Watch your six, boys. Always watch your six. ~ First Sergeant Michael “Mako” Tyne”
Gabe finished the never-ending police paperwork and glanced at the clock. Outside, the sun was still up—of course—but it was well past time to leave. At least Baumer wasn’t around. Since Audrey had heard the asshole scaremongering two weeks ago, the officer hadn’t done anything out of line, at least nothing Gabe had caught on camera.
Hell, Baumer wasn’t doing much of anything, in fact. He was a lazy bastard. He rarely did foot patrols, preferring to sit in comfort in the office or cruise the roads. During his shifts, he exerted only enough effort to keep from getting chewed out.
Made for an uncomfortable working environment. Politics or not, Gabe would give Baumer the boot before the man’s probation period ended.
Rising, Gabe stretched.
The library was closed on Thursdays, so Audrey was already at home. Last night, they’d picked the first strawberries from the Hermitage garden, and she wanted to try making strawberry shortcake from scratch.
His mouth watered. They had fresh asparagus and snap peas. Caz had fished yesterday and caught a salmon. But…strawberry shortcake to top it all off?
Over the past week, the city girl had dived into catching and growing her own food. She was an excellent cook, insisting that cooking was a simple matter of finding a good recipe and proper adherence to the details.
He smiled. Her personality was a fascinating mixture of brilliance and logic and enthusiasm and compassion.
Since last week when he’d made clear that they were together, she’d relaxed into their fling. She was pretty much living in his house.
And he wanted to get home to her.
Regina had left a couple of hours before and locked the building’s front door. Gabe latched the station’s inner door and secured the gun-safe.
At the back, he opened the door and glanced outside. Two cars remained in the parking lot. No people.
Taking a step out the door, he heard an indrawn breath. A scrape.
Instinct took over. He dove forward…and the blow aimed at his head struck his shoulder.
He front-rolled to his feet, spun, and drew his Glock. A baseball bat hit his hand and knocked the weapon to the ground. Someone kicked it across the lot.
Knuckles burning, Gabe assessed the situation.
Five men. They must’ve been hidden against the side of the building. All wore ski masks. All carried weapons. One baseball bat, one club, brass knuckles, two had knives.
All five charged.
Jesus. He dodged a club, gripped the guy’s wrist, and punched. As the elbow joint fractured, the man screamed. Gabe grabbed the club for his own, whirled—and caught a fist in the forehead. Ignoring the blast of pain, he ducked the swinging baseball bat and slammed the club into a knife-wielder’s knee.
Bellowing, that bastard went down.
A long burn seared Gabe’s upper back. The other knifeman had cut him.
With a dive and roll, Gabe broke free of the ring of men. Regaining his feet, he swiped away the blood impairing his vision.
Three left.
Gabe’s head and shoulder hurt. The bleeding from the knife wound was more urgent. He needed to finish this up.
As baseball bat guy charged, the other two attacked from the flanks. Ah, hell, they were coordinating their movements.
Gabe kicked one in the gut, but the bat caught him a blow on the head. Skull exploding with pain, he fell to his knees.
At a glint of metal, he threw up an arm barely in time to block the descending knife. Viciously, he punched the man’s vulnerable inner thigh.
With a shout of pain, the guy staggered back.
Growling, Baseball bat guy lunged forward—and suddenly yelled and spun to face the other way.
Gabe blinked. A knife stuck out of the man’s upper back.
With a shout of pain, the guy ripped the knife out and whipped around. The man took a step back, the blade dropped to the ground, and he sprinted away.
All of the assholes were running, one helping the man with a fractured knee. A vehicle revved its engine farther down the alley. They had an escape car waiting.
Head still spinning, Gabe sucked in air. He’d move in a minute. Yeah, a minute.
Caz sauntered over.
Fuck, that’d been close. “Thanks, bro.”
“No problemo.” Caz gave him a gleaming white grin. “You’d have managed the last two. The cabrón with the knife didn’t know which end was the pointy one.”
After accepting a hand up, Gabe looked over his shoulder. Blood covered his back. “I’d say he found the pointy end, thanks.”
Chuckling, Caz scooped up his knife. “Come, viejo. I happen to run a clinic with all sorts of nice bandaging materials.”
“There’s a plan.” After picking his Glock out of the gravel, Gabe scowled. “Dammit, I’m going to be late for supper.”
Audrey sang along with Green Day’s “21 Guns” as she measured out brown rice. The asparagus was cut and ready to steam. A salad was in the fridge. The salmon was prepared to go in the toaster oven to be broiled.
