“I thought you were going to kill him!”
“I would have, if he’d hurt you.” He held her hand tighter still as he strode along the corridor toward the staircase. “That was the first time I didn’t despise the urge to use my fists on another human being.”
Astonished, Sky realized the significance of what he’d said. He didn’t want to be fighter because his father had beaten him, it wasn’t his way.
Sky lurched after him, wishing she hadn’t worn heels that day. “Wait,” she called out at when they reached the bottom of the steps, and bent over to readjust her shoes. “Why do we have to leave so quickly if you’ve given him the kit?”
“I’ve given him the kit, but once he gets into it the whole thing will self-destruct.”
“You had time to make it do that?”
“I set it up a few days ago, ran it by Draco. He liked the idea, so I wrote the code. I wasn’t taking any risks. You were right all along, it had to be witnessed, the destruction of the kit, and this was the best way.” He glanced at his watch. “About fifteen minutes from now he’ll suddenly find himself watching a cartoon explosion, then…nothing.”
“That’s brilliant.”
He huffed a laugh. “I only wish I could see his face.”
“So you’re not angry with me for going with him?”
“Of course I’m bloody angry with you.” He looked at her as if he was about to put her over his lap and give her with a good spanking.
Sky was so hot for him. She flashed her eyes. “How angry are you..?”
“Don’t fucking tempt me, Sky!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sky was giddy from the escape.
It’d torn her apart in there, because Rory could have been hurt. All of the wild emotions she felt condensed into desire—pure liquid heat pulsing at her center. She was horny as hell and once they made it outside the building, it was clear Rory was as well.
Several of the hoardings had been flattened, leaving the building open to the sight of passers by. It wouldn’t be long before the community police found the site being used. She caught sight of Rory’s bike parked down the side of the building.
“Come here, you crazy girl.” He headed for the bike and hung his helmet over the handlebar. He pulled her into the shadows against the nearby wall, his mouth covering hers in a frantic kiss.
Weak with desire, emotion catching in her throat, she clasped his erection through his jeans.
He ran his hands inside her jacket and over the fabric covering her breasts.
“Need to be inside you,” he rasped.
“Oh god, yes, is there enough time?”
He answered by hitching up her tight barista uniform skirt. His fingers followed the line of her underwear, easing the fabric in against her swollen, sensitive folds until he reached her clit. When he touched her there, pressing firmly, she moaned aloud.
His hand slipped inside of her panties. “You’re wet.”
“I want you, badly, that’s why.”
The sound of his zipper made her take action. He really was going to do this, now. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, thrilled as she was by his actions. She wriggled her damp underwear down until it fell around her ankles.
“And I want you,” he responded. “God knows why, I’m so frickin’ angry with you. You should never have gone with him.”
She got even hotter with everything he said. The clock ticking, there wouldn’t be time for this. “Please Rory, I only did it to help.”
“Help? Christ. You always were a prick tease. Look what you’ve done to me.”
He took her hand and wrapped it around the hard, hot length of his erection.
Deep inside, her core clamped, longing for it there.
Clasping his cock, riding it with her hand, she looked at him pleadingly from under her lashes. “Don’t make her beg for forgiveness.” Even as she said it she realized the idea made her hotter still. She was so aroused, she couldn’t help herself. “Please. Rory.”
“It’ll be hard and fast. Can you take it?” His voice was hoarse. He was every bit as turned on as she was.
She managed to nod.
Lifting her from her feet, he wrapped her legs around his hips. Her hands locked on his shoulders possessively, her body throbbing with desire.
She laughed, breathlessly. The way he took control of her body—wow. It did all the right things. Her core clamped on itself repeatedly, wanting his hardness there.
She was hot and wet and wriggling like mad, desperate to be filled by him. “Hurry,” she urged. “Be quick.”
He wrapped his hands under her bottom and lifted her, shoving her back up against the wall. “Hold on tight.”
Gripping his sides with her knees, she sucked in her breath when she felt his cock pushing inside her, stretching her open and filling her. She had to bite her lip to hold back from moaning her reaction out loud.
In one stroke he filled her to the hilt.
Wrapping her hands around his neck, she held on tight. She was acutely aware of the rough wall at her back as he rode her against it, lifting her bodily with each thrust. The raw physical lust made her shudder.
She gasped for breath, her whole pelvis on fire.
“Oh yes,” The relief of being filled with him made her body vibrate with pleasure. Her arms felt too weak to support her. He pulled her hips toward him, lifting her physically, and she nodded, loving the brutal intensity of this act.
He grinned at her.
Like a jolt of electricity straight to her center, that smile turned her desire to liquid heat. The pulse at her center hammered, orgasm closing fast. They were fucking, up against the wall, so close to the road, so close to danger. “Oh…such a rush!”
“Christ, yes,” he murmured.
