And as she lay there in the strong, strict embrace of her Sir, she looked forward to the future for the first time in a very long while.
Chapter Twenty Three
The sun was so bright, it seemed to make the window over the kitchen sink almost glow. She finished the last dish, doing an entire dishwasher load of them, thinking about much easier the most mundane of tasks became now that she had two good arms. She'd practically begged Parker to let her help — to let her do something while she convalesced. He'd relented with a whispered “We'll talk about your behavior later” against her ear that sent a frisson of dread mixed with anticipation shuddering through her.
Had her strident insistence that she be allowed to help just gotten her into hot water?
I hope so — it's been a long time since I've had a good spanking.
“Jesus, you whore. Did you really just think that?” She laughed to herself, shaking her head. Through the window she could see Drake bent over under the hood of his truck. He'd told her he wanted to take her shooting next time he decided to go out. Parker normally went, but had suggested he take her instead since she'd never shot a weapon before. The smile on Drake's face told her she was in for something, but she had no clue what.
But it didn't matter. She trusted him — maybe just as much as she trusted Parker.
The vision of his rugged face above her as she lay on that roadway, the cold snow melting into the legs of her pants, was a sight she'd never forget.
He'd saved her. He'd been there to protect her, keep her from harm. She remembered how much she wanted to kiss him when she'd finally come to in the ER. That look of helpless concern in his dark eyes. All he'd cared about was that she was okay. It touched her, and when she was alone later that night, she'd wept for him. Because she could see the doubt there — that longing, that fear that she couldn't touch.
And all she'd wanted was to be held in those huge arms again, just as she'd been that day on the road. In those warm, safe, loving arms.
There'd been a time she'd have felt shame at harboring such thoughts for Drake. But now, she knew, really knew, that whatever journey they'd started, whatever hell might lay ahead, she'd have more than Parker to lean on. More than Parker to help her find herself.
And she knew that it wasn't only Parker who needed something else too, who needed the love of a woman. If he'd have her, if Drake was ready for it — and if it was something Parker would agree to — one day soon she hoped it might be her.
She watched the two men outside, Parker's tall lines leaning against the truck, punching something into his phone, wind whipping at the open leather coat he wore. He smiled, looking back at Drake, who was shaking his hand in pain. There was the clatter of metal, and the tones of a curse from Drake audible even through the closed window, as Parker leaned his head back in laughter. Her men.
God, she still couldn't believe it.
She leaned down put the last plate into the dishwasher, pressed the door home and pushed the start button. When she looked back out at the men, she frowned. They were gone.
Craning over the sink, she looked around to see where they were — then almost screamed.
She found Parker and Drake — and they weren’t alone.
***
“Drake, you ever see that truck before?”
“What?” Goddammit, I can't access this bolt. Who builds these fucking things now? I need an arm with about five joints to do this.”
Parker slapped his friend on the shoulder with the grease-soaked rag. “Get your head outta that piece of shit and look.”
Drake, groaning, extricated himself, and peered around the raised hood, squinting against the sun. “Nope. You know 'em?”
Parker turned to his friend. “You still got that .308 in the truck?”
Drake wiped grease from the back of his hand onto the thigh of his jeans. “Yeah, why?”
“Get it.” Parker's hand clasped him on the shoulder. “Bad feeling about this.”
Drake looked over at the vehicle again. “Them?”
“Yeah. Paint job is wrong. But that truck looks like a cop.”
“Parker, what do you—”
“Just do it, Drake.”
Parker looked at the truck bouncing slowly up the drive. Looked to be probably a Tahoe, dark color, with a push guard over the front grille. Definitely a cop. Why they'd be up here was puzzling to him. None of his contacts or handlers ever drove anything that obvious — and they sure as hell never actually came to the house. Too easy to leave a trail back to Parker.
Then he had it, the pit of his stomach growing cold. Terry.
He heard the door open behind him, and the sound of a bad being unzipped. Parker grimaced. Murphy's Law would dictate that he wouldn't be carrying at the exact moment he might need it. Thank Christ Drake seemed to go everywhere, including the bathroom, with a fucking gun — or two.
