Soft Target (21 page)

“When you’re finished with him—”

Fuck it. Maggie flicked her wrist, sending the watery remnants of her whiskey splashing into Kate’s face, washing away the smirk and leaving trails of ruined blush and mascara. And lightning didn’t strike her dead. The people nearest her were staring, most of them in shock, but no one else noticed.

“There you are,” Gray purred. “I think it’s time we left, don’t you, Badger?”

With Kate’s sputters gathering volume, Maggie stared into his flawless smile and serene eyes. “I was coming to the same conclusion.”

Once outside, she buried her smile in his jacket. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Me neither,” he said. “What got into you?”

“She called you a gigolo. She said you couldn’t be a good attorney if you’d decided to do...that instead.”

“Well, as a gigolo, I make a pretty good attorney.” He leaned back so she could see as much as feel his laughter. “Why do you let her torment you?”

Again, she struggled for a way to explain her family culture. “Is it better to be the target or the tormentor?” When he frowned at the question, she resorted to basic civics. “Two roads to power—money and information—yeah? People usually have one or the other. Having both means—”

“Plutocracy.”

“Exactly. It’s a small town. People talk, and I’ve been listening most of my life. My
job
is to listen. Think about the secrets you hear as part of your job. What if you’d heard them at age ten?”

“Ten?”

“My grandmother was dying. She knew there wasn’t anyone else to take the place she’d made for herself in the company. I had to step in, and I had to learn to keep my mouth shut and my temper under control. Any attempt to stand up for myself would have made me a bully.” She looked into his disbelieving stare. “You asked me why I don’t change things. I know secrets about everyone in town. It would be easy to whisper, to manipulate, to push. Hell, I’m naturally pushy, as you well know. But in the long run, what would I win?”

“What changed tonight?”

“I’ll be damned if someone’s going to insult you.”

“I’ve never had a woman stand up for me.” The arch of his eyebrow added to his teasing tone.

“Get used to it.” She winked at him as they began walking to the car.

“I’m not complaining,” he said.

On impulse, she rose on tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for coming tonight. This was fun.”

“It’s almost like before,” he murmured. They’d reached the car, but he didn’t open the door. Instead he turned her to face him.

“I’m the same guy, Maggie.” He brushed his fingers down her cheek as he lowered his head toward hers.

His rich scent filled her senses, making her dizzy and hollow with hunger as his lips claimed hers and she sighed a welcome. Strong hands traveled her body, searching like he was trying to open a present.

The kiss grew more demanding, and she met him stroke for stroke and gasp for gasp. When his knee slid between hers, she ignored the alarm bells in her head and settled against him, letting his warmth soak through the rest of her.

He wasn’t the same. He was better.

Pulling her closer, he slid his lips along her jaw. His erection nudged her thigh as his whole body brushed hers, delighting her with pressure and friction against the neediest parts of her. It was sex standing up and fully clothed. It was heaven.

“God, baby, please.” His rasping whisper in her ear finished melting her, and the continued friction of their bodies set her aflame. She slipped her hands under his jacket and joined the play. A whimper escaped and broke the cage around her heart. It became a chorus, then it became a duet.

The valet’s discreet cough yanked them both to their senses. Graham stilled their bodies, but his fingers continued stroking the flimsy fabric between them.

Be selfish.
“Graham—”

“I know.” He sighed. “I guess we could play Scrabble. Penny a point?”

Separate pools of heat gathered under his fingertips, scorching the fabric and spreading through her body.
What do you want to do?

“Have you ever played strip Scrabble?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Strip
Scrabble. Gray shifted in the driver’s seat and glanced at his quiet passenger. Maggie was nibbling on her thumbnail and looking everywhere but at him.

“How does that work, exactly?” he croaked.

“I don’t know. I just made it up.”

God love a woman with imagination. “We’ll need rules. Points are totaled after each round. Lowest score loses. What about socks?”

“If we do both at the same time, the game will be over too quickly.”

That didn’t feel like such a bad idea.

She continued. “One sock at a time. Same with shoes. What about double and triple letters?”

“They’re too common.” He ran a finger from her wrist to her shoulder. “But double words mean touching.”

“As long as you win the round,” she whispered the reasonable condition in a husky voice. Leaning closer in the dark, she nipped his ear then tormented the spot with her tongue. “And triple words mean tasting.”

That sound was
not
a whimper.

“Evil woman.” He took advantage of her position, skimming one finger along the seam of her ass. “You’ll look amazing naked.”

She gasped in his ear. “You’re assuming you’ll win.”

“I have a large vocabulary.”

She ran her fingers up his zipper. “I noticed.”

His tie was too tight, and the air-conditioning had stopped working. Their breaths rasped through the car. They’d play later. They weren’t going to get the tiles out the bag. They might not make it into the house. He imagined her in the backseat, or on the hood of the car, her screams echoing from the garage walls and cement floor.