Then the crown of his cock pressed against her center and she arched her back, her shoulders pivoting against the wall, and cried out, squeezing her knees tight against his hips. Her body was so wired by the thrill she reached orgasm moments later, crying out with relief. She was still shuddering with release when he began to thrust faster, quickly sending her back there again.
“Fuck, you’re so hot!” He thrust hard and fast, working into her over and over again.
A hot tide swelled in the pit of her belly. She was closing on a second orgasm with every thrust of his body. Grasping him around the back of his neck, she urged him on. “So glad we’re doing this.”
“You do know I’m crazy about you?” he asked, right then, right when we were both on the edge of orgasm.
“I fuckin’ love you, you crazy woman.”
Oh, how that hit her—it hit her where she was on fire for him. She threw back her head, multiple highs carrying her into orgasm. “I love you too, you crazy guy.”
Her core contracted and went into spasm. Relief washed over her. His cock swelled and bowed inside her, then jerked and spent.
All that mattered was he’d said he loved her. She wrapped herself around him, kissing him, her hands roving back and forth over his head.
“I want you to know something. Everything I’ve done and will do is because I love you as my girl, not my stepsister.”
“Your girl?”
“Yes. My girl.”
She nodded, and then cupped his jaw, stroking his stubble with her thumb.
“Now put your panties back on and let’s get the hell out of here.” His eyes were filled with mischief.
Hurriedly, she pulled herself together, giggling as she did so.
Rory glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to go. Jackson’s going to be really pissed in about forty-five seconds.”
He climbed on the bike, urging her to get on behind him.
She wriggled her skirt back up a bit, hardly caring when it ripped as she climbed on.
“Such a rush!” She laughed joyously, not caring about the state her clothes were in, or that an incensed Jackson might appear at any moment. Not caring about anything, except what they’d done and what they’d said.
Rory had a BMW on the rack for a full service. It was a methodical job, one he took great pleasure in, and it gave him time to think about Sky—which was just as well because she was always on his mind. He was so deep in his thoughts he didn’t register the conversation going on behind him until it got louder.
“You were here the other day, right?”
Rory turned his head and looked at the bloke standing with George. He was tall and heavily built and wore a hoodie with the hood up.
Instantly he thought Jackson had come for revenge, but a week had gone by and it would have happened by now. Jackson had obviously taken his warning to heart.
There were two guys in the workshop, the one in the hoodie, and a younger guy. George was talking to the younger guy. He was skirting the bikes lined up ready for pick up that evening. Rory recognized him. It was the lad who’d wandered in a couple of weeks earlier, who George had said he was like.
The lad nodded briefly and ducked down to look at a bike.
Rory observed, but stayed where he was, crouched down behind the bike on the inspection rack. He had a bad feeling about this.
The guy in the hoodie muttered something to which George grunted a reply. His attention was still on the scrawny younger bloke.
“Stop right there,” George boomed out across the workshop.
The hairs on the back of Rory’s neck stood up. Peering through the cluttered workshop, he struggled to see what was going on. George went to move, but the hooded guy was blocking his way.
Rory stood up, making himself known. He heard the familiar scrape of the cashbox. The younger one stood by the bench, cashbox clutched to his chest.
George cursed loudly, losing it. “You were scoping the joint the other day, weren’t you? Well, you picked the wrong people to mess with. Put the box down and leave.”
Rory strode over to the lad, grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and tore the cashbox out of his hand. It twisted and fell, crashing to the floor, coins rolling in all directions. “Back away now,” Rory bellowed, “and I’ll leave your sidekick in one piece.”
The young lad struggled in Rory’s grasp but Rory held tight.
The hooded guy looked from George to Rory and back again.
George stepped forward
The hooded guy put his hand on George’s chest, halting him. “Take the hit, old man.”
Rory groaned internally. George hated being called old man.
George shook his head. “No way.”
“Let it go,” the big man commanded, glancing only momentarily at Rory, “just claim it on your insurance. We both win.”
With his free hand, Rory got his phone into his palm.
As George passed the bench he picked up a stainless steel exhaust pipe. “This is my premises. You’ve made a big mistake.”
The hooded guy laughed.
Rory gestured with his phone. “Leave now, or I’ll call the police.”
George tapped the steel exhaust pipe against the palm of his free hand as if readying for a pitch.
He intended to fight. Shit no.
But the hooded guy didn’t wait to see if it was just a threat.
The hooded guy moved fast. Really fast.
He high-kicked George—a martial arts move that left no room for George to react or defend himself.
The steel exhaust pipe flew out of George’s hand, clattering to the floor.
Along with George.
Rory’s blood hit boiling point.
He raced to George’s side. George was out cold.
It wasn’t the kick he’d taken. It was the hit to his head on the stone floor.
The hooded guy took one look at Rory’s face and turned to run.
But not quickly enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rory clung to the metal guard around George’s hospital bed, willing him to live. In the ambulance, his anger had riffed through disbelief straight into dread. George was his mentor, his friend. He was the one enabling Rory to begin a new life, the solid focal point who kept him steady. The prospect of losing him was too much to bear.
