Gabe

I follow McKenna into her third-floor condominium in North Beach that has a perfect view of Telegraph Hill, only blocks away from Washington Square. By what I can see, her condo seems small, less than nine hundred square feet for sure. But the bank of windows against the far wall offers a good view of the Financial District in the distance and makes the room more spacious. The furnishings are modern, with a white cotton couch and glass coffee table in the cozy living room. From my spot at the door, I can see there’s a galley kitchen with white cabinets and white countertops and black appliances just before the beginning of a hallway that leads to what I assume is a bedroom and a bathroom.

“What do you think?” she asks, shutting the door.

“Do you own this condo?” I ask.

“I do,” she says with a smile before kicking off her shoes. “I know it’s nothing much, but it’s mine, and it’s perfect.”

Since we’re only here to pick up a bag for her, I keep my shoes on, waiting at the door. “I actually couldn’t agree with you more about it being perfect.”

Her smile begins to fade, eyes searching mine. “Okay, what is with that look?”

“What look?”

She points to my face. “That look on your face right now. You’re all smiley and happy . . . and it’s weird.”

I snort and lean against her closed front door, folding my arms. “Is there something wrong with my being happy?”

“Considering we’re talking about my house, yes,” she says without pause.

I chuckle at her and shake my head, taking her hand and pulling her close. “Beyond that you make me happy . . . and smiley”—I say the latter with a wink—“I’m incredibly proud of you.”

Her brows raise. “Proud of me?”

I wrap an arm around her back, bringing her tighter against me. Yet somehow even now, I’m not close enough. “Yes, McKenna, I’m immensely proud of you. To know what you’ve come from, and to know that you’re also supporting your brother, and yet you have all of this.” I wave out to her condo. “It makes me so damn proud to stand beside you.”

Emotion rises in her eyes and warms her smile. “Well, thanks, but to be honest it’s not all my doing. When Gran passed she didn’t have too much in her bank account, but in her will she wanted her house sold. At the time, I didn’t really know why she did that. But in the years following her death, it all made sense.”

“She knew the type of man your brother was,” I guess.

McKenna nods in agreement, running her hands up over my shoulders and lacing her fingers behind my neck. “I’m guessing so. I think she wanted me to sell the house so that I’d have my own money, separate from his. Of course, I used that money to put a down payment on this place, which left me with a mortgage that I could afford. And it meant that I always had a place that wasn’t anywhere near Evan’s mess.”

It hadn’t dawned on me before but now I’m understanding. “Is that why he doesn’t live with you?”

A sweetness fills her eyes, her voice softens. “Gran always told me that everyone should have a home that feels safe and that feels like it belongs to them. So, I made this place mine, and when Evan needed help, I gave what I could, which as you saw doesn’t put him in the nicest place. But if he wants to fix his situation, he can.”

I stare at her, overwhelmed by her, my heart beginning to race.

She laughs. “What is that look now?”

“It’s you,” I say a little gruffly, taking her chin in my hand, holding her stare so she hears me. “You’re so good, McKenna. You come from very little, yet it’s like you have all that you need. You could drown in anger, but you don’t. It’s like you understand people in ways that I never could. Your love is something special. Always remind yourself of that.”

I see the way my words ripple emotion across her in the seconds before I press my lips against hers, and kiss her good and properly, without the heat I usually flood into her. Only when I feel her backing away do I finish. “Your heart is so big and warm, and that’s so damn beautiful.”

She gives me a smile that for some reason affects me more than any other smile before. It speaks of something different between us. I gesture toward the hallway. “Go grab a bag, and let’s get back to my place. You need to rest.”

“I’m not the only one,” she says, cupping my face.

She stands on her tiptoes and gives me a quick kiss again before she hurries toward her bedroom. I watch her disappear then I hear her opening drawers, clearly packing up clothes.

In the moment alone, I look around her condo again, something that belongs totally to her. I wonder if I’ll see things that surprise me, but everything is just like the McKenna I know. Clean and organized, warm and cozy. There’s much emotion running beneath the surface, knowing all she’s been through. I liked her before I knew all about her life. Now there’s a deep and hot possessive edge to the way I feel about her. I want to support her, letting her find her way, and I also want to stand in front of her, removing any threat that dares to come close.

To go through so much and not be jaded is a remarkable thing.

I’m torn from my thoughts when I see her exiting her bedroom, black bag in hand. There’s so much strength in her, and warmth, and loyalty; I’ve never met anyone like her. But it’s when she closes in on me that I see something that she pushes aside very easily, painful emotions. “Please don’t do that,” I say gently, taking the bag from her and dropping it on the floor next to me.

