by Cara McKenna
“I know who you are,” Casey said.
“I know you, too. You’re Vince’s little brother. I’m sure you know all about me, including the fact that Abilene’s been keeping my kid a secret from me.”
“That girl’s my employee, and my friend, and her safety means way more to me than your hurt feelings, so don’t hold your fucking breath. You give me a compelling reason to trust that you won’t hurt her, and she agrees to it, and sure, I’ll get you two in the same room. But just now I can’t say I’m too sure of your intentions.”
“My intentions are my own goddamn business. Same as that kid’s welfare.”
“And your other business involves illegal guns, I hear. I can tell you that I got no problem being a narc if it means Abilene stays safe. So you ever pull something out and threaten me or anybody I know for information, I got precisely fuck-all qualms about reporting it to the Sheriff’s Department and getting you shipped straight back downstate.”
“I’m not here to start trouble,” Ware said, though his tone and posture hadn’t softened a jot. “I’m here to talk to my ex. Now, you might think you know Abilene, but you don’t. Not like I do. She’s fucking helpless at the best of times, and I need to see with my own eyes that my kid is in good hands.”
“I can tell you they’re both fine.”
“I have no desire to turn this into some legal proceeding, Grossier. Or any other ugly scene. I just want to see my kid, like any father would. Though if I don’t like what I see, I’m prepared to make this nasty, I promise you that.”
Casey’s temper flared at that, skin going hot, brows drawing tight. It was the threat that had him seething, but there was more to it. And what do you know about being a father, precisely? Unless this guy had other children out there in the world, Casey was the one who’d put in the hours, lost the sleep, surrendered little scraps of his heart, one tiny connection after the other.
“You want to see her, you propose a time and place, and you tell me what it is you plan to talk about, and I’ll see if she’s willing. And there will be witnesses.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me my rights, exactly?”
I don’t know what she and I are to each other, apart from a whole fucking tangled lot of something intense. “I’m someone who cares about her safety.”
“You fucking her? That what this is about?”
Casey’s neck flushed hot, and he was glad it was too dark for Ware to see. Last thing he needed was this asshole knowing he’d struck a nerve.
“That all you know about men and women?” Casey asked. “That they fuck each other sometimes?”
“I’m that kid’s father. Not you. It’s my job to make sure she’s in good hands, and I will fuck you up if you try to stop me.”
“Talk all the shit you want, but I’m the one who’s been there for them since your daughter was born, and I’ve got a sneaking suspicion I care more about both those girls’ welfare than you do. So here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna give you my number, and when you’re ready to talk like a civilized person, we’ll talk.”
“I’ll take your number,” Ware said, “but don’t believe for one second that I think what’s going on here is right.” He pulled out a phone, and Casey gave him his unlisted, pay-as-you-go number. So much for the wood chipper. And one more reason to dread that thing’s chiming.
“And get this straight,” Casey said slowly, precisely. “You want to see her, you go through me. Nobody else. Not my brother, not my business partner. I don’t want to hear about you bullying my customers for information, and definitely not my motherfucking family, you got that?”
Ware smiled, the gesture all nails and rust. “Yeah. I got it, big man. I cool off. I call you. We work this shit out.”
“Good.” Inside, he was shaking, but on the outside his body felt hard and coiled and ready to snap. He’d never known what protectiveness could do to a man. He’d always made it a point not to get attached to anything—or anyone.
“We’ll talk soon,” Ware said evenly, and turned away.
Casey memorized the digits on Ware’s plate while the guy climbed into his truck, and waited until he had disappeared completely down the road before he walked back to his bike, abandoning his plans to check on the bar. His body was humming, right down in his guts and bones; his nails had bitten red marks in his palms. He’d deal with Dancer later. That shit could wait, as could the DNA tests and everything else. Right now all he wanted was to see Abilene and the baby, to confirm they were safe and sound, maybe never leave their sides again.
And one thing seemed goddamn certain, he thought as he stomped on his starter.
That cocksucker isn’t getting anywhere near them. Not while there’s still blood pumping through this body.
Chapter 10
Abilene woke slowly, unsure at first where she was.
That happened a lot at Three C. That had happened a lot during a rather dark period of her short life, as well, though now as she blinked blearily at the walls and windows, the room that came into focus was pleasant and familiar. The same couldn’t be said for some of the holes she’d come to in.
The guest room was dim—its two windows were west facing, and when she’d nodded off it had been from the heat of the dipping sun. Now it was dark, the sky nearly black, and just the one soft bulb in the reading lamp by the bed was on, casting the room in its weak glow. She sat up and eyed the clock on the dresser. Not even seven, thankfully. Dinner wasn’t usually until eight, and she liked to help when she could, setting the table at the very least—
A soft knock sounded at the door. She smoothed her hair, rose, and tiptoed over, expecting Christine or Miah. She was surprised to find Casey there instead. He was in his socks, his shoes and jacket presumably abandoned in the Churches’ front hall.
“Hey,” she whispered, letting him know Mercy was asleep. “Thought you were out until after supper.”
