Superior Collision

by C. A. Szarek

  He was the reason she couldn’t have a child. She’d never put a child through that, and she didn’t know anything different. She didn’t know how to get close.

  It doesn’t have to be like that, though.

  Her father’s ways were so opposite of how things were with Shannon, and the way he interacted with his niece.

  Shannon would be nothing like her own father.

  The chaos of moments before her father’s call seized her and sent her back into a tailspin she couldn’t manage. Sweat broke out on her forehead and her lip. Taylor panted to breathe, but couldn’t get enough air down.

  She cranked the car to life and hammered the window buttons. Put all four of them down and wanted to hang out of the driver’s side like a dog. Her heart thundered as if it was protesting, too.

  Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

  Voices caught her attention, and her eyes darted to the left. A man, probably mid-thirties, held the hand of a small boy. His words didn’t carry, but his tone did. He was reassuring the child, who couldn’t be more than three or four.

  The sounds of crying reached her, even though they were feet away.

  The man glanced around the parking lot, and stopped in an empty parking space, out of the way of potential traffic, but now they were closer. He knelt in front of the child and cupped his face. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy. I know you don’t feel good, but the doctor will help. I promise.”

  “Daddy…” The word broke on a sob.

  Taylor watched, riveted.

  The man swept the child into his arms and patted his back. His voice was too low again, but the murmurs were no doubt comforting. Then they were gone, the father holding his son as they headed into the medical building. The little boy had cuddled close, his head on the man’s shoulder.

  She couldn’t move. Tears burned. The exchange had been a private thing, Taylor the intruder. She let her eyes slip closed. Leaned her head back on the headrest as confusion assaulted her.

  Daddy.

  Something she couldn’t remember ever calling her father. Not even Dad. He’d always been sir.

  Her child wouldn’t…

  Taylor jolted and opened her eyes. There wouldn’t be a child, so it didn’t matter. She’d already made up her mind.

  Right?

  The appointment card beckoned, as if threatening to sear through her pocket, but she ignored it. She didn’t want to look at the date. Couldn’t bear to face the numbers that might make her resolve waver.

  She screamed at herself some more about being weak, despicable.

  Taylor threw her shifter into gear and backed out of the parking spot.

  She needed to get to the office—she had things to do.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Pounding roused him, but Shannon had to fight a heavy veil of sleep to come around. The noise got louder as he threw his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Shit.” He dragged his hand down his face to clear his vision. He slapped the touch lamp on his nightstand but kept it on the lowest setting.

  Thunder rumbled outside and rain struck his roof. Wind whistled, too. It was a wonder he’d been able to sleep.

  Shannon scanned for the nearest article of clothing—black basketball shorts—and yanked them on. He grabbed his Sig from his nightstand, too.

  The frosted glass of his front door didn’t reveal anything but shadows. He slunk toward it, his gun at his thigh. It was after midnight. A demanding visitor couldn’t be good.

  He opened the door and slid back, ready to raise his gun if he needed to.

  Taylor stood on his porch, looking like a drowned rat. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and cheeks. Her clothing was so wet she was dripping on his welcome mat.

  Lightning lit the sky above her head, and she shuddered. She rubbed her upper arm, probably where she’d been shot. “Do you always answer the door with a gun in your hand?”

  “If I get a visitor this late, yes. What the hell’s wrong?” He grabbed her wrist without giving her a chance to answer. “You’re soaked. Get in here.”

  “I needed to see you.”

  Shannon paused. Her tone had been unsure but her expression was typical Taylor—unreadable. “At midnight? Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?” It’d been over two weeks. She hadn’t answered his calls or voicemails, either.

  “I… I’m sorry.”

  “Are you okay? How’s your arm?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  He studied her, but her pretty face gave nothing away.

  “My arm’s fine,” she whispered.

  Taylor shifted on her feet, but it was the shiver and chatter of her teeth that pushed Shannon into action. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

  She didn’t argue, but didn’t come with him until he tugged her hand.

  Shannon left her at the end of his bed, put his gun down, and darted to the bathroom. He threw the cupboard door open and grabbed a big fluffy gray towel. It was new, part of a set his mother had insisted he needed.

  Their eyes met when he came back into the room.

  Taylor hadn’t moved. She stood by the leather trunk, looking lost. Rainwater dripped down her hands from her blazer. Her strawberry-blonde hair was darker in color, and it’d already started to work into tight curls she’d complain about later.

  He set the towel down and pulled her out of the jacket.

  Her pale blue button-down was just as wet, clinging to her body. Her nipples were hard and she trembled again.

  Shannon tore his gaze away from her breasts and started to undo her buttons. “Why are you so wet? It’s windy, but you’re drenched. Didn’t you park in the driveway?”

  “I went for a walk.”

  “In a thunderstorm?”

  “Had to clear my head.” She looked down.

  He bit back a sigh and cupped her cheeks. Tilted up so she’d have to look at him. “A walk in the rain. After midnight. What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  Shannon wanted to chide her, but pushing Taylor never got him anywhere. He needed her to want to open up to him. “Then what is it?” He dropped his voice and studied her face.

