No Limits

by Lori Foster

  “Hottie.”

  “Gawd, give it up, Armie.” She squared her shoulders in that now familiar way. “We’re both adults.”

  “And we’ve seen plenty of naked people?”

  She drooped again and in a small voice asked, “Did you really see everything?”

  Laughing, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Honestly, honey, soon as I realized what I was seeing, I turned so fast I damn near ran into the wall.”

  “Promise?”

  “It’s all a blur.” Lifting his brows, he added, “A red-hot, sexy-as-hell blur, but still—”

  She snatched her hand away. “New topic!” Then to Cannon, “So you think Heath was too hurt to be here breaking windows and scaring me senseless?”

  “You weren’t senseless,” he said absently, distracted by what he’d just witnessed. “You kept a cool head and did exactly what you were supposed to.”

  “Right after I screamed.”

  “Yeah, after that. But anyone can get startled.”

  “Ah, hon.” Armie pitched in on the effort of reassuring her. “You were a rock last night after that bozo tried to grab you.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Impressed the hell out of me.”

  Cannon tried to shake it off, but he was completely leveled. Armie, the guy who never got close to nice girls, not even if they were attached to another man, had obviously become friends with Yvette. He was completely at ease with her, caring, funny…himself.

  Incredible.

  Oh, sure, Armie could be friendly with anyone. He was nice to Harper, Gage’s girlfriend, but Harper was almost like one of the guys. Armie kept his interactions with her superficial. And he was always respectful enough, though distant, with Rissy.

  But with Yvette, the nicest of the nice girls, he was the same good friend that Cannon knew so well.

  Yvette had done what no other woman could—she’d gotten close to Armie.

  Armie scowled. “What?”

  He caught himself and shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Screw that. You’re staring at me like I’ve grown a second head, dissecting me or something. I want to know why.”

  “You’re not coming on to Yvette.”

  He flattened back in his seat. “What? Hell, no! I wouldn’t.” He glanced at Yvette. “No offense.”

  She smiled at him. “None taken.”

  “But damn, man, just because she flashed me the goods—”

  “Armie!”

  “—doesn’t mean I’d do the unthinkable!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I just said.” Cannon knew it, 100 percent. He trusted Armie without reservation.

  “So…what?” Expression fierce, Armie barked, “Make sense, damn it.”

  “All right.” If he was right, they had a very big problem on their hands. “I don’t think Heath was here last night. I think it was Mindi.”

  Both Yvette and Armie gaped at him.

  “I know it sounds nuts, but hear me out.” Leaning forward, elbows on the table, Cannon detailed his suspicions, filling Armie in on everything that had happened. “She’s been on me hot and heavy, unreasonably so.”

  “True,” Yvette agreed. “But I figured she just wanted you like everyone else does.”

  Armie had to rub away his smile over that.

  “I was really confused when she went after Armie the other night.”

  “I was relieved,” Cannon told her. “Until I found out she wasn’t with him after all.”

  “Agreeing to go home with me meant she wasn’t all that dead set on having you,” Armie mused aloud. “No broad is that dense to think you’d take second serve.”

  “Eww.” Yvette scowled at him.

  “Not directly second,” Armie told her with a laugh. “I meant that Cannon doesn’t take other men’s leavings. If I’d laid hands on her, he never would.”

  “Enough on Cannon’s nitpicky ways,” she announced, then turned to Cannon. “So you assumed she was with Armie last night?”

  “Yeah, so I never considered her. But maybe when it all went down, she saw her opportunity, knowing we’d be tied up for a while.” He nodded at Armie’s phone. “I don’t suppose that was her texting you?”

  “No, just the promoter. They’re going to run the show tournament-style.”

  Yvette didn’t understand, so Cannon explained, “He’ll fight more than once.”

  “Long as I keep winning,” Armie clarified.

  “Like I said. You’ll fight more than once.” He knew Armie’s ability, even if Armie chose to downplay it. “It’s done like a wrestling tournament. Winners keep advancing.”

