Chapter Seventeen

 

 

Dillon had once looked forward to Friday nights during the school year. Not anymore.

His team was down six points with less than a minute to go in their second playoff game, and the other team still had possession. If they lost, they were done and wouldn’t make the finals for the first time in six years.

At first, he’d loved the outlet playing on the varsity football team gave him. The freedom it gave him and the respect it had garnered from his classmates. Even a little bit from Frank, who would show up to watch once in a while if he wasn’t working night shift.

Or too wasted to drag himself off the couch. Not that he gave a fuck what Frank thought.

Despite the loss, Dillon had played well, throwing four touchdown passes and only being sacked once. From the sidelines, he watched helplessly as the clock dwindled down in the final seconds while the visiting team’s fans went nuts in the stands.

Disappointment settled heavy in his stomach. The season was over.

He grabbed his helmet, stood, and accepted the back slaps and consolations from his coaches and teammates. Good game, man. The defense screwed you over. Get ‘em next time.

On his way off the field he glanced up once into the stands, looking for Taylor. She was still sitting in her spot like she always did, waiting for him with a blanket wrapped around her and a knit cap on her head. Frank was still nowhere to be seen.

Taylor gave him a sunny smile and a thumbs-up to say she was proud of him. And damned if it didn’t make something inside him glow. His whole life he’d never had anyone who meant enough to him to want to make them proud. But he did Taylor.

He showered and changed before meeting her outside the locker room. “You played really well,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning into him for a hug that he returned. “Too bad the score didn’t match that.”

“It’s okay. Next year.”

“Yeah.” The parking lot was pretty much empty as they left the school and headed up the sidewalk through the residential neighborhood.

A few blocks up, the area changed to small shops and restaurants. Most of the football team was already at the diner with the cheerleaders and girlfriends. Dillon’s stomach growled as they drew near, and he couldn’t help a twinge of envy at the sight of his teammates wolfing down burgers, fries and milkshakes inside the warm building.

Next to him, Taylor shook out the blanket she’d folded up and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her coat was too thin and didn’t zip up properly. She had to use safety pins to keep it closed. “That wind is killer,” she muttered.

It was cold enough to sting his cheeks as it whipped past them, kicking up dry leaves that lay curled up on the sidewalk. He took his hands out of his jacket pockets and stuffed them into his jeans. Two dollar bills met his fingers. Enough for a hot drink, but nothing else. “Feel like a hot chocolate?”

“Nah, it’s okay. Thanks, though.”

She never let him spend what little money he had on her. Not even when she was freezing after sitting in the cold for three hours watching him play football. A sport she didn’t even care about. She went solely to support him, when he knew she’d much rather be at home with a book or one of those math puzzles she liked.

Soon he’d have a lot more money and neither of them would have to worry about going hungry again. He’d have enough to buy them dinner every night of the damn week if that’s what they wanted.

They passed by the diner, and he noted how Taylor kept her gaze straight ahead, not looking at the others inside. A few of his teammates had guessed things were tight financially for them, and had offered multiple times to buy them something after the game. Dillon always refused, out of pride. He didn’t want anyone’s pity or charity. He was going to make it on his own.

He was going to make it big.

They didn’t talk much as they walked the remaining two miles to their house. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Frank’s car missing. Maybe he’d taken another night shift or something. That would allow Dillon to relax the rest of the night.

The temperature inside the house wasn’t much warmer than outside, but at least the wind wasn’t cutting at them anymore. Taylor kept her knit cap and jacket on as she hurried to the kitchen and started warming up a couple cans of soup for them.

He was digging a box of stale crackers out of the cupboard next to the sink when he heard it. The rumbling of Frank’s car engine came from the driveway.

At the stove Taylor froze and looked toward the front door. God dammit, he hated seeing that pinched, worried expression on her face. After what had happened to her to bring her to this place, he never wanted her to be afraid again. “Go to your room, Tay.”

She didn’t move, stubbornly staying where she was.

The front door banged open. Frank stomped in, wearing a heavy jacket over his uniform. One look at him and Dillon knew he was wasted.

Frank slammed the door shut with enough force to rattle it on its frame. “You had the lead into the fourth quarter, and you still lost,” he spat, contempt spewing from every word.

He’d seen the game. Dillon’s stomach balled up into a hard knot. He was in for it now.

“First time in six years the Warriors haven’t made the finals, and first time you’re the starting quarterback. Not a fucking coincidence.”

Dillon clenched his jaw and moved to block the doorway to protect Taylor. When Frank was drunk and in a mood like this, neither of them ever knew what he would do.

Frank stalked toward him, his boots thudding on the scuffed wood floor. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

He knew better than to open his mouth, except to be polite. “No, sir.”

“You could have clinched it with one more good pass, but you were too busy prancing around out there in the pocket like a fucking fairy.”

Had he been in the stands somewhere? Dillon hadn’t seen him.

He bit back a grunt as Frank shoved his shoulders, knocking him back into the wall with a thud. Immediately he shoved away from it and faced the man, hands balled into fists.

Frank’s lips curled back over his teeth in a feral smile. “You wanna hit me, boy?” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Go ahead and try.”

