered to drive, and she’d been happy to let him. The Ranch’s Jeeps were more than comfortable. It had been a good thing too. The road was covered by a dense rolling fog. You could barely see a few feet in front of you. Even with fog lights and wolf eyes, she doubted it did much to improve visibility.

  The ride remained silent, except for the hum of the motor, and Vincent’s incessant thrumming on the seat behind them. Most days his habit didn’t bother her, today, it was annoying. Her head throbbed, a dull ache had begun once they’d hit the road a few minutes ago.

  It probably had to do with all the things she needed to get done before she left tomorrow morning. Sarah was going to run things, but her sister had no idea what she was doing. Lark wanted to be sure everything was in order at The Cookie Jar so everything ran smoothly for Sarah.

  “I really appreciate what you’re doing for Emily…for all of us,” Marcus said, glancing her way.

  Lark gave him a small tight lipped smile.

  “I would hope if the roles were reversed Emily would do the same.”

  “She would. Em took quite a liking to you. I hope when all this blows over, you’ll still consider her for a position at The Cookie Jar. I know she would enjoy it and she wouldn’t stop talking about it after you and Dev squared off over it a few weeks ago.”

  Lark laughed, how she could forget their heated debate. He had been so infuriatingly handsome, yet a real ass at the time.

  “Of course, I haven’t found anyone to fill the position and I’d love to give it to her.”

  “I just want her to be happy, for her to finally be able to live. She’s been sheltered her whole life,” Marcus said.

  “Marcus, look out,” Vincent cried out, his arm jutted into the front seat, finger pointing in front of them.

  Marcus slammed on the breaks, the car skidding and screeching to a halt. The smel
l of burnt rubber filtered into the cabin as Lark peered out the window into the white abyss — she couldn’t see a thing.

  “What in the world?” Marcus exclaimed turning to Vincent a peeved glare on his face.

  “There was something in the road,” Vincent frowned, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

  “Clearly not,” Marcus snapped indicating the vacant road in front of them with a wave of his hand.

  “It was probably a deer or something,” Lark said, squinting to see through the fog.

  Vincent flopped back into the seat letting out a huff.

  “I don’t know, but I saw something-”

  A scream bubbled up in Lark’s throat, as something struck the side of the car. The car shook and shifted to the left. Heart thumping in her chest, she gripped the door handle as her seat belt clung to her, holding her in place.

  Her car door was thrown open. Warm, angry hands reached in grabbing her. Screaming, she swung with both her hands, but could only do so much pinned to the seat. Her seat belt whooshed up catching on her arm.

  Lark shrieked as someone yanked her out of the seat. Feet dragging against the road, she fought to free herself. She stomped her foot, and thrust her elbow into solid flesh. Her assailants grip tightened an arm wrapping around her throat putting her in a choke hold.

  Lark’s eyes bulged as she was lifted off the ground, her feet dangling beneath her. Determined not to panic, she thrust her foot back as hard as she could, connecting with something firm. The vice on her neck loosened, and she pitched forward. Free for a moment, she sprung to the side. She twisted, and landed a right fist in the man’s jaw sending him reeling back.

  Terrified and heart pounding a mile a minute she tried to find Vincent and Marcus in the foggy mist. She couldn’t see them but could hear the sickening thuds of fists connecting with flesh. Horrified, she forced her eyes to focus on her immediate surroundings. She needed a weapon.

  The strap of her purse caught her eye. The gun Gene had given her was nestled in the bottom of it. She’d never taken it out, not knowing when or if she would need it.

  Triumphant, she threw a left hook, pain ricocheted up her arms, but she was determined not to give up. Grasping behind the man’s neck she lifted her knee as she shoved her attackers face down. Turning, she dove toward the car. It was only a foot away.

  Lark gasped as someone wrung her arm behind her back at the same time something struck the sensitive flesh above her collarbone. A prick sent tingles shooting through her neck and down to her arms and legs like liquid ice. Eyes heavy, she blinked, once, twice, then fell into darkness.

  Chapter 21

  The doorbell chimed, jarring Devon out of a deep sleep. The sun had barely begun to filter into his window. He groaned, he was not a fan of being woken up at five in the morning. He briefly remembered Lark waking him with a sensual kiss and promising to see him later. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her soft body wrapped around his.

  Foreboding rolled over him as he leapt down the stairs two at a time. The flicker of red and blue lights did little to assure him that everything was okay. Muffled voices met him as he briskly walked to the front door, yanking it open.

  “I understand. Yes of course, I will let you know,” Gene mumbled, his hand scratching the back of his head.

  “We can have it towed to the impound lot if needed,” a police officer said handing Gene a piece of paper.

  “What’s going on?” Devon asked, gritting his teeth, eyes drifting from Gene to the officers.

  “They’re just following up about the accident with the Jeep last night,” Gene’s eyes met his, telling him he needed to go along with the story. “Apparently, we forgot to shut one of the doors the dome light was on.”

  “Right,” Devon replied, a tick forming in his jaw. His eyes drifted to the green SUV parked at the side of the house. He closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. They couldn’t afford for him to lose his cool in front of the officers. It would only raise questions.

  Lark had been in the vehicle. He was certain of it, and even more certain this was Emmett’s doing. Questions swirled in his head. Why hadn’t Daniel warned them? Had his brother betrayed them after all? Did Daniel even know?

