by Eve Langlais
Carla eyed him. The bruises on his ribs were already ripening. Still, the cold would soothe. She tossed him the veggies. “Sit down and hold the package to it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Sit. Down.” She took a menacing step towards him.
“You can’t make me,” he stated.
She proved him wrong. Her foot hooked around his ankle, and her shove unbalanced him. Philip hit the couch with a wince.
“Was that necessary?”
“Yes.” She straddled his lap and grabbed his chin. Tilting his face left and right. “You took a few good shots. But you’re still pretty. Any loose teeth?”
“They’re solid. What about you? Did you get hit?”
A faint smile pulled at her mouth. “Some of us know better than to stand in front of a fist.”
“Smartass.”
“Very. This might sting.” She held up a bottle she’d pulled from the first aid kit. Brown glass with a white lid. No label.
“What is that?”
“Something that doesn’t exist yet.”
“But you happen to have it.”
“You might want to bite down on something.” She dabbed him with the wet brush on the end of the lid. The ochre fluid smeared across the bruise under his eye.
He blinked. Stiffened—his body, not his cock. His jaw locked.
“Does it hurt?” she teased as she layered more of the goop on his ribs where the swelling appeared most intense.
“It’s fine.”
She highly doubted it. Having used the rapid healing formula before, she knew how much it stung. The man didn’t show it other than a tenseness in his limbs and features.
Sexy. Philip was one tough bastard.
She dropped a kiss on his lips and went to move, only his hands grabbed her around the waist. Kept her sitting on his lap.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To check on the perimeter.”
“I thought you had alarms for that.”
“I do.”
“It’s my turn to check you over,” he remarked.
“I told you I wasn’t hurt.”
“Then this won’t take long.” He cupped her face but rather than tilt it around for a better look, he dropped a light kiss on her forehead, her nose, each cheek, her lips.
Then he nibbled the tip of her chin, which brought a giggle. A sigh slipped free as his lips explored her neck, the lobe of her ear, the collarbone peeking from her shirt.
“Find anything yet?” she asked as his hands skimmed under the hem of her shirt.
“Still looking,” Philip murmured, dipping her back, exposing the tan line of her belly. He leaned forward and kissed it. Close enough to give her pussy a happy jolt.
Unfortunately, he didn’t go any further. His phone rang. A shrill, old style brrring-brrring.
“Ignore it,” she ordered, wiggling on his lap.
“I shouldn’t. It’s Oliveira.”
Why would he be calling this late? “Answer it.”
Hearing only one side of the conversation didn’t stop her from grasping the gist.
“No, she hasn’t changed her mind.” Philip paused. “She has a life here with the boy.” A frown. “Why are you trying to force the issue? She has no interest in the academy.” Another moment of silence as he listened. “Nico’s not been home in two days? That is odd. Maybe he’s visiting some friends.”
Her brow rose. Oliveira was having her son watched? And not by Philip. What the hell was the man’s obsession?
“I’ll let her know you need to speak to her when I see her.” Philip hung up and tossed the phone onto the coffee table. “He wants you to call him.”
She rolled her eyes as she straddled his body. “I’ll just bet he does. Who the fuck does he think he is, having me watched?”
“Obviously not watched too well given he had no idea I was here with you.”
“The fact he employs half-assed idiots—”
“Hey!”
“Why is he so determined? Nico is not joining his school.”
“Would it be so bad?” Philip asked.
“I am not moving to Pasadena.”
“What if I move out here?”
She snared the veggies melting on the couch and left him, using the time to put them into the freezer to digest what he said.
Was he seriously contemplating moving here? For her?
The excitement almost got buried by the panic. It was too much. Too soon. Too serious.
They’d only just met. And yes, the sex was good, but good enough to actually commit to a relationship?
“You ran away rather than answer.” He cornered her in the kitchen, still shirtless.
“I don’t think you should move.”
“And I’m not into long-distance commuting. If I’m going to be your boyfriend—”
“I never said you were.”
“I am.” He didn’t ask. Simply stated.
She chose not to argue. “Where would you stay? Because you can’t stay here.”
“Because of Nico. I know. I’ll rent a place. Close by so I can sneak over every night.”
“Every? What if I don’t want sex every day? Maybe some nights I’ll want to watch television or dive into a book.”
“Then we’ll snuggle and watch the boob tube. I’ll play Angry Birds while you read.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
He shrugged. “What can I say. I’m a smart guy. A guy who wants to see where this is going.” He bracketed her with his arms, keeping her pressed to the fridge.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“So I’m beginning to discover.” He slid his mouth over hers. “But the good news is, I can handle more than you think.” His hand slid under her shirt, cupping her breast.
She whispered her next words against his mouth. “You better be right, soldier.” Because she liked him. Liked him a lot. And it seemed he reciprocated, but he had yet to learn what she was truly capable of.
What if he couldn’t handle it? She’d have to disappear or kill him.
Problem was, she didn’t think she could do the latter.
She cupped his face and drew him closer for a kiss. While she couldn’t put into words the things he made her feel, she could show him.
And she did. Hiking her leg around his hip. Gasping when he entered her.