“Something came up, so I rushed back.”
She went cold in a beat, right down to her bare toes. “What?”
He came inside and shut the door quietly. “Your ex came after me.”
Her eyes made a frantic inventory of him, searching for scrapes or cuts or rips in his clothes. “Came after you?”
“Nothing violent. Here, sit down.” He nodded to the bed.
She sat cross-legged, facing him squarely, expecting him to sit as well. Instead he strode to the crib, bracing his hands on the rail and staring down at the baby.
“Casey, you’re scaring me.”
He straightened, turned. “Sorry.”
She patted the covers. “Sit.”
He took a seat at the bed’s edge, rubbing his thighs.
“Tell me.”
“He was waiting in the lot when I stopped by the bar, barely a half hour ago. He knew who I was—Vince’s brother, and your boss. He wanted to know where you and the baby were.”
She hugged herself, the room feeling cold and too dark.
“I didn’t tell him, of course. I said to call me when he cooled down and could talk like a reasonable person.”
“He was angry, then.”
“Very. He took the number and climbed in his truck and rode off, after we traded some words. I think he’ll call. I hope he will, at least. Though I won’t lie. Before, I thought getting the two of you together to hash shit out was the only sensible course of action. Now that I’ve met him . . .”
“He’s intimidating,” she offered. A trait she’d found both terrifying and reassuring, depending on who had most recently pissed James off.
“He’s more than that,” Casey said. “He’s intense in a way I don’t like one fucking bit.”
She nodded to the baby, admonishing the swear. What a losing battle that was turning out to be.
“Sorry.”
“So you’ve changed your mind? You don’t think I should talk to him?”
“Man, I don’t even know.” He rubbed his face, worked his fingers through his beard, sighed. “On pape
r it’s the smart way to go. But I won’t lie, honey. He scares me. It scares me to imagine setting up some talk, and him hurting you or threatening you. But keeping you hidden’s no solution either. I dunno. I need some time to digest it all.”
“Sure.” She’d never seen him so rattled, and it worried her in turn. Casey was usually the picture of laid-back, always prepared to downplay any seriousness with a joke or trash-talking. She crawled across the bed to sit close. Instinct told her to touch him, to circle a palm on his back as she might do to Mercy when the baby was upset, but she kept both hands clasped safely in her lap. “Did he say anything else?” Anything about me, about my past?
“No.”
Inside, she heaved a sigh of relief. “He’s a real nasty piece of work,” she offered. “Sorry you had to run into him.”
“Better me than you. And better for all of us that we know he’s in town, and what he wants.”
True. Not knowing had been worse, in a way. But now having him only miles from her and the baby . . .
“I’m real sorry you’re even caught up in all this,” she said.
He met her eyes squarely, the mere look rousing goose bumps. “I was about to say the same to you. Don’t you be sorry at all. I’m not sorry for a second that you’re not out there by yourself, with nobody to help you.”
That alone had tears brewing. She blinked and a fat one fell to the covers. Casey offered a smile, but he had it wrong—she wasn’t crying from fear or stress or anything bad, really. It was gratitude that had her cheeks burning and her throat tight. Relief that, just as he’d said, she wasn’t in this by herself.
She knew what had to be done. She had to talk to James. If she refused, he’d get angry enough or desperate enough to punish her, perhaps tell Casey the truth about her. Moreover, she needed to break those old habits and be brave for a change. Running and hiding had always been her default, but that had to stop—now.
“When he calls,” she said, “I’ll speak with him. Not in person—but I’ll talk on the phone.” Just having said it, she felt a little stronger, not quite as helpless.
“When he calls,” Casey echoed, “I’ll tell him you’re willing to talk. But I’ll make him call back at a specified time—no need for him to know exactly how close you and I are. Proximity-wise, I mean,” he added quickly.
She nodded.
Casey leaned closer, his shoulder bumping hers. “You okay?”
“I’m scared,” she admitted. And of so much more than you could guess.
“I won’t let him hurt you—you or Mercy. I promise you that.”
“I know.” Promise me no matter what he might say to you, you won’t turn your back on me. Far too much to ask, though, and she knew it. She stretched out on the bed, and Casey did the same. She wondered how close their hands might be, and whether the body heat she sensed was a figment or not.
Casey cleared his throat, spoke to the ceiling. “Can I ask you something that’s none of my business?”
“I guess so.”
After a pause, “How did you wind up with him, to begin with?” He turned his head to catch her eye.
Fudge. “We met during a really . . . hard period of my life. I guess I needed somebody strong, when I was feeling so weak. And I mistook violence for strength.”
“You swear to God he never hurt you?”
She shook her head, hair mussing against the pillow.
“Doesn’t have to leave a mark on the outside to count as abuse, you know.”
She bit her lip, then spoke a grain of truth. “I’ve never had the best instincts, when it comes to guys.”
“How so?”
“I guess I’m just one of those stupid girls who’s always falling for the bad boy or whatever.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“I’m not all that wise, either. If I was, maybe I’d learn from my mistakes.” Though she was learning, she reminded herself. She’d been weak the other night and let her old urges propel her into Casey’s arms, but she was smart enough now to at least realize what a bad idea that had been.