The ensuing hospital procedures didn’t help. It was an alien world to him, and he didn’t like it. The machines beeped incessantly, a constant reminder of how fragile a heartbeat was, how vital. Tubes and wires went in and out of George. Rory despised them for trapping George there in the ICU, and thanked them for keeping him here on the planet. It was a focal point for his anger. If he thought too much about what had gone down at the workshop, he lost touch with the moment.
Through the hours he was allowed to be there, he never left George’s side.
In the hours he couldn’t be there, he waited outside the hospital, constantly checking his phone for news from the medical team caring for George.
The intensive care unit set his teeth on edge. That, and the fact he hadn’t been able to prevent George getting hurt in the first place.
When George’s eyelids finally flickered open for the first time, Rory rose to his feet. “Hey buddy, how’re you doing?”
He pressed the buzzer for a nurse then clasped his hand over George’s.
George blinked, then nodded. “I’ve had better hangovers.”
“I’ve called the nurse.”
“Did the police get those fuckin’ thieves?”
“They did. The lad took off, but he was known to them and they picked him up. The other guy couldn’t move fast because I got to him first. Knocked him out.” He flexed his hand. His knuckles were sore. The only thing that stopped him from beating the guy to a pulp was that George needed an ambulance.
A semblance of a smile passed over George’s mouth. He tried to move, glancing at the drip in his arm as if surprised by its presence.
“Take it easy.”
George opened his eyes wider, fixed Rory with a stare. “Promise me you’ll keep the workshop going.”
Rory was relieved. George was showing good signs of recovery. “Of course I will. I’ll keep it ticking over until you get back.”
“Promise me you’ll keep my good reputation going.”
“I will, George.” The knot in his chest tightened.
“You’re the only one who ever could. They came and went, apprentices, there wasn’t anyone ever had the knack the way ..you...” His voice drifted off.
Something began to beep on the machinery on the other side of the bed.
Rory shouted for help.
A nurse appeared, then a second.
Panicked, Rory looked at one of them for guidance.
“Take a seat in the corridor,” the nurse said.
Reluctantly, he did as instructed.
Within moments of him sitting down he saw a doctor and another nurse head to George’s room, fast.
He had a bad feeling.
Watching the door for any clue what was happening, it dawned on him how much George meant to him.
He heard shouts from inside the room.
Dropping his head into his hands, he prayed.
It was several long minutes before anyone appeared. The doctor left first. Then the nurse who’d asked him to leave came out and approached.
He stood up, willing it to be good news.
“Are you the next of kin?”
His gut knotted. “He has a daughter, Kate, but she lives in Australia. I’m his employee.”
“Will you be able to reach his daughter for us?”
Rory nodded. He couldn’t speak. He knew what was coming.
“I’m sorry to inform you, your employer has passed on.”
Rory closed his eyes, but not before his world went dark.
Pushing his face into his hands, he hunched over and wept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sky ached for him.
It’d been a difficult time since George passed on, she knew that. But what she wasn’t prepared for was silence. It was the very opposite of what had happened when she needed his support, over Nan’s health scare.
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br /> The day it happened Rory sent her a text saying he couldn’t make their meeting. George had died. Then, nothing. She’d gone to the house he shared with Kristaps, but all he could tell her was Rory’d taken off on his bike with some of his stuff. She’d even gone to the workshop. A notice on the door announced temporary closure due to the owner’s death. A woman at a nearby tea bar saw her hanging around and filled her in on what had happened to George. The violence and horror of it shocked her. It filled her with dread for Rory too. Was that why he’d taken off, to avoid kicking off the way he had with Jackson?
Thankfully Draco called her a couple of times, and it helped immensely to hear from him.
Eventually, she heard back from Rory.
He gave her the funeral details, but only after she’d asked.
When she pressed for more information, he revealed only a little more. It made her ache that he wouldn’t say more over the phone.
George’s daughter was flying in from Australia. Rory was kept busy with arrangements and running a minimal service at the workshop. The events were a horrible strain, she could tell, but his distance and silence unnerved her. They’d got so close. They’d made it through Nan’s collapse and the Jackson shenanigans. Then this.
There was no other option for her but to be there when he was ready to let her in. She only prayed it would happen, and he wouldn’t pull away from her for good.
* * * *
Rory stood in line in the corridor outside the prison visiting room. He hated this part the most, the waiting, trying not to fret about what state he might find Sean in when he got in there. Prison was changing his brother, and it unnerved Rory to witness it.
Several of the other visitors chatted to each other, having met in this situation before. Their loved ones were in for much longer than Sean though. His release was within months now. Rory just hoped to God Sean could hold it together and stay out of trouble until the end of his sentence.
The prison guard had his hand on the door handle. A face appeared at the window, indicating visiting time could begin. “Okay people, single file. Keep your hands in plain sight.”
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