  “I just needed you.”

  His heart gave a little flutter he ignored. He didn’t say anything, because he might be stupid enough to admit he loved her, then she’d shut down for sure. Would probably hightail it out of his house—especially after she’d ignored him for two weeks.

  “I called you.” This was low, an accusation.

  Shannon glanced at his cell, plugged into the charger on his nightstand. “I have it on do not disturb. Been having trouble sleeping since I came off midnights.” He dropped a kiss on her damp forehead, and didn’t like the cool temperature of her skin. Shannon redoubled his efforts in getting her shirt open and off.

  She shrugged out of it and made no move to retrieve the material from where it’d fallen on the carpet. Her teeth chattered louder.

  “Hold on, sweets, let me get the towel around you.” When Shannon turned back to her, Taylor had ditched the bra. He tried not to stare at her pink puckered nipples and dusky areolas.

  The freckles on her shoulders drew his attention, too, and the ones on her collarbone. He wanted to spread kisses there, but it wasn’t the time. Blood was slowly sliding below the belt, and his cock twitched. Especially as Taylor let him wrap the towel around her and shucked her dark slacks.

  She stepped out of them, leaving them on the carpet next to her shirt. Shoes and socks were next. She left her plain blue bikini panties on, but it didn’t matter.

  He had a great memory—and he’d missed her like hell. “Do you want to take a hot shower? It’ll warm you better.” He moved his hands up and down her arms outside the towel.

  Taylor shook her head. “Shannon.”

  Her whisper was nearly his undoing. He gathered her close, holding her quivering body to his chest, rubbing her back over the soft terry cloth material. “What couldn’t wait until the morning?
”

  She shifted, her wet hair tickling his bare skin. “I…”

  “You what, sweets?”

  “Guess I missed you. I’m… I’m…sorry…about the last few weeks.” The words were muffled against his chest, but he’d take it.

  Shannon leaned back and she looked up at him. She didn’t smile, but the vulnerability in her hazel eyes flipped his stomach. He couldn’t help himself—he dipped down and covered her mouth with his.

  Taylor kissed him back, reaching up to put her arms around his neck. The towel slid to the floor. Now his hands were all over her, and they were skin-to-skin. She moaned as he deepened their kiss.

  Tasting her was the same, only better. Their tongues dueled, until she entwined hers around his, plundering his mouth as much as he was hers.

  Shannon lifted her into his arms and walked them to the bed.

  She pulled him down on top of her, and he didn’t fight it, lavishing kisses on her like he’d wanted to minutes before.

  Taylor wiggled closer, shoving her hands in his shorts, squeezing his ass and undulating into him. She was telling him she wanted it fast and hard, but that wasn’t going to work for Shannon. He hadn’t seen her in forever, and he wanted to make love to her, not give her a quick fuck.

  Then maybe she’d tell him what the hell was going on in that head of hers.

  “Now, Shannon. Now.”

  Her demand slid down his spine, and his cock certainly agreed. He fought against her urging, wanting to go slow, to show her what she meant to him.

  Too bad Taylor’s touches and kisses threw that right out the window, revving him up until he was about to explode.

  “I want to worship you,” he groaned.

  “I need you inside me.” She pulled on his arms.

  They discarded his shorts and her panties, and Taylor threw herself into his chest, nestling into him. Her skin was too cold, too damp, but she wrapped her body around his, ignoring Shannon’s concerns.

  “You’ll make me warm.”

  “I will,” he whispered.

  Taylor kissed him, pushing for dominance. He ran his hand down her hip, palming her perfect ass. When she whimpered into their kiss and opened her legs, he got caught up in her urgency. He fumbled, but Shannon gripped his erection and joined them with one hard thrust.

  Her legs slid around him as he drove forward, giving her what she wanted. He couldn’t deny her—it was foolish to think he could.

  Shannon gave himself to Taylor, body, heart and soul.

  It was just a shame he couldn’t tell her that.

  * * * *

  The shower was running when he woke, and the sun was streaming into his bedroom windows. Shannon stretched and smiled. Last night had been fantastic.

  Taylor was so hot when she came apart in his arms, and she had four—or was it five?—times.

  He stood, arching his back like a cat. His muscles ached like he’d had a good workout, but then again, that was what good sex was like.

  Shannon pulled on his black shorts and a gray tee. Didn’t bother with socks, he’d have to shower after Taylor. He could join her, hell, he wanted to, but she still hadn’t told him why she’d shown up so late, so he’d let her be. His little FBI agent loved her space. Maybe she’d talk to him when they ate.

  He popped his head into the bathroom. “Hey, I’m going to make breakfast. Any special requests?”

  “Oh, you’re up. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “No worries, sweets.”

  Taylor slid the glass shower door open and their eyes met. “Did you sleep okay?”

  She was so gorgeous it took his breath, like she did every damn time. “I did. I’m glad you came.” Shannon smiled.

  Her returning smile was small and hesitant. Something flashed through her eyes, but it was gone too fast for him to read. “Me too.”

