The Strong Family Romance Collection

by Cami Checketts

  “Yes,” Mary said too fervently, her heart leaping. “Yes, Nick. Please. Give me a chance to see you, all of you. Let me be there for you, help you heal.”

  Nick stared at her for a few beats. Mary prayed inside. Nick was the one man she’d always wanted. Now when they had a chance, would he stop her dreams before they started?

  He released her hand and stepped back. His eyes were dark and stormy. His jaw clenched as if she were causing him physical pain by offering to help.

  Mary’s stomach dropped and desperation washed over her. No, no, no. She’d put it all out there and now ... he was going to reject her. Was there anything she could do or say? She felt like she’d given it her best shot, but her mind was still scrambling for convincing words.

  Nick held her gaze, his mouth in a tight line. He grasped the bottom of his shirt and yanked it off, dropping it on the floor. His chest heaved with quick, heavy breaths.

  Mary’s own breath caught. She stared in awe at the well-built musculature of his chest, shoulders, and arms. He was glorious. Her gaze slid to the puckered red skin on his right side. It went along his shoulder and arm, stopping halfway down his bicep, part of his chest was also disfigured.

  She raised her eyes to meet his. He was studying her, none of the usual Nick Strong humor, confidence, or easy charm in this gaze. He was unguarded and seemed terrified of her reaction.

  “Nick,” she murmured. She stepped up close to him again. He stood ramrod straight but didn’t back away. When she raised her left hand, he flinched.

  Mary’s eyes widened and she prayed for guidance on how to proceed. “Will it hurt you if I touch your scars?”

  Nick swallowed. The beautifully-sculpted muscles of his chest rose up and down a couple of times as he pulled in and exhaled heavy breaths. Finally, he shook his head. “No.”

  “Can I?” she asked. Her hand suspended in midair.

  Nick hesitated even longer. Finally, he said, “They don’t … disgust you?”

  Mary gasped and her hand dropped. “Disgust me?” She shook her head. “Nick, you look incredible, unreal. So tough and appealing. Your scars only add to your appeal for me.”

  His gaze sharpened on her. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded. “Can I touch you?”

  He hesitated for only a second then grunted out, “Please.”

  Mary smiled at the sweetness of his response. She raised both of her hands, wanting to feel all of him. She ran both palms along his forearms and up his biceps. His left side was smooth and perfect. When she reached midway up his biceps the right side was bumpy and uneven. It didn’t bother her. Not at all. She liked the contrast.

  Nick was breathing quickly and unevenly. She could understand. Her own heart was thundering in her ears. She wanted to touch him, hold him close.

  She kept going, trailing her fingertips and palms over both of his shoulders, and then she explored the ridged muscles of his chest. No matter which hand felt the smooth skin or the bumpy skin, they both made her warm with desire for him.

  Nick let out a soft growl deep in his throat that let her know he was feeling the same. He wrapped his hands around her lower back and pulled her flush against him. Mary gasped, heat rushing through her.

  “I’m not done,” she said in her sassiest voice.

  Nick smiled, really smiled, but he didn’t release her. “Well then get done.”

  Mary returned his smile and rubbed her hands along his shoulders, and then slowly up his neck. She framed his face with her hands and pulled herself up onto tiptoes, so she was almost level with him.

  “Okay,” she murmured, “I’m done … for now.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “Too bad for you, I’m just getting started.”

  Mary’s breath caught as she hoped ‘getting started’ meant what she wanted it to mean.

  He bent his head and took possession of her mouth. His lips were firm and as powerful and manly as the rest of him. He kissed her as if their world would implode any moment. Mary clung to him, and enjoyed every glorious second.

  Nick released her mouth and pulled in some short breaths. Mary let out a breathy sigh. “You’re done already?”

  Nick chuckled. “Not a chance.” Then he was kissing her again.

  Mary explored the beautiful muscles of his upper back as his hands slid along her back as well. His mouth kept her plenty occupied, but she couldn’t ignore the fire tracing through her from his firm body so close and his palms on her bare skin.

