Protecting Medusa

by Elizabeth Andrews

  She nodded, not lifting her head.

  “Come on up here with me.” He set one hand at her waist and used the other to catch her elbow, drawing her to her feet. Unable to hide her tears now, she turned her face into the spray.

  Ryder clenched his jaw against the pain in his chest. “I’m so sorry, Mena.” He slid one hand up the middle of her back, under her wet hair. “I should never have left you. Not even for a second.”

  She turned into him, lifting one hand to cover his mouth. “Not your fault,” she choked out.

  He scooped her hair away from her face, his heart aching at her swollen eyes and red nose. “How can you say that? If I’d been waiting there when you came out, he couldn’t have grabbed you.”

  Mena shook her head. “I didn’t run, I didn’t yell. I should have.”

  “Oh, Gods.” He gathered her into his arms. “This is not your fault.” His own guilt jabbed at his guts.

  “I was so afraid I wasn’t going to see you again. Or Jason, or Mom.” A sob broke. “Gods, I was so afraid I’d never see you.” She sagged against him, giving in to the tears.

  Somewhere deep inside him, a little voice was cheering at her admission, that she’d fear the same thing he had. But the voice putting the blame squarely on his shoulders for this was louder.

  “I didn’t want to kill him. I didn’t mean to,” she managed. “I just wanted to get away. I don’t even kill the spiders when they get in the house.”

  “Oh, baby.” He held her tighter. “You’re killing me. I hate to see you cry.” He shut his eyes and held her as tight as he could without cutting off her air. “It’s okay. You’re safe now, I promise.”

  The loud voice in his head reminded him he’d promised before to keep her safe, and look what had happened.

  He ignored it and concentrated instead on her, her subsiding shivers, her slowing tears. She sniffled, taking in a shuddering breath and releasing it slowly.

  “Someone should call the police,” she said, her voice rough from crying.

  He shook his head. “And tell them what? ‘This guy tried to kill the Medusa, so she had to kill him instead? I doubt that’ll go over well.” He forced a smile. “Danny’s taking care of it.”

  She frowned. “What is he doing?”

  Ryder shook his head. “You don’t need to know details. You just need to feel better.”

  “What if he has a family?” Her voice broke.

  He gaped at her. “This man was trying to kill you, Mena.”

  “But if he never comes home, his family won’t know what happened to him.”

  A laugh bubbled up from the center of his chest, and he didn’t try to quell it.

  She glared at him, her eyes still shiny, then shoved him away.

  He caught her upper arms, lightly, chuckling. “Hey, if you want me to find out, I can.”

  She nodded.

  “Gods, I love you.” He bent to put a soft kiss on her mouth. “You are going to keep me on my toes for the rest of my life, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes widened, and he realized what had just come out of his mouth. He’d been trying not to go there again.

  Too late to take it back now.

  Instead, he let his gaze drift to the dark bruise on her forearm. “Did he do that?” He caught her wrist, gently lifting her arm so he could see the bruise encircled most of her arm. “Of course he did.” His urge to laugh was gone now.

  Mena stared at her arm, too. “He had a gun in his pocket,” she whispered.

  “I know.” Ryder cupped her chin with one hand, waiting until she met his gaze. “Baby, it was you or him. I’d rather it be him.”

  She nodded slowly, but he could see the fear and horror lingering in her eyes.

  “Come on. You’re warm enough now. I think a nap will help.” He shut off the water and guided her out of the tub, wrapping her in one of the towels after he rubbed her dry. His hand slowed and pulse sped up when he got a glimpse of her tattoo, though--whoa! Mentioning that now didn’t seem to be a good idea. He snagged another towel to wrap around his waist.

  In the other room, he yanked the covers back on the bed not holding their things. “In you go.”

  She undid the towel from around her torso and sat, using it to dry her hair a bit more instead of reclining. “Only if you lie down with me.”

  He’d do anything she wanted, as long as she was safe.