“Parker. What's going on?”
He looked back at Drake, who had the rifle resting over the top of his forearm, pointed to the slide. “Make sure you're ready to fire that thing, my man. I think this is Terry.”
And if it is, God help him.
They stood just behind Drake's truck, watching the vehicle draw closer. He knew the driver must've seen the rifle by now, yet it didn't seem to faze him at all. The truck pulled up and slewed into the entrance to Parker's driveway, stopping, dust rising around it.
“Sight him, Drake.”
“Parker, Jesus, we don't know—”
“It's him, goddammit.”
Parker was striding down the driveway before he realized it. At about ten yards from the truck, the driver's side door opened. Parker's heart picked up the pace, and he unconsciously reached for the .45 semi auto that wasn't there.
Fuck.
He'd have to kill the asshole the old fashioned way. He'd done it before.
Someone stepped out of the truck. Caucasian, very short hair, almost shaved bald. Jesus he was tall, taller than even Erik. But Parker knew then without a doubt.
It was Terry.
“Step away from that truck,” Parker yelled, pointing. “Do it now, goddammit!”
The man hesitated for a split second.
“Drake, if he moves for a piece, fire him up.”
“Got him.”
Parker's muscles bunched, every sense heightened, the readiness he always went into when death might be near. He hadn't felt like this since … Jorge. The rage, just barely leashed. That this big motherfucker had hurt Ashley kept running through his mind. Over and over.
Never again. Nobody will ever hurt the one I love. Never again.
The man stepped away from the vehicle slowly, calmly. Whatever he was, whoever he was, he didn't seem spooked in the least by Drake's bead on him.
“Get them up. All the way.” Parker took a couple more steps toward the man, and he could hear Drake advance as well. “Turn away and back toward me. Slowly. Fuck with us and my friend shoots.”
The man turned, his white t-shirt pulling up to expose the waistband of his jeans as his long arms extended. Luckily, it didn't appear he had a weapon tucked there, but he wasn't taking any chances. Christ he was big. Tall and big — not quite as powerful as Drake, but close.
“Is Ashley here?” The man's strong voice was calm, almost eerily so.
“Shut your mouth.” The sound of her name stoked his anger higher. “Put your hands on that hood and shuffle your feet back.”
Parker glanced back at Drake. “I mean it. He fucking does anything — you fire him up.”
“Search him, Park. I got him.”
“Is Ashley here? I just want to talk to her.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Parker grabbed his shoulders and threw him against the truck. As big as the man looked, it felt like he was all bones. Gaunt. His skin was pale, washed out. Parker patted him down, kicking the man’s legs farther apart as he searched the pockets of his jeans. He had nothing on him, not even a wallet. Parker planted a hand between the man’s shoulder blade
s, pushing him harder against the truck. “Stay right there. Who are you?”
“My name is Terry Waller.”
Parker struck Terry just under the left ribcage, crumpling him over with a groan, then he caught him across the cheek with a fist, dropping the man to the gravel.
“You get off on brutality? Is that it?”
“Parker.” Drake's voice sounded far away.
Terry returned to his feet, his arm wrapped around his midsection, hand rubbing his flank. “I'm not armed. I just want to talk to Ashley. That's all.”
Parker stepped up to him, almost nose to nose. “Do you know what you did to her? How much pain you caused her?”
Terry didn't flinch at all, nor step back, Parker's face nearly touching his. It just inflamed Parker even more, that stoicism. Cowards rarely stood their ground, but arrogant pricks who got their jollies from brutalizing their girlfriends might.
Parker stomped Terry's foot, driving the heel of his boot into the top of the man's foot, the pained groan music to his ears. He followed that immediately with a hard punch to Terry's lower abdomen. The big man didn't go down, but staggered several steps, bent over double, wheezing.
“Parker! Stop!”
