Deputy's Secret (Welcome to Covendale Book 3)

by Blaze, Morgan

  “I think it’s ready,” he said.

  She licked her lips. “Looks ready to me.”

  With a soft laugh, he leaned down and kissed her. “I meant the bath,” he said. “But that’s ready, too.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Hop in, and I’ll get the jets going.”

  She nodded and climbed the few steps leading to the tub, and then sank into the water with a massive sigh of content as the jets purred to life. “This is amazing,” she said. “I could just live in here.”

  Nick mounted the steps and slid in to settle beside her. “Oh, man. I forgot how good this feels. Maybe I should use it more often.”

  She smiled. “Good idea.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist, and for a few delicious moments they lounged there, relaxed in the luxurious warmth. Eventually she turned to him, and he cupped her face, rubbed a thumb along her jaw line. His lips descended on hers, exploring tenderly.

  She slid a hand down the hard muscle of his chest, beneath the water, lingering on the rigid outline of his stomach for a moment before moving lower to wrap her fingers around his cock.

  His eyes flew open with a gasp. Smiling into them, she stroked him slowly, watched his eyes roll back in pleasure as his breath quickened. He let out a long, low groan as she lengthened her strokes, increased the pace.

  Suddenly, he growled and grabbed her waist, guiding her through the water to straddle him. “I need you,” he said through clenched teeth. “God, Emma…”

  She leaned down and gave him a searing kiss. “I’m all yours.”

  With an almost desperate cry, he plunged into her. She met his thrust, driving him deeper until his swollen cock filled her completely. This time there were no long strokes, nothing languid or hesitant. They fell into a sweet, steady rhythm, buoyed by the weightless cradle of the water.

  His hands touched her everywhere, caressing and teasing, driving sensation to heights she’d never experienced. Soon she was breathless, her head thrown back in sheer bliss as fierce spasms gripped her. The gasping sounds she made as she climaxed on an impossible swell of pleasure were eclipsed by Nick’s rasping shout as he reached the edge with her.

  Rigid and trembling, he drove deep inside her and pressed his face to her stomach. He convulsed twice, shivered, and hitched in a breath, releasing it with a sound that was almost a sob. For a moment he remained still, arms crossed behind her, breath hot on her skin. Finally he relaxed and turned his head to rest against her ribs. “I think I like your idea,” he panted. “Let’s live in the tub. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get out, anyway.”

  Still shuddering from the aftershocks of her orgasm, Emma slid further into the water and kissed him. “Sounds good to me,” she said. “How do we call room service?”

  He laughed. The vibrations sent new streams of pleasure through her—if she had any strength left, she’d have probably came again. “Covendale doesn’t have room service,” he said. “We’re lucky we’ve got a stoplight.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” she said with a smile. “You’ve got two stoplights. I’ve seen them both.”

  “You’re right. I guess we’re moving up in the world.”

  “So, no living in the hot tub, then?”

  “We’ll probably have to move.” He snuggled her between his legs and draped his arms around her, nuzzling her shoulder. “Eventually.”

  “But not yet.”

  “No. Not yet.”

  She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax completely. If there was a heaven on Earth, this was it—and she was going to enjoy every moment she could get.

  * * * *

  Emma slumped over the box she was going through and groaned. “What time is it?”

  “Probably about eleven.” Nick glanced over and saw exhaustion etched into her features. After they’d gotten reluctantly out of the tub and dressed, he’d gathered everything he could find that made heat and brought it over. He’d ordered pizza from Papa Tuesday’s, the only place in town that delivered, and they ate between sorting ruined from salvageable, gradually drawing order from chaos.

  But she’d had enough. And now he had to tear himself open one last time, because he wasn’t about to let her spend the night on a damp mattress covered with wet blankets.

  He arranged a smile for her. “Why don’t we call it a night?” he said.

  “Yeah. I’m about done in.” She raised her head and blinked at the neat piles, the stacked boxes, the clustered furniture. “I didn’t lose as much as I thought,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  “You did more than help.” She yawned and stretched, struggling to her feet. “Think I’ll set up one of those heaters in the bedroom,” she said. “It might be damp, but at least it won’t be cold.”

  Nick stood and approached her. “You’ve been soaked enough today,” he said, reaching out to brush her hair from her face. “Sleep over at my place. If you leave the heaters running, everything should be dry tomorrow.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure? You’ve already done so much.”

  “I’m sure.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  They went through the house, arranging the space heaters where they’d do the most work, and then Emma packed a small bag before they headed next door and straight to the bedroom. She muttered something about brushing her teeth and vanished into the bathroom. When she came out, she wore only a t-shirt and panties.

  Nick swallowed and tried to ignore the stirring in his groin. She needed sleep—and he had to break what was becoming an addiction to her, before it was too late.

  “Oh, that bed is so beautiful. So soft. So not rained on.” With a crooked grin, she padded over to the bed and flopped facedown. “I love you, Nick’s bed.”

  His heart wrenched. She really was adorable—and he was going to lose her. Probably forever. Even if she eventually forgave him for what he was about to do, things between them would never be like this.

