by Alison Kent
He took a breath and blew it out. This moment felt so right, even while it felt so wrong. He shouldn’t be here. If he hadn’t been so beat up by his week at the compound, he’d never have passed out. She’d never have brought him home. He could’ve heard her story, cleaned himself up at a nearby motel, then gone out to find Army tonight.
But the space between this moment and the one where he’d skidded to a stop in the parking lot had turned an ordinary snatch and grab into something he wasn’t ready to define. Something that scared him because he didn’t want to screw it up.
So instead he said, “I’m awake.”
She cracked the door. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Yeah. No. It’s fine,” he said after an interminable delay.
He turned from where he’d been standing at the window and leaned against the sill, his hands curled over the edge at his hips. He kept them there because her silhouette invited him not to. He needed to be sure they were on the same page before he touched her.
Before he unbuttoned her blouse. Before he jerked his T-shirt over his head. Before he unhooked her bra, dragged his shaking fingers from the back of her body to the front.
His voice was strangled when he asked, “What’s up?”
She shrugged and took a couple of steps into the room. “Thank you. For stepping in when you did. I can’t remember if I said that earlier. Or if I was completely bitchy and ungrateful.”
“You cooked for me. You washed my clothes. You let me use your shower. I’d hardly call that ungrateful.” Did she think he saw her that way? After all she’d done for him? Or had she just needed a reason to knock? “I mean, yeah. You did say you weren’t really in danger. So could be I lost a really good T-shirt for no reason.”
“I’m sorry about your shirt,” she said lightly, then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “It’s been nice to have someone on my side, even if just for today. I wanted you to know. So... thank you. Again.”
He stopped himself from asking how she would feel if it was longer. He didn’t know where the thought had come from. He’d heard of love at first sight. He wasn’t sure he believed in it.
But he did know he’d never felt so strongly for a woman he’d just met, for any woman ever, to be honest. As if he wanted to be there for her. And for her son. He sighed heavily, standing and turning to look out the window again, wondering what Ezra would make of that.
Was it the realization he’d needed to come to? That Ezra had punished him unduly in order to find?
That he could make a true difference? That he did so with every successful mission?
Behind him, Annie moved closer, her steps nearly imperceptible, her presence vivid. Her hand came to rest between his shoulder blades. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just been a long time since I haven’t felt completely alone. Or like I had no one to talk to.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.” Such a lie. He could hardly stand still. He wanted to rip off his skin. “And you’re easy to talk to. To listen to.”
“I talk a lot.” Her laugh brushed his back when she laid her cheek against him. “Too much.”
“No such thing.”
Another laugh. “I’m pretty sure Army would disagree—”
She cut off the sentence abruptly and stiffened. “It’s so hard being in here and not knowing where he’s sleeping. If he’s sleeping. Every night when I tuck him in, he reads to me from his newest Tabby Danger comic book. And he reminds me that Tabby is our safe word. Then he chooses what he wants for breakfast—”
That was as far as she got before her voice broke.
He couldn’t stand it any longer. He turned and wrapped her in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Thank you for letting me stay.”
“I didn’t give you much of a choice, did I?” Her hold tightened. “I’m glad you’re here. I wish...”
He waited for her to continue, but then he had to know. “What?”
“That Army were here to meet you. And that you’d be here longer than tonight.”
She felt so good, so perfect, as if they’d been made to come together this way... another thought that seemed out of place, too soon, not in his training. But when she held him closer, he did the same. And when she lifted her face to look at him, he lowered his and kissed her.
She fit him perfectly, and he fit her. He pressed one hand to her lower back above the swell of her rear, guided his other into her so-soft hair. The strands tickled his wrist as they slid against his skin. She was curvy and hungry and all the physical things he loved.
But she was here for him, here with him, because of him and that meant everything to Kyle.
She moved her arms from his waist to his neck, holding his head for her kiss. She nuzzled his jaw, his neck, returning to his mouth and whispering, “Come to bed with me. I want you in my bed. I want you in my body.”
He couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be, but he needed her to be sure. She didn’t know the things he’d done. The things he’d seen. Those he’d caused to happen. She didn’t know him.
“Annie—”
“It’s okay. We just met. I get that. And I’m sad and frightened about Army and don’t want to be alone. But more than any of that, I want you to make me forget. To make me feel good. To remind me that I have that in me. Or to teach me that I do. You, Kyle. No one else.”
Stepping back, she took his hand, then tugged him forward and led him to her room. It was across the hall, as small as her son’s, the moonlight shining through her window onto the soft nubby spread. The bed was full-sized. He smiled at that; his feet would hang off the end, but he would’ve slept on the hardwood floor to be near her.
He didn’t know why he felt so connected to her, or how it had happened so fast. She wasn’t the first woman he’d rescued or the first to cook him supper, to invite him to bed. But no one had ever captured his heart from the beginning.
She reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head, then brought the balled fabric to her nose and inhaled. “You smell so good.”
“That’s my shirt,” he said, and she laughed, dropping it to the floor and pressing her cheek to his bare chest.
