Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5)

by Freya Barker

  I shake my head, not wanting to leave, but Naomi isn’t done. “Jed is well taken care of, Clint, but Beth is gonna crash any minute now. She was first in that room donating blood and won’t sit down or rest until you do. I’ll sleep here, so I’m close by. I swear I will let you know of any change.” My eyes slide to Beth, who is leaning heavily into Joe. Not much different than the way I was hanging to her just minutes before. Fuck. Time to man up and look after my girl.

  “Let’s go,” I tell her, “we need to get some rest.”

  She doesn’t even object when I pull her from Joe’s side and tuck her firmly against mine.

  “Be obliged you could see us home, Joe.”

  “Happy to,” is all he says before kissing Naomi hard, and making her promise to check in with him.

  Naomi kisses both Beth and I on the cheek. “Promise to look after him.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I mumble, following Joe out the door, Beth tucked safely under my arm.

  -

  -

  He’s close, I can hear the wheezing of his breath behind me, and work my legs even harder. I can’t see where I’m going because the night is dark, and I stumble over something, falling forward on my knees. I try to push myself up, but my hands keep slipping on the slick surface. “Beth,” I hear behind me. Franticly, I manage to scramble up partway, only to slip down again. When a sliver of moon peeks through the thick cloud deck, it illuminates a grossly distorted face lying only inches away. A vaguely familiar face, half of it gone, leaving a grisly bloody pulp in its place and I scream...

  “Beth! Jesus...”

  Strong arms surround me. Slowly the softly mumbled words and familiar scent surrounding me starts penetrating and I stop struggling.

  “Beth, baby. I’m here, it’s okay.”

  My heart still pounding painfully in my chest, I become aware of where I am. In Clint’s bedroom, in his house, with his body pinning me to the bed. The events of the past hours rush over me just as I’m trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. I prefer the nightmare. The tears I’ve somehow avoided all day and night, force their way up and out on a large sob.

  “Let it out, Bean. Waited for this. For you to let it go,” Clint mumbles in my hair, before rolling back and taking me with him. I’m draped over his chest, with his one hand tangled in my hair, pressing my face in his shoulder, and the other banding me around my back, and I let go.

  After what seems like hours, when finally the tears start drying up, I lift my head to find him looking back. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, slightly embarrassed.

  The hand tangled in my hair tightens its grip, urging my head back down.

  “No reason to be sorry. You had my back, I’ve got yours.” His voice rumbles under my ear pressed against his chest. With his other hand he strokes from between my shoulder blades all the way down my ass, as far as he can reach, before sliding it back up. The shirt I’m wearing is bunched up almost around my neck and the slow firm strokes of his callused hand are causing my skin to heat and tingle. The hard ridge against my belly tells me Clint is as affected by our full body clench as I am, and I wiggle slightly against him.

  “Bean,” he growls, pulling my head up by the hair and sliding the other hand down my panties to clasp my ass, his fingers deep. My whimper is silenced when he locks his mouth on mine with a fierce intensity that pulls hard on my core. A rush of wetness slips between my legs, as the fingers of his hand slide deeper into the crevice of my ass.

  “Jesus, you’re soaked,” he observes and suddenly rolls me over, his mouth and tongue never leaving mine and his fingers still playing in the arousal coating my pussy. “Wet for you,” I mumble against his mouth. He likes that, judging by the groan I catch in my mouth before his forceful tongue stops me from talking.

  My hands slide over his wide back and down to his ass where they find purchase. But they’ve barely copped a good feel before he leaves my mouth and pulls back, pushing my shirt up and off me before sliding his hand down, fingers snagging my granny panties and tugging them off.

  Naked and exposed I lie underneath him, his eyes tracking every dip and valley of my body, and I feel not even a hint self-conscious. Not worried about my sagging tits, my swollen stomach, my neglected pubic hair, or my pitted thighs, because the heat in his eyes tells me he likes what he’s looking at.

  “Beautiful,” he says so softly, I can barely hear. “And all mine.”