  Fascinated, Yvette started to ask more questions, but Armie shook that off.

  “Just because Mindi wasn’t with me last night doesn’t mean she ran over here to wreak havoc on your windows.”

  “No. But I picked up her scent.”

  Yvette lifted her brows.

  Armie guffawed. “Since when are you a bloodhound?”

  “Since never. But she wears that damned overpowering perfume.”

  Yvette slanted him a look. “I think it’s actually expensive stuff.”

  “Whatever. I don’t like it.” He’d take Yvette’s own personal fragrance any day. But thinking about that, about her skin and hair and arousal, would get him in trouble. “I especially dislike how she wears it so thick. Right after I noticed the broken window in the garage, I smelled it, but it didn’t register. I was so set on thinking it was Heath that I totally missed the significance.”

  Yvette suddenly perked up. “Remember when she dropped by? She was awfully nosy about what we had in the boxes.”

  “I know.” Cannon held out his hand, pleased when she put hers in it. Touching her seemed to be a requisite of every circumstance. “I think your grandfather might have had something of hers—maybe something pawned—and she’s hoping to get it back.”

  “The illegal way?” Yvette frowned. “Why not just ask us?”

  “Good question,” Armie said. He stood. “I know you two were planning to do the nasty and all that—”

  “Armie!”

  “—but what do you say we take another look at that safe first?”

  In a quick about-face, Yvette stopped censuring Armie and jumped to her feet to join him. “It was hidden!” She tugged at Cannon. “I’d almost forgotten about it.”

  Keeping her hand in his, Cannon again enjoyed their easy camaraderie. “I think we need to figure out what’s inside.”

  “Should I go or stay?” Armie asked.

  Remembering their plans, Yvette bit her lip, then deferred to Cannon.

  Damn, he wanted her, more now than ever. That she’d gotten Armie to open up made her all the more lovable. Not that she’d needed a lot of help in that department.

  The more time he spent with her, the more convinced he was that he’d always loved her. Even back when he’d told himself she was too young. Even when he’d done his best to remember she was a victim. Long before she’d ever gone away.

  In so many ways, she’d always appealed to him. When being bold, shy, determined or scared. He’d fought the inevitable for a very long time.

  Now that he was done fighting, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

  “We lost him again,” Armie said in an exaggerated stage whisper. “So…I could give you an hour.”

  Cannon couldn’t yet get out the words.

  “Two hours?” Armie offered, managing to look impressed.

  Shaking his head, Cannon said, “I might need longer than that.”

  “Damn, man, no reason to show off.”

  “I was talking about a lifetime.”

  Armie turned into all smiles.

  Cannon waited to see how Yvette would react.

  Indulgent, uncaring that Armie stood there on the alert and apparently not scared off by his out-of-the-blue proclamation, she cuddled up to his chest. Maybe she’d misunderstood, or thought he was only caught up in the moment. Maybe she thought he spoke in sexual terms only. But she
patted his chest and looked at him with big, understanding green eyes. “We can worry about the safe later if that’s what you want.”

  “Lucky bastard,” Armie whispered.

  Freed by his own admission, Cannon tipped up her chin and kissed her—but before Armie could sneak away, he ended it. “Let’s see if we can find a key and pass code. I want to know what’s in that safe.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  YVETTE WENT THROUGH every drawer, then behind the drawers, trying to find the key and pass code. Armie and Cannon checked the top of the buffet and refrigerator, the tall cabinets, each high place that she couldn’t reach. They even went back out to the garage and into the attic to see if they’d missed something up there.

  The space over the garage was now empty.

  Finally Armie said, “What about in your grandpa’s bedroom?”

  She and Cannon looked at each other.

  A little embarrassed by the truth, she shook her head. “Other than when I first moved back in, I haven’t been in there.” She’d thought about it many times, but the loss was still too painful.

  Cannon hugged her. “I haven’t been in there either. I only dropped my bags in the spare room.”