“You smell so good,” she repeated, turning her head side to side.
The feel of her breath on his skin, soft and warm, was magic. The rest of the world fell away. All he knew was this moment and the moonlight and making love with her in both.
He toed off his athletic shoes and put enough distance between them to unbutton her blouse. Her bra was just as plain, smooth cotton cups through which her nipples puckered.
He ran his thumbs over both, and she shrugged off the straps.
“I wanted to do that,” he said.
“You were taking too long,” she told him. “Just like you’re taking too long now.”
She held his hands and covered her breasts, leaning into him, lifting her chin, her eyes closed. Her throat worked as she moaned, and he leaned forward and kissed the skin beneath her ear, then dragged his mouth to her collarbone before moving to taste her breasts. He rolled first one nipple, then the other with his tongue, sucking, nipping, breathing her in.
“Oh, Kyle.”
Her words were as much a prayer as an utterance of his name. He didn’t know what she was asking for, or if he had it in him to provide. But she was beautiful, and she’d said his name and she wanted him.
He reached for the button at the waistband of her jeans. She reached for the same on his. Then they were naked and together and on her bed with legs here and arms there, bumping and laughing and finding the position that gave them both pleasure.
It was as if no other world existed, listening to Annie breathe and sigh and moan when she spoke. “Yes. Right there. That spot. Harder.”
He complied, and he enjoyed getting it right, giving her what she wanted, having her tell him what to do. She was confident and brave and secure and generous. She deserved more than having her life turned upsi
de down.
He vowed as her nails scraped down his back, as she cried out and came, as he followed, driving into her and bursting, that he would right it again.
“HOW DID YOU GET THIS scar?”
Annie lay tucked close to Kyle’s left side, her skin warm, her hair soft, her breath against his chest soft, too, as she explored his chest with her left index finger.
He stared at the ceiling, the fan there rotating with a lopsided tilt. He thought about fixing it, knew it wasn’t going to matter. Not if things went to plan. Since they always did, or so far always had, he needed to decide how much he wanted to tell her.
He wanted her to know everything, but it wasn’t his call. This, however... This was who he was and why, and it was important. He breathed in, covering her hand with his. “I grew up in foster care. Went through a half dozen families maybe. Came to live with the couple I think of as my parents when I was ten.”
“Oh, Kyle—”
He wrapped her fingers in his and squeezed. “I won’t get this out if you keep butting in.”
“Lips zipped, though that makes it kinda hard to kiss you,” she said, her closed lips moving along the edge of his scar at his collarbone.
He groaned, things stirring to life down below. “I won’t get this out if you keep doing that either.”
“Fine,” she said, sighing dramatically. “As long as I can do it later, I’ll be good.”
“Please don’t be good. Please don’t be good. But yeah. Later,” he said, closing his eyes to find his center. “He was a cop. His wife did social work. They had two boys of their own but made a home for several others.”
“They sound like good people.”
This interruption he didn’t mind. “They are good people. The best of people. The sort of people who don’t deserve what they’ve been put through.”
“And your scar?” she asked, running her foot down his shin.
He nodded, his head sliding on the pillowcase. He was getting there, but this wasn’t going to be any easier on her than on him. “An undercover operation Jeb was involved in went south, I don’t know if they ever made sense of what happened, but this drug dealer... He used his wife and kid as shields. They were killed and he came after Jeb for revenge, kidnapping his son.”
Annie started shaking and he tightened his hold.
“I was in the room with Loren and Asa when it happened,” he said, watching the shadow of the tree outside her window play on the wall at the foot of the bed. “Asa’s my age, Loren a couple years younger. I was bigger than them both. We’d all had some self-defense training. Jeb saw to that. But it wasn’t enough. Asa went down with one punch.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.” He didn’t even have to think about it. He knew the date, the day of the week, the time. “One came after me with a knife. The other grabbed Loren. I couldn’t protect him. His parents rescued me from a bad situation, and I failed them.”
“They can’t blame you.”
“They don’t. I do.”
“Kyle.” She climbed on top of him, straddled him, her hands braced on his shoulders as she stared down. Her eyes glistened with tears. “You were a kid. Not even a teenager. Smaller. Weaker. Unarmed. How can you blame yourself for anything? The fact that you tried...”
Shuddering, she laid down, her face nuzzled to his neck, her breasts pressed to his chest. “I hate what you’ve suffered. You did more than any twelve-year-old I’ve ever known would have.”
Yeah, well, at twelve years old, he’d had more combat training than most adults ever would. “I’ll get Army back for you.”
“I know you will.” For a very long moment she did nothing but breathe against his skin, then asked, “Can I stop being good now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Six
THE SUN WAS ALREADY up when Annie woke, leaving her completely disoriented. She pushed her hair from her eyes and rolled toward her nightstand, squinting at her phone. How was it so late? What happened to her alarm? She had to get showered and dressed for work. She had to pack Army’s lunch, fix his breakfast, wake him for school—
Oh. Right. Army wasn’t here.
