by Jo Davis
“Love you, too. Go on now, get!” she said, smiling.
The women hugged, then he ushered his lover out and settled her in his car. She fell silent on the drive to her place, and he kept an eye on her. Even though she’d slept well last night, now that she’d eaten her fill, she was sleepy again. Her eyes were drooping as she rested her head against the seat.
“I need a shower so bad,” she said.
“Go, jump in and I’ll take care of feeding the horses. I know how since you showed me.”
“My poor babies! They’re probably starving since nobody was home to feed them last night.”
“I’m sure they’re fine. You’ve got them fat as butterballs, and they’ve had grass and hay to munch on.”
This seemed to placate her, and as soon as she went in to shower, he headed outside to take care of her “babies.” All three were waiting in their usual spot, and if their greetings were any indication, they were mighty unhappy to have been left standing at their stalls with no grain.
“Sorry, guys,” he said, crooning to them. “Who’s hungry? Yeah, I’ll get you fixed up in no time, don’t worry.”
He chuckled some at himself for talking to creatures that couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Opening the side door to the feed room, he stepped inside and made his way over to the bins. There, he lifted the lid to the oats, and heard an ominous rattle. His hand froze in the act of reaching for the scoop.
There, coiled on top of the grain, was a large rattlesnake.
Fucking shit!
The serpent’s head was bobbing in a raised position, ready to strike. Its tongue flicked, and it rattled again in warning.
Clay didn’t move at first. Could barely breathe. His heart galloped a hard tempo in his chest, and sweat trickled down the side of his face. His eyes were locked with the snake’s, and he knew the only two ways out of this were if the snake decided to leave, or he did.
So slowly he was barely moving, he began the tedious process of backing away. Centimeter by centimeter, until minutes later, he was able to finally move out of reach and look around for a weapon. His gaze found a hoe hanging on the wall, and he grabbed it.
He held the hoe out as far as possible, using it to fish the snake out of the grain bin. It was a huge fucker, probably six feet long. The thing dangled on the end of the hoe as he rushed outside and flung it into the grass. He wasted no time chopping its head off, and then sucked in several lungfuls of air, nearly hyperventilating at the thought of what had nearly happened.
“Jesus Christ,” he said hoarsely, sagging against the side of the barn. His hand went over his heart as though to keep it inside his chest.
That damned thing could have bitten me. I could have died.
Oh, God. Someone put it there, thinking Melissa would be the one to feed the horses.
The truth hit him hard, and he cursed. The snake had definitely been placed there. The bin had been tightly closed, and no pests could have gotten in by themselves.
His hand shook as he hung the hoe back on the wall. Then he quickly fed the horses, gave them hay, and hurried back inside. He’d left the back door unlocked, and how he cursed himself for an idiot. The first thing he did was to check every nook and cranny of the house to make sure there were no other unwelcome visitors—scaled or human.
Satisfied the house was all clear, he walked back to her bedroom. She’d showered and was just finishing up with blow-drying her hair. The dryer went off and she placed it back under the sink, then turned to him as he parked his butt on her bed.
“There you are. What took you so long?” Her look of curiosity was replaced by concern. The ordeal must’ve shown on his face. “What’s wrong?”
He blew out a breath. “There was a big fucking rattlesnake in the bin of oats.”
Her eyes rounded. “What? How the hell did it get in there? Was the lid open?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
He recounted the story to her, and when he finished, she sat next to him and took his hand. He clasped it tightly and kissed her knuckles.
“I’m so glad it didn’t get you,” she said shakily.
“Me, too.”
“My gut tells me that James is behind all of this. I’m going to get him somehow,” she vowed, jaw clenching.
“I’d rather you just stay away from him and let the authorities deal with him. I don’t want you anywhere near that asshole.”
“I’d rather that too, but they haven’t done a stellar job of collaring him so far.”
Pulling her into his side, he tilted her head up and gave her a slow kiss. One that conveyed his emotions without saying a word. “Let’s rest awhile, okay? Maybe things will be clearer when we wake up.”
He wasn’t sure about that, but it sounded good.
She let her towel drop to the floor and crawled into the bed. His cock stirred, but he doubted she wanted to be ravished right this second, after everything. He stripped and joined her, then situated her with her head resting on his chest. This was fast becoming his favorite position.
Sleep took him fast, and he sank with gratitude.
Sometime later, there was an insistent knock coming from the front of the house. The front door, he thought groggily. Glancing at Melissa, he saw that she was still sleeping and he didn’t want to awaken her. So he extracted himself from her arms as carefully as possible and slipped from the bed. Once he’d pulled on his pants, he headed for the door.
He opened it to find an older man, possibly in his fifties, standing on the other side. The stranger was about six feet tall, graying brown hair. He stood straight, with an arrogant and intimidating air about him—and Clay immediately suspected his identity.
“Can I help you?” Clay asked in a barely civil tone. He eyed the batch of flowers clutched in the man’s hands.
“I’m here to see my niece,” the man said coolly. “And you are?”
