by Dahlia West
He clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes before he started to beg. He’d leave if she told him to, but he wanted to stay. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire fucked-up life.
“If I want you to leave? Jack, you were just gone! You just walked out! Where were you? Where have you been?”
Jack didn’t answer. He couldn’t. She didn’t need to know.
But her voice broke and she slapped at his chest. “Where were you?” she demanded.
He opened his eyes and saw tears streaming out of hers.
“I had to go. I had to make sure you were safe. I saved you,” he replied. He reached up with his free hand to try and wipe her damp cheeks, but his arms felt so heavy now, useless.
But Erin shook her head. “You left us alone.”
“No,” he insisted. “I had to protect you. Both of you.”
He looked down at their joined hands, which were still covering her belly. It was silly. She was only newly pregnant. He couldn’t really feel or see anything. But he imagined that he did. He imagined warmth radiating from inside her, their love growing inside her, safe and protected, especially now. He sighed, finally giving in to the pills, and leaned back onto the pillows. “No one will ever hurt you again,” he told Erin, closing his eyes.
He was home, in his bed, in his sheets, even if only for a moment. He smiled to himself. “There’s no one left to hurt you. I made sure of it.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
‡
As Erin stared at Jack, his words thundered in her ears. There’s no one left. She got up off the bed and darted down the stairs. She hadn’t read the paper lately. She’d been too busy with the foal. Hadn’t there been something serious in the headlines, though? An explosion, she thought she recalled. She’d merely glanced at it, thought it was a gas line or a factory disaster, and tossed it into the recycling without a second thought.
She sped through the kitchen and burst through the side door. The garbage cans were there, nestled up against the side of the house. Erin flipped the lid and reached in. She pulled out the Sunday paper and took it back inside.
In the kitchen, she spread it out onto the table, laying out all the pages and flattening them.
Not one explosion, multiple explosions. Erin’s eyes hit on certain words over and over. Shootings. Dead police officers. Bombings. The final body count was uncertain and pending an excavation of several wreckages.
It was dizzying, devastating. Her vision swam and she gripped the edge of the table for support. It was all right there in front of her, if it was true. She snatched at the paper, turned, and fled back up the stairs.
In the bedroom, he was still lying sprawled on the bed, eyes closed, breath coming a bit easier now, though.
Erin shook the paper in her fist. “Jack, did you do all this?”
He opened his eyes and glanced at the paper crumpled in her hand. He shook his head, but he wasn’t denying it. “That’s filth,” he told her. “That’s not meant for you to see.”
Erin gasped. “People are dead!”
Even in Jack’s weakened state, the look that passed over his face was absolutely chilling in its intensity. “I’ll kill anyone I have to just to keep that shit from your door. You, you and the baby, you’re beautiful. Clean. And you’re going to stay that way. No one will ever touch you again.”
“Jack, there were cops,” she protested.
He shook his head again. “Bad cops,” he told her. “Dirty cops. They’d been on my payroll for a long, long time. They were going to kill a DEA agent. I got there in time, though. I stopped them.”
Erin stared at him. “A DEA agent?”
Jack nodded. “And a witness. A female witness. They’re far away now. They’re safe.”
He reached for her, but Erin couldn’t quite get her feet to move, either to run to him or from him. All of this was so unbelievable.
His face softened and she could see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes. What did it say about her that she wanted to cross the room, to comfort him, even as he confessed to being so much worse than she’d ever guessed?
He dropped his hand and struggled to take a deep breath. “Erin, I’m telling you now, and I swear to God it’s true, I swear it…I’ve never killed a good man. Ever. I’ve never ended a life that should’ve been spared. I…” He hesitated for a moment. “I was going to kill him. I admit that. I’ll never lie to you about that, about anything. But once I saw him, I couldn’t do it. I’ve changed, Erin. Maybe not much, maybe only a little, but I have changed, because of you.
“I love you. Both of you. So much. I’d die for either one of you. It would be worth it.” He licked his dry, cracked lips and looked at her. “I’m a bad man, Erin. But I think I’m still the man for you. Please let me stay, Erin. I can’t be anywhere else. I can’t live anywhere else.”
She didn’t have time to answer him, though.
He slumped back into the bed, eyes closed.
Erin went to him, then, sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his chest. She felt the slow but steady rise and fall, assuring herself that he was still alive, at least.
The peaceful rhythm dulled her frayed nerves and numbness set in. She got up, went to the bathroom, and brought back a pair of scissors and a wet cloth.
Working slowly, carefully, Erin cut off Jack’s shirt and pulled it out from underneath him. She put his boots on the floor by the door, where he always kept them, and unfastened his belt. She bathed him with a clean, damp cloth as he slept.
Every wound, every bruise, every scar told a grisly story about what this man had done, what his life must have been, before Thunder Ridge.
Erin began to fully understand his desperation to stay. When she’d met him, he barely slept, as though demons were chasing him through his dreams. And they probably had. But in her bed, their bed, Jack had found peace—a peace, apparently, that he’d never known before.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she set the washcloth aside. She took his hand and kissed the bruises, willing his hurt away.