  It’s true. I’m his. A man who can make me tingle with a light touch of his working hands and flush with passion with only the stroke of his eyes over my skin can have me. Body, heart, and soul. That’s when the words finally find their way to my mouth. Words the impact of which I’ve felt, and fought, for a long time already.

  “I love you, honey.” My voice is firm and full of conviction; Clint’s eyes snap up from their lazy perusal and zoom in on mine. A fraction of a second he holds me right there, and shows me his heart in the shine of his eyes before pushing down his boxers. Dropping his weight between my legs, he traps my wrists in his hands by the side of my head, and guides himself inside me by feel alone. His focus never wavers. Beautiful.

  “Tell me,” he bites off between clenched teeth. I know what he wants to hear.

  “I love you,” I whisper this time, and when I go to close my eyes he stops me.

  “Open,” he orders, and totally against my nature, I comply.

  With eyes locked on each other, our hands immobilized, and only our bodies moving with each other for maximum contact, time ceases to exist. When we finally race toward our climax, we do so together, watching the other come undone with the force of it.

  “Love you, Bean,” is the last thing I hear before sleep takes me, his cock inside me, and his weight on top of me a safe haven.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Coffee?”

  Gus walks into the waiting room with a tray of coffees. We’ve been here since six o’clock this morning, waiting for some news, but other than that Jed was stable through the night, there wasn’t much more the nurse at the desk was able to tell us. I was told I could see him shortly, but that was about forty-five minutes ago.

  “You’re about early,” Beth smiles at Gus, who sets the tray down on the coffee table in front of us, leaving us to doctor our own with the stack of sugars and creamers he pulls from his pocket.

  “Don’t need much sleep and I got an early morning phone call from Damien. Been up since.” He takes a big gulp from his coffee before turning back to us. “Last night I left Mal to try and get a trace on the sniper who fired the shot. He was intercepted by a field agent, one attached to the FBI investigation into Stan Jablonski, who made it clear they were less than impressed with our ‘interference,’ as they called it. Turned into a bit of a stand off, ending up with Mal at the sheriff’s office being grilled by none other than Damien Gomez, who appears less than pleased I haven’t told my men to stand down.”

  Gus continues to explain how Damien wasn’t too pleased when he pointed out that had he done as asked, a man would be dead now. Pointed out the feds might be willing to sacrifice for the greater good, but that’s not how he or his men work, which made Damien even less pleased. From the sound of it the conversation was strained. Gus looks ragged, which only reminds me how lucky I am to have these people at my back.

  “Thank you,” I tell him quietly when he takes a break to toss his cup in the trash. He ignores me and forges on.

  “Talked to Drew after, who was able to let me in on some of what he’s learned. The guy you took down, Bogdan whatever the hell his name is, apparently was a tough nut to crack, but they managed to get a bit of information from him. Jablonski put the pressure on Sam to find Dylan, but put Bogdan with him to keep an eye out. He’s Jablonski’s man. Claims it took them a while to discover they had nabbed the wrong guy, since Jed apparently insisted he was you.”

  That gives me pause, thinking it would’ve been easy for Jed to let on they had the wrong guy, but instead he protected me by pretending t
o be me.

  “Jablonski was furious, told them to get rid of him, but feeling things slipping out of control, Sam wasn’t ready to give up and figured he could find out Max’s whereabouts from Jed first.” Gus notices Beth flinching at this and turns to her. “Not gonna let them at him, Bethie. Not a chance in hell. As we speak, Caleb and Katie are sneaking the boys to a safe place. Safer than Cedar Tree. Jablonski is anything but a fool even if his guys are. Even without Jed giving up Max’s location, it won’t take him long to narrow down where to look.”

  This time it’s Beth who utters a tremulous, “Thank you.”

  Gus grabs her hand as he shakes his head. “Family, darlin’. Yours and therefore mine. It goes without saying.” Sitting back in his chair, he runs a hand through his hair. “We’re closing in. Bit by bit. Bodgan claims it’s Sam who stabbed Jed before taking off. No way of knowing—not that it makes a lot of difference who was actually wielding the knife. The guy’s going down for kidnapping and attempted murder. And that’s if he’s lucky. Jablonski’s reach is far, as far as the inside of a prison cell. We’ve seen evidence of that. FBI is trying to squeeze every last bit of information out of him before anything like that can happen.”