  Philomena lay in bed hours later, staring at the ceiling. She’d only slept a little. Even with the curtains drawn and all the lights off, there was too much daylight in the room. And she wasn’t tired, just emotionally drained.

  Plus every time she closed her eyes, she saw the look in the Harvester’s eyes when she’d stabbed him.

  Shocked.

  She was still shocked she’d done it.

  True, she hadn’t intended to kill him. But he’d bent over at just the wrong time. And he had planned to kill her.

  Her mind went in the same circles the entire time she lay there beside Ryder, who didn’t sleep at all.

  But he didn’t try to distract her from her thoughts, for which she was grateful. She needed to deal with this.

  Finally, he rolled onto his side, lifting one hand to touch her cheek. She turned her face toward him.

  “The first time I killed someone in the military, I puked my guts out for an hour,” he said softly. “Sure, I knew in my head the guy had a bomb strapped around his waist and he was coming for my patrol. But I was still sick over it. I was just a kid. He was even younger.” His fingers slid along her cheekbone. “I can see his face in my head, if I think about it.” His dark eyes searched hers. “But I’d do it all over, because it was him or me. I had no choice. Neither did you.”

  Her eyes stung at his words, and she rolled into him, letting him hold her against his heart, which beat steadily under her hand. “I know that in my head. I do, Ryder,” she whispered. “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I know.” He took a deep breath. “We need to get dressed and go get some supper.” He ignored the way she shook her head. “Then we’re going to come back here, and I’m going to distract you from all thoughts of today for as long as I possibly can.” He kissed her lightly. “Come on.” He shoved the blankets off and sat up, pulling her along.

  Philomena unzipped her suitcase and pulled out clean clothes, dressing slowly. To keep herself distracted, she watched Ryder do the same. When she reached for her dagger, though, to put it into her boot, she realized the dagger needed cleaning.

  “I’ll do it.” He was only half-dressed, but he took her leg sheath into the bathroom, closing the door firmly.

  She inhaled unsteadily and reached for the television remote. Another distraction. She watched the weather forecast for several minutes, then changed the channel, and again, pressing the ‘channel up’ button on the remote. A local newscast was on, and the perky blonde behind the desk smiled while she talked about a bus driver strike in a nearby school district.

  But she didn’t see anything about the Harvester’s body being found.

  Which meant no one had discovered him. Yet.

  Ryder came out of the bathroom with her dagger. “I’ll have to give it a more thorough cleaning later, but it’s good for now.” He tucked it into her boot, then straightened, frowning. “Why are you watching the news?”

  She shrugged. “Just surfing.”

  He turned the television off, sighing. “All right.” He went to his coat and pulled a wallet from his pocket.

  Philomena gaped at him as he pawed through it, watching him discard a driver’s license, credit cards on the bed. “Where did you get that?”

  “When I moved him.” He shook his head. “Nothing here indicates a family, but we’ll make sure.” He booted up his laptop and fired off an email to Danny and copied Carys. Even if she’d left for the day, she’d deal with this. “There.” He met her gaze, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. “Do you feel better now?”

  She
didn’t know what to think. Ryder would’ve killed the man himself if he’d been able, but to humor her, he was having his office find out if the Harvester had a family.

  She swallowed around a new lump in her throat. “You’re a very nice man, Ryder Ware,” she said softly.

  He bent to kiss her. “I know. A real saint.” He grinned and stepped back. “I need a shirt, or we’ll never get served.”

  Philomena ignored the way her heart raced as he pulled on a clean shirt, then turned to her suitcase and pulled out a cardigan.

  “You’re going to need a new jacket.” His expression was more somber now.

  She swallowed. Didn’t want to think about that. “Are you ready?”

  Ryder nodded and held out his hand to her.

  She went, sliding her fingers into his. She badly needed a distraction, and not just from the day’s events, but from the way her emotions were tangled up over him.