“Do what?” she asks, blinking up at me.

“Don’t keep me out. It won’t end well for either of us, and it’s definitely not good for you.” I step forward, lacing our hands together, staring down at her. “There’s a time to be strong and brave, and there’s a time to be weak and vulnerable. What are you fighting, sweetheart?”

She shuts her eyes for only a few seconds but when she reopens them, after those seconds when I lose sight of her, a hefty dose of pain fills their depths. “I can’t help but wonder if Evan’s dead, regardless of what Alex and Ryder say. What if all of this is pointless, because in the end, all we’re doing is chasing a ghost.”

“I get why you’re worried about that, I do.” I cup her face, wishing with a snap of my fingers I could make this all better for her. “Evan has gotten himself into quite the bind, but here’s the thing, the men who took him weren’t careful.”

“What do you mean?”

I take her hand, leading her to the couch. Once she sits next to me, I add, “The truth is, and I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but if they had planned on killing him, they would have been less sloppy.”

She draws in a deep breath and exhales it before addressing me. “Alex said the same thing. She thought they seemed like professionals, and she said that if they wanted him dead they would have handled it better.”

I agree with a nod. “Exactly, they roughed him up, but only to a degree.” I pause, collecting my thoughts, wanting to say the right thing and not further upset her. “The manner in which they handled all this makes me believe that their intention was never to hurt your brother seriously, it was to send a message.”

“A message to whom?”

“Maybe to him,” I offer. “Perhaps our theory about him owing money is true, and they want that debt paid. So, they’ve beaten him enough to scare him into taking all this seriously. Perhaps they think a death threat will make him pay up.”

“All right,” she said after pondering that thought. “Maybe that’s true, but then where is he now?”

“The obvious assumption is that he doesn’t have the money to pay them.”

She frowns, tucks her legs underneath her, then shakes her head. “But then what will happen to him?”

“I wish I had the answer for you.” To reassure her, I quickly add, “Though I can only assume that if he doesn’t have the money, and if these people really are loan sharks, they’ll put him to work to pay off his debt.”

“So, is that what you think is going on then?” she asks, a spark of hope in her eyes. “That maybe they have him somewhere, and he’s working off his debt?”

I half-shrug. “It’s simply a guess. At this point, I’m afraid that’s all we can do. We need to find out what this is all about and why, and until we know who those men are, or Evan goes home, that won’t happen.”

“I never even thought of that, we should—”

I stop her as she rises. “Ryder has tapped into the video camera that’s across the street from Evan’s apartment. If Evan goes home, Ryder will know.”

She draws in a big deep breath, and when she’s settled back into her seat, I add, “To further reassure you, what I know is that without a doubt if they had intended to kill him then they wouldn’t have handled it in the way they did.”

“Unless they aren’t professionals, and Alex is wrong.”

I smile at her. “Alex works for Ryder and she is never wrong.”

“Ever?”

“Never.”

“You trust her wholeheartedly?”

“With my life.”

McKenna gives me a sweet smile. “Well, then, that’s good enough for me.”

I rise and kiss her forehead then move to the door, picking up her bag. When I don’t sense her following, I glance over my shoulder, and soft eyes greet me.

“I want to hate Evan for all this, you know,” she says, voice rough with emotion. “For all the stress and all the worry, and I want to hate him for all the things he did to you and your friends. I want to hate him for using the people in my life for financial gain, and yet . . .”

“He’s family,” I finish.

Her chin quivers. “He’s my brother.”

I drop her bag and move to her, wrapping her in my arms, holding her tight, protecting her from her thoughts. “We’ll find him, McKenna. I’m not giving up. If you trust in anything right now, trust in that.”

This time, she didn’t fight her tears.

McKenna

Once we’re back at Gabe’s apartment, he unlocks the door and holds it open for me. “I need to go and check on the pub,” he says, staying outside. “Would you like to come with me?”

I turn back to him, facing down that loaded question. “That’s a question I don’t think I can answer alone.”

He watches me a minute, eyes searching mine. “I’m not opposed to any of the team knowing we’re dating if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says.

“I’m not worried about that either,” I tell him.

“Then the problem is . . . ?”

I hesitate, trying to decide how honest to be, but then decide I can’t muck this up being any other way. “Here’s the thing, I can’t romanticize life. I’m a realist, and I don’t think the road ahead of us is black or white.”

He leans against the open doorframe, crossing his arms. “Meaning?”