  The front door clicked shut and the floorboards creaked as Gene approached him.

  “What happened?” Devon snapped, swiveling to face his cousin.

  “I don’t know yet. I saw them this morning. They left in a Jeep about two hours ago. I sent some guys on paws to check it out,” Gene rubbed a tired hand over his face.

  Devon punched the wall, a cloud of plaster exploded into the air sending debris and paint fluttering to the floor. Ignoring the pain in his hand, he struck out again. This time a picture frame careened to the floor, the glass shattered on impact.

  “Enough,” Gene commanded, clamping a heavy hand on Devon’s shoulder.

  “We should’ve seen this coming.” Devon turned knocking Gene’s hand away.

  “I’ll try to contact Daniel and find out what is going on,” Gene said.

  Devon strode to the door. He was through playing games and waiting around.

  “We need to go after them.”

  “What are you going to do by yourself, Dev? They’re several hours ahead of you. We know where they’re going. Vincent and Marcus may already be dead. We need to think of a plausible way to rescue Lark. We can’t run in with some half cocked plan and hope it works out.”

  Devon exhaled, banging his palm on the wall. Gene was right. They needed to think — he needed to think. Lark’s life depended on his choices, as well as Emily’s.

  “I’ll call Daniel.” Devon shoved off the door and stomped to the stairs. Gene was too diplomatic. Devon was confident he could get the information from Daniel a lot faster his way. If Daniel had betrayed them, he wanted to be the one to handle him.

  “Don’t say anything stupid,” Gene called after him.

  ***

  Lark groaned, her head throbbed like she’d been hit with a sledge hammer. Eyes opening into tiny slits, she rolled over. The warm soft comforter moving with her. Inhaling deeply, the familiar woodsy scent of Devon filled her nostrils.

  “Devon?” she murmured, her mind fuzzy. She didn’t get drunk often, but she felt like she’d guzzled an entire bottle of Jack last night. Although, she was fairly certain that had not happened. She searched through her foggy brain trying to sort through her memories.

  “I’m sorry, he’s not here,” a soft feminine voice answered.

  Lark’s eyes popped open. She sat up, fighting the dizzying nausea that threatened to pull her back under. A middle aged woman with brownish-grey hair sat on the edge of the bed. Familiar hazel eyes studying her.

  “What…” Lark’s heart accelerated, as she shoved her disheveled blonde locks from her face. The sheets smelled like Devon, but she’d never been in this room before. The navy walls closed in on her as her memory returned.

  Hand flying to her neck, she flinched, greeted by a tender spot and what felt like a tiny scab. Panicked, she flew off the bed, bolting to the door.

  In a blink the woman blocked her path, eyes soft sympathizing, but body unwilling to move.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” the woman’s voice calmly cautioned her.

  Lark sucked in deep breaths, in a vain attempt to control her frazzled nerves. Goosebumps erupted on her flesh as a cold chill shot down her spine.

  “What…what happened? Where am I?” She stammered, eyes flicking around the room, scoping out an escape route. There were none. She could tell from the window they were on at least the second floor of a house, and the freakishly fast woman blocked the door.

  “Relax, sweetie,” the woman said in a lilting voice, warm hands descending on her shoulders. “Come and sit with me.”

  Realization dawned on her as she connected with the older woman’s eyes.

  “You’re, Claire, Devon’s mom.”

  A soft smile slid across her features erased the few wrinkles that covered he
r face. “How is he?” A slight edge filtered into her voice as she hesitantly looked away.

  Lark swallowed, anger seething in her.

  “Well, he was fine, but I imagine now that he’s learned about this-“ she paused indicating the room. “-he’s probably pissed.”

  Claire’s face fell, her greenish-blue eyes misting.

  “I can only imagine what you must think of me,” she whispered.

  Lark quirked a brow. She may be Devon’s mother, but she was also the woman who had turned her back on her son. She had half a mind to let her know exactly what she thought but held her tongue. First things first, she needed to figure out what was going on. Cooperating for the moment seemed the best option.

  “Believe it or not, Lark, I am your friend. Perhaps the only one you have at the moment.” Claire’s gaze held hers as she walked to the bed and sat on the edge. “Please have a seat, there are some things we must discuss,” she said, motioning toward the bed.

  Lark ground her teeth. Eyes narrowed, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall. If Claire thought she was going to just sit on the bed and have a chat, she had another thing coming.

  The elder sighed, shaking her head.

  “I can see why Devon likes you. You’re as bull-headed as he is. That is a good thing, I think.”

  Lark continued to glare, she didn’t know what to say. She thought remaining quiet with a peeved expression probably was the best way to go for now. She needed answers, and losing her head wasn’t the way to get them.

  “This was Devon’s room,” Claire said, indicating the room.

  The blue walls and denim blue bedding kind of fit what she would expect from him. In fact, it was similar to what she remembered in his bedroom at the farmhouse.

  “My husband plans to hand you over to the leader of the Gulf packs; he will be here tonight for dinner. You and…Emily will leave for Santa Fe first thing in the morning. From there-”

  “Where is Emily? Vincent and Marcus, what happened to them?” Lark asked before Claire could continue.

  “If you agree to the rules of our household, I can bring Emily to you. Vincent and Marcus are being held for questioning.”