by Lori Foster
“You were a kid in survival mode, honey. And I’m so incredibly glad that you not only survived, you became you, someone who’s now very important to me.”
Her gaze searched his. “You don’t think I was weak?”
“God, no. You were stronger than any kid should ever have to be.”
Her bottom lip quivered, but only for a second, then she launched herself at him.
And to Denver’s surprise, she started kissing him, not for comfort, but for so much more. “Cherry...”
She rushed into convincing arguments. “I can’t do anything about Carver right now. He’s out there, still a terrible human being, but he’s not a problem I can solve tonight.”
He wasn’t a problem she had to solve on her own. But he’d already told her that.
“If we don’t switch up the mood, I’m going to be an emotional mess.”
God, he loved her. “You can be a mess with me.”
A reluctant, only slightly sad smile teased her beautiful mouth. “I’ve been a mess with you too many times already. For tonight, I just want to forget Carver and the past. I want to enjoy you.” Her heated gaze coerced him; her hands moved over him in irresistible ways. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “You can do that for me.”
Given there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, how could he argue with that? He couldn’t. Whether she was flirting, laughing, crying or sick, she was his. He’d show her that, and maybe by morning she’d believe it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
STRETCHING AWAKE ON the narrow, uncomfortable bed, Carver glanced at the clock. Nearly 7:00 a.m. He should go back to sleep but he knew he wouldn’t. In the bed next to him, Mitty snored loud enough to rattle the windows and Gene muttered in his sleep.
But that wasn’t what kept him awake.
Off and on all night Cherry had plagued his brain, leaving him edgy, too hot.
And angry.
Between dark, stirring dreams, he’d awakened a dozen times to ponder her reaction to the surprise he’d left in her car. Did she scream? Cry?
Did her fucking boyfriend console her?
Carver’s hands fisted and his breathing deepened. Eventually, he knew, he’d make that guy pay. For interfering. For fucking her.
For having what Carver wanted.
Despite her hulking protector, it had been easy to pull the hoax. Too easy. He’d disabled the car to get her to leave it behind, and when she did, reacting exactly as he’d wanted, he, Gene and Mitty had slipped through the dead of night to dump in the snakes and various insects.
God, he wished he could have been there to watch her when she first opened that door. But even though he was a risk taker, he knew that’d be pushing the limits. On the quiet street filled with middle-class families, there’d be no place to hide, no place to wait and watch.
Staring up at the ceiling of the cheap motel room, Carver grinned. Cherry had always suffered a bone-deep fear of insects—a phobia he’d often used to taunt her. Once, when she’d been about fifteen, he’d dropped a big, juicy grasshopper down the back of her shirt.
Screaming as if he’d poured scalding water on her, she’d shed the shirt to free the hopper. Even then she’d had big tits. Didn’t matter that she wore a plain white cotton bra. He’d gotten a boner, as had both his brothers. Janet had come running, bitched them all out, and taken Cherry inside.
But not before he’d stomped the bug, squishing guts everywhere—and almost making Cherry barf.
From that moment on, he’d taken perverse pleasure in putting a centipede in her bed, a cockroach in her cereal. Once he’d pinned her down beneath him, a cicada in his hand, and made her kiss him.
She’d cried the whole time, but damn, she’d tasted good.
Fuck. Carver sat up in a rush and ran both hands over his face. A crying, closemouthed kiss from a schoolgirl, and it still turned him on to think of it. When he got her again, he’d tie her down and do whatever he wanted to her. He knew her secrets.
As much as she feared snakes and bugs, she feared rape more.
Mitty raised his head. “What are you doin’?” Eyes squinted, he checked the clock. “You okay, Carver?”
Face half smashed in a pillow, Gene sneered, “He’s thinking about her again.”
“Go back to sleep. Both of you.” Carver pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and sat back against the headboard. Yes, he was thinking of her. How could he not now that he was so close to getting her again?
“Let it go,” Gene grumbled as he rolled to his back.
Not a chance.
“The longer we stay here, the longer we’re neglecting business.”
“We need her to finish our business,” Carver reminded him. “Or have you forgotten that Janet hid our cash?”
Mitty got up, scratched his crotch, and lumbered into the bathroom. He left the door open while he drained his pipe and said, “We could just make Janet tell us.”
“We already tried that, idiot. With the security around her in the hospital, we can’t get a private word.” Gene looked at Carver. “But there’s no reason we can’t just shoot the damned fighter and grab the girl, then head home with her. She’ll tell us what we need to know.”
“No.” Carver refused to have his plans spoiled. “I want the fighter to suffer.”
Gene sat up, too. “If you keep dicking around, we’re going to get caught.”
Carver bolted forward. “Are you the brains now? You the one making the plans?”
“No. Just sayin’.”
Mitty returned and dropped into the bed, almost launching Gene out of it. They argued for a minute before going quiet again. When Carver looked at them, he saw that Mitty was back to snoring, but Gene just stewed.
As long as Gene didn’t interfere, he could mope all he wanted.
Quietly, Gene said, “I still remember that day in the woods as if it had just happened.” He stacked his arms behind his head. “How she looked as you slowly stripped her, the scent of her fear.” He glanced over at Carver. “How she pleaded with you.”