  He only had tonight.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll be right out.”

  “I’m good.” She raised a hand and waved, her face still planted in the blanket.

  He spent a few minutes in the bathroom, trying to pull himself together. When he came out, Emma was a faint outline under the blanket, motionless and breathing softly. He suspected she was already asleep.

  But when he turned out the light and climbed into bed on the other side, she rolled over and snuggled against him. “Nick…I think I love you,” she murmured faintly. “Is that okay?”

  His throat clenched, and a bolt of pain streaked through him. “Yes,” he rasped. “Me, too.”

  “Okay,” she breathed. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight…Emma.”

  She was sleeping almost before she stopped talking.

  Nick lay awake long into the night, wanting to remember what it felt like to hold her. Desperately wishing he could tell her everything, and that somehow it would still be all right.

  Because he didn’t think he loved her. He knew.

  Chapter 10

  Emma blinked, and it was Friday.

  The rest of the week had kept her busy. Between getting her house organized, learning about the town, and writing four more pieces for the newspaper, she’d hardly noticed the time pass.

  But she had noticed the absence of a certain deputy and neighbor.

  After the night he’d saved her from losing everything she owned, not to mention the incredible hot tub sex, she’d seen him maybe two or three times. Just for a few minutes. He wasn’t any less friendly, but there was a strange distance around him—like he was constantly preoccupied.

  She told herself it was probably work, so it wouldn’t hurt so much. At least she hoped that’s what it was.

  She’d make a real effort to connect with him over the weekend. If there was something wrong, she wanted to know about it. But tonight she had a prior engagement in the city.

 
; Tonight, one way or another, she’d see the man behind The Hammer.

  She left the Banner a little early, which was apparently acceptable on Fridays. Even Mr. Halstead emerged from office a few minutes after four, and stopped to talk with Mrs. Eichorn on the way out. He’d almost sounded like a human being with her, and Emma wondered if there wasn’t a touch of unrequited love between them.

  Or maybe it was requited. Mrs. Eichorn was a widow, so it wasn’t an impossible notion that they’d have a discreet relationship going on.

  When she got to the house, she paused in the living room to look around for a minute. This place was finally starting to resemble a home. She’d gotten the furniture arranged, the curtains up, and most of the boxes unpacked. She had Internet and cable, and the television seemed to work fine once it dried out completely. Now she could lounge on the couch and watch movies all day if she wanted to, or have people over.

  Well, maybe one person. If he ever seemed like he was available, or interested.

  She pushed lingering thoughts of Nick out of her mind. Tonight she had to focus, be on top of her game. Pluto, the security guard she’d been talking to, wouldn’t take much more convincing to give her what she wanted. Just one look into the back rooms.

  She had a micro-camera ready for the occasion. Photographic evidence should be more than enough for Mr. Halstead—and even if The Hammer was from Greenway, she just knew he’d be someone high profile enough to merit a story. She could convince the editor to run it.

  After a decent shower, she dressed with visions of the Associated Press picking up her story, major channels covering it, being a trending topic on Twitter. Even if it only brought her fifteen minutes of fame, it would be enough to lay the foundation for a serious career.

  She headed out, glancing almost unconsciously next door. Nick’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Considering the last few days, that shouldn’t have surprised her. But she couldn’t shake the dull, persistent hurt of what seemed to be a passive rejection.

  He couldn’t dump her, since there’d never been anything official. She just wished he’d either commit it or quit it.

  The half-hour drive to Greenway was quiet and uneventful. Once she hit the city, the sudden appearance of traffic irritated the hell out of her. She spent a few minutes gritting her teeth and muttering out loud about idiot drivers and endless traffic lights—then she stopped suddenly and laughed at herself. She’d lived in Covendale for less than a week, and she’d already gotten used to the idea of “traffic” as occasionally waiting at the Main Street stoplight for the other two cars to cross.

  Maybe the place was growing on her, at least a little.

  The Vault was hidden in plain sight. A medium-sized warehouse style building in the middle of a whole bunch more of them, it had no signs, no name over the door—nothing to indicate what went on behind its corrugated steel walls. Emma smiled as she realized she’d just composed a rough lead, and took a moment to scribble it down before she went inside.

  She made her way to the makeshift bar and ordered a beer. Tonight’s events wouldn’t start for a few more minutes, and she’d arrived early hoping to talk to Pluto before the action got started. So far, she didn’t see him.

  She did see someone familiar, though. With a wry smile, she left the bar for a nearby table, where Kyle Rutledge sat with a dark-haired man about their age.

  When she drew closer, she noticed they were holding hands. She wasn’t too surprised by that. Kyle was a nice guy, and she hoped things were working out for them.

  “Hey, stranger,” she said when she reached the table.

  Kyle’s eyes widened, and he smiled with warm recognition. “Emma! What are you doing here?” he said. “I thought you moved out to the sticks.”

  “Well, some guy brought me here a year ago, and it was pretty cool. So I’ve been back a few times.” She returned the smile and looked at the dark-haired man. “Don’t worry. We’re just friends.”

  “I’m not worried.” Kyle’s date had a rich, silky voice that should’ve been on the radio. “But I am curious. Anyone want to introduce me?”