  He told himself not to push her. “I’ll start eggs and bacon. Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” She gave him another smile.

  Shannon made himself leave the bathroom and allow Taylor her space. He took a few moments to gather her clothes, which were still scattered at the end of his bed. They were damp, too. He could throw them in the washer. When he shook the blazer out, something that looked like a business card fluttered to the carpet.

  It was a little worse for the wear, mangled from being wet. He flipped it over and froze. The words at the top were a tad smeared, but still legible.

  A clinic, but not just any clinic. One known for performing abortions.

  Taylor’s name was written on the line below. It, too, showed signs of water damage—part of her last name was a blue blur.

  The date was the upcoming Monday, and the time noted was nine a.m.

  A cold flush rushed Shannon’s body and he dropped her clothing.

  Blinking didn’t fix what his eyes said was right there.

  An abortion?

  Taylor’s pregnant.

  Emotion caught in his throat. Shannon tried to swallow it away, but it didn’t work. The love of his life was carrying his child, and she didn’t want it.

  Was she going to tell him?

  He stumbled from his bedroom, tripping over his feet and lurching into the doorframe. It took a bite of his shoulder, and pain radiated down to his wrist.

  Shannon pushed off the wood, righting himself. He whirled around, staring into the dim bedroom. Half of him wanted to rush in and confront her, but the other half told him to breathe through the shock and pain, to take a minute to gather his thoughts.

  When he reached the kitchen, he started the coffee like he’d said he would. Shannon couldn’t look away from the little white demon with tarnished blue ink, especially when he placed it on the dark granite countertop. It stood out in stark contrast, shouting for his attention.

  The tempting aroma of his favorite roasted beans teased his senses, but he ignored it, slipping on to a bar stool and drumming his fingers on the counter. His heartrate increased with every thump, until it was in competition with the movements of his hand. Shannon’s temples throbbed and his head spun.

  He looked away from the appointment card when he heard her padding toward him. He covered the small white paper with a palm.

  Taylor was wearing one of his T-shirts, nothing else, but he wasn’t tempted. Her beauty hurt because this situation—if nothing else—proved she wasn’t his.

  Her smile faded when their eyes met. “Shannon, what’s wrong?”

  “Do you have something to tell me?”

  She moved closer, the bar between them. “What?” The word sounded innocent enough, but the same something from the shower darted across her eyes.

  “You tell me what.” He struggled to keep his voice even through the lump in his throat.

  She was going to play coy, and wasn’t that so Taylor? It made the agony worse, until it spread down his chest. If she’d planned on telling him, she would’ve opened with it.

  The truth of her deception sank his heart to his gut.

  “Shannon…”

  He waited, but Taylor said nothing more. She looked around, up and down, over her shoulder—anywhere but at him.

  Shannon lifted his hand and shoved the appointment card toward her.

  Taylor’s eyes went wide and the color drained from her face.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I changed my mind. The words were on her tongue, but the betrayal in Shannon’s expression stole everything—coherent thought, the ability to speak, her breath.

  Taylor wavered on her feet and gripped the edge of the bar in front of her so she wouldn’t fall on her ass. Her injured arm smarted.

  “Were you even going to tell me?” He pushed to his feet, stepping back from the island. He left the card on the dark granite.

  Her eyes darted to it, as if it was spotlighted.

  I came here to tell you.

  Again, no sentences would form. Taylor cleared her throat.

  “I can’t believe you. I just can’t.” Shannon shook his head and
looked down, as if he needed a moment to gather himself.

  “It’s not what you think—”

  “Then what is it, Taylor?” he barked, spitting her name like a curse. “You’re pregnant, and the first thing you do is schedule an abortion?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I have a right to that baby, as much as you do.” He pointed, but the speed he’d tossed his hand up made it more like a punch.

  She winced. “Shannon, I…”

  “You weren’t even going to tell me, were you? You were just going to abort the baby like it was never there.”

  “I…” Every time she opened her mouth, he wouldn’t listen. She couldn’t find the power in her gut to push words out like Shannon.

  “I knew you could be cold, but this is a bit much, even for you, don’cha think?” He didn’t pause, just kept talking, getting louder, walking as he shouted.

  Foolish ideas of them actually trying to be a family dissipated with every harsh word Shannon lanced at her.

  Her plan to tell him had been there last night—she’d just been trying to get her courage up. Then he’d held her, and she’d just…needed him.

  She’d told herself it would all be okay in the morning. Shannon would help, he’d understand.

  She’d canceled the appointment to end her pregnancy, but wasn’t having any success telling him.

  He wouldn’t believe her anyway.

  With every hurtful thing he spewed, Taylor was torn open even more. She watched him pace the kitchen, the whole time keeping the bar between them as if he couldn’t stand to get closer.

  Like last night had never happened.

  Why had she left the card in her pocket?

  “I needed you, last night. So I could tell you today,” she said. “I was going to tell you today, I swear.”

  “Hah! Right. You got caught, Agent Carrigan. What was last night? A goodbye fuck? Is that what you needed?”