Hard to Come By

  “Fuck! Fuck!” Manny yelled, punctuating his outbursts with jerks of the gun against Derek’s skull. Between her anticipation of the shot and her inability to draw deep breaths due to Derek’s weight atop her, Emilie was starting to see spots floating around the edges of her vision. He swung the gun in an arc toward the other men. “Wait a minute,” he said, eyes toward where she thought Beckett stood. “I fucking know you,” he said, waving the weapon.

  “Shit,” Derek bit out.

  “You know me, too, motherfucker,” came a voice from behind them.

  Manny whirled, fired three times in the direction of the voice, and raced for the Suburban, firing wild shots behind him as he fled. Emilie braced for the searing impact each time, or for Derek to cry out in pain, but neither happened.

  The Suburban rumbled to life and pealed out of her driveway, engine racing. Derek rolled off her onto his stomach, weapon drawn and firing after the vehicle. Gunfire rang out all around. Emilie curled into a ball on the grass and covered her ears with her hands. Eyes closed, she could almost convince herself she was listening to a fireworks display, there were so many pop, pop, pops.

  And then it stopped, and only the sound of the roaring engine in the distance cut the evening air.

  Head ringing, Emilie rolled to her hands and knees and scrabbled toward Derek. “Are you okay? Oh, my God, are you okay?” she asked as she reached him.

  Kneeling on the ground, he caught her in his arms and cradled her to his chest.

  And Emilie clutched on to him like he was the air she breathed.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, her body running on pure adrenaline. Her thoughts totally boiled down to their most important essence. And that was Derek. And the fact that she wanted him. All night, she’d regretted not having understood and forgiven right away. By morning, she knew she couldn’t live the rest of her life punishing every other man who crossed her path for Jack’s mistakes. And as she’d stood on her front porch looking out into the woods, wondering where Derek was, all she wanted was him by her side. “I’m sorry. I understand what you did. And I’m sorry.”

  “Ssh,” he whispered in her ear, gently pulling her the rest of the way into his lap and rocking her. “Don’t worry about that now.” He pulled away, but Emilie held on tighter.

  “Don’t leave,” she said, an uncontrollable shaking settling into her bones. Yet he was steady, unwavering, rock solid. She pressed her face against his throat and breathed him in. “Please don’t leave me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Hey,” he said, stroking her hair. “Look at me.” His deep brown eyes were warm, reassuring.

  Her breathing ragged, Emilie eased away enough to meet his eyes. “Is your leg okay?” she asked, the clang of the bat still ringing in her ears.

  “Sore, but okay. I’m made of fucking titanium. In a fight with a bat, I win.” He smiled. He smiled. They’d just survived hell and Derek unleashed that warm, adorable, sexy smile she so associated with him.

  And her heart welled up inside her chest.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, gently stroking the side of her face.

  A fast nod. “Yeah, yeah. Well, mostly.” It was a little hard to count herself as okay when she couldn’t hold herself still.

  The smile slipped off Derek’s face as his gaze moved downward. “What’s this?” he asked, fingers tracing her throat.

  “Nothing that matters,” she said, wondering just how bad it looked.

  “Like hell it doesn’t.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her neck. And another. “Fuck, I’m sorry we let him get away. We were trying to take him alive. God, I think we hit him at least three times.”

  “Four,” Beckett nearly growled from where he stood over them.

  Derek nodded. “It was like the bullets were bouncing off of him for how much he seemed to feel it. And I just couldn’t take him out standing five feet in front of you.”

  “I know,” she said. “I saw that. God, maybe he’s on drugs. Can’t heroin turn off your pain receptors?” All she knew was that she no longer recognized her brother. Manny was completely and totally gone.

  “Jesus, maybe so,” Derek said, stroking her hair behind her ear.

  “Here,” came a quiet voice from over her shoulder. “Let me help you up.” A dark brown hand extended toward her.

  She grasped it and needed every bit of Easy’s assistance to rise to her feet. Her knees were like jelly. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome,” he said.