There was something wrong with Drake's voice. Parker advanced on Terry again. He wanted to make this hurt. He remembered the tears, the sobs that wracked her body as he'd held her in his arms. How she'd cried. Rivers of tears. Tears that somehow she’d deserved such a thing, that somehow she'd encouraged it. Oceans of tears that only the broken-hearted understand, both the body and the heart brutalized.
No, he was going to make him feel those. Every fucking one.
“Parker! Please!”
He stopped this time, his head turning to look back. Ashley?
A strong hand caught his arm as he reared back to hit Terry again. “Park, it's enough. We got him. We can call the cops in a minute.”
“No cops. No fucking cops, Drake.”
Ashley ran up, resting a hand on Parker's chest. “Don't hurt him anymore. Please, Parker.” She leaned in close and what she saw in her beautiful eyes touched him — and calmed him. “You’ve done what you needed to, you protected me. It's okay. Now let me do what I need to do. Please.”
Her tear-filled eyes tore at him, and the thought of Maria popped into his head, staggering him. He pulled back from both of them, shaking away Drake's grip and grabbing Ashley's hand. “No! I can’t let it happen again, Ashley.”
“Parker, what? What happen again? Jorge?” Ashley stood close to him, up on her toes, her eyes pleading, a tear glistening in the brilliant sunshine as it coursed down her cheek. “It won’t. You won’t let it.”
“He’s not touching you again, Ashley. I don't care. Even if … it's not gonna happen.”
“I know,” she whispered, her soft, warm hand touching his cheek. “Because you're here.” She turned to Drake, and touched his arm. “You both are.”
Drake looked away, raising his rifle once more, training it on Terry again. “If you know what's good for you asshole, you'll get back in that truck. Maybe you'll be able to outrun the cops. But if you stay here, you won't outrun Parker.” Drake's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing. “Or me.”
“No.” Ashley’s voice replied.
Both men looked at Ashley, eyes wide.
“I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him.” She pushed through between the two of them, and strode up to Terry. The big man's eyes looked down upon her with such sadness, for a split second Parker was almost able to dredge up a scintilla of sympathy.
Then it was gone, and he knew, as he remembered that terrible day so long ago, remembered Maria’s tears. her agonized screaming. The caskets. The blood — and the guilt. He knew then that if Terry hurt her the man would never leave that driveway alive.
***
Ashley turned back to Parker and Drake, her eyes moving from one to the other. “I need to do this. I want to talk to him — alone. Please.”
“There is no fucking way I'm leaving him alone with you.”
“I only want to talk,” Terry said. “You searched me. I'm unarmed.”
Parker stepped closer, his face inches from Terry's. “I don't trust you. You're a coward. I should just have him shoot you right now.”
Terry met his gaze, the preternatural calm of the man sending up warning flags in Parker's mind. “I don't blame you. But I need to talk to her. You do what you've gotta do.”
“You touch her Terry, and they'll never find you. It'll be like you never existed. You hear me? I don't give a fuck if you're a cop or not.”
Terry simply nodded, wiping the back of his hand across his bleeding lip.
Parker turned his back on Terry, and looked down at Ashley, cupping her chin. There was bright color high in her cheeks, her eyes flashing, her jaw trembling under his hand. “We'll be close. I don't like this — not one bit — but I'll let you talk to him.”
“Thank you, Parker. Now please, I have to do this.”
“Ashley, why this … ?”
Drake's huge hand clamped his upper arm. “Come on, Park. Let's get this over with.” His eyes snapped to Terry. “Don't try anything. I don't care how big you are, you ain't stopping a bullet.”
Parker flashed a baleful glare at his friend then stalked off. There was no way this was okay, no fucking way at all. But he had to let her do this. Maybe she thought it would help her, but he couldn't see how it was worth it. The man was dangerous, and he was a coward. What she had to say to him he'd never understand.
Drake joined him back near the truck, his friend closing the hood with a bang. “This'll go quick, Park.”
“You have any idea what she's saying? Why the fuck doesn't she want us to hear them?”