He moved then. His eyes fluttered, but he didn’t wake. Erin leaned down and wiped his brow, to cool him. She pressed her lips to his skin and held them there a moment. “Shhh,” she whispered, and that seemed to calm him. “You’re home now.”
Chapter Seventy-Nine
‡
Jack’s eyes fluttered open as Julio announced the dawn. He was so grateful to be alive that he figured he’d let the chicken live, too. Beside him, Erin also stirred, and his heart thudded as fear spiked inside him.
He turned to her slowly, waited for her to tell him to leave.
She got up immediately, throwing back the sheets. “I’ll get you some pills,” she declared, heading to the bathroom.
He couldn’t tell if she really cared or if she was just avoiding him. The fire in his side let him know that he needed the pills anyway, no matter what the reason.
Erin came back and set two small white capsules in his palm. She barely touched him, though, and that hurt worse than the wound.
He swallowed them down, if only so he could think straight. It was hard to function when pain was short-circuiting your brain. He tried to set the water glass down, missed, and she snatched it from him before it shattered on the floor.
Duke came up alongside the bed and Jack patted the goofy Lab.
He slowly sat up and then lowered his feet onto the wooden floor. But the pills hadn’t kicked in yet and he fell back onto the bed.
“Oh, God!” Erin cried, grabbing at his shoulders. She lowered him gently back onto the pillow.
Jack could smell her scent as her hair brushed his chest. He gripped her arms, not wanting to let her go. He tugged her down so that she lost balance and was now hovering over him, one hand pressing down on the mattress.
“Don’t go,” he told her, but what he meant was, ‘Don’t make me go.’
“Jack, stop,” she replied, and tried to push herself away.
He f
rowned but didn’t let go. He couldn’t just yet. “You don’t want me?”
He waited for her to destroy what little was left of him, but instead she said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Jack sighed, relieved that she wasn’t rejecting him. “You can’t hurt me, Erin.”
“Jack—”
He gripped her hips and pulled her over him, notching his cock between her thighs. “You can’t hurt me,” he repeated.
In fact, she could only heal him at this point.
Jack slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her forward. His lips brushed against hers. He had trouble sitting up, though, and his movement, unfortunately, was limited.
“Make love to me, Erin,” he whispered. “I’ll make it up to you later. When I can. A thousand times, all the time. Just…do this for me now. I need it. I need you.”
Erin tugged off her underwear and then relieved him of his own. Her warm, soft skin slid over him and her hair cascaded over his chest.
Yesterday’s ride had been hell on his body, but Jack had the feeling that this ride…would be heaven.
She rubbed against him as she dipped her tongue into his mouth. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her enveloped him until he was lost in her. Between them, her wetness grew as she slid along his erection. Heat pulsed through Jack’s body as Erin ground herself into him, getting as close as possible without actually joining.
Unable to stop himself, Jack slid his palm across her belly, silently saying every prayer he could remember. Out loud, he said, “Tell me you want me, Erin. Tell me I’m the man for you.”
“I want you,” she replied as she rose up on her knees until the head of his shaft settled against her entrance. Her hands pressed lightly on his shoulders, her breasts riding high, tantalizingly out of reach. She sank down on him, taking him inside.
Jack couldn’t move. He could only feel. His cock, his heart, every part of him ached for her. His mouth went dry and his throat was raw, but still he managed to get the words out. “I love you,” he told her as she rode him gently.
She came. Not hard, not screaming or writhing, but gently, sweetly—squeezing him, drawing out his seed. As always, his body complied with the demands of hers.
Jack crested his own wave, throbbing into her heat.
Erin wrapped her arms around him, covering him with her body. “We need a man of the house, Jack,” she whispered in his ear. “We need you.”
Chapter Eighty
‡
Jack took a little longer to heal this time around. It had been almost three weeks since he’d been shot and he was only just now able to put in nearly a full day’s chores.
He supposed he was getting older. He was pushing forty with more bullet and knife scars than any one man should probably have. But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t be helped. And Jack wouldn’t change a thing, anyway.
Oh, there were some things that he regretted, some things that were probably going to keep him up at night, but that road, no matter how dark and twisted it had gotten along the way, had led to Thunder Ridge. And Jack was never going back.
He tried and failed to lift another hay bale onto the stack, gave up, and wiped his sweat-beaded brow with a handkerchief. Off in the distance, he heard the rumbling of a vehicle and came around the side of the barn for a better look.
A large pickup truck was trailing dust in its wake as it approached the turn. It was hauling a small, two-horse trailer and it rolled to a stop just in front of the barn. Inside the trailer, though Jack couldn’t actually see him, King kicked the metal sidewalls so hard the trailer and the truck shook. He obviously knew where he was and he wanted out. Now.
The doors to the truck’s cab swung open and DelRay stepped down from the driver’s side as a younger kid hopped out of the passenger door. The kid wiped his brow nervously with his sleeve as he looked askance at the trailer.
DelRay gave Jack a nod and headed toward the house to speak to Erin, who’d come out of the front door and was halfway down the porch steps.