She stroked him again and smiled against his jaw. “I’ll bet you’re delicious.”

They weren’t going to make it home. He batted the turn indicator up, signaling a detour to the shoulder. Her lusty laugh bounced around them.

But when he tapped the brake, nothing happened. He swerved back to the road. A harder push still didn’t slow them. Neither did pressing his foot all the way to the floor.

“Get in your seat, please.” He thought he sounded calm, but he must have been wrong because she did it without argument.

He pumped the useless pedal again. “The brakes are out.”

She dialed the phone and issued terse directions to the dispatcher. Rubber squealed on asphalt as they sluiced through turns and crossed the center line. Thank God it was late enough there wasn’t any oncoming traffic. Blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror and tinted her pale face and his white knuckles.

“I’m going to try the emergency brake. We’ll never make that last turn.”

She wrapped her hand around the door handle. “The one with the big stone wall?”

No screaming, no tears.
That’s my girl.

He pulled the brake and the wheels tore loose as the car fishtailed. A movie stunt played in his head, where he was able to spin the car so his side took the impact. It wasn’t going to happen that way. She was going to be hurt. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t break her again.

He let go of the useless wheel and fought the safety belt to pull her to him, putting his hand between her beautiful face and the shattering windows. They slammed to a stop in a pile of airbags against a tree, and he heard sirens instead of angels and harps. Then everything went dark.

* * *

Maggie balanced on the hard stool as the ambulance pitched around every curve on the road to town. Hannah Charles, the EMT, worked opposite her. Between them, Graham was pale and still on the gurney. His feet dangled off the end, and his tuxedo pants were stark against the bright white sheet. Just like the blood on his white shirt. Sand and baking powder from the airbag dusted his hair and eyelashes, and clotted in the ripped flesh of his left hand.

As the monitor beeped a steady pulse, she stared at his dark lashes and willed his eyes to open. “Are you sure he’s okay, Hannah? He didn’t rebreak anything?”

“Not that I can tell. We’ll know more once Doctor Simon gets a look at him.”

The hand around hers tightened to the point of pain, and Maggie smiled into Gray’s wide stare. “I’m fine, Graham.”

The ambulance rolled around another corner, and she hissed as stiffening muscles protested her need for balance.

“You’re bloody.” His deep, rumbling voice brought tears of relief to her eyes.

“It’s yours. The glass from the window cut your hand.”

He struggled to sit up, but she pushed him back to the mattress and kept him pinned. “We’re on the way to the hospital. Lie still, baby. Please.”

The monitor’s beep increased to a staccato rhythm as he grasped her hand. If possible, he paled more, and his breath rushed through his thin lips.

“I hate ambulances,” he whispered.

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” she replied in the same tone, ignoring her blue, tingling fingers. “We’re almost there.”

Nodding, he closed his eyes, and kept them closed until they reached the hospital. The orderlies tugged the gurney, and Maggie let him go. He flailed for her like a drowning man.

Leaping down, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming, she ran after them and caught hold again. They wheeled him into a curtain-shrouded space.

“Room,” he struggled for the word. “Safer.”

“Get us in a room,” she barked.

“Maggie,” the nurse cooed. “You know the rules. Now why don’t you—”

“Fuck the rules, Sheila. I raised the money for this ward, and you
will
find my husband a
room.
Now.”

The woman’s mouth dropped open, but she nodded and directed the orderlies to the nearest room. She bustled in behind them. “Maggie, let’s take you for X-rays.”

Graham tightened his grip, and Maggie squeezed in return. “I’m not leaving him. Call Rex Simon.”

“Doctor Simon isn’t—”

“Wake him up,” Maggie ordered.

Sheila left the room, and Graham struggled upright, pushing her hand away as she fought to keep him down. “I’m fine, Badger,” he said as pulled her to his side and draped his arm around her shoulders. Both of them gasped in pain. “The car?”

“Totaled. Glen and Marco are going over it now. He’ll let us know what he finds.”

Slumping against each other, they stared at the door and waited. When it opened, Graham pushed himself in front of her, wobbling on his feet.

“Hey, Rex,” he muttered as he stepped aside and fell back to the gurney.

“Hello,” the surgeon replied. “Let’s see which of you is worse.” He glanced between them, and pointed at Graham. “And we have a winner.”

Rex surveyed Graham’s left hand. Swallowing the bile building at her throat, Maggie sat next to her husband as he flexed his fingers and stared at the ripped skin.

“We’ll get you stitched up, and then we’ll do X-rays,” Rex explained as he reached for a hypodermic.

Graham shook his head. “No sedatives, I need to—”

Maggie turned his face to hers. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

* * *

Hours later, Maggie stifled her gasp as she shifted in the patrol car’s front seat and stared at Graham, stretched out in the back. The hospital had told her he was fine, but what if he had a concussion?

