Yield

A sharp rap on the door has both of us turning our faces that way. It swings open, and Dee Switzer is strolling into my room. She's wearing a pair of jeans, a button-down plaid blouse, and matronly loafers. Her hair is, as ever, styled into the puffed-up, helmet-looking thing.

  "Jesus, Carson," she says as she leans over my bed to peer at me. "You look like shit."

  "What in the hell are you doing here?" I ask... bewildered by her presence.

  "Fellow by the name of Matt Connover called me... said you'd pissed off the wrong white-collar criminal and got shanked."

  Fucking Matt.

  I had most definitely not wanted the feds to know what I had been up to at this point, because the manner in which I was digging into Carrington's life was illegal.

  "I got mugged," I tell her firmly, pleased that the lie sounds natural.

  "You got warned," she corrects me, and then pulls the other chair up to the side of my bed. She looks across at Mac, and then back at me pointedly.

  "Sorry," I mutter. "Dee Switzer, this is my law partner, Mac Connover."

  The ladies actually stand out of their respective chairs and shake hands across me.

  Fucking ridiculous.

  When Dee sits back down, she reaches in to her purse and pulls out a little mini recorder. "Now, you have obviously found something about Luke Carrington, so I'm going to get your statement and we're going to get the local police to investigate your attack."

  "Absolutely not," I say, rising up out of the bed into a sitting position. I fight the nausea by taking a deep breath. "You're not taking my statement, and you're not setting the police on him for my attack."

  "Why not?" she asks as she lowers the recorder down to her lap.

  "Because I'm on to something and don't want to waste time. If you want to take the Carringtons down, forget about trying to pin my attack on him. Let me work on the good stuff."

  "What exactly did you find so far?" Dee asks with a sigh, going ahead and dropping the recorder back in her purse. It's her silent acceptance to heed my wishes at this point.

  "I've confirmed that Luke Carrington and Emiel Coppens know each other."

  "That's not much," she grumbles.

  "It's enough that he sent someone after me."

  "Fair point. But you know I can't spare any resources to help you. I only approached Macy because that would have been an easy way to get some more criminal evidence on her father. But I'm not authorized to pursue him in this manner."

  "I got it," I assure her. "This is on my dime, my time."

  "You need to get me dirt in a legal manner," she warns as she stands from her chair.

  "Understood."

  "Okay then... get some rest," she says before turning to look at Mac. "Nice meeting you."

  "Same here," Mac says with a smile.

  After Dee leaves, Mac turns to me. "Just exactly how are you funding this investigation into Luke's ties with Coppens? I happen to know exactly how much money you make, partner, and it's not enough to pay for something like this."

  "I pulled some money out of my 401K," I tell her distractedly, my mind already spinning on how I'm going to approach Macy once I get out of this hospital. Because I'm not just accepting her last words that we're over.

  "Cal," Mac chides. "You can't dip into your retirement for something that may never turn up anything. It's a fool's quest."

  "It's already done," I tell her. "Now, when can I get out of here?"

  "The doctor said probably tomorrow. He'll examine you on morning rounds."

  "And what do you think my chances are of Macy talking to me when I get out?"

  "Slim to none," she says sadly.

  I definitely have my work cut out for me.

  Chapter 19

  Macy proves to be one stubborn woman.

  For three solid days, I've pelted her with phone calls and texts, asking--no begging--her to talk to me. She doesn't even have the courtesy to send a response that says, Fuck off.

  Even Mac is frustrated with her. Apparently, as soon as Macy left my hospital room, she enlisted Mac's help to go to my apartment, get her luggage filled with clothes, and haul it straight over to Mac and Matt's apartment. It's my understanding that Macy is currently camped out in Gabe's room, and Gabe is sleeping on the couch when he comes to visit.

  Mac's not frustrated with Macy because she's staying there. On the contrary, Mac told Macy she could stay as long as she wanted, although Mac secretly confessed to me on my first day back at work that she's banking on me winning Macy's heart sooner rather than later so she'll move back in with me.

