His to Protect: A Fireside Novel (11 page)

“What is it?”

I swallowed my trepidation and my nerves. For once in my life, I was going to go after what I wanted.

What I desired.

Something good for me.

Consequences be damned.

I licked my lips and watched his eyes drop to follow the movement, and then I took a shaky step forward. “I want you to know,” I whispered, rolling onto my toes and placing one hand on his shoulder to steady myself, “that I want to explore this with you, too.”

Before he could respond, I brushed my lips against his cheek, tasting him for the very first time.

It was like what I imagined a first hit of heroin would be. Head-spinning.

I was even more unsteady as I let him go, rolling back off my toes.

I’d taken one step away when his arm snapped out and was at my back, pulling me flush against him.

“Can’t tease me with just a tiny taste like that, sweetheart.” One side of his lips curved up just as his mouth descended, slowly, giving me time to pull away. I didn’t.

I leaned closer, my breath coming in short, panted spurts.

“What do you want, then?” I whispered.

“Just a kiss. Just one more kiss.” His head tilted and his lips brushed against mine. I gasped on an inward breath at the delicious way his slightly unshaven beard scraped my heated skin. His lips were soft but firm, gentle but commanding. Then his lips pressed against mine more firmly.

And I was tasting him, the tip of his tongue brushing against mine. I was floating on the clouds, falling…flying.

“Declan,” I whispered, finding my hands gripping his waist.

A rush flowed through me. I savored every moment, every taste of him, and every touch of his tongue against mine.

It was the best kiss.

It was the best feeling in the world when a low groan slipped from his throat. I was affecting this large, powerful man.

I shivered, pressed myself more firmly against him. His hands at my back glided upward until they were clasped at the back of my neck.

I melted into him, loving the feel of his hands on me. So strong and possessive, yet so gentle. As if he knew exactly what I needed and wanted nothing more than to give it. To me.

The kiss went on far too long, and ended much too soon.

I swallowed and opened my eyes to see Declan’s dark-brown eyes on mine. My gaze dropped to his lips as he licked them.

“I think I’m going to need more than that,” he said, lips stretching into that grin I’d been seeing all day. “But for now, you need your sleep.”

He reached around me, wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and pushed open my door.

“In you go, before I go back on my word and push you further than we should go tonight.”

My lips twitched, fighting a grin, and my fingertips pressed against my lips. I wanted to seal the taste of him into my skin.

I looked at him, opened my mouth to tell him that if he walked through that door with me, he wouldn’t be pushing me past anything I didn’t want to give him, but I changed my mind at the last moment.

The kiss was huge.

It changed everything.

If we decided to move forward, I wanted to ensure I wasn’t making another colossal mistake.

“Good night,” I whispered, shuffling past him into the room.

“I’ll bring Boomer up to you after I take him out.”

I nodded my thanks and peeled my eyes off him when he lingered a bit too long in the doorway, as if walking away from me was a physical weight he didn’t want to move.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he finally said, and stepped back, pulling the door closed.

I barely had enough energy to strip off my clothes and change into my pajamas before I collapsed on top of the bed. I fell asleep before I could rethink the most beautiful kiss I’d ever received.

When I woke up, Boomer was sleeping at the foot of my bed, and I was no longer on top of the covers, the way I was when I fell asleep, but tucked firmly under them, making it clear that even while I was sleeping, Declan wanted to take care of me.

“This better be good,” I grumbled into my cellphone. I’d just been woken up by my obnoxious ringtone, and my voice was scratchy and dry.

Tyson’s chuckle vibrating in my ear made me perk my ass right up.

“What is it?”

“You are in deep shit,” he said, the laughter evaporating with a breath.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and jumped to my feet.

Not even forty-eight hours ago, Tyson left my house after promising he’d do what he could to look into Kevin Morgenson
III.
Damn, what kind of narcissistic prick actually had numbers after his name?

Arrogant name aside, I hadn’t been expecting Tyson to call me about him this early on Monday—just hours after I’d finally fallen asleep.

And I was more than pissed that he’d just interrupted the dream I was having of Trina. Her thighs straddling mine, her head thrown back in pleasure as I sank into her from beneath her. Her nails digging into my chest. Her hips rocking against mine. The curve of her back when I took her from behind. The brief kiss we shared last night had unleashed deeply buried desires I’d been harboring, but hadn’t let myself admit.

When I finally fell asleep, they rushed through me with hurricane-force winds.

Hell, I even had to take a cold shower before finally climbing into my bed. My dick had hardened at the sight of her sprawled on her stomach on her bed. The soft little noises she made when she was totally passed out made it impossible not to think of sex and fucking. Touching her to move her under the sheets almost snapped my self-control.

“I called in some favors first thing yesterday, and my contacts have filled me in on a wealth of information about your precious Trina’s husband.”

I sneered at the word.

He was no husband.

I rubbed my hand over my head, feeling the prickle of hair that needed to be shaved, and clasped the back of my neck. “And?”

“And the guy’s a fucking piece of work is what. But all the bullshit he’s pulled and then gotten hidden by state police over the years isn’t why I’m calling.”