  Dropped his bags…and then had moved into her room with her.

  “The room with only a twin bed?” Armie asked, familiar with the layout of the house. “Wasn’t that cramped?”

  Even before Armie started, Yvette bit her lip and her face heated.

  Seeing that, Armie gave a knowing smile. “Ah. Never used that little bed, huh? Nice.” He tried to fist bump Yvette, but she refused to play along, swatting at him instead. He managed to turn that into a palm slap, though, and she ended up laughing.

  “So, not to be disrespectful or anything, but do you think we could look around? I mean, if I had something private, odds are I’d put it somewhere in my bedroom.”

  Agreeing, Yvette led the way down the hall. “I don’t recall Grandpa ever storing anything business-related in his room before. He always kept paperwork in the hutch and buffet in the dining room. Not that I was ever in his room much, usually just if it was my turn to clean house. Then I’d go in only to dust and vacuum.” She pushed the door open and stepped in.

  Sunlight poured through the blinds over the window, showing dust motes dancing in the disturbed air. His bed looked the same, the simple chenille spread neatly smoothed over two standard pillows.

  Nicks and scratches, earned through years of possession, showed on the dark dresser and chest of drawers. One shallow dish atop a nightstand held loose change and a few old receipts.

  Yvette held back. “I’m not sure I feel right going through his things.” As Armie had said, personal stuff was stored in a bedroom. She didn’t know much about her grandfather’s private life; for her, he’d only been a grandfather. But to the rest of the world, he’d still been a man.

  Was it possible he’d had a romance or two? She smiled, imagining him with a girlie magazine tucked under the mattress. Or a love letter.

  Cannon and Armie both waited for her to decide what she wanted to do. She strolled to a framed photo on the dresser. “This was my grandma. I never really knew her, but I knew that Grandpa never stopped loving her.”

  Next to that was a smaller framed photo.

  Cannon lifted it, smiling. “You?”

  “When I first came here.” She’d been so young, and so incredibly lost. In the picture, she looked shy and a little scared…but her grandfather had fixed that. He’d loved her, given her a home and a purpose and a place to call her own.

  Tucked into the big mirror frame over the dresser were more photos of her. School photos, candid shots, a few of her at the pawnshop.

  Emotions morphed into a physical ache, her heart literally hurting. “I miss him so much.”

  Cannon looped his arms around her from behind and put his chin atop her head. “Want Armie and me to go through his things? Other than looking for a key, we won’t intrude.”

  She gave it some thought, but eventually everything in the room would have to be stored anyway. It was her duty to do it.

  She put her hands over his, leaned into him. “Thank you, but I can help.”

  “All right.” He gave her a squeeze and stepped away. “Where should we start?”

  Considering it, she glanced over at Armie…and found him studying the bedside lamp. “Armie?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “I vote we start right here.” He lifted the old-fashioned two-bulb lamp and showed the key hanging from the pull switch. Beneath the lamp, stuffed up into the brass base, was a small square of paper.

  Wow. Could it really be that easy?

  Excitement filled the air. They were each supercurious as to what they’d find.

  Nudging her forward, Cannon said, “You should do the honors.”

  Hesitantly, she retrieved the paper, unfolded it with Armie and Cannon looking over her shoulder, and sure enough, the pass code was written in her grandfather’s bold script.

  Just then, the ringing of Armie’s cell phone broke the silence. It startled her enough that Yvette nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Sorry,” Armie said and retrieved the phone from his pocket. He answered without checking the caller ID, saying, “Hello?” while watching Cannon unhook the key. “Yeah, this is Armie Jacobson. What can I do for you?”

  Whoever greeted him sent his brows climbing high. “Matter of fact, you’re in luck, because he’s right here.” He held out the phone to Cannon. “For you. The dipshit ex.”

  In counterpart to Armie, Cannon’s brows came down in a dark scowl. “How the hell does he have your number?”

