She’d wasted months lusting from afar, but all of that was about to change. At least that was her hope before she heard, “I’d get on outta here if I were you.”
Well, hell.
“Come on, honey, you gotta go,” the woman drawled out the side of her candy-apple-red mouth. “He’s a mean enough bastard when he’s sober, but once he hits the bottle he becomes downright stupid. I want you gone before he causes anymore trouble and Red fires my ass.”
This woman had just saved her from God only knew what, and Shea couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way she’d been thinking about her and her toes when she’d first arrived. She wanted to argue and dig her heels into the sawdust-covered floor, unable to believe she was being kicked out of this hellhole while the drunken jerk-off got to stay, but she didn’t want the woman losing her job because of her. Even if the lady was one of Ryan’s women, she’d gone out of her way to look out for her when no one else would have. Though she hated the hell out of it, Shea couldn’t help but give into the begrudging gratitude that allowed her to let the woman steer her back out the bar’s entrance.
As they walked through the swinging wooden doors, the redhead looked Shea up and down with obvious curiosity. Once they were outside in the frigid night air, she lit up a Marlboro Red and rasped, “Just what were you doing in there?”
Well, gee, what do you think?
“I was, ah, looking for a friend of mine. Ryan McCall.”
Two red eyebrows raised in surprise. “Ry? No shit. Man, he really is gonna be pissed when he hears about Rich.”
Shea wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in her bitter disappointment, and burning streak of jealousy. “So you know Ryan personally, huh?”
The other woman smiled, clearly understanding the train of Shea’s thoughts. “Yeah, I know him, but not like you’re thinking, honey. Though God knows I’d change that sad fact if I could. Any woman in her right mind would. Now you go on and get outta here. Ryan’s not here tonight and Red’ll kill me if Rich causes anymore trouble.”
“Well, um, thanks for what you did,” Shea said softly, feeling immeasurably better that the redhead, whose name she still didn’t know, wasn’t intimately involved with Ryan—and frustrated beyond belief that apparently she wasn’t going to be either. At least not tonight. The perfect friggin’ chance and she’d crashed and burned before she even found him.
“Serendipity my ass,” she grumbled, climbing into her silver Jetta. With a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, she slipped off her killer sandals and tossed them in the passenger’s seat. Then she pulled out a stale pack of cigarettes from her glove compartment, lit one up and took a long drag, choking on a bitter combination of smoke and disappointment. She took a few more drags, crunched the rest out in her spotless ashtray, and finally drove home without ever looking back.
Chapter One
ATF Agent Ryan McCall and his longtime pal, Detective Derek Kiely, were all but dead on their feet as they dragged their tall, aching bodies through the front door of Ryan’s Dunwoody apartment. Derek slumped down on the dark sofa while Ryan made his way into the small kitchen to fix them both ice packs for their throbbing faces.
They’d spent the evening on a joint sting operation, busting a local gun dealer who’d been selling weapons to gang kids on the side. A couple of the criminal’s young security punks had made a run for it, and it’d been Ryan and Derek who chased down the gruesome duo. The street kids had fought to the ragged end, and the two “old dudes” were now feeling the pain.
Ryan took out two plastic bags, filled them with crushed ice, then walked back into his living room and tossed one over to Derek. “Damn,” he laughed in his deep, rough drawl that made most women go all soft-eyed at him. “It looks like that little shit-head tried to smash the side of your face in.”
Derek made a groaning noise behind his ice pack. “Yeah, well, it feels like he tried to smash it in too.”
“Shit, I know this sure as hell wasn’t how I’d planned on spending my night.”
His buddy smiled, or at least as much as he could with his head pounding the way it was. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little old to be hanging out at Red Mackey’s place? And God only knows it’s hardly the kind of dive where an ATF guy should be seen, uh, socializing. Not unless he’s undercover.”
Easing back in his chair, Ryan propped his big feet on the low coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. “Red’s is exactly the kinda place this particular ATF guy should be hanging out, and I’m only a year older than you, asshole.”