  Ryder devoured his burger and fries, and half the fries on the extra plate he’d ordered while Mena picked at her salad and took tiny sips of her soup. He made a mental note to stop and buy some sodas and snack food to take back to their room with them in case she decided she was hungry later. He didn’t tell her she should eat, though he wanted to. When she’d been sick earlier, he was pretty sure she’d lost not only her lunch but her breakfast, too.

  But he remembered how he’d felt after his first, too. Food hadn’t been on his mind either.

  Still watching Mena, he ordered a slice of cherry pie when the waitress returned to check on them.

  She stared into her salad, occasionally spearing a vegetable on her fork, or lifting her cup of chicken corn chowder to take another sip.

  He wondered when she’d realize the cup in her tattoo had changed colors again.

  He thanked the waitress when she returned with his dessert, hiding a smile. He’d realized the goblet was no longer silver when he’d been drying her off after the shower. It was pink now, a pale, pale pink in the midst of all the vivid flowers and the shiny green snake.

  It probably wouldn’t be today. Maybe not even tomorrow, unless he pointed it out.

  He grinned into his pie and whipped cream.

  “That’s a scary smile,” Mena said.

  He met her gaze and let his grin widen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  A tiny smile touched her lips, almost reaching her eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Okay.” He scooped up a big bite of pie and stuffed it into his mouth.

  She shook her head and dropped her fork into her salad bowl, the smile a little bigger now, though she was still too pale.

  He’d take care of that later, too.

  Savoring the pie, he ate every bite, though he did offer the last one to Mena, who shook her head, wrinkling her nose.

  “What’s your favorite dessert?” he asked, setting his empty plate aside and resting his forearms on the edge of the table.

  She gave him a quizzical look, a tiny frown line appearing between her brows. “My favorite dessert?” When he nodded, she shifted her gaze to his shoulder, thinking. “Hm, fresh fruit with homemade ice cream on top,” she said after a moment, meeting his gaze. “There’s a farm market near home, and in the summer, we buy whatever they picked that day, then go home and make ice cream to go with it for dessert.” Her smile was faraway.

  Ryder’s heart squeezed. They’d have to find a place to live where they could do the same thing. After all this was over and he finally persuaded her they should be together forever.

  Philomena smiled at Jason’s chatter when they got back to the motel. She sat on the foot of the bed, cross-legged. “You did not,” she said, teasing him.

  “I did, too. Ask Gramma. She was there. Danny said I’m a good fisherman.”

  “How big was this fish again?” She smiled again when Ryder winked at her from his spot at the table, where he’d dug out his kit and was polishing her dagger, resharpening the blade.

  “Huge. At least six inches long.”

  “Wow, that’s enormous.” She shut her eyes and concentrated on her nephew, rather than the rasping sounds of dagger against whetstone.

  “I know. I wish you coulda seen it. But it tasted real good.”

  She laughed. “I’ll have some the next time, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I guess. You wanna talk to Gramma? She’s waitin’ here.”

  “Okay. I love you, buddy. Be good, okay?”

  “Love you, too, Aunt Phila. Bye!”

  She blinked against the stinging in her eyes.

  “Hello, Philomena.”

  “Hi, Mom. So how big was this fish?”

  Her mother laughed. “For a six-year-old, pretty big. I’ll email you the pictures later, so you can see him.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat.

  “What’s wrong, Philomena?”

  She swallowed hard. “I just miss you guys.” She couldn’t tell her mother about her afternoon. Aggie was strong, but Philomena wasn’t sure her mother was strong enough to deal with that. “I’m so glad we got to see you.”

  Her mother sighed, but let the subject drop, shifting the conversation to other things.

  Philomena was pacing the room by the time she hung up, the Harvester’s face behind her eyes again. Ryder’s hand flashed out and caught the back of her shirt, dragging her into his lap.

  “Hey.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “You all right?”

  She shook her head, but when she would have pushed to her feet, he wrapped his arm around her waist and held on.