  She’d prayed to get here, and she wasn’t going to mess up this gift that she felt came from above. Nick was finally letting her in and she refused to taint that by being unchaste. She pulled back and murmured, “I think we’d better put some clothes on before we continue this.”

  Nick chuckled low and deep. He rested his forehead against hers, still cradling her close but not using his hands to drive her to distraction, simply resting them on her lower back. “I think you’re a brilliant woman, Mary Coulter.”

  “Brilliant enough to capture you?” she asked, biting at her lip.

  “Ah, Mare.” He let out a low groan. “You’ve more than captured me, but I truly am not worthy of you.”

  “None of that talk,” she warned. “I’ll decide who’s worthy of me or not.”

  Nick’s smile slipped a little bit, but he didn’t argue. Mary stepped back and took his hand. “Why don’t we hot tub, and then we can talk and kiss … while we’re fully clothed.”

  Nick chuckled. A loud beep from the security device on the kitchen counter drew his gaze. He started toward it. A red dot appeared on his chest. Mary stared at it, confused where it came from or what it was.

  “Nick?” She pointed one finger at the hovering dot.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Get down!” Nick yelled, tackling her to the wood floor. Glass shattered and bullets thunked into the cabinets above them. Mary screamed. Nick was on top of her. She prayed desperately that he wasn’t hit as he protected her with his body.

  She could hear an unorganized cacophony of what could only be a gun shooting and bullets hitting into the wood and glass. More glass shattered. Nick scrambled off of her and muttered, “Crawl for the stairs, when you get there, run for my bedroom. I’m right behind you.”

  Mary nodded that she understood, took a deep breath and scrambled across the wood floor on her elbows and thighs. Terror danced along her skin, cold and sticky, as she made it through the kitchen. She could hear and feel Nick right behind her and that was the only thing that gave her any strength or hope.

  The bullets kept coming and coming. Glass, decorations, and Aunt Mary’s small knick knacks were being hit and scattered around the kitchen. Mary sliced her forearm on a chunk of glass. She bit at her lip to keep from crying out.

  They were almost to the stairs when the hailstorm of bullets finally ceased. There was an eerie silence, almost as terrifying as the bullets had been, and then Nick jumped up and ripped her to her feet. “Run,” he urged.

  They sprinted around to the staircase, and then pounded up the stairs. They were halfway up when the back door flung open and slammed against the wall. A man hollered, “Stop!”

  They didn’t listen, rushing up the stairs. Mary could see the man’s outline through the open steps. He raised a large rifle and started shooting again. Nick grunted, but he kept moving.

  A hot, burning pain seared through her right calf. Mary screamed and tripped, slamming against the top stair. Her palms and chest stung from the impact, but the most horrific pain was in her leg. Had she been shot? It felt like a hundred bees stinging inside her calf muscle.

  “Mare!” Nick turned back, yanked her to her feet and half-carried her across the open loft. They scurried through his door and he slammed and locked it behind them.

  Mary bit at her lip to keep from screaming out. The pain was lessening but it was still worse than anything she’d felt before. Now it felt like hot lava was oozing through the wound.

  “Get behind the bed.” Nick directe
d her around the side of the bed that was parallel to the door.

  He rushed around by Mary and hefted the mattress off the bed. He scrambled over the box springs and shoved first the mattress, and then the box springs in front of the door. A second later the thunk of bullets hitting the door came. They were more muffled as they hit the mattress and box springs as well. Nick pushed his shoulder into the heavy oak dresser, moving it away from the wall. Mary jumped up with him and helped. It scraped across the floor until there were a couple of feet between the antique dresser and the wall, giving them a second layer of protection. They both sank to the floor behind it. There were only a couple feet of space, but she felt more protected back here.

  The bullets stopped again and Mary could only hear her and Nick’s quick breaths in the stillness.

  His eyes traveled over her and rested on her leg. She looked down too. Blood dribbled from her calf. Nick grimaced. “Can I touch it?” he asked quietly.