  “Sorry,” Kyle said. “Emma Reid, David Drake. Emma and I were at Prescott together.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Emma shook hands with David. “So what have you been up to?”

  Kyle grinned. “Squandering my chance at a serious career in journalism,” he said. “Really, not much. I’m writing for a few news blogs, but I’m still looking for something permanent. How about you, Ace?”

  “I’ve got a gig at a weekly paper,” she said. “Crime and entertainment.”

  “Oh, crime and entertainment. Kind of like this place, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Emma.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not still chasing the scoop here, are you? The men behind the masks? I told you these guys are dangerous.”

  “I might be.”

  Kyle sighed and glanced at David. “I told you my friends were crazy.”

  “I like her.” David smiled. “Good luck, Emma. Hope you catch them.”

  “Thank you.”

  Just then she spotted Pluto at the back of the place, talking with another security guard. “Well, I’d better run,” she said. “Great seeing you again, Kyle. David.”

  “You be careful,” Kyle said. “Whatever you find, I hope it’s not something you wish you hadn’t.”

  “It won’t be.”

  She waved goodbye and headed across the arena, trying to ignore Kyle’s ominous warning. She hadn’t even considered that she might regret unmasking this guy. It was hard to imagine any circumstances where she would. Maybe if he donated all his winnings to orphans, or he was being bribed by a crime kingpin holding his daughter hostage or something.

  But that stuff only happened in movies. The Hammer was going down.

  * * * *

  Nick left early for Greenway, taking extra precautions on his circuitous route. He didn’t have much time to pull himself together. If he wasn’t focused, he’d lose—and end up adding another two weeks to his sentence.

  These last few days had already been an eternity.

  Staying away from Emma was painful enough. The few times he’d seen her, the look of hurt confusion in her eyes had cut him to the core, and he knew it would only get worse. Soon enough, she’d hate him. And he couldn’t do anything about it.

  He stopped in a different spot to put the mask on. It was the same one Ankles had given him the first night—part ski mask, part faceplate, lightweight and fairly comfortable. The lower half was a screened grill with a mesh backing that left room for him to speak clearly, and the stretch top covered his entire head, except for his eyes.

  He hated the damned thing.

  By the time he arrived at The Vault, he was furious. At least it helped him focus. Unfortunately, the one man he actually wanted to pound into the floor would never go near that cage. He couldn’t touch Ankles Martello, physically or legally. The bastard hid his secrets well.

  Ankles and Pinky were waiting in the back room, as usual. One of a handful of staging areas, it held a small table and two chairs, a folding screen, and a mirror with a long shelf beneath it. Ankles occupied one of the chairs. His thug stood at his shoulder, glaring the paint off the walls.

  Nick slammed the door when he walked in, and Ankles looked at him coldly. “There’s no need to be rude, Nicholas,” he said. “Besides, you need to save your strength for the cage.”

  “I’ve got plenty to go around,” he snarled. “Tell me why you went to see my parents.”

  “Really, Nicholas. Must I have Pinky persuade you to calm down?”

  He drew a deep breath and forced his clenched fists to relax. “Tell me,” he said. “Please.”

  “All in good time.” Ankles glanced at his wrist, and the gold Rolex he wore. “You’ve only got ten minutes until your match, and we can’t have you distracted out there. We’ll talk after you’ve won your payment.”

  “You bastard.”

  Ankles sighed.
“Pinky.”

  “All right.” Nick held his hands up and took a step back. “I’ll fight. Then we’ll talk.”

  “I knew you’d see reason.” With a cruel smile, Ankles eased himself out of the chair and stood. “We’ll be watching,” he said. “Break a leg, Nicholas. Preferably your opponent’s.”

  They left, and Nick stood motionless in the center of the room, letting the rage flood through him. He would stay there until the small sign in the corner lit up, signifying his turn. Then he’d go out there and knock a stranger unconscious.

  That part never got any easier.

  Chapter 11

  Pluto was Emma’s new best friend.

  She made her way through the noisy crowds, moments before The Hammer was due to fight another regular, Mister Fister. Once the fight ended, she’d go out the front and meet Pluto in the alley between this building and the next. There was a side door, he’d told her, where the backers sometimes brought girls in to reward the fighters. He’d show her to The Hammer’s staging room, and she’d be able to see and hear into it through a vent in the wall.

  She’d take a few pictures, too. But she wouldn’t tell that to Pluto. From the beginning, her story had been that she was a fan of The Hammer, and she really wanted to meet him in person. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge. And it worked.

  Kyle and David were still seated at the same table near the entrance. She headed there, thinking she’d join them if they didn’t mind. A little pleasant conversation might calm her nerves and keep her mind off the potentially stupid and dangerous thing she was about to do. But she was determined to see it through.

  Great reporters took risks for their stories.

  Kyle spotted her and waved. But just before she reached them, a large figure blocked her path, and she nearly walked into a rotund man in a garish red suit. She recognized him instantly, though she didn’t know his name. She’d seen him here plenty of times and deliberately avoided him.

  He was The Hammer’s backer.