Filled her.
When the climax ebbed, she leaned into him. Basking in the closeness. Softening.
She couldn’t be soft now.
Carla pushed away from him. “I should check on Nico.”
Everything appeared quiet. Aunt Judy claimed that no one had so much as looked at her place. None of her alarms sounded.
They passed the night in peace. So peaceful, she awoke at one point, drooling in Philip’s lap on the couch.
Since she was already down there, she said good morning to his cock. He crowed with the dawn.
It was only over breakfast that he broached the subject of the day’s plan.
“Think he’ll return to the bar later today?” he asked in between bites of his peanut butter toast.
“Hopefully. If not, I’m sure he’ll poke his head up soon.”
“How you going to explain to Nico why he can’t play today?”
“I’m not. He’s playing.”
“You can’t be serious,” Philip exclaimed. “Pedro might make a move during the game.”
“Doubtful, given there will be witnesses.”
“You’re taking a chance.”
True. Yet what other choice did she have? Nico couldn’t stay at Aunt Judy’s forever. Just like running might not solve anything.
Best to face it here and now. On her terms.
She dropped a kiss on Philip’s lips, tasting the peanut butter. “Don’t worry. Me and my sisters already have a plan.”
“I feel like those words need ominous music,” he declared.
“Don’t worry, soldier. I’ve got this.” She
patted his cheek. He dragged her into his lap.
They were a few minutes late leaving to grab Nico. But she didn’t mind. If things didn’t work out, then it might be the last time.
Chapter Nineteen
Carla had a plan, and she wouldn’t tell Philip about it. Just said not to worry. “Coach the game,” she’d said with a smile. She’d handle the rest.
Emasculating and hot all at once. Philip found it fascinating that she didn’t seem afraid. Rather coldly determined. Carla wasn’t one to back down. She saw a threat and faced it head-on.
He loved that about her, even as it frightened him. Now that he’d found her, he didn’t want to lose her, not to some asshole with a grudge.
Which was why, despite the warm weather, he wore his coaching jacket—a bulky thing that hid his holster and gun. Most of the time, he didn’t feel a need to wear a weapon. Guns should always be a last resort.
Carla, on the other hand, seemed to feel differently. She wore a holster under her sweatshirt. Another strapped to her ankle, her bootcut jeans hiding it. She even had a knife strapped to one wrist.
“You’re packing to kill,” he noted as they dressed in the bedroom.
“Wounded beasts are the most dangerous.”
“You can’t start shooting in a crowd of people.”
“Don’t worry. This isn’t my first rodeo.” She patted his cheek, which wasn’t reassuring.
She wouldn’t let them leave via the front door. “There’s a car parked three houses up. I am pretty sure there’s someone in it watching.”
“Oliveira’s spy? Or Pedro?”
“Don’t know.
“Shouldn’t we find out?”
“How?” she asked. “Gonna walk out the door, up to their car, and tap on their window? Do you really think they’ll wait patiently and answer your questions?”
“They might.”
She snorted. “Stop arguing and haul your cute butt over my fence.”
Just to be ornery, he knelt and offered her a hand over. She glared as she grabbed the lip and pulled herself up.
He quickly followed. They met up with Tanya two streets over, her rental spacious enough for the three of them and the equipment in the back seat.
“You rob a computer store?” he asked, noting the three laptops as well as the giant mesh ear for listening.
“Borrowed so I could keep eyes on a few locations at once.”
Apparently, Carla wasn’t sticking with him. She and Tanya dropped him early at the soccer field.
“Where are you going?” he asked, leaning in the car window.
“Fetching Nico for the game.”
“Be careful.” He knew better than to insist on going with her. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt if he took a moment to check out the field and the school buildings.
“Careful is for pussies.”
“Pussies tend to not need stitches or gravestones.”
“I want to be cremated.” She hauled him close and kissed him. “It will be all right.”
“It better,” he grumbled.
“Oh, and don’t take it personal if I scream about your coaching skills during the game,” she said with a final smirk.
Then she was gone. He spent the next hour getting acquainted with the school and the field. Made note of the cars parked. The random foot traffic. He also noted that he wasn’t the only one to get there before game time.
A shiny Mercedes—with the vanity plate Cougar—was parked close to the field. Same one he’d seen that night outside Carla’s place before they drugged him. So, Meredith was here. Did she have a car full of spying laptops like Tanya? Or was she armed to the gills like Carla?
It was crazy to even think something would happen today. There would be a crowd of people. Witnesses. Surely, Pedro wouldn’t be stupid enough to try something.
Then again, if Philip believed that, why did he wear a gun?
As the first of the boys arrived, Philip remained alert and put Pedro to the back of his mind. The team arrived in trickles and were soon warming up, excited and nervous about the big game. The bleachers filled, and when those were full, people pulled out lawn chairs—the fold-up versions that swallowed bodies and had a cupholder for the truly prepared. He was sure some of those thermoses held coffee, but he’d wager that more than a few had a little something extra.
The day proved perfect for playing. The grass was lush and green, the lines freshly painted. The nets had been patched of holes, ready for some epic kicks.