“Do you need help with him?” Max asked.

She blinked, realizing they were stopped in the driveway.

She keyed in the garage code, and stood inside the door as Max pulled into the empty bay.

“If you can get one shoulder, I’ll get the other.” She opened the back door. “Don’t pull on his left arm. Get under his right one, please.”

She fumbled with the keys and kicked the door open “Thanks, Max. I’ve got it from here.”

As the patrol car left, she disarmed the security system while Graham trudged through the kitchen and down the hall. Following him, she stood in the doorway as he dropped onto the edge of the bed and let his head flop backward. “Come out for vacation, he said. It’ll be
fun,
he said.”

Her heart broke into tiny pieces as she unlaced his shoes and stripped his socks. It was her fault he was banged up and exhausted. It was her fault he was here at all. “How about a shower and then a pain pill?”

He pawed his buttons. “I hate being drugged.”

The little boy whine undid her. “Just this once, okay? I don’t want you to hurt.” She pushed his hand down and stripped him of his shirt. The shadowed lamplight trailed down the muscles of his chest and abdomen, across his shoulders and biceps. He was fit, lean and strong. Someone who worked instead of someone who haunted the gym.

“Not how I hoped tonight would end.” He smiled as he shooed her away. “I’m used to doing things with one hand. I’ll yell if I need you.”

She scurried to the other end of the house and showered, shampooing her hair until the water spattering the tile was clear. By the time she’d put on fresh clothes and fed the kitten, Graham’s room was quiet. She tapped on the door.

“I’m decent,” he called.

She opened the door to find him in bed with rumpled sheets across his waist. His torso was bare.

“Even your grin is indecent, you flirt.” She teased while she straightened his blankets. His icy temperature served as a distraction from the flip in her stomach. “Why are you so cold?”

“Shower.” The loopy grin returned. His pain medication was kicking in. “Where’s my ring?”

“In my purse with your cuff links.” Perching on the bed, she held his good hand and let its warmth reassure her of his safety. “You’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

“Kiss me and make it better.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, intending it to be quick and comforting. Instead, he anchored her to him as his tongue teased hers. He didn’t kiss like he was wounded.

She crawled onto the mattress, and he reached for her.

“
Ow!
Son of a bitch,” she cried as her shoulder buckled.

“Goddamn it. Fucking
ow!
” he snarled.

Resting against him, she waited for her pain to subside and for his breathing to return to normal. He combed shaky fingers through her hair.

“Well, that’s out of the question,” he grumbled.

“You should rest,” Maggie mumbled. But she didn’t move—not even when his breath slowed and his muscles relaxed. It felt too good to be here.

“Can I ask you something I’ve never had the nerve to ask Nate?” he asked.

She nodded against his shoulder, and his hand curved around her waist.

“What happened to your mother?”

“She got overwhelmed, so she left and never looked back.” She yawned. “I kinda get it now. Marriage is scary enough without adding all these expectations. And she was away from her family, with twins, and Dad worked
all
the time.” He had to understand she wouldn’t blame him when he left. “She wanted a different life.”

“Honey, she
left
you,” he mumbled as his eyes drooped closed. “Don’t you miss her?”

“Every day. We’ve written our grandparents for years, hoping she’d answer,” she confessed. “But she doesn’t, and we wouldn’t want her here if she was miserable.” She smiled as his breath deepened and his eyes stayed closed. “No one should be miserable, Graham.”

Softening her voice, staying in his arms, she told him happier stories of her adventures as a merry man with Nate as Robin Hood until she was sure he’d stay asleep. Then she straightened his blankets and propped his hand on a pillow.

She left his room for hers, only to look behind her into the dark house and quicken her pace when the floor squeaked. Pulling back the comforter, she climbed into the bed and closed her eyes—and jumped to her feet when the ice maker dumped its most recent load.
Silly. You’re safe. Graham won’t let anything happen to you.

Standing in the doorway, she looked down the hall and into the dark house. He was in a prescription-induced coma for the night. If he heard something, he’d try to protect her, but chances were he’d only be hurt worse. It was her turn to protect him.

Holding her breath and muffling her groans as her muscles protested, she returned to his room, pushed an armchair next to his nightstand and put his loaded weapon and a flashlight between her and the door. Pulling a blanket to her chin, she curled into a tight ball and went to sleep.

“Badger?”

She jerked upright, grabbing the pistol in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Nothing was coming at them. Turning, she faced Graham’s slight smile and tangled hair. The man was sexy even drugged and in pain.

“Are you all right?”

“I hurt like hell,” he rasped. “I was going to get some aspirin, but I didn’t want you to shoot me.”

“I’d probably miss when you passed out in the middle of the floor. Stay put. I’ll get them.”