Her stomach tumbled so quickly she thought she’d throw up. And then the rest of yesterday’s events rushed her. Slowly, anxiety like ants crawling over her skin, she rolled back, knowing without looking that Kyle had left her bed.
Had he gone after Army?
Or had he just... gone?
She slid from the bed and made it quickly as if doing so would hold his heat between the sheets. Last night had been... everything. Everything she’d dreamed could be real with a man but had never experienced. Gorgeous, gorgeous bliss. She’d laughed. She’d cried. Kyle had hated that, but she’d assured him those tears were happy ones.
That had been the truth. In those hours between getting out of her clothes and falling asleep—her legs tangled with his, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest—she’d been happy. It had been a moment out of time, and she’d woken often to find him, needing comfort when the room across the hall had whispered with the worst sort of loneliness.
Why hadn’t she known intimacy could turn her inside out? Not just her body but her soul? She’d had two short relationships since her divorce, but nothing like Kyle. His tenderness, his roughness, his coarseness. She’d loved his coarseness... the foul words that spilled out of his mouth, the way he used his fingers, the places he put his tongue.
The bathroom was spotless. She showered, breathing in the smells of her soap and shampoo and remembering them on his skin. He hadn’t even left his towel from last night but had washed it with the load of Army’s clothes waiting by the machine.
After that, he’d cleaned up the kitchen. It was spic-and-span too. Not a speck of last night’s flour or fry grease, not a potato peel remained to prove she’d cooked for him. The sink was empty. The dishes in the drainer put away. He’d left without breakfast, without making coffee.
He hadn’t written her a note. His truck was no longer the view she saw when looking out the window over the kitchen sink. She stood there staring at her car, thinking of Army’s bike inside the garage, how nothing today was different from last night.
Army was gone and she had to find a way to get him back.
And yet everything was different because of Kyle.
Though if not for her body’s raw aches, she’d never have known he’d been here.
She grabbed a fork from the drawer and carried the rest of the cake to the table. She didn’t want to think he was the love ’em, enjoy their fried chicken and gravy, and leave ’em type.
And she knew he wasn’t. The few men she’d known wouldn’t have intervened when she was being threatened. They would’ve decided she deserved whatever was happening, she’d stepped out of line, forgotten her place—
“Mom! Cake is not for breakfast!”
She dropped the fork, rocked sideways in her chair, and nearly lost her balance. But then her son was there in her arms, his hug so fierce and loving. “Oh, sweetie. Are you okay? I missed you like crazy.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” He wrested himself free and eyeballed the cake. “Can I have some?”
Her heart was beating so hard she almost couldn’t find her voice to answer. “Of course you can. You can have as much as you want.”
“Cool,” he said, reaching for her fork and digging in.
He smelled like Army. His hair, which she couldn’t stop mussing. And his shirt, which made her think of his classroom and his bedroom and the orange juice he loved and always spilled. It smelled fresh. She wondered who’d known—
The screen door opened again and there was Kyle walking into the kitchen, holding an empty plastic bottle in one hand, the cap in the other. She wanted to go to him. She wanted to stay beside her son. She had so many questions. Her emotions were bouncing up and down and around. He didn’t give her time to ask anything.
“You still have that... item you got out o
f the bed of my truck yesterday?”
She nodded. The gun was in her bedroom between the mattress and box springs.
“And you’re sure you’re up for getting out of here for good?”
He’d said it with one brow arched. She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Do you trust me?” He was about to upend her existence. He had to know.
“With my life,” she said, ruffling Army’s hair. “With his life.”
Kyle’s throat constricted. “Then this would be a good time to pack.”
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Army asked from the truck’s back seat.
While Annie had rushed through the house gathering any and everything she didn’t want to leave behind, Kyle had secured Army’s car seat and grabbed his bike from the garage, adding it to the boxes in the bed of the truck. Where they were going there were trails to ride and he’d make sure the boy had the right tires, a kickstand, and a compass.
They’d been on the road within the hour. Crazy to think someone could wrap up four years of living in one place so quickly, but Annie had. She’d had next to nothing of sentimental value, she’d said. What mattered most was her son. Army had helped by grabbing his most prized possessions and every graphic T-shirt he owned. Kyle had helped by offering his arms for Annie to load down with boxes. He’d wanted to offer more. So much more.
They hadn’t said a word about last night. They hadn’t had time.
After leaving her asleep around zero-three-hundred, he’d done a quick recon run around the warehouse at the edge of town. His gear verified no sounds coming from inside. No movement either. No cars were parked around the perimeter. Security was lax. He hadn’t thought he’d find the boy there, but the building was on the way to the grandparents’ gated home.
Vince’s parents’ place had been easy enough to access. Simple security, seconds to disarm. It never ceased to amaze him what civilians considered safe. He’d found Army immediately. The boy had been sound asleep. Kyle had pressed a finger to his lips, leaned close to whisper into his ear, and scooped him into his arms. Piece of cake.