The kids were bundles of energy. Ready and raring to go. This was what they’d trained for all year.
When the game finally started, they shone on the field. While Philip might only have come on board for the last week, he was mightily impressed with them, and his voice rang out as one of encouragement. Even when they faltered, he was there to bolster them. When they scored, he yelled as loudly as he could.
Nico shone brighter than all the other stars. The boy moved quickly, with a sixth sense of where to go. When to kick.
The game was neck and neck at the end of the second period, neither team ready to give up. They fought hard, their bodies damp with sweat and their faces flushed with exertion. The crowd hushed as the ball was carried back and forth. Going to the goal. Stolen, headed the other way. Stopped. And it went on.
The last minute on the scoreboard flipped to seconds and began counting down. Nico had the ball. He was carrying it downfield, his stamina outpacing the rest of the boys.
The boy wound up. His leg pulled back, but rather than watch the result, Philip’s attention was drawn to the roar of motorcycles. He turned his head and saw a stream of them arriving on the street closest to the field. Spilling into the parking lot.
There were screams behind him. He flipped quickly, looking for carnage, only to realize Nico had done it. He’d won the game.
The boys celebrated on the field as did the crowd at first until a few noticed the revving of engines. Heads turned.
The happy dances on the field slowed and then halted.
Players and parents alike stared as men wearing leather and bandannas got off their bikes. A few more poured out of cars. Around a dozen or so thugs, some holding baseball bats, others with tire irons. A few even sported guns, which they fired into the air, the loud crack bringing forth more than a few panicked whispers and more screams.
Fergus was the one to brashly confront them. “What are you doing here? Get out of here. Take your shit elsewhere. There’s kids around.”
“Shut the fuck up, lardass.” A tire iron was swung at Fergus, catching him in the arm, drawing a shrill scream.
Pandemonium erupted.
In the chaos, Philip saw Carla standing firm, looking pissed. As for Nico, Philip’s gaze strayed to the boy, who stared in shock. He saw Tanya heading for Nico at a run.
“Nico. This way,” Philip heard Tanya cry amidst the chaos. He waited to see the boy heading towards her at the far end of the field where there were no thugs before he turned back to the men threatening the crowd.
With this kind of violence erupting, he’d wager that more than one call had been made to the police, but how long before they arrived? Even two minutes could have dire consequences, especially since Carla wasn’t moving with the crowd away from the thugs but towards them.
Idiot.
Philip waded against the crush of fleeing parents, some towing younger children along with them. Despite the urgency, he didn’t dare draw his weapon, not yet. He waited until he cleared the bleachers and caught sight of Carla’s ass as she stood against a mob of at least twelve guys. Some slapping bats and metal bars against their palms. All of them leering and hooting.
The biggest guy, standing slightly apart from them, sneered. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he was their ringleader, Pedro.
And what did Carla do? She pulled a gun from under her sweatshirt and aimed it.
“I warned you, asshole. I said what would happen if you came near me again.”
“You gonna shoo
t me?” Pedro mocked. He held out his arms. “I’ve got witnesses that will put your ass in jail and then guess who’ll get custody of your boy. His loving uncle, Pedro.”
“Like fuck will you get near my son. I’ll see you dead first.”
Philip didn’t know if she would actually shoot Pedro in cold blood. A fellow to her left let out a yell and ran towards her, drawing her attention. Before Carla could fire, Philip pulled his own gun and shot the guy attacking her in the leg.
She cast a surprised glance over her shoulder. Bad mistake.
Pedro took advantage and lunged at her, his bulky frame slamming into Carla, taking her to the ground.
Fuck.
Especially since more than a few of Pedro’s buddies turned to look at Philip. Including one with a gun.
If Philip shot him first, then he would have to move quickly to tag the guy on his—
“Oh, boys.” A sultry Southern yodel had more than a few of the thugs turning their heads.
He wasn’t the only one to do a double-take as Meredith, still dressed in crisp white slacks and a blouse, her red hair in an elegant upsweep, pointed a Taser and took the closest fellow out. The thug hit the ground, jiggling. With the Taser spent, she dropped it into her large purse, then smiled. “Who’s next?”
A pair of men moved towards her, but Meredith didn’t flee. The woman tapped her umbrella on the ground, and in a move straight from a movie, the parasol part of it fell away leaving only a stick.
Only.
Ha.
She wielded that thing with deadly accuracy, striking the surprised thugs in vulnerable areas that had them whimpering, yelping, and hitting the ground, holding their legs as she busted their knees, cradling their arms as she cracked a few bones.
Who the fuck were Carla’s friends? Interior designers, my ass.
Philip spent a moment too long distracted because he never saw the fist that came out of nowhere to punch him.
“Fucker.” He swung in retaliation, grunted when a heavy bar slammed into his back. His gun was useless in close quarters, but he didn’t have a chance to tuck it away until he heard sirens.
Pedro’s gang heard them too and scattered. The fight abruptly halted as they hauled ass and sped away, leaving only Meredith, who reattached the parasol to her stick with a jab at Philip, who hurriedly tucked his gun away, and…