The kid flipped the latch to the small window at the front of the trailer, opened it, and peered inside cautiously. He attempted to reach in, but King snorted and stomped his hooves again, shaking the trailer. The kid yelped and jumped back.
Jack watched him wipe his palms on his jeans and then steel himself for another attempt. His scrawny arm shot into the darkened confines of the trailer like a snake striking. He yanked on the quick-release knot of the lead rope, jumped back again, and slammed the tiny window shut.
Jack considered pointing out that there was no way any part of King could fit through that tiny opening.
The kid walked around the rear door but hesitated. He seemed to have used up the last vestiges of his courage, because he didn’t appear to be able to get any closer.
Jack suppressed a laugh and took pity on the younger kid. “I got it,” he said and stepped past him.
“Careful!” the kid called out, backing away. “He’s mean as shit! He bites!”
Jack did laugh at that and the kid paled. “You know what to do about that, don’t you?” he asked.
The kid’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.
“Bite back.”
Jack leaned into the open top half of the trailer and peered in at King. “Hey, buddy,” he said quietly.
King snorted and kicked again, though this time less violently.
“I know. I know,” Jack told him as he reached in to release the crossbar first. “They’re here. They’re waiting for you.”
In the pasture, Bee had finally made it to the fence, her colt chasing after her. Jack saw her belly puff out and she whinnied loudly.
King bellowed back and rocked the trailer furiously.
“Hang on, now,” Jack said sharply. “You break your leg again and Erin’ll kill me.” He lifted the latch on the door and opened it.
King rushed toward the now-open exit.
Jack stepped out of the way and reached out a hand.
As the huge stallion burst, ass backward, from the trailer, Jack snagged the lead rope that he dragged along with him. Rather than trying to wrestle with two thousand pounds of angry male, Jack turned along with him, quickly, and let King get a good eyeful of his mare and his offspring.
The stallion’s haunches gathered and he sprang forward.
With one deft hand, Jack pulled the nub of the clip with his thumb and unhooked the lead rope half a second before the line went taut. Better to release him, Jack supposed, than be dragged a hundred feet across crushed gravel.
The ranch hand shouted in fear and dove for the porch.
Jack didn’t panic, though. There was no doubt in his mind what King would do once he was free. The stallion bolted across the driveway, past the house, and straight for the pasture that lay beyond.
For a brief second, Jack thought he might actually jump the fence, but King seemed to regain his sense at the last possible second and stopped up short at the wooden barrier. He and Bee nuzzled frantically. The little colt ran up and down the length of the fence, infected by all the excitement.
“You’re crazy,” the kid breathed, eyeing King warily.
Jack gave him a sharp look that cowed him. “Rule number one, kid, never get between a male like that and his family. Not if you want to live.”
He sauntered away to open the gate to the pasture next to Bee and the colt, and gave the stallion’s rump a friendly smack as he trotted past. “Good to have you back,” Jack told him as he closed the gate. “You were missed.”
Jack started to make his way back to the porch where DelRay and his rattled ranch hand stood with Erin. Even from this distance, Jack saw her handing over the cashier’s check. He had opened a few accounts for her, shuffled the money through a bogus trailering service. Erin had been nervous about it, being such a law-abiding citizen and all, but Jack had assured her that Uncle Sam would not come knocking. After all, he’d been doing this for more than ten years now.
Hopefully, this was
the only skill from his previous life that he’d ever have to put into practice.
It had taken nearly half Jack’s rainy-day money to buy King, and to pay the DelRays’ stud fee for Bee getting pregnant, since there was no denying who’d sired the little buckskin colt that was now tearing ass around the pasture.
Tucker DelRay accepted it graciously, though. “I’ve recommended you,” he told Erin with a tip of his ten-gallon hat. “Told the Sutters to give you a call. They’ve got a four-year-old with ligament strain. Gelding, at least,” he added, winking at Erin.
Erin blushed. “Thanks for being so understanding, Mr. DelRay.”
To Jack’s eye, DelRay hadn’t been all that understanding. He had still demanded an insane amount of money to make the deal. Erin had paid it with no negotiation on her part. Jack supposed that even out here, at the ass end of nowhere, reputation still counted for everything.
“Well,” said DelRay, “he wants what he wants and that’s all there is to it.”
Jack had a sneaking suspicion that DelRay was secretly relieved to have King off his hands. It couldn’t have been easy dealing with a surly stallion. DelRay would probably never admit it, though, and neither Jack nor Erin was ever going to ask.
He tipped his hat again to both of them and headed down the porch steps toward the driveway. His hand shuttered the trailer, and they got into their truck, giving a honk and a wave out the window as they drove off. At the end of the driveway, another vehicle passed them, this one coming in.
Jack squinted in the harsh sunlight, finally recognized the vehicle, then groaned loudly. “Kill, Duke. Kill.”
“Jack!” Erin hissed.
Duke, for his part, actually growled. His ears perked up along with his hackles.
Jack smiled and then pursed his lips at Erin’s sharp look. He sighed. “All right, boy,” he said, giving Duke a pat on the head. “Never mind. It’s all right.”
Duke lowered himself to the porch floor and rested his head on his paws.