“Hell of a difference between thirty-four and thirty-five,” Derek laughed, grimacing when his split lip cracked open again.
Ryan gave him a dirty look, then with a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, leaned his sun-streaked head back on his chair. “Piss off, Derek.”
“Hey, I’m just saying you could do a hell of a lot better than those broads you pick up at Red’s. Hell, most of ‘em have seen more action than I have.”
Ryan was getting tired of the topic, mostly because Derek had been harping on him for the past three weeks about it. It’d become an irritating subject of conversation ever since he’d let it slip where he was spending his Friday nights, and now his tenacious, pain-in-the-ass pal wouldn’t let it go. “The women at Red’s go there looking for the same thing as me, so drop it. The last damn thing I need is another woman clinging to me, driving me out of my friggin’ mind.”
Derek snorted. “You’re a cynical man, Ry.”
Wide set, clear blue eyes narrowed with frustration. “Since we’re on the subject of my sex life, why don’t we take a look at yours, Kiely? Hannah told me you’ve been sniffing around her for over a week now, even asked her out to dinner for tomorrow night.”
Hannah Mitchell rented the apartment directly above Shea’s. When her divorce had finalized six months ago, she’d moved down from Tennessee for a chance at a new beginning. She’d known Ryan forever, having grown up with him in Nashville, and they were as close as family, even without any blood relation between them. There’d never been anything sexual about their friendship and there never would. And that fact suited Derek just fine, since he’d finally dragged his head out of the sand and taken note of what an attractive woman she was, both in character and physical appearance.
The only problem was that Hannah had been burned badly by her ex-husband, a man Derek had never met. But he knew enough from Ryan to know the guy had been bad news. Really bad. Now that the two-timing ass was out of the picture, Hannah wanted nothing to do with another man; especially tall, gorgeous, womanizing men like Derek Kiely. He knew because she’d told him so when he’d stopped by to ask her out on Tuesday.
Derek had stood there red-faced and irritated, and a whole hell of a lot disappointed as Hannah told him she was flattered, hoped they’d still be friends, and preferred to go on as if the entire conversation had never taken place. Then she’d smiled and closed the door in his face, leaving him standing on her doorstep like some dumb-ass idiot.
Damn. Just the memory had his voice going hard with anger. “Yeah, and before you start in on me about leaving her alone, I’m sure she told you she turned me down, so save us both the lecture.”
Ryan pulled the ice away, turned it over, and reapplied it. “Who said I was going to ride you about it? So long as you’re serious about her, I’ve been thinking you and Hannah would be kinda good together. Since her ex is out of the picture, I was wondering what was taking you so long to make a move.”
Hell, Derek had wondered the same thing. “Well, it hardly matters now. But speaking of cute couples, you said yes to Shea yet?”
And just like that, Ryan went from laid-back and easy-going to stiff, tight-laced tension. Jesus, just the thought of the woman tied him in knots, not to mention what it did to his dick. “Shea? What the hell does she have to do with anything?”
Derek lifted his ice pack to send a dry look Ryan’s way. “Come on, Ry. In the last two weeks, the g
irl has asked you to go with her to everything from the movies, to dinner, to coffee. And I’ve seen the way you watch her when you think nobody’s looking. You’re ready to throw her over your shoulder like a caveman and drag her away to your little love cave. So how come you won’t give her a chance?”
He looked ready to kill. “I don’t screw around with women like Shea. So. Drop. It.”
Derek attempted another smile, clearly enjoying the unsettled look on his normally oh-so-cool bud’s face. Nothing ever rattled Ryan, but it sure as hell looked like his little next-door neighbor was rattling him but good. She was cute and sexy as hell in a kind of gypsy-like way, like something from the pages of a fairy tale. She didn’t have bombshell curves, but the ones she did have were soft in that womanly way that just made a guy want to fall into her. She’d be warm and sweet as he rode her, taking everything he had to give and more, instead of feeling like he was nailing some kind of lifeless Barbie doll. Women needed to have a little give—and Ry looked more than ready to give Shea Dresden whatever the hell she wanted.