  “Then it must be time for the distraction I promised you earlier.” He nipped at her earlobe, startling her and sending a rush of warmth sliding along her veins.

  She inhaled shakily. “I’m not sure that’s going to...oh!”

  His big hand slid under her shirt to catch her breast, stroking the tip until it hardened against his fingers. “Really?” He pinched the taut peak, and all her nerve endings came to life. “I’ll have to try harder.” He shifted his hand to her other breast, and when he stopped for a moment, she was panting.

  “Ryder?”

  “Hm?” He licked the tender spot beneath her ear while he gently squeezed her swollen breasts.

  She shut her eyes, leaning against his shoulder.

  “How’s that distraction working for you?” he teased, dragging his open mouth along her jaw.

  “So far, so good.”

  He laughed, then pushed to his feet and turned her in his arms so he could capture her mouth.

  She gave herself up to him, letting him strip her clothing off amid gentle strokes of his hard fingers over her pliant flesh. Accepted demanding kisses that obliterated any other thoughts from her mind.

  Fire raced through her when he finally stretched out over her, flesh to flesh. He’d already stroked her to climax twice, and his hard flesh burned against her belly now.

  “Please, Ryder,” she whispered into his mouth.

  “Since you asked so nicely,” he growled, lifting his hips away so he could wedge the tip of his cock into her wet sheath, the blunt head stretching her, then sliding deep.

  She gasped when he settled fully inside her.

  He grinned. “Better?”

  She nodded, her breath coming too fast.

  He nudged the tip of her nose with his, then kissed her again, lazily this time. As his hips began to move, sliding slowly backward, then pushing deep, over and over, never faster, until she wanted to scream with the pleasure.

  Finally, he pressed one finger over her clit, just hard enough to push her over the edge.

  Then he did it again.

  When Ryder finally let go, Philomena had lost count of her climaxes. He’d turned her brain to dust, so all it was capable of doing was maintaining basic life functions, such as breathing and pumping blood, and both of those much too quickly.

  She felt sweat dampening her hair beneath her, the moisture between their bodies, the wetness on his sp
ine when she dragged her fingers along his strong back.

  He kissed her once more, lightly this time. “How was that? For a starter?”

  She laughed breathlessly, then moaned when he sucked on her collarbone. “A starter? Are you kidding?”

  “Give me a couple minutes,” he murmured against her throat.

  Philomena smiled up at the ceiling.

  Ryder’s mouth slid lower, finding her breast, its tight tip.

  She sucked in a quick breath at the renewed sensation rushing to her womb, making her inner muscles clench hard.

  “Yep,” he teased. “Just a starter.”

  She shut her eyes and gave in. The man was determined. And sexy as hell.

  Not to mention occupying a large space in her heart.

  Her eyes flew open at that thought, her fingers tightening on his shoulders.

  Oh Gods, she couldn’t.

  She was afraid she had.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ryder woke in the wee hours when Mena shifted beside him, whimpering. He knew he couldn’t distract her forever. He rolled onto his side, curving his body around hers. “Mena.” He brushed one hand down her arm. “It’s just a dream, baby.”

  She jerked against his hold, a faint moan passing her lips.

  “Wake up, honey.” He gave her a gentle shake.

  She came awake on a sharp cry, jolting upright.

  “Come here.” He sat up and pulled her into his arms.

  She panted against his skin, and hot tears dripped onto his collarbone.

  “Easy, honey. It’s just a bad dream.” He held her tight while she shivered.

  Her fingers dug into his arms.

  “I’ve got you. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He pressed his lips to her hair. He’d make sure none of the rest of those fuckers hurt her either.

  When her breathing steadied, he tipped her chin up and kissed her, lightly.

  “Would you hold me a while?” she asked.

  “Anytime you want.” He rolled onto his back, drawing her with him so she sprawled on top of him, then adjusted the blankets to cover her fully. “Better?”