  “But who shot the other guy? Sam? I still don’t get it,” Beth voices what I’m thinking. I’m still not getting a clear picture.

  “Mal says whoever did is highly professional. Trained and likely ex-military. No evidence left behind, other than a scuff mark on the bark of the tree Mal thinks he was holed up in. He never got a chance to explore further before he was hauled in by the FBI. Could’ve been one of Jablonski’s men ordered to take him out before he fucked up even more, or it could’ve been the feds themselves who had eyes, but let too much slip for the sake of their case. Could be they had no choice when Blazek pulled on Beth. We may never find out.”

  At that we all fall silent, each consumed by our own thoughts, until the nurse from earlier pokes her head in.

  “Mr. Mason? Would you come with me?”

  I look at Gus, silently asking him to stick with Beth. A chin lift confirms he will, not that I had a doubt; he’s had someone look out for us for a while now. Even last night he had Joe stay with us after he brought us home. Couldn’t get him inside though, he stayed out in his truck. Keeping warm under the quilt and thermos of hot coffee Beth insisted on giving him.

  I pull Beth to me and quickly kiss her mouth. “Back shortly.”

  “Right, honey,” she says softly. Swear to God, I could be a hundred years old and never tire of Beth’s brand of sweet.

  -

  This time when I walk into the room, I’m prepared for what I’ll find. At least I think so, until I close in on Jed’s bed, see his eyes open and looking at me.

  “Hey,” he croaks, his voice low and gritty.

  “Jesus, Jed. She didn’t warn me you’re awake. That’s good, man. So good. How are you feeling?” I ramble a bit, still shocked at finding him alert. I pull up a stool that is shoved against a wall and sit down, watching him shrug his shoulders.

  “Not sure how I feel. Just know my gut’s not doing great and my face is a mess. Other than that I’m just ducky.”

  I can’t hold back a smile of relief before he talks again. “Not about to let a little nick get the best of me,” he says, and I know even though he was out of it last night, he heard me.

  “Fuck, bud, you scared me.” I put my arms on the bed and rest my chin on my hands. He barks out a laugh before he can catch himself and wraps his arms around his stomach immediately, pain etched on his face.

  “Fuck you for making me laugh, Clint,” he bites out. “Consider the scare payback, for when you were laying in a hospital bed for a month, not waking up. You’re getting off easy, having only a night of it.”

  Shit. He’s right, and with that realization comes another one. One that I intend to set straight right away. “Never properly thanked you for that. Coming out here and dropping everything to keep the business afloat. I didn’t act that way when I first saw you, but I am grateful.” I hesitate, fighting myself to keep from automatically putting those shutters up again. The ones that have kept me from my own flesh and blood for way too many years. “Not just for that, though. Took guts for you to come. Don’t know if I’d have had the balls, had the roles been reversed. I—“

  Jed’s grabs onto my wrist and his eyes are burning into mine. “Heard you last night. The feeling’s mutual. Now let it go.”

  “Right. One thing; didn’t go unnoticed, you never told them they had the wrong brother. I get you were protecting Beth and me, but word to the wise—pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll beat your ass.” I grin and the low chuckle from the bed sounds fucking amazing, even if he has to hold on to his gut.

  “Time’s up.” The nurse who came to get me sticks her head in the door. “Gave you a little leeway already, but there are some tests waiting and the patient needs to rest. Dr. Jacob wants to keep him in the ICU until tonight. Barring any infections or other complications, he should be on the regular ward for visiting hours.”

  -

  -

  “I miss Max.”

  I’m bored out of my mind. Hard to imagine after the night we’ve had but there it is. I can’t step outside the door without someone watching me, and there isn’t a book that can hold my attention. To top it off, Gus strongly suggested I not go into work until this ‘thing’ is resolved. Not sure what or when that will be. The only thing Gus had to say was ‘soon.’ So I’ve baked trays and trays of cookies, just for something to do. The last twenty minutes, I’ve resorted to watching Clint in the backyard, building a platform of sorts in the big catalpa tree in the yard. Probably the most entertaining pastime of all, but even that started getting tedious. So with a fresh piece of gum, and dressed in a thick sweater, carrying a mug of coffee, I head outside.