He couldn’t understand what Ryan’s problem was. “Why not women like Shea? What’s wrong with her? She got cooties or somethin’?”
“Nothing’s wrong with her, damn it,” Ryan growled, tossing the pack aside and rising to his feet to pace the length of the room. “But she’s too fucking young for one thing—”
Derek snorted again, cutting him off. “Come on, Ryan. She’s twenty-seven. It’s not like you’d be robbing the cradle.”
“Damn it, Derek, the woman’s just finished her dissertation on Ancient Civilizations and I spend most of my time trying to track down gutter scum. What the hell would we have in common? Hannah told me about her last two boyfriends—one was a poetry professor and the other was a fuckin’ sculptor.”
He kept pacing, his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans, jaw grinding so hard his teeth were beginning to ache. “And she’s too damn innocent-looking. I set eyes on her and she blushes. God only knows what she’d do if she had a clue what I’d like to do to her.”
Everything, he thought with a vicious curse. I wanna do everything there is with her. Front, back, top, bottom. I wanna fuck her and eat that sweet little cunt until she screams herself hoarse.
Derek raised his brow in wry amusement, as if he could read his friend’s mind, still wondering what Ryan’s problem was. “So what? You’re not even going to give her a chance because she’s young and smart and too innocent, whatever the hell that means? Stop being so pigheaded, Ryan. You’re not all that ancient yourself, you’re too damn smart for your own good, and I hardly think she’s as inexperienced as she looks. They never are. Hell, even if she was, why should that stop you?”
Ryan stalked to the window, staring out at the starless night, the black clouds mirroring his own dark mood. “Because she’s not the kind of woman you fuck and move on from. Women like Shea don’t expect to get tossed aside at the end of the night when you’re done with them. They expect commitment and all that crap I don’t believe in.”
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
“Ahh,” Derek drawled from the sofa. “You mean she’s not like the women you find at Red’s. She’s looking for more, and you’d rather die than—what? Have a nice woman come to care for you? What the hell’s so bad about that, especially when that woman’s someone like Shea?”
Ryan whipped around with barely suppressed violence, his lip curled in disgust, though he suspected it was more with himself than with Derek. “Yeah, asks the guy who screws a different woman every weekend,” he snarled. “You’re sounding like a self-righteous hypocrite, Kiely.”
Derek rose to his full height, matching Ryan’s intimidating six-four, inch for inch. “Well at least I’m not acting like a frightened ass,” he shot back, “too afraid to go out with a girl that might have more to offer than some sweaty time between the sheets.”
Ryan stepped forward, his shoulders and arms bulging with muscles beneath the thin cotton of his gray T-shirt. “Just because you crashed and burned with Hannah doesn’t mean you have to take this shit out on me!”
“Damn it,” Derek growled, “I did not crash and burn.”
“Huh! Only because she didn’t even give you the chance to—”
They both heard, at the same time, the crash and muffled scream come through the connecting living room wall between his and Shea’s apartment. Ryan’s stomach knotted with dread and icy rage, while Derek muttered, “What the fuck was that?”
Another muffled scream, another thud, and suddenly Ryan sprang into action, cursing himself for standing there for even those two stunned seconds, while he’d tried to come to grips with what he’d heard. Jesus, if anyone had so much as dared to lay a hand on her, Ryan knew it was going to take a friggin’ miracle to keep him from killing the sorry son-of-a-bitch.
Through a blinding fog of rage, Ryan was dimly aware of Derek moving behind him as he threw open his front door and rocketed around the building. His heart nearly stopped when he rounded the corner and saw Shea’s front door busted open, the useless safety chain dangling, broken from its clasp. Without even drawing his gun, Ryan charged through the doorway, Derek right on his heels, their actions timed in perfect unison.
Another loud crash and muffled shriek had them running for the bedroom. Ryan burst through the door and stopped short. The primitive killing instinct igniting his blood all but burned through his skin, filling him with savage intent. He took one look at Rich Spalding’s big body trying to pin a frantically struggling Shea to the floor and wanted to rip the man apart with his bare hands.
