Warrior Son

by Rita Herron

  A startled gasp echoed from the kitchen, and he spotted Megan stooped down holding some papers. Others were scattered across the floor.

  Her stunned gaze drifted up to his, and his gut knotted when he realized she was holding his birth certificate.

  Anger hardened his voice. “What are you doing? Snooping through my papers?”

  “No.” Her voice faltered. “Of course not. I accidentally knocked the file off and was picking it up.”

  He tossed the towel onto the kitchen chair and grabbed the papers from her. She made another surprised sound, then slowly stood.

  “I’m sorry, Roan. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  His jaw tightened. Suddenly his heart was beating ninety miles a minute. “But you did.”

  She reached for his arm, but he stepped back. “That was private.”

  Megan clamped her teeth over her lip, her expression full of regret. “I really didn’t mean to,” she said in a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He blinked, forcing emotions from his throat with a hard swallow. “Because it’s none of your business.”

  “Did you tell Maddox?”

  His eyes turned steely. “No, none of the McCullens know, and you’d better not tell them.”

  Hurt and bewilderment crossed Megan’s face. “Why haven’t you told them, Roan? They deserve to know.”

  “You’re living in a fantasy world if you think anything good could come of that.” He shoved the papers in the file and jammed it inside the desk, then slammed it shut with a bang.

  “But they’re your half brothers. You’ve been working this case because...it’s personal to you.” She hesitated, her breath rasping out. “That’s why you’ve been so driven. Why it bothered you when Maddox made comments about his father and family.”

  “Maddox and Brett and Ray are not going to find out.” He rammed his hand through his wet hair. “For God’s sake, Megan, after what they went through with Bobby, they might think I had something to do with Joe’s death.”

  “But that’s ludicrous,” Megan stammered. “You’ve been leading this investigation.”

  “And they could say that I steered it into one direction to deter suspicion from myself.”

  Megan shook her head in denial, her eyes filled with emotion. Anger...at him? Remorse?

  “Maddox knows you, Roan. He knows you’re an honorable man.” She took a step toward him, her voice softening. “You lost your mother, you deserve to connect with the family you have left.”

  “Do you really think that the McCullens are going to accept me into their tight-knit family?” Roan’s voice rose in pitch. “They didn’t want to accept Bobby. They sure as hell aren’t going to accept a half-breed. Especially when Joe didn’t even know about me.”

  “Roan...don’t put yourself down—”

  “I’m not. I live in reality, Megan.” He paced across the room, picked up his beer and chugged it, then set the bottle down with a thud. “You think prejudices don’t exist anymore? You heard Mrs. Cumberland. She’s not the only one who feels like that, either.”

  Megan shook her head again. “You don’t know that the McCullens will feel that way, Roan. You have to at least give them a chance.”

  He strode back to her and gripped her arms, angry and hurting and wanting her so bad his damn teeth ached. “Let it go, Megan. The McCullens are not going to find out. I am going to track down the person who killed Joe and his wife. But I want nothing in return.” He shook her gently. “Do you understand?”

  Her eyes glittered as she stared at him, a tear sparkling on her eyelash. “Yes, Roan, I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

  Dammit, he released her so swiftly she stumbled backward, then he looked down at his hands. Had he been too harsh and hurt her?

  He’d never forgive himself if he had.

  * * *

  MEGAN SENSED ROAN’S withdrawal and couldn’t allow him to believe that he didn’t deserve to be a McCullen.

  She gingerly touched his arm. “Roan, look at me.”

  He stepped away in an attempt to escape her touch. But Megan moved faster than he’d anticipated and cradled his face between her hands. “Look at me,” she whispered. “Don’t sell yourself short. You may not have been raised a McCullen, but you’re a self-made man. That’s even more admirable.”

  He dropped his head forward, his jaw clenched. “Stop it, Megan. I don’t want anything from the McCullens.”

  “I understand,” Megan said softly. “But that still doesn’t mean that you aren’t as good as they are.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “You are strong and honest and you protect others. You sacrifice yourself to keep the people in this town safe, including the half brothers who are clueless as to how much you’re sacrificing by keeping your silence.”

  “You can’t give up something you never had,” Roan said gruffly.

  She brushed another kiss along his other cheek. “Yes, you can. You can miss family. You can miss having the love and support of people who are like you. And whether you realize it or not, even without Joe McCullen or his other sons knowing about you, you became an honorable decent man. A selfless man who has been fighting for justice for Joe even though you expect nothing in return.”

  Roan’s breathing sounded choppy in the dark silence that followed. Megan’s heart pounded with the need to comfort him and convince him he was worthy of love. Of the McCullen family.

  At the same time her blood heated with the need to be closer to him, to feel his lips against hers. His mouth on her mouth. His hands on her body.

  Her breath hitched, and his tortured gaze found hers. Something hot and passionate burst to life between them.

  “Megan...”

  “Don’t think about it,” she said in a raw whisper. “I know there are no promises, and I don’t care. I just want to be with you tonight.”

  Roan’s expression softened, although the intensity still remained, but instead of pain, hunger flared in his eyes. Emboldened by that sign, her own hunger spiraled out of control, and she pressed her lips to his.