  Mary didn’t want even Nick touching it, but she nodded, she hoped bravely. He prodded it and she cried out.

  “Mary!” The holler from outside the bedroom door made her stomach curdle.

  Nick glared at the back of the dresser as if he could shoot lasers through and take Blake out. He reached out to the nearby bed frame, ripped the bed skirt, and pressed it against the blood oozing from two spots on her calf. “The bullet went through so that’s good. Are you okay?”

  She tried to nod, but felt tears stinging her eyes.

  Nick gently touched her cheek. “We’ll be okay. I’m going to get my weapons. Stay here.”

  Mary’s eyes bulged. She didn’t want him to leave her.

  “Send Mary out, and I won’t shoot anymore,” Blake’s yell was muffled by the door and mattress, but she could still hear him.

  Nick rolled his eyes and winked at her. “Just ignore the idiot.” He stood in a half-crouch and shuffled to the edge of their dresser of protection.

  “What if I try to talk to him to distract him so you can get your weapons?” Mary whispered to Nick.

  He turned back to her. “Okay.”

  “Blake!” Mary called out loudly so he could hopefully hear her. “What are you doing, you idiot?”

  Nick smiled. “Great negotiation skills.”

  Mary couldn’t believe that he could tease at a time like this, but she smiled back and waved him away. He scurried around the dresser. Mary gasped when she saw blood trailing down the side of his upper leg, and a hole in the fabric of his swimsuit.

  “I need you, Mary. We have to be together,” Blake yelled back.

  “You’re so stupid,” she yelled. “This isn’t going to convince me to be with you.”

  “What will convince you, my love?”

  Mary grunted in disgust and ignored the throbbing in her leg. “You should run, Blake.” She couldn’t lie and say she’d ever be with him. “You’ve shot me and Nick. He’s an ex-Army Ranger. If you don’t run, he’ll kill you.”

  “Not if I kill him first.”

  Bullets rained through the door and into the mattress and box springs, some making it through and hitting the wall. Nick scrambled back into their little spot behind the dresser with a large rifle, a smaller handgun and a couple of shirts.

  “You suck at negotiation,” he said.

  Mary half-laughed. “You try reasoning with a psycho.”

  Nick smiled at her. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, he’ll run out of bullets and take your advice.”

  “I’ll pray for that.”

  His eyes softened. “You do that.” He handed over a soft t-shirt.

  “Thanks,” Mary murmured. She slid into it. It smelled like Nick and hung down to mid-thigh and her elbows. It was nice to not just sit here in her swimsuit.

  Nick set the weapons down, took the other t-shirt and ripped the bottom of it with his teeth, making two long strips.

  The bullets stopped again and Blake yelled, “I’ve got lots and lots of bullets. I’ll wait until you come to me, Mary. If you don’t, I’ll kill you both.”

  Mary looked at Nick and said, “Should I keep trying my awesome negotiation skills?”

  “Sure.” He smiled. “Tick him off so he uses up all his bullets shooting at you.”

  Mary wrinkled her nose at him. How could being shot at by her insane ex-boyfriend be almost … fun? Only with Nick.

  “You’ll have to kill us both then because I’ll never come to you, you stupid, pompous, psychotic idiot,” she hollered.

  Nick simply smiled as more bullets came. Mary started worrying they would completely shred the mattress and box springs and hit them, and she did hear some thunk into the dresser and wall, but it was solid and thick. Nick didn’t appear concerned as he lifted her hand from her wound, and then removed the ripped bed skirt. He carefully wrapped his strip of shirt around it then tied it.

  “Is it hurting less?” he asked.

  She nodded. “More of an ache or like a burn, it’s okay.”

  “Good.” He lifted his shorts, and she saw streams of blood down the front and side of his thigh, but no other wound.

  “The bullet didn’t come out of yours?” she asked quietly.

  Nick shook his head and started wrapping his wound. Mary’s stomach twisted. It had to hurt worse with the bullet still there. He tugged the ripped shirt over his head and on.

  The bullets stopped. “Are you still alive?” Blake called.