It’s easy to get lost in how intimidating he looks, but I push on, needing to get this out. “I mean that as much as I want and hope that all this is going to work out between us and at the end we’ll be standing here happy and unscathed—”

“Life is never that easy,” he finishes for me.

I give him a small smile that I’m sure looks a little sad. “It’s not the way my life has been.” I move toward him and slide my hands up his arms, feeling the tension simmering beneath the surface of his muscles. “There’s a lot stacked against us that I’m aware of. Are you?”

His eyes search mine then he gives a soft nod. “I’m aware of the challenges we face.”

The biggest of which is my brother. Even if we find Evan, it all depends on my brother’s reasoning for why he did what he did, that will determine how things will turn out between Gabe and I. If Evan doesn’t own up to what he’s done, Gabe can’t forgive him, and then I’ll be left to choose. I know, and I see that Gabe knows, too, I will choose Evan, not out of love but because he’s my family. Because I know where we’ve come from. Because I understand addiction. Because he is my brother.

Gabe and I will forever have that tension between us, and no relationship can survive that. But if Evan does what I hope he does and rights his wrongs, this won’t be the case. Gabe can see that Evan isn’t all bad, and we can move on.

“So,” Gabe says, drawing me out of my thoughts, and tucking my hair behind my ear. “We take this one day at a time; is what you’re saying?”

I nod, rising to my tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his mouth. “We take this one day at a time.”

“With that decided, I won’t be long,” he says when I back away. “There’re towels in the cabinet in the en suite bathroom if you’d like to take a shower. Last door on the right.”

“Thanks.” I smile, thinking a shower is exactly what I need. I don’t cry often, and my eyes are sore and scratchy.

He doesn’t say anything more, simply turns and trots down the metal staircase. I shut the door behind me and lean against it, exhaling a long breath, exhausted to my very bones. At this point, I’m not sure what’s worse, the emotional battle inside or the physical toll it’s all taking on my body.

Determined to feel a little more like myself, I move swiftly down the hall and enter his bedroom, still loving that his room is a mix between modern and rustic, with a king-size bed against a wall of dark-stained plank wood and hardwood floors to match. The duvet on the bed is black with two pillows and not a decoration in sight. Simple. Masculine. Sexy. This room is all Gabe.

I move past the large dresser and walk-in closet to the right. I skip that and enter the door to the left, and momentarily, I’m stunned again by the rustic elegance. A stone wall rests behind a freestanding tub, and to the right of that is a large shower stall. On the left side of the grand bathroom is a cabinet made of old barn wood, with beige wall lamps and a sleek chrome faucet. All of which is gorgeous and stunning but my attention returns to the shower, and I strip, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor.

When I pass by the frosted glass wall separating the shower from the main bathroom, I quickly turn on the water. In an instant, it’s coming from the stone wall more like a waterfall than my crappy showerhead at home. “Good God, I’ve found utopia,” I say to myself.

I press my hands against the stone allowing the warm water to hit my shoulders and run along my back. And I don’t move, not a single inch, as I’m convinced this shower is equivalent to a massage. All the tension, all the worry and pain and everything else was comforted by Gabe when I cried in his arms, but now there’s just nothing but much needed quiet.

I’m not exactly sure how long has passed when firm hands slide across my hips running over my stomach. I smile, lifting my head from beneath the stream. The warm water rushes on my chest as Gabe’s lips press against my shoulder, kissing the tender flesh there. His hands come to my breasts and he’s massaging them, a touch more for himself than for me, I’m sure. Nonetheless, I’m melting beneath his hands when his erection presses against my bottom.

“You’re hard,” I say softly.

He chuckles deep in my ear. “I happen to like you wet.”

I shiver at the throaty promise in his voice. He turns me around then, putting himself more under the water than I am, and he grabs the shampoo bottle. He squeezes the bottle, trailing a stream of soap across my breasts. The heat in his eyes as he drops the bottle to run his hands over my breasts, squeezing both, and clearly having his fun, brings a surge of heat hotter than the water falling against us.

The way he’s watching me, caressing me, enjoying me, is all the foreplay I need, as his eyes lift to mine and he grins. “You’re incredibly sexy, Kenna.”

“Believe me,” I say, gazing over his muscular body glistening with the water, “I think you got sexy claimed here.”

His eyes smolder. Literally, smolder with desire. God, it makes me want him. I crave him in ways I’ve never craved any man. It’s a hunger that’s as raw as it is intense, and I need to taste him. Knowing that Gabe has a thing for seeing me wet, I slowly lower to my knees, the water rushing across my face. I lean away from the stream only to smile at him when I grab his hefty cock.