  The frustration Mac has with Macy stems from her refusal to talk to me. She thinks Macy is being immature and disrespectful to me. Apparently, it's caused quite a rift between the two best friends, and it warms my heart that Mac isn't backing down and has effectively taken my side.

  Bet Macy didn't see that one coming.

  So while I continue to assault her from one angle, and Mac continues from another, the only other thing I can do to occupy my time is practice law and check frequently with Keith Marlow for updates. So far, he's not found any other information that could incriminate Luke Carrington. This frustrates me greatly because I know the sooner I end him, the sooner Macy will be free to come back to me.

  I get up from my desk to stretch my back. My muscles are sore around the wound area and the stitches itch like a motherfucker, but overall, I'm doing quite well. I'm even sort of thankful to the thug who stabbed me, as he's apparently a true artist at delivering the perfect warning.

  Grabbing my coffee cup from my desk, I head to the break room for a refill. I'm expecting an update from Keith this afternoon, and my hopes are riding high that he's found something. I'm trying not to get frustrated and keep a measure of patience, but it's fucking killing me not being with Macy.

  If she'd just talk to me.

  If I could just get her alone for a few minutes, I'm sure I could reason with her.

  At the very least, I could probably fuck some sense in to her.

  I can't help the smile as I see Matt when I walk into the break room. He's sitting at one of the tables, flipping through a newspaper and picking at a donut that sits beside him. He glances up and gives me a smile in return. "What's up?"

  It's so fucking weird how our relationship has changed so drastically in the last few months. I never thought I'd ever see the day where I'd be able to call Matt Connover my friend again, and yet, here we are... two morons smiling stupidly at each other.

  "Not much," I tell him. "Just getting my second dose of caffeine for the day."

  "Any word from the investigator?" he asks.

  Since the stabbing, I've filled Mac and Matt in on everything I've done up to this point. While Mac is still very concerned about me continuing to pursue Luke Carrington, she's grudgingly accepted it. Matt, on the other hand, thinks what I'm doing is "cool as fucking shit".

  His words, not mine.

  Both of them, however, touched me deeply when they offered up their own money to help finance the investigation. This, of course, I declined.

  This was my battle.

  I was Macy's knight.

  I alone would slay her dragons.

  "I'm supposed to talk to Keith this afternoon to get an update. I wish he'd hurry the hell up and find something."

  "Dude... it's only been four days since he confronted Coppens. Give the man a break."

  I sigh inwardly, because Matt's right... of course.

  "Listen," Matt says as he stands up from the table. He grabs the donut, tosses it in the trash can, and then walks over to the sink to wash his hands. "I personally think you and Mac are handling this thing with Macy all wrong. You're doing nothing more than sending pitiful texts, and Mac's trying to browbeat her into talking to you. Macy's never going to fall for that shit. Plus, she's still pissed at you for even sticking your neck out like you did."

  He's preaching to the choir at this point.

  "So, what do you suggest I do? It's not like I can ba
rge into your apartment and demand she talk to me."

  "That's true," Matt says as he dries his hands on some paper towels before discarding them. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his keys. He works a single one off the ring and tosses it at me. "But doesn't mean you can't let yourself in and wait for her. She gets home from The Faith Mission at five-thirty."

  I stare down at the key as if it's the Holy Grail. "Are you serious?"

  "As a heart attack," he says with a wink.

  "How much time do I have before you and Mac get home? And what about Aaron? Isn't he at home with the nanny?"

  Matt rolls his eyes at me. "You apparently don't pay much attention to the things Mac tells you."

  I stare at him blankly.

  "This is the day that Mac and I are headed to Pennsylvania. We're taking Gabe and Aaron to drop them off so they can spend a few weeks with their grandparents before school starts."

  Matt smiles at me.

  I return an evil grin.

  I left work early, went home, and showered, throwing on some faded jeans and an old Yankees t-shirt. I made it to Matt and Mac's apartment by four-thirty, which gave me a good, solid hour to figure out the speech I was going to lay on her.