Carver inhaled sharply. He wanted to hear her begging again. He wanted to see her naked, now with a lush woman’s body.
“If Pops was here—” Gene began.
Carver cut him off. “He’s not though, is he?” Carver was now the head of the family, and he wanted what had been promised to him so damned long ago. “We only have a few more days to torment her, and I plan to make the most of it. Then this weekend, I’ll get her and we’ll head home. Stop sweating it.”
Gene considered him, but finally nodded. “All right.”
Carver appreciated his acceptance, but he’d have done as he pleased anyway. And it would please him to make the fighter pay before he got his fill of little Cherry Peyton.
Yes, he needed her to tell him where Janet had stashed the cash. Cherry knew, he believed Janet about that. The old bitch wouldn’t dare lie. If they didn’t carry on business as usual, the ones who’d killed Pops and put her in a hospital would be back, and then they’d finish the job.
On all of them.
But settling business matters wasn’t even close to everything he wanted from Cherry.
Thinking that, he checked the time again, then drew out the card Pamela had given him and used the hotel phone to call her. That little bird was so desperate for a compliment he’d had her eating out of his hand in seconds. Getting an invite to her party had been a cinch. As Gene said, it kept them in town a little longer than he liked, but he couldn’t pass up such a ripe opportunity to get revenge—and get his fill.
She answered with a brisk, “Hello?”
“Pamela? Hi. It’s Carver, Denver’s friend.” Mitty and Gene both stirred themselves to stare at him. He shook his head so they’d know to keep quiet and smiled into the phone. “I hope I’m not calling too early.”
“Carver,” she said with pleasure. “It’s fine. I’ve been up for hours.”
“Somehow I knew you weren’t a slug.” He suffered through her twittering laugh before as
king, “Denver confirm yet?”
“Yes, thank goodness. He spoke to my husband and agreed to attend.”
“Good, good.” Fucking fantastic. “Is he bringing the girl with him?” That would be the best scenario, an easy way for Carver to grab Cherry in front of him, to let him feel the helplessness while Carver manhandled her.
And then Cherry could watch while Gene gutted the bastard.
“Yes, he is. And it’s actually a perfect situation.”
Yeah, hadn’t he just thought so? Carver laughed. “How’s that?” He was pretty sure Pamela didn’t have the same idea as him.
“There’s so much bad blood, but with Cherry there, everyone will have to play nice. Plus befriending her gives us an avenue back into Denver’s life. It’s why I invited her.”
“Good idea,” Carver said. “Denver can be difficult. I told you that.”
“Yes, and thank you again for offering your advice. It was very nice to discuss all this with one of his friends.”
“Denver and I go way back,” Carver lied. “I’m glad to help. It’ll make him happy to reunite with his family.”
From the opposite bed, Gene grunted.
“Just make sure you don’t tell him that we talked. It’d piss him off big-time and you’d be back at square one.”
“I won’t say a word, I promise.”
Breathing harder in anticipation, Carver bid her goodbye and disconnected the call. Thanks to Pamela, he knew exactly when and where to find Denver and Cherry. That gave him all the opportunity he needed.
He could hardly wait.
* * *
BEING WITH DENVER was amazing. After work, Cherry spent her time finding a good spot for some of her clothes. Easy enough, given his massive closet. Seeing her things arranged next to his gave her great satisfaction.
She loved him. She wanted to be with him forever.
For now, he wanted her to stay.
Remaining realistic, especially after he’d mentioned love, just wasn’t possible. All problems aside, she beamed with optimism. Not that she’d pressure Denver by telling him her feelings. Never that. He had a fight to prepare for and more than enough of her emotional baggage already dumped on him. From here on out, she wanted to make their relationship easier.
About pleasure instead of the past.
Determined to make it work out, she talked with Yvette and Harper about good recipes for what the guys could eat during training. Denver informed her that he’d be helping in the kitchen and everywhere else. He was not a man to sit while a woman waited on him—unless he got his turn waiting on her, too.
She was still undecided what to do about Carver when he struck again.
After work, Denver had picked her up and they’d headed to the rec center. Stack was there, teaching a self-defense class that was attended by both Vanity and Merissa. Off to the side of that, Cannon and Miles worked with some high school boys on grappling moves. Yvette and her adorable dog, Muggles, watched from the sidelines.
It was a festive, busy group—until someone called in a fire that didn’t exist. Fire trucks and police cars arrived with a lot of fanfare. Everyone was evacuated, and the only blaze found was a small one in the Dumpsters behind the center, easily put out and with no real damage done.
Yet hours were wasted as everyone milled on the curb out front, giving the firefighters a chance to do a more thorough search inside.
Unsmiling, his mood grave, Denver kept Cherry’s hand locked in his while she spoke with an official, explaining that it was likely Carver who had made the call. That admission brought about a dozen questions. As she shared what information she could, Denver repeatedly scanned the area.
Cherry suddenly realized that Cannon, Stack, Armie, Miles, Brand and Leese all did the same. It disconcerted her to see that they’d formed a protective semicircle around the rest of the group. They each looked alert, incensed and...ready.