  “I do too, Bean. But you know it’s safer this way.” Clint turns and accepts the coffee, taking a deep drink.

  “Aren’t you cold?” All he’s wearing is his hat and a flannel shirt, his jacket discarded on a pile of lumber by the shed.

  “Nah. Physical labor warms you up. Keeps your mind off things too.” He smiles at me with amusement in his eyes.

  “Tried that. Have six dozen cookies to show for it. Not sure continuing on that track is advisable, given my already expanding waistline.” This makes him chuckle. He hooks me by the neck, pulling me to him. It’s not a hardship, standing in the crisp outdoors, my face planted in a hard broad chest, and breathing in the scent of fresh air, wood shavings, and Clint. His big hand slides up my back and under my hair to curl around my neck.

  “I like your waistline,” he mumbles in my hair.

  “May not like it so much after I add six dozen cookies to it,” I retort, snuggling in deeper when I feel the responding laughter vibrate in his chest.

  “Sugar, your waistline could be twice the size and it wouldn’t matter; the waistline comes with you, then I’m a happy man.”

  I tilt my head back to find his eyes smiling on me. “You’re a charmer, Clint Mason.”

  “Hmmm,” he hums, his eyes on my mouth. “Reckon I could think of a few ways to keep you entertained and warm.”

  Yeah. My body already tingling at the promise of his suggestive words, I stand up on tiptoes and touch my mouth to his lightly. Not enough it would appear, because the hand at my neck wraps in my hair, pulling my hair tight and his mouth angles over mine. I barely have time to tuck my gum in my cheek before his tongue forcefully demands entrance. Yessss! Pulling free his shirt in the back, I give a full body shiver at the feel of his skin under my hands while his mouth dominates mine. From zero to a hundred, my body is primed and ready as I whimper in his mouth.

  “Jesus, woman. That mouth of yours should come with a warning,” he softly growls as he pulls away and releases his hold on me, only to clasp my hand and pull me to the back door. “Not about to entertain an audience when I do what I mean to do to you, Bean.”

  Oh, I’m game
.

  -

  I’m not so convinced a little later, when stripped of gum, clothes, and completely naked by Clint’s deft hands, blindfolded with a tea towel, I’m trussed up like a holiday turkey with my hands tied over my head in his bed. I’m not sure, but Clint seems intent on playing. The sounds of drawers opening and closing is slightly unnerving, and the knowledge he hasn’t removed any of his clothes makes me feel even more exposed. Especially when he lets the sleeve of his flannel slide over my skin, barely touching but there, causing goose bumps to appear. My hands clench into fists with every stroke for need of touching him.

  “Honey...” I try.

  “Quiet, Bean.”

  A brush of stubble on the inside of my knee sends shivers through my body and the repeat, a moment later, on the underside of my breast has my nipples pucker almost painfully. “Please...” I breathe, only to feel his lips move against mine when he mumbles, “hush.”

  Callused fingertips, rough from manual labor, dance over my face, down between my breasts, over the swell of my belly, lifting away just before reaching the wetness gathering between my legs. I whimper at the loss. All I hear is my own heart pounding, and the harsh intakes of breath every time I feel his touch, suspended in anticipation for the next. A rustling sound has me tilt my head in its direction. I know he is taking off his clothes. I wait for the feel of his skin over mine, having memorized the sensation. I gasp at the unexpected scrape of something hard against my skin. I can’t tell what it is, all I know is the light abrasion, that comes in sharp little scratches and long languid strokes, has every nerve in my body fully sensitized. I’m buzzing and open my mouth to plead for something, anything to end this sweet torture that has me lose any sense of time and place. But a light growl has me shut my mouth, tight. It’s then I hear the heavy breaths, and it occurs to me; he’s getting off on this as much as I am and an unexpected sense of power settles warm in my gut. I relax my arms, which have been straining against the binds, and let my legs fall open wide—giving myself over completely.