  For in my mind, it was going to be so eloquent... filled with such passion, that she was going to immediately see the error of her ways and fall helplessly into my arms. She'd pronounce her love for me, followed by a heartfelt pronouncement of her own stupidity in ever pushing me away, and we would ride off into the sunset.

  Or, rather, I would push her down on the couch and we'd have fabulous make-up sex.

  Okay, so those may be flights of fancy, but I'm still feeling pretty good the closer it gets to five-thirty. I've got right on my side, I've got love fueling me, and I've got a woman that I know cares very deeply about me. The mere fact she pushed me away, convinced it would save my life, tells me all I ever need to know about Macy's emotional commitment to me.

  I just wish she wasn't still so angry.

  Did I overstep my bounds?

  Probably.

  Would I do it again?

  Absolutely.

  I protect what is mine, and I do it in my own way. I gave Macy the opportunity to do it her way, which would have been giving a statement to Dee Switzer. She didn't want to do that, and I accepted it without any reservation. But that didn't mean I agreed to take a backseat and let Luke and Travis Carrington go unpunished.

  Nope... I was committed to do whatever I could to help facilitate those bastards going to jail, and I didn't care if it pissed Macy off or not.

  And second best thing that happened today--the first being the moment Matt threw me his apartment key--is that Keith called me with some great fucking news. He was able to track down a former housekeeper of Coppens who worked for him for many years. Although she's retired now and lives with her son in Antwerp, Keith confirmed she worked for Coppens during the time Macy was there, as well as at least five years before that. She also traveled with him between his two homes in Brussels and Lucerne. He has an appointment to visit her tomorrow, and he's convinced she has the dirt we need. She didn't speak highly of Coppens over the phone and seemed eager to spill some secrets.

  The key scraping the door lock rocks me, and I immediately stand up from the couch. While I'd given lots of thought to the things I'd say to Macy, I didn't give any thought as to how I should greet her.

  I have a moment of blind panic. Then the door swings open and my first look at Macy in four days settles me down immediately. Her hair is long and loose, and she's wearing a beige skirt that comes down to her knees, a fitted, white blouse, and heels.

  Her head lifts and eyes lock to mine. "Hey," I say casually.

  Inexplicable joy holds her face hostage for only a moment before being quickly replaced by fear. She drops her purse and keys to the floor and stalks toward me.

  In my little, happy, naive world, she's eating up the distance between us because she needs her mouth on mine. She's missed me the way I've missed her. She has immediately realized we are destined to be together. It's imperative she touch me.

  Macy's hand reaches out and she grabs me by the forearm, immediately turning her body and dragging me toward the door.

  "You need to leave," she says fearfully. "I'm sure we're being watched."

  I immediately dig the heels of my tennis shoes down into the dark hardwood flooring and come to a grinding halt, pulling my arm out of her grasp. "I'm not leaving until we talk."

  She whips around on me and all the joy and fear are now gone, and in its place... white-hot rage. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she yells while leaning toward me. "My uncle was very clear in his threat. Do not underestimate him, Cal."

  "I don't," I assure her as I take her by the shoulders. Her chest is heaving in glorious anger, her cheeks are flushed, and I can't fucking help myself.

  I kiss her hard.

  I think she's going to capitulate... melt right there, because in my fantasy that's exactly what I need to happen. Instead, she bites down hard on my lower lip and shoves me backward with a snarl. Luckily, those teeth let go just before the shove, and I stumble back a few feet.

  Raising my hand, I finger my lip and pull it away, not seeing any blood. It sure stings like a motherfucker, though.

  I narrow my eyes at her, setting my jaw to stone. "I'm going to kiss you and if you try that shit again, I'm going to redden that ass of yours."

  Macy lets out a frustrated shriek, but not before I see the naked truth in her eyes.

  A flash of lust, and her weakness is revealed.

  I take a step toward her.

  "Stay away, Cal," she warns me. "I mean it."

  Another step forward, and she takes one back.

  Yeah... that's not going to work for me.