  Still clutching onto Easy’s arm, she turned and watched as Beckett and Derek clutched one another’s forearms, and Beckett hoisted his friend to his feet.

  When Derek was upright, he listed to the side like his leg wasn’t quite strong enough to support him, but Beckett caught him. “Just give it a minute,” the big guy said, voice like sandpaper. “You got clocked in the leg pretty good.”

  “I’m okay,” Derek said. “Really.”

  “Just give it a minute,” Beckett said. “You don’t always have to be too strong to accept help. No one here thinks you’re weak.”

  Derek’s eyes went wide as he gazed at his friend. How could anyone think Derek weak? The guy had saved her twice in two days and used his own body as a human shield for hers. He’d been hit with a bat and still had enough presence of mind to try to take out her brother’s fleeing truck.

  Not one thing about any of that read as weak.

  God, it was quite possible that Derek was the strongest man she’d ever known. Her gaze ran over the T-shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles of his shoulders and arms, then downward to how those blue jeans hung on his lean hips. He was definitely the sexiest man she’d ever known.

  And she wanted him.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Then a little closer. When had it gotten cloudy? It was quite possible that hours had passed since she’d ushered her mother to her car and sent her away.

  “Shit, Shane. You’re bleeding,” Easy said.

  Emilie twisted her head. Sure enough, the dark green shirt over Shane’s shoulder was reddish black, the stain getting a little bigger, and then a little more, as she watched.

  “Let’s go inside,” Emilie said as fat raindrops began to fall. “Clean Shane up.”

  Derek wasn’t able to hide the marked limp he had as they crossed the yard, and she hated to see him hurting. And hated even worse the knowledge that her own brother was to blame.

  “Lean on me, wouldya?” Beckett said. “Don’t want you hurt any further.” Derek accepted Beckett’s help up the porch steps, their arms clasped around each other’s shoulders.

  Emilie looked at her broken door, but she simply couldn’t worry about it right now. Inside, they made their way to the kitchen, and she flipped on the lights. God, what a mess. “Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll get the first aid kit and some supplies.” She dashed to the bathroom, grabbed the kit from under the sink, wet some washcloths, and collected a few towels.

  She returned to the kitchen and settled everything on the table. Thunder boomed directly above them, making her jump. The pitter-patter of rain sounded out against the windows.

  A hand fell on hers. Derek. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time to stop all this. By the time we realized Manny was the driver of the Suburban, he’d booked it inside.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Derek. Really.” She opened the first aid kit for Easy.

  “Shirt off, McCallan,” Easy said against a boom of thunder. The rain came down harder, gusts of wind off the water buffeting the back of the house.

  “Don’t get that offer every day,” Shane said, wincing as he worked the cotton up and over his head. “Just grazed. Again.” Emilie looked to see the extent of his wound. He had a bloody streak where his arm met his shoulder. Not too deep, but it was ragged and messy.

  “You know, you two are dating sisters. You really didn’t need to get matching GSWs, too,” Derek said. The guys chuckled. And there went Derek, lightening the mood again.

  Soon, Shane wa
s all patched up, and he pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna brief Nick.” Emilie lowered herself into the chair next to Derek. “Hey,” Shane said after a moment. “Got a minute?” Shane recounted everything from the time Manny arrived—his assault on her, his discovery of the fake stuff in her basement, attacking her and Derek, and the gunfight. “He got away,” Shane said, regret and exhaustion plain in his voice. “He’s totally off the deep end.”

  Beckett leaned his hands on the back of Derek’s chair. “Hey, ask him how the changes to Hard Ink went. And how many Ravens he got on board to help us.”

  Shane passed on the questions and nodded after a minute or two. “Okay, man. Catch ya later.” He dropped the phone to the table.

  “What’s the word?” Beckett asked.

  Emilie looked at Shane, eager to hear how the things the team had brainstormed yesterday were turning out. The more time she spent with them—and especially with Derek—the more she rooted for them, worried for them, and felt like their problems were also her own.