And Shea, God bless her, was doing her best to kick the shit out of the jerk. She had what looked like the remnants of a lamp in her hand, which she’d obviously just cracked over Spalding’s thick skull. The stream of obscenities pouring from her sweet little mouth would’ve made the most seasoned sailor stand up and take notice.
“You fucking bastard,” Ryan snarled, hauling Spalding up by the back of his shirt and tossing him clear across the room. He’d instantly recognized the big guy as one of Red’s rowdier regulars. Behind him, Shea yelled his name as he started toward Spalding’s sprawled form against the far wall.
Looking over his shoulder, he told Derek, “Get her the hell outta here.”
Instead of agreeing, his stubborn friend just shook his dark head. “No way, Ry. As much as I’d enjoy seeing his sorry ass get pounded into the ground, you look ready to kill.”
Ryan hadn’t wanted to look at her yet, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to deal with it if she was hurt, but Shea stumbled in front of him, grasping on to his arm, demanding his attention.
“Damn it, Ryan, calm down! He’s not worth it. Just arrest him,” she all but shouted in his face. It took all her effort not to throw her arms around the beautiful man and thank him, from his golden head down to his big feet, but first she had to keep him from committing murder in her bedroom. “I mean it, Ryan. I don’t want you killing his sorry ass because of me.”
He looked down into her tear-streaked face, seeing the small cut at the corner of her bruised mouth and the slight swelling on her right cheekbone. New fury blazed within his battle-readied body, making him shake with it. Even his fingers trembled as they reached out to brush her swollen lip, stopping just short of touching her.
“Damn it, Shea. That bastard hurt you. God only knows what he would’ve done if I hadn’t come home and heard you fighting him. No way in hell am I letting him walk away from this.”
Spalding, who’d been leaning against the wall trying to get his breath back, chose that moment to try and make a run for it. As he shot past them, Ryan reached out and caught the front of his shirt, lifted him clear off his feet, and slammed his fist into the asshole’s nose. There was an awful crunching sound, and then Ryan tossed him to the floor where he lay in a motionless heap. Blood poured unchecked down the guy’s swelling face, collecting under his beefy chin.
Derek walked over, tossed down
his denim jacket to protect Shea’s carpet, then nudged Spalding to his stomach with his foot so he could handcuff him and keep the drunken lout from choking on his own blood. While he fastened the cuffs, he ignored Ryan, who still stood glowering down at Spalding’s unconscious body, clearly spoiling for another go at the bastard, and instead focused his attention on Shea. She stood beside Ryan with a stunned look of shock and outrage on her pale face, as if she didn’t know whether to throw her arms around his dumb-ass pal or run screaming from the room.
Derek understood Ryan’s violent reaction. Hell, he wanted a go at Spalding himself, but Shea needed some attention before she collapsed at Ryan’s feet. Hannah would’ve been the ideal choice, but she’d driven up to her mother’s yesterday and wouldn’t be back until Sunday night. That left it up to him, since Ryan was looking about as gentle as a raging bull.
Trying to put her at ease, he gave her a slow smile. “You okay, honey? You need me to call an ambulance?”
She shook her head no, her dazed eyes darting between him and Ryan. “Okay,” he said in that same easy way, as if he were dealing with a skittish animal. “You want to go ahead and tell me what happened? Then I can get him outta here and let you get settled. I’ll come back tomorrow and take your statement.”
“Like hell you will,” Ryan muttered, cutting off whatever it was she was about to say. Ignoring the sudden glare she sent him, he explained roughly, “I’ll take her damn statement myself.”
Derek hid his knowing smile by looking down to check the cuffs. “Hey, whatever you want, Ry.”
Ryan didn’t even reply. His attention had been completely captured by Shea. She looked about ready to fall on her face, and the anger rolled through him hotter than ever.
“What happened, Shea?” He tried to gentle his voice, but there was no disguising the simmering violence just waiting to be unleashed. She didn’t seem to be afraid, though, not if the burning daggers she was sending his way were any indication, her small finger suddenly poking him painfully in the chest.
Against the Wall Page 2