At least they were taking Carver’s threats seriously, she decided, even while her worry expanded. She also noticed that Leese now appeared to be part of their group. Since she considered him a nice enough guy, she was glad.
The official took notes, including Carver’s phone number. Through her repeated apologies for the bother, he reassured her that he understood.
And even though their time had been wasted, the firemen remained cordial, too, as they finished up their search.
In fact, not a single person looked at her with accusation, but no one needed to. She knew what had happened, and it devastated her. The rec center was not only special to the fighters, but also to much of the community. And it had now been violated— endangered—in a terrible way.
Because of her.
After the interview finally ended, Denver caught her chin. He tipped up her face and gave her a contemplative once-over. “Soon as they finish checking into things, we can head back in.”
She nodded.
“You’re all right?”
“Yes.”
His thumb teased over her cheek. “Your face is hot.”
“I’m...wrecked.” And furious. “This should never have happened.”
In contrast to his black scowl, Denver sounded gentle when he said, “No, it shouldn’t have.”
“I need to apologize to Cannon.”
“No.”
She looked around and knew the awful truth. “I need to apologize to all of them.”
Now both of his big hands held her face. “You didn’t do this, so you have nothing to apologize for.”
She tried a reassuring smile. “You might think not, but everyone else—”
“Will agree with me.” After a quick kiss that was so tender, it left her confused, Denver called over Armie and Stack. “I need a word with Cannon.”
“Got it.” Armie took her arm and stepped her back a little closer to the wall of the rec center.
Stack flanked her other side.
Then they both went back to surveying the crowd and surrounding area.
It was ludicrous how they shielded her while Denver strode over to Cannon. She could have told them that Carver was a coward at heart. Never would he step into the crowd of badass fighters.
No, when Carver came after her, he’d do so when she was alone. Only...Denver never left her alone anymore.
Sighing, she dropped back against the brick wall and closed her eyes. How long could her growing relationship with Denver last under the strain of Carver’s dark shadow?
Seeing everyone outside the rec center, vulnerable, made her accept the truth: If Carver couldn’t get to her, he would definitely go after someone else just to hurt her.
Everyone she knew and counted as a friend could be a potential target. She had to figure out what he wanted. And to do that, she’d have to talk with him again.
“Hey, chin up, doll.” Since Armie had been in the middle of showering, he stood there on the sidewalk wrapped only in a towel. The females seemed to enjoy that. And why not? Armie was all muscles, sinew and cocky attitude wrapped up with sleek skin, sexy body hair and some intriguing tattoos. His deep brown eyes always held humor, and he didn’t have a single modest bone in his body.
“You’re making me feel naked,” he told her with a grin.
Cherry started to apologize for staring at him, but Stack stated, “You are naked,” forestalling any comment from her.
“I have a towel,” Armie argued.
“You could have just as easily grabbed your boxers.”
“Didn’t have boxers today.” He peered at Cherry, ensuring he had her attention, and she saw the wicked teasing in his eyes before he said, “See, I had these slinky little—”
Stack shoved him, making him laugh—and almost lose his towel.
There was some collective breath holding by all the females nearby, but Armie managed to keep the towel in place.
Without a care, he secured it again, then smiled down at Cherry. “Seriously, they’d have covered less.”
Fighting a smile, Cherry shook her head. “You a
re so immodest.”
“There you go,” Armie murmured with satisfaction. “Much better than the long face.”
“Not that you don’t look cute when you’re fretting,” Stack said. “But the smile is a better look for you.”
“You’re both nuts.”
They grinned at her.
Deciding they might make good confidantes, she whispered, “You know this was Carver.”
Stack and Armie shared a look. Yes, she realized they’d been clowning around for her benefit, but how could she laugh when Cannon’s business had just been interrupted? The firefighters had come out for nothing.
And she couldn’t quit thinking about what Carver might pull next. She had to stop him—but how?
“Don’t sweat it,” Stack told her. “His bullshit petty games will end soon enough.”
If only that were true. She nodded anyway, just to appease Stack.
Cherry realized then that he kept glancing over at Vanity. She looked, too, and realized why. Vanity had several admiring young men around her. When Vanity smiled, Stack frowned.
Taking pity on him, Cherry said, “You don’t need to stand guard over me.”
“What’s that?” he asked without taking his attention off Vanity.
Armie gave Cherry a conspiratorial grin. “Go,” he told Stack. “Cherry and I will entertain each other until we get the all clear. Looks like the firefighters are finally heading out, so it should be any minute now.”
Without a word, Stack nodded and stalked away, leaving Armie and Cherry alone—or at least as alone as they could be on the crowded curb.
“So.” Armie tipped his head to the side. “What’s on your mind, Cherry Pie?”
She groaned.
Tugging a lock of her hair, Armie said, “It suits you, so stop the cow sounds.”
“Cow sounds?”
“Mooing and groaning.” He turned to lean on the wall beside her. “You know what? I’m disappointed in you.”
Ouch. That hurt, but all she said was, “I understand.”
“Doubtful. See, you’re not only letting an asshole like Carver get to you, but you’re really putting it to poor Denver, and that dude has a fight coming up.”