I pressed my tongue against my teeth to keep from snapping at my friend. Patience was never my strong suit.

“Listen,” he said, quieting his voice. “I gotta ask before I tell you this. You sure this is the woman you want to throw down for?”

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Blackwell?” I growled. Hell. I didn’t know if it pissed me off that he had the guts to ask me that, or if I was pissed that I’d thought the same exact damn question after hearing about her husband.

Trina didn’t come with baggage.

She came with a convoy of troubles, and probably issues I hadn’t yet discovered.

Unwrapping her, getting her to a good place—a safe and emotionally healthy place—could take a long time.

But that fucking kiss.

That kiss last night itself was enough to make me know what I wanted.

“Morgenson’s in the wind.”

All my breath whooshed out of my chest in one large exhale. “What the fuck?”

“Yep. Asshole’s gone. No one has seen or heard from him in a week.”

Fuck.

“Which means he’s looking,” I said, knowing that’s where Tyson’s train of thought was headed.

“We’ll find him.” Confidence rang rich in his voice. It did little to quell the rage that was beginning to build in me. Fear. Not for me, but for Trina and what would happen if she ran into the asshole again. “But it’s going to take some time. You got somewhere you can take off to for a while? Maybe Arizona to see your parents?”

Beautiful idea. Not gonna happen, but I still grinned when I thought of my mom meeting Trina. She was the kind of woman my mom could relate to.

“I can’t get someone to cover the restaurant that long,” I admitted, my reluctance clear. “But I can get her away for a couple days.”

“Not sure that’s gonna help, but I’ll pressure the guys here to start searching. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Pressure in my chest. Uncertainty a stampede in my gut. I felt sick.

“Yeah.” I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck again before dropping my hand. It curled into a fist as if danger was knocking on my door. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“I’m putting myself at risk of deep shit for this, Dec. I gotta ask again. She worth it?”

I wanted to throw in his face that he got involved with Blue when she was his damn undercover target. Was she worth it? Not that I said shit then. I saw the man before he introduced her to me. Just the way he said her name was proof enough.

The certainty in Trina’s eyes last night when she stepped toward me and said she wanted what I did popped into my mind.

There was no other answer to give except, “Yeah, asshole. I’m sure.”

“That’s all I need. Let me know where you’re going and when you’ll be back once you get a plan together. Based on how long Morgenson’s been gone, I wouldn’t wait.”

Fucking hell.

Before I could reply, he ended the call and silence echoed in my ear.

I hit the End button and tossed the phone onto my bed before heading to the shower and getting ready for the day.

I’d give my assistant manager, Mac, a little bit of time to wake up before I gave him a call to let him know I’d be out of town. I hoped that by then I’d know where we were going.

And that Trina had agreed to come with me.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Trina asked, her knee bouncing in the passenger seat.

My hand curled around the steering wheel of her old convertible as we drove west on I-94, headed directly for Chicago. I shrugged, twisting my hands around the wheel again. Fuck it. I needed to touch her. Soothe her.

Comfort her.

The more I was around her the more it felt like this was what I was meant to do—protect this woman.

“Mac can handle Fireside Grill,” I said, reaching over and taking her hand. I tried not to cringe about that phone call I had to make this morning. My assistant manager essentially gave me the same shit Tyson had, with only one-tenth of the information, but it’s not as if people hadn’t figured out I had a soft spot for Trina, with her working in my office and serving tables without actually being hired.

I figured being the boss gave me the right to break a few rules here and there.

“I meant taking off like this.”

“Chicago’s a bigger city,” I explained, although we’d been over this. My plan was a quick, two-day, three-state trip.

Sell her car in Chicago. Take the train to Milwaukee. Ferry back to Michigan and drive home. With the cash from selling her car at whatever shady car lot we could find, she was going to buy a new car in Milwaukee. At the very least, selling the car in Chicago would send Morgenson hours out of his way if he’d had any idea she was in Detroit.

“I can’t believe you’re doing all this for me.”

Her surprise made me cringe. This wasn’t a big deal. Any decent man would do something like this, even if he wasn’t thinking about getting into a woman’s pants.

Or under her skirt, since Trina came out of her room today dressed in some flowing, floor-scraping, skirt-dress type of thing.

I had no idea what it was called, but it kept her almost fully covered.

I despised it.

I wanted to rip it off her.

Her disbelief at a man’s kindness was just one more reminder, a red flag, that Trina hadn’t had a decent man in her life to show her the way, though.

It was that thought that made me grit my teeth together, and I glared through the windshield.

“And Boomer will be okay?” she asked, turning to face me. Fear and exhaustion lined her eyes, and it wasn’t from lack of sleep.

This woman was tired. Tired of her life, tired of running.

I didn’t blame her.

“I swear to you, sweetheart, Blue is always at Tyson’s house and will treat the large oaf like he’s her child. She doesn’t have an unkind bone in her body.”

“You’re right.” She sucked in a breath and squeezed my hand, entwining our fingers together. “I’m just worried.”

“I know, but Boomer isn’t something to be worried about. He’s in good hands and he’ll be safe. Just like Tyson and I will ensure you will be, too.”