  “Nick said the changes to the building look totally convincing. They moved the shop’s door and all its signage around to the other side of the L, installed two exterior lights on that side, and Jeremy even spray painted a big piece of graffiti over the boarded-up opening to the real door. They also got the lighting set up on the interior of the decoy side and covered the windows of the residences with sheets of black plastic.”

  “That must’ve been a pain in the ass,” Derek said, kneading at his thigh.

  “No doubt,” Shane said.

  The lengths to which they were going to implement these precautions really drove home just how much danger they were all in.

  “What about the Ravens?” Beckett asked again.

  Thunder cracked so loud, the windows vibrated, and then lightning flashed bright enough to further illuminate the kitchen. Shane leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Ike apparently brought three guys with him this morning and seven more are supposed to come tonight.”

  “It’s a shit night for a bike ride,” Easy said, leaning against the counter.

  Derek nodded. “No lie. If they’re coming from their main club, that’s like forty-five minutes outside the city.”

  “What happened to those two women?” Emilie asked. “Did they end up going with Ike?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. “One of Ike’s guys took them out to the club this afternoon.”

  “That’s good, I guess. Right?” Emilie asked. “I hope they’ll be okay.”

  “Me too,” Shane said. He blew out a long, troubled breath. “After Sara and Jenna—and then you yesterday morning—I’ve had my lifetime fill of that fucking gang abusing and abducting women.”

  “A-fucking-men,” Easy said.

  What had happened to Sara and Jenna? Emilie had met the two red-headed sisters at Hard Ink, but she hadn’t had much time to talk to them. Or any of the women, really. Emilie looked at Derek and frowned.

  Derek mouthed that he’d tell her later.

  She nodded, rested her head on her hand, and surveyed the kitchen. “I’m just going to throw all that stuff away,” she said, her exhausted gaze scanning over the mountains of dishes. A little while ago, cleaning up from the party hadn’t seemed like a big deal at all. Now, tackling all that seemed insurmountable.

  “Well, with five of us, it wouldn’t take so long,” Beckett said in a quiet voice, echoing her teasing words from the night before, when she’d asked to go shopping.

  Underneath all that scary gruffness, there was one helluva nice guy. Not that Beckett seemed to want anyone to know. “Yeah?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  And he was right. Emilie rinsed the dirties and directed them where to put the clean things away. Shane loaded the dishwasher, using his uninjured arm. Derek sat in a chair at her side and dried platters, pots, and pans that wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher, and Beckett and Easy put all of those things away in between sweeping the broken dishes from the floor. It took about fifteen minutes to clean it all up. Lifesavers, once again.

  The storm whipped up while they worked, turning the world outside the kitchen window pitch-black. The thunder was loud enough to shake her house.

  Fingers stroked the bare skin of her leg, and she looked down to find Derek gazing up at her, his expression regretful and sympathetic. “We can’t stay here. And you can’t, either.”

  Emilie sagged against the counter, fatigue making her limbs heavy. “I figured. So, then, where do I go?”

  “Come home,” Derek said, taking her hand. “With me.”

  Chapter 20

  Marz’s next breath hung on what Emilie would say. He’d heard loud and clear what she’d said outside, but that was also in the heat of the moment. Just minutes after bullets had literally been whizzing over their heads.

  He ran his gaze over her. Long wavy strands had come free from her braid. She had small smears of mascara under the corners of her eyes. And red marks that looked like they might bruise marred the smooth skin of her neck—Marz’s blood boiled about that. Manny Garza wouldn’t get a second chance to hurt his sister. Ever.

  And despite how the crisis had disheveled her appearance, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. But it wasn’t just the physical that drew Marz to Emilie.

  She had an inner strength he admired. The way she’d gotten her mother to safety, despite having just been assaulted. The way she’d come up with a plausible story about the basement stash on the fly, unknowingly giving Shane time to come up behind Garza. The way she’d worried over Marz when the crisis was all over.