Everything waited for Gabe’s arrival.
Lillian had talked about being with a cop because the Brit had once dated a sheriff. Audrey grinned. Of course, she had. The woman embraced and sampled life with an enviable vigor. In an ice cream shop, Lillian was the type to ask for a taste of every flavor.
But from painful experience, Lillian had advised Audrey a law enforcement officer’s life wasn’t his own. He wouldn’t always be home on time or even be able to call and say he’d be late.
Audrey shook her head. Not a problem. She could make flexible-timed meals. And she was old enough to eat if she got hungry before he returned.
Twenty minutes later, she heard the garage door rise. His footsteps sounded in the hallway.
She stiffened. Gabe was normally so silent that he could be behind her before she sensed him, and he’d learned to speak to warn her before his touch warmed her skin.
The heavy thud of footsteps was out of character.
Worried, she hurried into the living room. “Gabe?”
He stepped out of the hallway.
His eyes held a cold darkness like a stark winter’s night. A gauze pad was taped on his forehead. Purple bruising showed around it. The lines in his face had deepened, roughening his face. He moved stiffly, without his usual smooth, prowling grace.
That wasn’t the khaki shirt he’d worn this morning.
She ran across the room and skidded to a stop in front of him. “Where are you hurt? How bad is it? You should go to a hospital. I’ll take you. Just let me get my purse. Show me where—”
“Sweetheart.” His eyes lightened. “I caught some damage, but nothing major.” As if to prove it, he drew her into his arms.
Yes, that was what she’d needed, although even as she breathed him in, her hands ran over his torso. The front seemed all right.
There was a big pad on his upper back under the shirt. Oh, God. “Tell me the damage. Now.”
“You saw my face. Got a few bruises. A slice on my back. And I got hit on the head—just a lump—but I do have a headache. Don’t worry. Caz stitched me up and gave me a once-over.”
He’d be all right. He would. She rubbed her cheek against his solid chest.
He chuckled, curved his fingers under her ass, and squeezed lightly. “After a fight like that, I’d’ve liked to screw the Goldilocks who’s sleeping in my bed, but…headache.”
A sputter of amusement hit her at his disgruntled tone. Yes, he was all right. “You sit down, and I’ll get some aspirin. No, I’ll get Tylenol. That’ll be safer if you’re bleeding.”
Smiling, he lifted her chin and bent to kiss her. “You are a miracle, sweetheart. Thank you.”
She got him on the sectional and medicated, then lost the argument about no beer after injuries.
As she passed him the bottle, she felt a cold chill in her bones. Even though he wasn’t badly hurt, he was awfully banged-up. Too banged-up.
Bull and Caz had often told stories about their brawling. Bull won by sheer size alone, Caz was never without a knife, Hawk was a berserker. In spite of their talents, they said Gabe won most of the fights because he was just that good of a fighter. She’d seen the efficient way he’d taken Knox down—and how unworried Bull had been.
She frowned. “Were you attacked by more than one?”
After a sip of beer, he eyed her. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m not stupid. I bet you wouldn’t be this hurt if you’d fought only one man. How many were there?”
When he didn’t answer, she tilted her chin up. He wouldn’t win this argument.
“Five.”
No way. She stared at him in mingled awe and horror. Five.
He laughed ruefully. “I’m not Chuck Norris, Goldilocks. I did all right with three, might have managed the fourth. It’s good Caz was still in the clinic and heard the noise.”
Heard the noise. This hadn’t been a bar fight. “Where did this happen?”
“Behind the station. They’d been flattened up against the back of the building so they could ambush me.” His mouth thinned. “I’ll be more careful. And I’ll put up a mirror so I can see what’s out there.”
“Caz joined the fight?”
“In a way. He stood in the doorway and took one out with a knife. He insists the reason he throws knives is because medics shouldn’t risk damaging their hands. Sure it is.”
Audrey tilted her head. “The reason sounds logical to me.”
“Except that he started pitching knives when he was around ten.”
Throwing sharp knives at that age? What had Mako been thinking? But, he’d taught his boys how to fight, and thank God for that.
She ran her tongue over her dry lips. Her heart seemed to have crammed into her throat, and she forced her voice to stay light. “The traditional saying is ‘you should see the other guy,’ How bad are the five other guys?”
Gabe set his beer down, pulled her against his side, and leaned his head against the couch back. “One got Caz’s blade in his back. One has a knee that’ll need surgery, same with another bastard’s elbow. The other two just have bruises.”