  Roan grunted, then suddenly gave in to his need and the chemistry between them, and swept her in his arms. Megan’s heart raced as he carried her to his bedroom.

  The room was just as masculine as Roan. Evidence of his Native American roots shone in the arrowheads and art on the walls. His bed was covered in a quilt designed with Indian symbols and a painting of a wild herd of mustangs hung above his bed.

  He was like those mustangs in his raw primal energy and connection to the earth, but even with his fierce hunger for her, he possessed a tenderness that made her desire grow with every touch.

  He stripped her pajamas and she pushed at his clothes. The sight of his bare chest bronzed with water droplets from the shower still clinging to his skin made her pulse pound.

  He plunged his tongue inside her mouth, tasting and exploring, and she met him thrust for thrust, each sweet kiss growing hotter until her body burned with need.

  She trailed her hands across his bare torso, her breath hitching again as his muscles bunched beneath her touch.

  She lowered her head and planted her lips where her hands had been, teasing him with kisses and flicks of her tongue, sweeping her lips across his nipples. Heat pooled in her belly at his guttural moan of pleasure.

  She had a feeling Roan rarely took pleasure for himself, and she wanted this night to be one he would remember.

  She pushed him back on the bed, raking her hands across his chest and down his body, looking her fill, then teasing his belly and trailing her fingers south until she reached his sex.

  He groaned, then suddenly flipped her over and crawled on top of her. She cried out in pleasure as his mouth made a path down her neck to her breasts. Seconds later, his lips teased and tormented her nipples until they were hard and begging for more.

  He drew one into his mouth and suckled her until she whimpered his name. Then he did the same to the other, his fingers traveling along he
r hips to her stomach and lower to tease her lips apart and taunt her with his fingers.

  She wanted him inside her.

  “Roan,” she murmured. “I need you.”

  He hesitated, then lifted his head to look into her face. The flare of emotions that darkened his eyes hit her with such force that she felt the first strains of an orgasm coming.

  Desperate to have him join her, she lowered her hand and closed it around his thick length.

  His chest heaved as he inhaled. Once more he gave in to primal needs as he covered her hand with his. For a moment, he guided them both closer to the brink, closer to planting himself inside her.

  Then he muttered a protest and pulled away.

  She reached for him. “Roan, please...”

  “Condom,” he said in a gruff whisper.

  She nodded, grateful he’d thought of it, yet hating to wait a second longer until he could be inside her.

  * * *

  ROAN FOUGHT THE intense need to make Megan his, but her fingers and mouth had robbed him of any rational sense. All he knew was that he couldn’t walk away from her tonight.

  She didn’t expect more. She’d said that.

  But dammit, he wanted to give her more.

  Don’t think, she’d told him.

  With the hunger burning through his blood, how could he think?

  He grabbed the condom from his nightstand, ripped the foil packet open with his teeth, rolled it on and pressed the tip of his erection against her wet center.

  Megan undulated her hips, at the same time clawing at his back and pressing him closer. Skin against skin. Heat against heat.

  Passion, need and a hungry desperation drove him inside her. She arched her back, raised her hips and met him thrust for thrust, her throaty cry mimicking his own male sound of pleasure as they rode the waves together.

  Her body convulsed, her nails dug into his back and he closed his eyes and lost himself in the woman beneath him.

  He’d never lost himself in anyone before.

  The words I love you teetered on the edge of his tongue, but he caught himself and whispered her name again instead.

  As his release claimed him, he memorized the moment to keep him company when she was gone.

  * * *

  MEGAN STARTLED THE next morning when her cell phone rang. She felt sore and sated and...content. In spite of the fact that they’d almost died last night, making love to Roan had made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before.

  She snuggled next to him, raking her fingers along his smooth chest, smiling as he groaned in his sleep. They had made love over and over during the night, sometimes slow and tender, at other times fast and furious as if they knew they only had one night to experience the passion.

  The phone buzzed again. Damn.

  Remembering they had unanswered questions and that Bart Dunn was still missing, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked the number.

  Dr. Mantle.

  Instantly her nerves jumped to alert.

  She rolled sideways and punched Connect. “Hello.”

  “Megan, I finished Dr. Cumberland’s autopsy last night. I need you to meet me at the morgue to discuss the results.”

  Megan’s heart thudded. “What did you find?”

  “I can’t talk about it over the phone. Just come to the morgue asap.”

  Megan glanced over her shoulder at Roan, who was now wide-awake and watching her like a hawk.

  “All right, I’ll be right there.”

  She disconnected, then grabbed her robe and slipped it on. She had to shower before she met her boss. But Roan caught her arm.

  “What was that about and where are you going?”

  His possessive tone both disturbed her and awakened a tender feeling toward him. Maybe they had the possibility of more than one night.

  “That was the chief ME calling about Dr. Cumberland’s autopsy. He said I needed to meet him. He must have found something.”

  “It wasn’t a suicide?”

  “He wouldn’t say. But, Roan, I have to go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me.” He slipped from bed and strode naked to the bathroom, leaving her to admire his muscular backside and wanting him all over again.