“Yeah, baby,” he says, brushing his thumb across my lips. I take his finger into my mouth, sucking on him, showing him what I plan to do. His devilish smile tells me he’s excited.

When he drops his hand, I move back into the stream so the water is falling down my shoulders, giving him the visual I want him to have, and I angle my bottom out, so I tease him, tempt him. When I hear him moan, I take his dick into my mouth, sucking on the very tip, loving his louder moans echoing in the shower.

I glance up as I play, finding his head tossed back, and I can’t help but stare at the gorgeous lines of his body. Muscle after muscle, the desire rushing through me is why I stroke him harder, suck faster, until his hands are on my head, and he’s groaning as I enjoy every hard inch of him. But then his hand is there, and he steals his cock from me, stroking himself fast and hard, and angling himself up, showing me what he wants. I lower down a bit, sucking his sac into my mouth, playing with each testicle. After another low groan, he backs away, angling his cock out to me again and I stroke him.

I shiver at the way he’s watching me. I’ve never had anyone look at me like this, it’s beyond what I’ve ever known about sex. It’s ravenous and wild and rough, and his passion bleeds into the air between us as he begins thrusting his hips, fucking my mouth as if it belongs to him.

And when I do as he wants, taking him deep into my throat, he backs away and then leans down and seals his mouth across mine. It’s not a kiss that’s sweet and romantic, it’s hard and demanding and dominating in the best kind of way.

“Goddammit, you are so fucking sexy,” he growls. “Come here.” He assists me to my feet and turns me toward the stone bench in his shower. It’s then I see the condom that he must have placed there when he first entered the shower, and he reaches for it, applying the latex over his hardened flesh quickly.

With the condom in place, he grabs my foot, placing it on the bench, the water a steady stream on my bottom as he teases my slit with the tip of his cock before he’s sliding inside. One hand on my shoulder, the other on my hip, his fingers dig into my flesh as he begins thrusting his hips. The fullness of him is all that I need and more, and I’m soon bathed in darkness, lost in the pleasure he’s offering. But then his arm is sliding through both of mine, dragging me up, my back to his chest, and he’s pumping his hips with a force that leaves no misunderstanding that he loves taking me in the shower.

My eyes pinch shut, the hardness of his cock bringing an intensity that leaves my screams echoing the sound of his body slapping against mine.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Gabe groans, slapping my ass.

“You’re so hard,” I barely manage, while his shaft brushes against a perfect spot inside that steals all the control I have over my body.

He’s controlling me now, telling me what to feel and how to feel it.

As I begin to slip against the water-drenched bench, Gabe turns me slightly and hooks my leg onto his arm. I rest my hand on the bench, giving him the angle he needs, and with a growl he’s inside me again. Without a hitch to his rhythm, he’s pounding against me, and I’m screaming against the perfection of his beautiful cock. The water’s making our skin slippery and apparently, he likes that, because he’s never taken me like this. Not so rough, so feral . . .

His pelvis pounds against me, his cock so hard that it doesn’t feel real, his deep growls shivering against me.

“Look at me.”

I force my eyes open and meet a gaze that burns, as he adds, “Always look at me when we come.”

His brows are drawn, cheeks flushed, mouth parted, and with the water dripping off, I’m sure it won’t take much to send me over the edge. But truly, it’s his eyes that send me soaring. There’s a lot there burning in their depths, but most of all, I see the way he hungers for me. Somehow having a man like Gabe crave me so intensely tips the scales of my building pleasure. I force my eyes to stay open as his mouth pinches shut, and his expression becomes focused.

His cock is hardening and widening inside me, and that’s when I can’t look at him, no matter how much I want to. The pleasure taking me under drowns me completely, and I know nothing but the euphoria blasting across my soul.

Sometime later, I realize that he’s lowered us onto the bench. I’m sitting on his lap, my head resting back against his shoulder, the water rushing over our knees, his chest lifting and falling quickly behind me.

I laugh softly. “So, you like shower sex, huh?”

He shifts me a little so I can meet his gaze that, while softer, still holds that dominant edge that I’m growing to feel very fond of. “No, I don’t like shower sex. I love you sex.”

I chuckle as he slides his hand across my face, and his expression intensifies, his smile gone. “I want this, you know that, right?”

“You want more shower sex?”

A hint of a smile curves his mouth. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t object, but what I meant was I want this to work out between us. I’ll fight like hell to make sure nothing comes between us.”

I place my hand over his and lean into his touch. “You and me both.”

And I can only hope it’ll be enough.