She rolled her lips as if wanting to say something, then changed her mind. With her free hand, she leaned forward and began flicking through the radio stations.

I let her have the distraction.

“What are you doing?” I asked when she settled on a station that sounded like squawking. Horrific, tinny, squawking. Squawking like a flock of birds dying a slow and painful death.

“It’s country music.”

“Uh, no.” I was teasing her. I couldn’t care less what she listened to, even if I might need to bleach that sound out of my brain later.

“Uh, yes,” she said, turning to me with wide eyes. “You drive, I choose the music. If you’d let me drive—”

“No chick drives a car when a man is in it. It’s un-American.”

“Then the passenger gets to choose the music. It’s only fair, and fortunately for you, you’re in luck,” she teased back. “Because I’m patriotic and country music is the most American thing you can listen to.”

I thought of a thousand rock bands that were more American than the crap making my ears bleed. The Doors, Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Rolling Stones, just to name a few off the top of my head.

“Whatever. I’ll deal.” I looked back out the front window, keeping my eyes ahead.

But a smile stretched my lips as her light, tinkling laughter filled the car, making the country bullshit she was forcing on me bearable.

Almost.

Trina eyed the check in my hand and I watched her fighting back tears.

“This is the smartest thing you can do.” I draped my arm over her shoulders, pressing her to me. “If he’s following you, you know he’s got someone trying to find your car.”

“I know.” She sniffed and nodded, swiping her fingertips over her cheek. “I’ve had that darn car for so long, it’s hard to say goodbye.” She looked up at me, eyes glimmering with more tears, and whispered, “Boomer and that car are the only things I have…from before.”

Which explained why she was driving a car several years old and not brand-new. I would have thought Kevin wouldn’t want her in anything except the best. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe she drove something better around town in Kentucky. But the fact that she kept hold of this one thing just proved how much fight she had in her when it was important. I never wanted to ask about the car before, but hearing it from her then made it feel like a wrench was tightening around my heart.

I held out the check we’d just gotten for her car. With as much as it was, she could buy anything she wanted. “Think of this as a fresh start. Leave everything behind”—I smiled—“except for Boomer, and move on from the past.”

“Right.” A spark of determination gleamed in her shining eyes and she wiped away more tears. “We’re moving on.”

I pushed down my smile. “Yeah, we are.”

Because we were. Together. At least for now, and if she continued to make me feel the way I had every minute since I’d met her, I was hoping it was for a lot longer than just a brief moment in time.

A taxi pulled into the run-down dealership we’d found in East Chicago. I hadn’t wanted to go too far into the city with the car, and I figured that if she’d come up this direction from Kentucky, she would have been on a similar route. I was hoping that once we sold her vehicle at some dumpy dealership willing to give us half what the car was worth, it’d make it that much more difficult for Kevin to find her.

So we ditched the car, but needed a way to get to the Loop in downtown Chicago, where we would catch a train to Milwaukee at Union Station.

It was only three o’clock, and the last train to Milwaukee didn’t leave until eight at night, giving us some time to kill in the city before we headed to our next destination. We could have rushed it and tried to catch an earlier train, but I also wanted to take some time—even if it was just a few hours—to give Trina a break from the worry and fear I knew she was feeling.

“So,” I said, dropping my hand from her shoulder to grab her hand. I started walking toward the waiting taxi and looked down at her. “Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to see in Chicago?”

She shrugged, one side of her upper lip curling. “Not really. I’ve always pictured it as a big, dirty, cement jungle.”

I barked out a laugh and pulled her against me. She almost tripped, and her free hand landed on my stomach.

“What?” she asked, eyes wide and looking up at me.

The sun hit her eyes, making her light-brown eyes sparkle like they were spun from gold.

“Chicago’s not ugly.” I pushed down the burgeoning lust I felt every time she smiled at me and opened the rear door of the taxi for her. “It’s beautiful and perfect. The best city anywhere in the world.”

“Even better than Latham Hills?” Her eyes lit with wonder and amusement.

God, I loved that she loved my city.

“Trust me,” I told her, leaning in and brushing my lips against hers. I didn’t know if she felt the same need and desire as me, but I hadn’t been able to keep my lips off her today. Small, teasing brushes of my lips against her skin, anywhere I could taste her. She hadn’t pushed me away, though. “Let me prove you wrong.”

She squeezed my hand with hers and leaned in, our noses brushing against each other. “I do trust you,” she finally whispered, her lips lingering just a breath away from my own.

And it was that moment, with the taxi pulling into Chicago’s rush-hour afternoon traffic—because it was always rush hour here—and her golden eyes fixed on mine, letting me see the pure sincerity in her four simple words, that I completely fell for her.

The outside of Reglatti’s Pizzeria was less than impressive, but it was the location and food inside that kept the small restaurant crammed full at almost all hours of the day. Just a half block south of Wrigley Field on Ashland Avenue, Reglatti’s was famous to local Chicagoans for their delicious, deep-dish pizza, as well as their own form of Sicilian pizza that had an exceptionally light crust. Just before four on Monday, the place had a steady stream of customers and very few tables available, although there wasn’t yet a line.