“You first, since I’m the one who’s actually welcome here.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I’m James Ryan, Melissa’s uncle. Now that you have your answer, kindly fetch her for me. I haven’t welcomed her to town, and we’re long overdue for a visit.”
His dismissive tone rankled. There was also something very dangerous lurking in that flat gaze. This wasn’t a stupid man, or one to be underestimated.
“I don’t think so,” Clay replied in a cold voice. “Leave your number, and if she wants to talk with you, she’ll call.”
Anger tightened James’s features. “And you are?” he repeated.
“I’m Clay Montana, the man who’s standing between you and Melissa. And that’s where I’m going to stay until she tells me different. So, get the fuck off her porch before I bodily remove you.”
Clay thought the asshole would take a swing at him, so palpable was the rage on his face.
“Clay?” a soft voice said from behind him. “It’s okay, I have something to say to my uncle.”
The man’s smirk didn’t last long. Melissa came into the doorway, snuggling into Clay’s side. It was a show of solidarity, that they were a couple. He draped his arm protectively around her shoulders as she had her say.
“Melissa, it’s good to see—”
“Don’t even bother to spout that lie, James,” she hissed. “I know you’re the one behind the attempts on me, so there’s no reason for pretense between us.”
“I only just heard on the news about you and your detective friend being run off the road by that van,” he claimed, shaking his head. “I just came to make sure you’re all right, and to give you these.”
He held out the flowers and Melissa took them before Clay could voice a protest. Her expression never softened toward her uncle, however, and she continued to glare at him.
“That bullshit could fertilize a garden. You’ve never held any love for me, and you killed any I might’ve had for
you long ago. You hate me because I’m a cop, and because I know your dirty secrets and I want proof of them to give to the Feds. That makes me a traitor in your eyes. Know this.” Stepping from Clay’s arms, she walked right up to the man and stuck her face into his.
“I know what you’re up to, and I’m going to bring you down. I’m going to find enough on you to bury you so deep, parole will be a distant dream. Do you get that?”
James laughed, but the sound was devoid of real mirth. “I get it, sweet niece. But you’re wrong about me. I only want the best for you.”
“Get your sorry, lying self off my porch, James Ryan,” she spat. “And don’t come back if you know what’s good for you.”
The gauntlet had been thrown down, and Clay had no doubt the man would pick it up. The evil was there, written on his face. James had no intention of backing down. He’d kill Melissa, first chance he got. Clay suppressed a shudder.
James spun and left, jogging to a Range Rover in the driveway. Melissa peered at it intently. As soon as the man had backed out and driven away, she marched inside. Clay followed, watching as she went into the kitchen and dumped the flowers in the garbage. Then she took a notepad and wrote something down on it.
“The make, model, and license plate number of his Range Rover,” she said.
“Smart.” He walked over to her, gathering her in his arms. “Are you okay, baby?”
“Yeah. I’m angry, but I’m all right. He infuriates me!”
“I know. He does the same to me. I can’t imagine what living with him was like.”
“He’s so full of shit, and he knows I know it! That’s what this little visit was about—he was trying to toy with me, let me know he’s coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.”
“Except there is.”
“Yes. I’m going to hang that bastard, and he’s going to provide the rope.”
• • •
Saturday, the day of Howard’s cookout, dawned beautiful and clear. It was the perfect day for celebrating Clay’s return to his team. For relaxing and getting to know his friends and their wives better.
Melissa wished they didn’t have the specter of her uncle looming in the shadows, but for the moment it couldn’t be helped. She pushed aside the thing that kept niggling in her brain about his visit, the wisp that she couldn’t seem to grasp, and focused instead on having a good time.
Clay had been staying with her since she and Shane were run off the road, would barely let her out of his sight. She loved him for it, but they both needed this break.
She reveled in his playfulness as they got ready. They hadn’t made love since the road incident, but she hoped tonight would be different. He was treating her as if she were made of glass, and that was going to stop. Sooner rather than later.
She could barely get dressed in her shorts and tank top with him squeezing her from behind and kissing on her neck. Giggling, she wriggled free and teased him back.
“You want some of this?” She jiggled her booty.
“Damn, woman! Let’s just skip the party.”
“Nuh-uh. There’s this thing called anticipation. You’re going to be so hot for it, you’ll come in your pants at the party.”
He arched a brow. “Think so? Hell, you’re probably right. Though you’d better hope not because I don’t rev back up as quick as I used to.”
“Oh, baloney. I know that’s not true.” She leered at his crotch, making him laugh.
“Hey! I’m up here.”
“Isn’t that the woman’s line?”
“I’m so abused.”
“Sure, poor baby.” Hugging him, she gave him a deep kiss, which he enjoyed with an appreciative growl before breaking their contact.
“Shit, if we don’t leave now, I’m calling this whole thing off.”
“Guess we’d better go, then.”
Soon they were on their way. The drive didn’t take long, and in less than fifteen minutes they were pulling up in front of a cute, modest house in an older neighborhood. The front sidewalk was lined with flowers, the yard neatly trimmed. Cars lined the street in each direction, a testament to the revelry going on in the back.