  Lightning flashed outside the window, and a long, rumbling thunder followed. Emilie’s house groaned against the onslaught of the wind.

  Finally, she squeezed his hand and nodded. “I don’t want to be anywhere else but with you.”

  The words were like a salve to his soul, binding up wounds he’d carried since he’d been a child. He knew what she’d said didn’t mean forever, nor did she offer him a long-term commitment. But she wanted him. The way he wanted her. And right now, that was efuckingnough.

  He rose to his feet and folded her in his arms. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” he whispered in her ear.

  She nodded against his throat. “I’m sorry for not understanding sooner.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t you even worry about that, Em,” he said hugging her tighter.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Right. They had an audience.

  Pulling back, Marz gently rested his hands on her shoulders. “We should go. Pack a bag. Whatever you think you might need for at least a week. More if you want.”

  “We’re going back where we were yesterday? To the Hard Ink building?” she asked.

  Marz nodded. “That okay?”

  “Yes, of course. But I was thinking. If I’m going to be gone that long, all this food I have will go bad. Why don’t we take it?”

  “A soldier will never say no to free food,” Shane said. “We’ll handle that. You two go get Emilie packed.”

  “There are grocery bags in the pantry,” she said, pointing to the closet in the corner behind Shane.

  “I’ll go retrieve the truck while you’re working on that,” Beckett said. They’d hidden it on the same abandoned farm road as the other day, so Manny wouldn’t see it and wonder who was at his sister’s house.

  “In this?” Emilie asked. As if emphasizing her point, thunder cracked and the lights flickered. “You’ll get soaked.”

  Beckett shrugged. “I’ll dry. No biggie.”

  “What about an umbrella?”

  His friend’s eyebrow arched. “I don’t do umbrellas. But, uh, thanks. Be back in a bit,” he said, heading out.

  Emilie watched after him, then turned to Marz. “Coming?”

  “Lead the way,” he said, satisfaction rolling through his blood.

  Keeping ahold of her hand, he followed her through the house and upstairs to her bedroom. Lightning flashed across
the space just before Emilie hit the light switch. The room managed to be both cozy and airy, with big windows opening up the walls on three sides. The view must’ve been spectacular during the day. The white wooden furniture was all clean lines and simple touches, and stood out against the honey-colored hardwoods and pale blue walls. “Okay,” she said, gesturing to the neatly made dark blue bedding. “Feel free to have a seat. I’ll be quick.”

  Derek eased his hip onto the mattress, fucking reveling in the fact that she’d invited him into her most private space. The room smelled of her, fruity and sweet. And as he ran his hand over the blanket, he couldn’t believe the way the past twenty-four hours had turned around for them—from untold lies to broken trust to reconciliation. They’d lived a week in the past two days. At least, that’s the way it felt.

  From the closet, Emilie grabbed a small suitcase and loaded it with jeans, shorts, shirts, and other necessities. He didn’t miss her hesitation as she gathered her things from her lingerie drawer, nor the fact that she didn’t try to hide the silky panties and lacy bras as she tucked them into her case. Seeing her handle her underthings shouldn’t turn him on as much as it did, but maybe his growing need for her was more about reaffirming that they’d both survived this day than about the tiny pair of black silk panties folded so innocently atop the pile of clothing.

  A need that was intensified by the fact that he was sitting on her bed, the linens still tinged with her scent, as if they’d just rolled out from under the covers. Marz’s heart beat faster at the imagining. He fisted his hands in his lap to keep from reaching out for her.

  Thunder blasted the nighttime world, sending Emilie jumping.

  Marz hated to see her so on edge, but he could hardly blame her. “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Just think I’ve had enough of things going boom for today,” she said with a small, brave smile. So damn pretty.

  “Amen to that.” Especially since the tally had been too damn high. Three of his teammates had been shot, several of them had nicks and cuts from falling debris after the explosion at the storage center, and Marz had encountered the business end of a bat. That was more than enough. Hell, that was more than enough from now ’til the end of time. For fuck’s sake.