  * * *

  DAMMIT, ROAN WANTED Megan again. And again. And again.

  Maybe he wanted her all the time.

  Not a good idea.

  Remembering his vehicle had died a fiery death the night before, he quickly showered so he could ride with Megan to the hospital.

  No way in hell he’d allow her to go anywhere alone today. Not after last night.

  Not with a killer still on the loose.

  By the time he made it to the kitchen, she was dressed and ready, her hair pulled into that tight bun again. The ME back in control.

  A smile curved his mouth. He could rip out that bun and ram inside her and make her lose control again.

  Make her want him the way he wanted her.

  He had a serious problem.

  “Do you want me to drop you somewhere?” Megan asked. “Maybe to get another police car?”

  “I’m going with you first, then I’ll get another vehicle,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  She retrieved her keys from her purse and they hurried to her van together.

  She drove through the drive-in at the local hamburger joint and picked up coffee while he phoned to arrange another car for himself and to fill Maddox in. Maddox was sleeping, so he told Rose to have Maddox call him.

  The rest of the ride to the hospital, he silently argued with himself over how and when to end this thing with Megan.

  Because it had to end.

  They’d had wild, crazy, erotic sex because they’d almost died last night. They were high on adrenaline and fear. Nothing more.

  Except maybe...he wanted it to be more.

  He wanted what his brothers had.

  Not the land or money or name. The love.

  But all his life that had seemed as elusive as a father whose name he hadn’t known.

  How could he think of Maddox, Brett and Ray as brothers when he’d lived all his life as a loner? When they wouldn’t ever consider him a real brother.

  Megan parked, and they walked up to the building in silence. Was she having regrets about sleeping with him?

  Dawn cracked the sky as they entered. The elevator ride was short, and the halls seemed empty and dark. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as she used her key card to enter the morgue. Déjà vu struck him. The last time they’d come here they’d found Dr. Cumberland dead. Blood everywhere.

  The doors swished open, and he hesitated to search the hall before they went into the autopsy area, but Megan suddenly made a strangled sound.

  He jerked his head toward her, at the same time reaching for his weapon. It was too late.

  Dr. Mantle was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a white-haired, craggy-faced man grabbed Megan around the neck and pointed a gun at her head.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Roan barely controlled his rage at seeing the man’s arm tighten around Megan’s throat. She coughed, gasping for air, but he dragged her in front of him, shielding himself with her body.

  Coward.

  Roan pulled his Glock and aimed it at the man. “Let me guess, you must be Bart Dunn.”

  “You should have left things alone like I told you to.” He cocked the gun at Megan’s temple, and her eyes widened in terror. “Now drop it or I shoot her in the head.”

  “Just like you did Dr. Cumberland,” Roan said through clenched teeth.

  “I didn’t shoot him. He was so driven by guilt he took care of that for me.” His gun hand trembled, making Roan’s lungs squeeze for air.

  “Listen, Dunn,” Roan said in a quiet tone—a struggle when he wanted to rip the man apart limb by limb. “We know what happened, all about you and Dr. Cumberland. How you killed Grace McCullen and stole her twin babies, then the doctor covered it up
.”

  His beady gray eyes bore into Roan’s. “All that, and my wife wouldn’t even take those babies,” he growled. “I loved her so much. All I wanted to do was make up for losing our son.”

  Roan lowered his voice to a sympathetic pitch, hoping to connect with the man. “That must have been awful. I lost my mother and it damn near ripped my heart out. I can’t imagine losing a child.”

  “We were going to name him after me,” Dunn said in a voice that warbled with grief. “Little Bart. We had his crib all ready, the room painted blue, my wife decorated it with trains...but then everything went wrong.”

  “And you blamed Dr. Cumberland,” Roan said.

  Rage flared on the man’s face, contorting the grief-stricken man to a bitter one. “It was his fault. My little Bart died before we even had a chance to hold him.” He had a faraway look in his eyes as if he was reliving the nightmare.

  “I’m sorry,” Megan said in a rough whisper. “Really sorry, Mr. Dunn.”

  He seemed to loosen his hold on her for a second. “You can’t know what it was like, seeing that tiny infant lying there. So cold. Not moving. We kept waiting on him to cry, hoping and praying, but he never did.” Tears leaked from his eyes. “My wife was so devastated I thought I was going to lose her, too. She was bleeding a lot and almost died. But Dr. Cumberland managed to save her.” The gun wobbled in his hand. “It still didn’t make up for little Bart being gone.”

  “Nothing could,” Megan said softly.

  “So you told the doctor to get you another baby,” Roan said, filling in the blanks. “Did Morty Burns and his wife, Edith, help you? Were they in on it?”

  “No, but later Morty had heard me and my wife aruging and figured it out. He wanted money to keep quiet,” Dunn spit out. “I paid them at first, but it got to be too much.”

  “So you killed them,” Megan whispered. “And you pushed me into the street and later attacked me in the morgue.”

  “But you kept asking questions.”

  Roan gritted his teeth. “All those people dead—Grace, Joe, the PI? You murdered them all to keep them from finding those twins.”