  “He called the rec center looking for you, and they put him through to me.”

  Yvette grabbed his wrist before he could take the phone. She put it on speaker and then handed it to him.

  Cannon accepted it, saying with a mean inflection, “Heath. How the hell are you?”

  Yvette slowly sank down to sit on the side of the bed.

  Still holding the key, Cannon joined her on one side.

  Armie sat on the other.

  Though her return to Ohio had been filled with turmoil, in that moment she felt such amazing peace. She had so much more than many people ever hoped to get from life. She had a home. She had amazing friends. She’d been loved by her grandfather.

  And at least for now, she had Cannon.

  Leaning into Armie, she gave him a quick hug. He faltered, then shoulder bumped her in a comfortable way.

  Sighing, she settled up against Cannon. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer still.

  After what felt like forever, Heath said, “My fucking arm was broke,” and he sounded like a petulant boy.

  Sandwiched between such awesome men—men of honor and character—how could she help but pity Heath?

  Cannon’s smile widened. “Not broke, pal. I just dislocated your shoulder.”

  “Same thing.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve never had a broken bone, right? But hey, come on back around and I can show you the difference.”

  Through strained breathing, Heath said, “I want to talk to Yvette.”

  “No. Anything else?”

  “Someone broke into the house where she’s staying.”

  Her heart jumping into a gallop, Yvette jerked. Cannon squeezed her to keep her quiet.

  As if it didn’t matter, he asked, “What do you know of that?”

  “I know it wasn’t me.”

  Though he’d just come to the same conclusion, Cannon shrugged. “It fits your chickenshit M.O.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “How do you even know where she’s staying?”

  More breathing. “Soon as I got to town I made it my business to know everything about her.” He blurted, “To protect her!”

  “From who? You’re the one bothering her.”

  “Obviously I’m not the only one!”

  Not the only one—so did that mean Heath would admit he was a
problem?

  Cannon had his arm hugged around her, his hand at her waist. And now Armie patted her knee.

  Did they both think she needed to be cautioned again to be silent?

  She let out a slow breath and smiled to let them know she wasn’t an idiot.

  “Who else is there, Heath?”

  “I don’t know, that’s why I’m warning you.”

  “Warning me?”

  “Letting you know, so you can keep her safe!” In a bid to reclaim his temper, he sucked in air, once, twice. “I went by the house just to…check on her.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  God, they’d have to let Margaret know. Or maybe she even needed to stay elsewhere for a while.

  “Why would I break in?” Heath challenged. And then, voice raised, “I want Yvette, her, flesh and blood. Not her stuff.”

  Cannon pushed to his feet, muscles all along his arms and shoulders now knotted tight. “Come near her again,” he stated in a deadly whisper, “and I’ll do more than jack up your fucking arm.”

  The silence stretched out until Yvette thought Heath had hung up.

  Cannon, apparently, didn’t. “I’ve reset my own shoulder a few times, Heath. Did you manage it?”

  “No, asshole. But I found someone who could.”

  “Yeah? Did you cry?”

  “Fuck you.” More evenly now, Heath said, “I’m not the one who broke in. Now, will you protect her or not?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Good. Then I’ll go home. Just…just tell her for me. Tell her that I love her. That I’m sorry. Will you do that?”

  Apparently Heath had used up Cannon’s goodwill. “I’ll tell her you’re out of her life for good. How’s that?”

  Heath screamed, a primal sound of savage frustration that made Yvette tremble and had Armie rearing back.

  And then he hung up.

  “Holy shit,” Armie breathed. “That dude is seriously unhinged.”

  Dazed, Yvette stood and went to Cannon. He kept his back to her, his shoulders rigid, his big hands squeezed into fists.

  Unsure of his mood, she touched his upper arm.

  As if that had unleashed him, he pulled her around in front of him, tangled a hand in her hair, and drew her up for a hot, hard, heart-stopping kiss. Almost as soon as he started, he gentled, his hand massaging her scalp.