“Wow, they must have quite a get-together,” she said.
“Nobody parties like a bunch of firefighters. You’re about to experience either the most fun you’ve ever had, or the worst headache. There’s not much in between with us.”
“I’m sure I’ll have fun. I’ve already met your team, and they’re great.”
“We’ll see.” He winked.
Taking her hand, he led her straight around to the back and through the gate in the fence. There, she saw . . . complete, joyful chaos.
A few of Clay’s team were playing football, and some were lounging with beers. There were a few guys she didn’t recognize, and Clay told her they were on other shifts at the station. There were plenty of wives, she assumed, but she didn’t know any of them.
Six-Pack, who was manning the grill, waved them over. “Hey, come on over! Grab a beer!”
Clay had told her that the captain didn’t drink, but it didn’t bother him that all his buddies did. The others were doing their part to make up for the alcohol the big captain wasn’t consuming, and much merrymaking was going on.
As they joined Six-Pack and retrieved beers from the cooler near him, Melissa saw the sign on the back fence that declared, Welcome Home, Clay! The warmth of his friends, their genuine happiness at having him returned to them, made her choke up a little.
She was instantly drawn into his world, fully and completely. The guys were fun and the women she met, Kat, Grace, Cori, Eve, and Shea Skyler, who she remembered was Shane’s twin sister, were fantastic. Melissa had known about Shane’s twin, but hadn’t met the nurse before now, even though the woman worked in the ER at Sterling. Shea’s husband, Tommy, she learned, used to be a firefighter at Station Five before he was injured and went to the fire marshal’s office. Now he taught classes for the department, and seemed happy.
Tommy hugged Clay enthusiastically, and there were certainly no hard feelings that Clay had been moved to A-shift to fill Tommy’s spot.
These people were incredible. Sure, from Clay she knew they all had flaws and each had been through their own brand of hell before they found happiness. But that made them even more real, and human, to her.
She made new friends, and laughed at their antics so often and hard her sides hurt. In all, it was the most perfect day ever . . . Because she suspected she’d found a large, exuberant extended family.
And she planned to hold on to them, and her man, with everything she had.
9
The party had been a roaring success, but Melissa was glad to be home.
Finally, she had her man to herself. They’d come back to her place and hopped in the shower right away, where he’d proceeded to stroke her until her body was a raging inferno.
“You’re a beast,” she told him.
“Is that good?”
“You’re a sexy beast,” she said, admiring his tight, fine ass as he bent over to dry himself. His skin gleamed with droplets, clinging to every lean muscle.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, then.” After he was dry, he tossed the towel aside, climbed into bed, and held out a hand. “Come here, baby.”
Slipping her palm into his, she lowered herself to the bed and sat facing him. “I had a great time at the party today.”
“I’m glad. I want you to like my friends.”
“I love them,” she assured him.
“Now, let’s talk about something fun.” His grin would’ve melted her panties—if she was wearing any. “Lie on your back and close your eyes.”
Curious and excited, she did as he asked.
“No peeking.”
“Okay.”
She heard the nightstand drawer slide
open and a rustling around. Next, his palm smoothed over her tummy, and down one thigh.
“Put your arms over your head and cross your wrists.” She did. “Good. Now spread your legs wider, let me see all of you.”
His sensual command plucked at her nipples like a physical touch and they hardened, as much from this game as from the night air on her damp body.
His palm traveled upward to her breasts, grazed the sensitized points as he spoke, low and mesmerizing. “Sweetheart, look at you, all spread and ready for me. I can do anything I want and you’ll love it, isn’t that so?”
“Y-yes.” She wiggled a little, getting hot.
“You need it so bad, need me to do naughty things to you. Whatever I want.” His fingers found her sex, rubbing with just the lightest of touches, driving her crazy.
“Clay,” she whimpered.
“Yes, baby? Need me to do something about that ache? God, you’re wet.”
His fingers disappeared and she heard a squirt. Then they returned, rubbing something slippery along her sex, all over her clit. As he rubbed, it warmed under his ministrations, transforming every spot on her body into a massive erogenous zone. She was lost to what he was doing to her, his control.
“Ooh.” She moaned as a finger slipped inside, spreading the moisture.
She loved being bared to him, and this naughty play fired her blood. Seemed she wasn’t alone.
Her nipples were pinched, oiled, and she arched her back with a gasp. He played with them for a few moments, and then moved between her spread thighs.
“Lift your legs and bend your knees, but keep your legs spread, out to the sides,” he said, voice husky.
She complied, holding her knees, imagining what she must look like, offered to him this way. “I want to open my eyes so I can watch you.”
“No. Keep them closed, just feel.”
More oil dribbled on the exposed lips of her sex and he worked it over every crease, teased her throbbing clit. Some of the oil streaked downward, between her cheeks. His hand followed, smoothing the liquid all the way to her sex.
“Open to me,” he murmured. “Trust me, give yourself to me.”