She put a hint of amusement into her words. “Oh, well, that’s not so bad.”
And then she swallowed against the bile trying to rise. Don’t throw up, don’t throw up.
Hours later, Gabe woke in bed. He was lying on his back, Audrey snuggled against his side. The cool night air from the lake ruffled the bedroom curtains and revealed the twilight glow. It must be sometime between midnight and 4 a.m.
Once his headache had eased up, Gabe had shared an amazing meal with Audrey. There’d been no recriminations or glares about being late. No telling him that the food was ruined. When he’d apologized, she’d laughed and said none of the meal was ruined from the delay.
Fuck, she’d been sweet. Had he ever had anyone care for him with such a loving mixture of practicality and worry?
After they’d eaten, she’d snuggled against him and picked a movie about a woman who wanted to be a spy. Light and funny. By the time it ended, the knots in his gut had disappeared.
Battles added up. Didn’t matter how much experience a man had, his body would react to pain and danger. It always took a while to descend from that adrenaline peak.
A shame he hadn’t gotten to enjoy sex, though. He liked the zing that adrenaline added. However, sex would’ve increased his blood pressure and probably exploded his aching head.
Turning his head one way, then the other, he smiled.
Headache was gone.
Mentally, he opened up the rules of engagement manual for male/female relationships. In the military, ROE defined the circumstances and manner in which the use of force might be applied. But for this…
He stroked over the sweetly curved body beside him in hopes that she’d wake and be in the mood. If she kept sleeping, he’d stop. Only a classless idiot pushed a woman into sex if she wasn’t interested. However, luring her into the mood? That fell in the sneaky-but-permissible category for the rules of engagement.
Hearing her breathing speed up slightly, he grinned and rolled far enough he could capture a breast. Fondle it. Was there anything nicer than the feeling of a breast cupped in his hand?
Blinking, she tipped her head back. “Gabe?” Her voice was husky with sleep. Damn sexy. As was the way her nipple suddenly puckered.
“Mmm.”
“Why do I get the impression you woke up wanting to play?”
My little librarian. “Is wanting to play a…what do you call it for sex?”
“Euphemism—and yes.”
“Then, yes. Let’s play.” He tugged on the spiked nipple and felt her hips give a tiny wiggle. Ah, the lure was working.
With a tiny giggle, she tipped her head up so he could kiss her.
Yes. He started to roll over on his soft, willing woman—and pain stabbed through him. A club to the shoulder, a knife to the back, and every muscle and joint ached. “Hell.”
“Oh, God, I forgot you were injured.” Eyes wide, she sat up.
His hand regretted the loss of the sweet breast. And he had to grit his teeth to keep from growling…because his erect dick throbbed almost as bad as his back.
“Oh, such a face…”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you just giggle?”
Her lips clamped shut, which meant she gave a set of laughing snorts.
She sounded so funny he had to grin. “Dammit, I really wanted to fuck.”
“Ah, poor Chief.” She shook her head and stroked his bare chest in sympathy. “It’d put too much strain on that slash. I’m sorry.”
“When I find those bastards, I’m going to…” He blinked as she pressed a kiss to his chest. Rubbed her satiny cheek against him. Licked around one nipple, then the other. Kissed her way lower.
“Sweetheart?” His voice came out gruff.
“It’s so totally my turn.” Her mist-gray eyes held a smile, and her tongue ran over her teeth.
Damned if she didn’t sound both smug and enthusiastic.
Then, to his pleasure, she settled between his legs and took him in her mouth.
She was getting good at sex. Practice made perfect, right? And blowjobs were fun. At least they were with Gabe.
Audrey licked over the mushroom-like head, enjoying the diverse textures. The head like spongy velvet, the shaft silk over iron. Elastic-like veins just begged to be traced with her tongue.
She’d learned curling her fingers around the base kept her from gagging herself, but she was improving. As she took him even deeper, he rumbled low in his throat.
She grinned. “Is there anything in a blowjob you don’t like?”
“Hell, no.”
He was getting even harder. As his heavy testicles drew closer to his body, she molded them in her palm. She hadn’t tried playing with them before. So…
His hand closed in her hair. “C’mere, woman.”
His jaw was tight, his body tense. She glanced at his erection—very thick and big. “But…”
Without looking, he took a condom from the nightstand and unwrapped. “Put this on me, please.”
Admittedly, she’d watched him do it lots of times…because, face it, watching him handle himself was really erotic.
Putting the top over his shaft, she rolled the condom down. “Gabe, your wound didn’t heal up in the last few minutes. You still can’t—”
“Be on top. I know.” He smiled slowly. “But you can.”