“It’s never too late to start.” Casey fell silent for a long moment, then spoke softly. “I need to say something to you.”
“What?”
He stared up at the beams. “I lied to you, yesterday morning. Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t remember what I said, about what happened between us. The kissing. Probably something about it not needing to be a big deal.” He turned his face to hers once more. “But it did mean something. To me. Something more than just . . . you know. What it was.”
Her heart was beating hard all at once, body warm, hopes rising. “Me, too.”
“You and I can’t—or shouldn’t—date. For a dozen good reasons. Most importantly, because I don’t have what it takes to be any kind of role model to your daughter.”
“Oh.” And here she’d been expecting the lame, most obvious argument about him being her boss. “You don’t have to explain . . . even if I can’t quite see why you think that. You’ve been wonderful with her, since the night she was born.”
“It’s complicated. But it boils down to the fact that I don’t know where I’ll be in a few years.”
“Who does, really?” She kept her words casual, voice light, though inside she felt all coiled up with hope and desperation, aching to beg him to change his mind. To think they stood some kind of chance. In a blink, all that wanting was back. At least this time, with this man, it was real. A genuine, deeply physical attraction, and not some ploy to attach herself to a guy for the sake of having somewhere to stay and somebody to protect her. Casey had been looking out for her for weeks before they’d ever kissed, and any money she got from him, she earned. They couldn’t be anything serious—on that they agreed, even if she didn’t entirely understand his reasons.
Where exactly did that leave them, though?
He sighed heavily and turned onto his side, gaze dropping to the covers or her arm.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I’m only curious. Like, is this to do with whatever you used to do for money?” She doubted that whatever his old, shady dealings had been, they could be worse than gunrunning. If anything, she didn’t want to know. Not if they were never going to be something real, anyhow.
“It’s nothing to do with that,” Casey said. “My future’s just uncertain.”
It was obvious there was something he wasn’t telling her, something important. But there was plenty she wasn’t saying, either—things she planned never to share with him. Maybe it was selfishness; maybe it was self-preservation. Maybe it was wrong and deceptive and toxic to do so, but it was also a survival instinct. Maybe it was because the opening up of closets was a ritual reserved for couples.
Whatever the case, Christ in heaven, she was tired of secrets. Keeping them was like lugging a hundred pounds of armor around with you. Secrets kept people apart, even as they might stand side by side . . . Or lie in the same bed, she thought, letting herself register just how close their bodies were. She remembered the taste of his kiss, the feel of his mouth. The heat and insistence of him when she’d touched him there. She flushed.
“So the other night meant something,” Abilene whispered at length. “Was there more to that thought?”
He swallowed, gaze moving to her face.
“It meant something,” she said. “But we can’t ever be serious. So what does that leave?”
“Aside from sexual frustration?” he asked, then smiled, tempering all the seriousness.
“I was never after forever with you,” she said, realizing it was the truth. “I know I come with more baggage than most men are willing to take on.” She’d only wanted a taste of what romance could feel like, with someone who treated her as Casey did. Just a taste. She’d had that now, though her body still wanted more, wanted to take things further, feel it all.
“That’s not—”
She shook her head, in no need of whatever he’d
been about to offer—a contradiction, an excuse, an apology. None of them mattered. “I only wanted to know what it would feel like, with you. With somebody who makes me feel what you do. Even for just a little while. A week or a day, or a single night. Just for as long as that kiss lasted.”
Even in the dimness, she could see him blushing. It made her bold. Here was the moment when her selective and self-serving bravery did kick in—when a man tipped his hand, offered a little peek at his cards. When she could sense that a woman’s body just might trump a guy’s best intentions.
And it always does, doesn’t it?
“You can’t make any promises,” she murmured, turning onto her side to face him fully. “And I don’t have any expectations. That makes us sound awful compatible just now—don’t you think?”
He swallowed, gaze seeking her eyes, her mouth, her breasts.
“I liked everything that happened the other night,” she said, meeting his eyes on the final word. “Everything except for when it stopped.”
Again, he swallowed, lips parting and looking fuller. Surely this professional gambler had a poker face to be reckoned with, but just now he was an open book. “Did you?”
She nodded.
“So did I,” he said. “More than I thought I should tell you.”
“I’m not as delicate as you think I am.” She might wind up with a broken heart at the end of this non-courtship, but she’d lived through far worse.
He edged nearer, and she thrilled when his knee nudged hers. She opened her legs, welcoming his warm, heavy thigh. The contact was more sweet than sexy, matching the caution on his handsome face. She scooted close. He cupped her cheek and studied her lips for a long moment before meeting them with his own.
Her eyes shut, and she felt his collar in her grip, the top button of his shirt, a soft tease of chest hair against her knuckles. She wanted his shirt gone, and a chance to touch the unknown planes of his body. Wanted him completely naked, and excited. Wanted him hard and hot and begging for her.
“You just fucking love to feel wanted, don’t you?”