  I lunge at her, grabbing her around the waist, spinning both of our bodies, bringing her down underneath me on the couch. We hit hard, she lets out an oomph, and I come to rest with my pelvis against hers. I can't nestle in deep the way I want because her tight skirt isn't letting her legs part.

  I started to get hard the minute I threatened to spank her, and I saw in her eyes she had gone wet at the thought. Now that I'm pressed up against my favorite place in the world, my dick swells rapidly.

  Macy gives a half-hearted push at my chest, and I answer with a grind of my hips. "Keep your teeth sheathed," I warn her as my head descends toward her.

  Her eyes flare with panic, and she pushes harder against me. "Wait... you said you wanted to talk."

  "Time for talking is past," I murmur before sucking her lower lip into my mouth. I grind my teeth against it, threatening her briefly with the same type of bite she gave me, but instead, I merely let it go, only to bring my mouth to hers with brute force.

  She gasps right into me, and I think it might be pleasure, but I recognize it soon enough as frustration as she starts bucking against me. "Get off, Cal," she growls as her hips try to pile drive me upward and her hands renew their quest to push me away.

  And it's at this point I realize my little fantasy of her falling at my feet isn't going to happen, which pisses me off greatly.

  So, do I accommodate?

  Fuck no... I slam my mouth back on her again, deciding to go ahead and take what's mine. She bucks furiously against me, shrieking into my mouth with rage. Her hands come to my hips in an effort to dislodge me, curl around my back, and dig in.

  "Fuck," I curse out as I rear upward, clutching one hand to my back while supporting my weight over her with my other arm on the cushions. She managed to dig her fingers right into my wound that, up to this point, had been healing nicely.

  I pull my fingers away because I didn't feel any blood and look down at the hellcat named Macy. Her eyes are round with worry that she hurt me, and that satiates my bruised ego somewhat that she hasn't fallen a bit easier.

  "Bad girl," I whisper as I look down at her. I capture her wrist, pin it above her head, and decide three times is a charm as I start to l
ean back down to kiss her again.

  Once again, she fights me. Her body starts thrashing, she grunts curses at me, and slaps at my chest with her free hand, but she stays away from the wound. She turns her face away to avoid my lips every time I get near her.

  My cock is thumping with anticipation, and I'm not sure I've ever been fucking harder in my life.

  And then it hits me... the way she's fighting me. It's eerily reminiscent of our first sexual encounter when we were hurling insults at each other. We both used the heat of anger as an excuse to get down and dirty. It let us have what we wanted without any repercussions, because we could always blame it on the heat of the situation.

  Macy wants me inside of her.

  She wants to protect me. She's worried for me, and she knows the "moral" thing to do would be to kick me out. But she fucking wants me, I'm sure of it, and I think the fact she resembles a bucking bronco at this moment is her way to assuage her guilt in wanting something that, in her mind, she reasons she can't have. She's trying to goad me into fucking her.

  "Stop fighting me," I growl at her. "You're going to tear my stitches."

  She immediately stills, but I expect she might just be gearing up for round four. I don't waste any time. Tilting my body to the side, I reach a hand down, grab the hem of her skirt, and start to drag it up her legs. It's fucking tight... showcases her gorgeous ass perfectly as a matter of fact... but it's impeding me at this moment.

  That means it's got to go.

  Pulling on the material hard, I hear a ripping sound, and that fuels me on. I jerk harder at the material, and suddenly, it's loose around her legs. I'm guessing I ripped the back seam, but I don't give it another thought. Even though Macy starts squirming, a clear attempt still at fighting me but toned down some because she's afraid of opening my wound, I press my knees down and force her legs to open. Her skirt rises to just below her hips, and I shove my hand in between her legs.

  "Oh, Cal," Macy moans, flexing her hips upward with need the minute my fingers part her slick folds. I'm so damn thankful she doesn't wear panties. I watch as her eyes flutter closed and her body quiets. Her breathing is labored, but her chest is the only thing moving on her at this moment.

  I want to kiss her, but I want her complete capitulation first.

  I sink a finger into her deeply, and she cries out. Her hand shoots out, grabs my wrist, and pushes me against her harder as her hips gyrate.