Sit on him? Hmm. Although they’d made love in a lot of different positions with far more variety than Craig had ever shown her, she’d never been on top. She almost laughed because no matter how inventive Gabe was, he always took the uppermost positions. Her alpha. “Sounds like fun.”
Carefully, she straddled him, one knee on each side of his hips.
His lips curled into an easy smile. “Now grab my dick and lower yourself on it.”
That sounded excellently wicked. Carnal.
“Look at you grin,” he muttered.
Her face turned hot, but she gripped him firmly and put the first inch inside. Mmmm, lovely. Her hips wiggled, but she stayed in place, poised over him, only an inch inside.
And watched his face tighten at the delay.
He broke first. With a rough growl, he gripped her hips and yanked her down on him.
“Oh my God!” The sensation of fullness, the stretch, the heat bloomed in her core. He felt bigger in this position, went farther.
When she rocked forward, his pelvis rubbed her clit. Oh, that was nice.
Crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. “At this point, you have to do the moving, sweetheart.”
“I can do that.” Leaning forward, she braced herself with her hands beside his shoulders. Her butt went up, his shaft slid out. Then she settled into a rhythm, rocking forward and back, feeling his erection going in and out.
“Oh, nice.” She was going to make this last forever. Torture him slowly. Drive him mad the way he had her so many times. She rose and lowered ever so slowly.
She was in charge and probably didn’t manage to conceal the smirk.
Even though she hadn’t spoken, his lips quirked. “I don’t think so.” Without moving his sore shoulder, he kneaded her breast.
When his knowledgeable fingers slid over her clit, shockingly exquisite pleasure shot through her. His touch and the thickness inside her were overwhelming.
The urge to speed up was uncontrollable, and her slow rhythm fell to pieces. She rocked faster and faster, adding wiggles to make his finger slide crosswise over her.
Tremors started low inside, the pressure growing. She tightened around him until she could feel each inch moving in and out.
“Oh, oh, oh, I need…”
With a low chuckle, he gripped her hips and slammed her down on his cock, lifting his hips at the same time, penetrating hard and deep.
Her insides clenched and spasmed in wave after wave of pleasure. When he came at the same time, the sense of sharing pleasure was incredible.
As the energy drained from her muscles, she sank on top of him, her cheek to his chest. His heart made a lovely thumping sound under her ear.
His arms closed around her, holding her, stroking her hair. “Thank you.”
Lifting her head, she kissed the side of his strong jaw. “You’re welcome, Mister Bossy Chief who hates to give up control.”
She felt his smile even as he asked, ever so innocently, “Didn’t you want me to use my fingers? I thought you liked that.”
Sitting up carefully, she put her hands on each side of his face and gave him a stern frown. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Laughter appeared in his eyes, and oh, she liked that look on him. “Sometimes, I’m not all that sure what I’m doing, no, but I do know this.” His gaze went serious, and he tangled his fingers in her hair. “I care for you, Audrey. No, that’s bullshit—I love you, woman.”
What? What? Fireworks of delight sparkled around her, even as a thickness filled her throat. She shook her head. “No, no, you’re wrong. You can’t love me.”
“No?” He tilted his head as if thinking. “Seems like I do. Yeah, I love you.”
“It’s not funny.” He was injured. She couldn’t hit him.
His gaze met hers. Straight. Clear. Honest.
He loved her? He really did?
Oh my God. What should she do? “I…I’m not ready. No, not ready for this.”
Fear constricted her lungs. Craig had loved her, and then he hadn’t. If she stayed and Gabe changed his mind, then… “I can’t, I don’t belong here. You shouldn’t love me. This isn’t right. I’m not ready. No. I have to go back to Chicago. I have a life there and—”
Babbling. She was babbling. Clamping her mouth shut, she stared at him. Shivers ran over her skin.
“Audrey, it’s all right.” He ran his hand over her cheek and smiled. “You tuck that in your head—that I love you—and stew on it for a while.”
His order sounded almost insulting, yet he knew her well. She needed to stew.
After a quick kiss, he made a trip to the bathroom and returned. Rolling onto his back, he tucked her beside him, her leg over his, her arm over his waist.
“Go on to sleep, sweetheart.” His voice dropped. “Gotta say, having you here in my arms is about my favorite thing in the world.”
With a sigh, she laid her cheek on his broad, warm shoulder. With a rumble of pleasure, he kissed the top of her head. As she breathed in his masculine scent, she knew she’d never felt so completely content.