Drake raised the rifle, but left the muzzle pointing at the ground, ready to take aim at a moment's notice. “I don't know, but I trust her. She needs this. Let her have it.”
“How can you be so laid-back about this Drake?” Parker fought the urge to go grab Ashley and drag her back to the house. To safety. He didn't like any of this. Too much could still go wrong. He'd seen it before.
“You think I don't want to plant this motherfucker?” Drake glanced at him, his jaw hardening. “You don't know me very well if you think that.”
“If he touches her then we’ll get our chance,” Parker said quietly. It would be easy, really. The sonofabitch was already missing. It wouldn't be the first time Parker had made sure an evil man wouldn't ever be free to hurt someone again.
Drake's voice rumbled low, the tone unnerving. “I'm not a murderer, Parker. It’s not going to come to that anyway. Something’s up with him. She sees it, too.”
Parker laughed, the grating sound devoid of an ounce of humor. He watched Ashley then, uneasy at how close she was standing to the tall man. It would be easy for him to grab her and snap her neck. He knew Drake was a quick, expert shot, but he wasn't sure if he was quite that quick.
“She trusts you, Parker.”
Parker snorted. “You keep forgetting something, Drake.”
“What's that?”
“You.” Parker scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “I don't know why you keep excluding yourself from all of this.”
“She trusts us, Parker.” Drake sighed. “So you need to trust her when she says she needs this. She deserves it.”
Ashley's free hand started waving, and the volume of her voice rose. He could see Terry's lips moving, but the man still stood there with that almost Zen calm. He certainly wasn't what he'd pictured. From what Ashley had said the guy sounded like the typical meathead, but the look of him now just didn't add up. Gaunt, pale, hair shorn almost like that of … an ascetic.
“Shit,” Drake whispered as Ashley got up into Terry's face, screaming at him now. Terry shook his head, holding his hands up.
“I'm not letting this go any longer,” Parker snarled, stepping forward.
Drake's hand closed over his shoulder, squeezing painfully. “Stay here, goddammit. Let this
play out. We've got him, Park. Give her this.”
Parker shook off his hand and stalked back toward Drake's truck, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, this is ridiculous.”
Then a slap rang out, and Parker whirled around. Terry still stood, his head drooping. She yelled something else at him, then slapped him again. And again.
The big man never moved.
“What … the fuck,” Parker whispered.
“Let it go, Park. Just wait.”
Ashley dropped her head, her body hitching, her hand clenched to a fist. Then Terry said something else to her, and she looked up at him. Terry's eyes welled, the tears bright in the sunlight.
Then she reached up, and touched Terry's cheek, now flaming red. He wiped at his eyes as she said something else to him, then he nodded.
Ashley turned away then, walked slowly back toward the house, her eyes bright with tears. The sight of them stabbed daggers into Parker's heart and he ran to her. “Ashley, what is it? What did he say?”
“Just … no.” She shook away his arms, and pushed past him, exchanging a quick look with a baffled looking Drake as she passed by. The front door closed with a bang, and Parker's gaze locked with Drake's.
“What … ?”
“Parker, look.” Drake raised the rifle, ready to shoot. Parker turned back to see Terry climbing back into the truck.
“What do you want to do?” Drake stepped forward, the rifle still sighted on the truck. “Take him in? Get the cops out here?”
“Let him go,” Parker intoned, still stunned. What he'd seen … he had no idea what to think. There was more to this than he'd originally thought. More questions than he even knew how to ask. Someday he hoped she'd trust him enough to give him the answers.
Parker laid a hand on Drake's arm. “Thanks, buddy. You … you were the cool customer she needed today. Again.”
Drake's eyes met his, and he shouldered the rifle. “Always here, my friend. Whenever you need, whatever you need. You know that.”
“I do.” Parker allowed himself a smile. It was time. He'd been away too long, and this time it was closer than he'd been in a while. Maybe it was just postponing the inevitable, but he needed her now. And as he watched his best friend look back at the house, longing in his dark eyes, Parker knew he wasn't the only one.
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