  “Yep,” Mary yelled back. “You’re a horrible shot.”

  Mary heard Blake scream in rage, and then he started shooting again. More bullets hit into the dresser sheltering them.

  Nick tugged her down to the floor. “Just in case he gets lucky and gets a stray bullet through with his horrible aim,” Nick said, smiling at her.

  Mary lay on the floor, pressing against Nick as they faced each other. “You okay?” he asked, staring at her with those deep brown eyes that she loved.

  “Crazily … yes. I’m sorry my ex is insane and trying to kill us.”

  Nick lifted his shoulder. “I’m just glad he’s your ex.”

  “Are you?” Hope stirred in her. If they could survive this, did she and Nick have a chance?

  The bullets stopped and Nick helped her back up to a seated position. He turned to his guns and Mary wondered if he was intentionally not responding to her question or just focused on protecting her.

  He checked a few things, but then simply set his weapons back down.

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  Nick rested his back against the dresser. She leaned against the wall so she could face him. “I don’t know,” he said. “Yet.”

  Mary’s eyebrows rose. “What? You’re like this army combat specialist but you don’t know what to do?”

  Nick smiled, not appearing slighted by her comment in the least. “If it was just me he’d already be bleeding out. I wouldn’t have put the mattress and box springs in front of the door. I would’ve grabbed my Colt CM901 assault rifle and taken him down.” His dark eyes turned deadly serious. “I wasn’t willing to risk you.”

  “Thank you,” was all she could think to say.

  Nick acknowledged that with a slight smile, and then said, “So now I’m getting the impression to wait. He’s obviously unstable and a wild card. I’ll know when to make a move.”

  Mary appreciated his confidence, and his trust in heavenly help. An unstable wild card didn’t seem like the ideal opponent to be facing. Blake claimed he wanted her to come out and wouldn’t shoot her. Part of her thought she should volunteer to leave the room and talk to him, distract him so Nick could take him down, but he’d shot numerous bullets at her and hit her leg. It didn’t seem like he cared if she lived or died.

  All was quiet from Blake, so she focused on Nick’s handsome face. “Is your leg okay?” she asked.

  “I’ve had much worse,” he said quietly.

  “I bet.” She let her gaze travel over his face and his scars. “How long did it take you to heal?”

  Nick blinked at
her, and then looked down. “Who says I’ve healed?”

  The question was definitely not an invitation of any sort. Mary made it one. She scooted around so she was sitting next to him. Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and chest and tried to tug him against her. He was too big for her to budge, and she instantly felt awkward. Even more so when he asked, “What are you doing?”

  Mary clung tighter to him and jutted out her chin, not caring that her timing was horrible. He’d said he felt prompted to wait. She was going to use that time. “Helping you heal.”

  Nick tilted his head to study her. She ignored his questioning, almost belligerent look and kept a hold of him, rubbing his shoulders and upper back with her one hand while trailing the other up to his neck.

  Nick let out a soft groan, and she thought maybe he’d relax a little bit. Instead he wrapped his arms around her waist, yanked her against his chest, and claimed her mouth with his. Mary clung to him as they exchanged kiss for kiss. These kisses were full of a desperation and longing that Mary hadn’t realized Nick had within him.

  When they pulled back for air, his chest was rising and falling quickly, and he simply stared at her for a few beats. He trailed his fingers along her chin so tenderly it made her heart threaten to burst.

  Before she could profess her undying love for him he repositioned her, lifting her carefully next to his side, sliding his arm around her waist and tugging her against his shoulder and chest. Mary lay there, feeling comfortable and unafraid of the madman outside the door. She could face Blake, or anyone, with Nick by her side.

  Resting her hand on his chest she said softly. “I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

  Nick rubbed her back tenderly with his hand. “You are.”

  Mary smiled and cuddled against him, listening to the steady thrum of his heart and not really caring how long they had to wait Blake out. Kissing Nick had made her almost forget even the pain in her leg. She hoped his pain wasn’t much worse with the bullet still lodged in there.