Dillon was angry enough to do it, but he wasn’t stupid. He would have run away over two years ago if it hadn’t meant leaving Taylor here alone. The day would come for him to leave, however. And when it did, Dillon would punch Frank straight in his ugly fucking face, bust his nose and a few teeth before walking out over his unconscious body and never looking back.

As long as he’d made sure Taylor would be looked after first.

A meaty hand flashed out and cuffed Dillon on the side of the head. “Do it. Let’s see what you’ve got, hotshot quarterback.”

Dillon’s knuckles ached from squeezing so hard.

The gleam in Frank’s eyes made Dillon’s throat go dry. This was going to be bad. Every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation of the pain coming his way.

“Huh?” Frank slapped the side of Dillon’s face hard enough to crank his head around and make his eye water. “Let’s go, tough guy.”

Fuck this. He shifted his weight, brought his right hand back.

“Stop!”

Before Dillon could take a swing, Taylor darted in between them, smacking one hand flat in the middle of Frank’s chest. Her face was livid as she glared up at the man. “Leave him alone.”

Frank’s gaze shifted to her and a wave of fear rushed through Dillon. “Taylor, no.” He grabbed her shoulders, tried to push her out from between them, but she wouldn’t budge, fighting to hold her place in front of him.

“Don’t you touch him,” she snapped at Frank, her voice shaking. Afraid but so damn brave as she faced off with their foster father. “You’re drunk, and you’re mean when you’re drunk. He already feels bad enough that they lost the game, but it wasn’t his fault. If you’d showed up sooner, you would have seen all the touchdown passes he threw.”

“Get the fuck outta my way,” Frank snarled at her, his face mottled.

“No. You leave him alone,” she cried, her voice breaking.

Taylor never cried. Would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her weak. The sight of her tears seemed to trigger something in Frank.

That angry gaze moved from her to Dillon and back, and it was as though a switch had flipped. He shoved her hand off his chest and swung away, muttering obscenities as he stalked through the kitchen. “Both of you just stay the fuck away from me.”

His bedroom door slammed shut a few moments later. Dillon sagged against the wall and closed his eyes. Two thin arms wound around his waist, and the scent of her shampoo drifted to him as she laid her head on his chest.

Afraid she’d see the tears in his eyes, he hugged her in silence. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Someone has to stand up for you,” she answered. “If I don’t, who will?”

Who will?

No one.

Dillon opened his eyes and stared up at the darkened ceiling of the cheap motel room he’d rented last night. Taylor had always stuck her neck out for him, even when she’d suspected he was up to bad shit toward the end of their time together.

He had no one and nothing until he killed her and the heat was on. The local authorities and several agencies had a BOLO out on him.

After two days of doing everything in his power to finish this, Taylor was still alive. Now his window of opportunity was gone and he was running on borrowed time.

Carlos would have sent others after her by now. Possibly after him, too. The only way to save his skin was to kill her and send proof to the cartel before one of the sicarios caught up with him.

Rolling to his side, he reached for the prepaid phone he’d picked up at a gas station last night, and dialed Janet. The DEA was probably monitoring her phone now, but he was desperate to find out where Taylor was and had to risk it.

All he needed was to get within rifle range of her and set up a shot. One bullet to the head, and this nightmare would be over.

 

****

 

Taylor turned over in bed without opening her eyes, something tugging at the edges of her consciousness.

Logan.

He was no longer wrapped around her like a living blanket as he had been most of the night. Her eyes popped open, but his side of the bed was empty and the room was still dim. He hadn’t been inside her yet, because neither of them had any protection with them, but after that much needed, mind-blowing release in the shower it had been heaven to snuggle up naked against that hot, powerful body.

She’d never felt so safe and relaxed in her life as she had last night. Where had he gone?

She rolled to her side and half sat up, looking around the room. The apartment was silent. He’d left? Without saying goodbye?

Out of nowhere, a strange hollowness opened up in her chest. As if he’d taken a chunk of her heart with him.

The realization stopped her cold. God, was it too late? She had feelings for him. Big feelings. Just how far had she fallen for him?

Reaching for her glasses, she spotted the note beside them on the bedside table. Gone to grab us something tastier than eggs and toast for breakfast. Back soon. Logan.

The hollowness vanished instantly, replaced by excitement and anticipation. Was this what infatuation felt like?

She jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to get showered, brush her teeth and get dressed. It was Sunday, and she’d planned to get more work done, but if Logan wanted to spend the day with her here then she’d catch up on everything later.

The realization that she was willing to put work aside for a man was so startling that she stopped in the act of brushing her hair to stare at her reflection in the mirror. “Who are you?”

The new, improved version of Taylor Kennedy. A wide grin spread across her face. “Because I am worthy.” She liked this new her.

A lot.

While she waited for Logan to return she took some files back to bed with her. By the soft light of the bedside lamp she studied the columns of numbers and the reports the offshore banks had sent her.

For the first time in recent memory, she couldn’t concentrate. On the pages before her, the rows and tables of data held no appeal whatsoever. The driving need to figure out the puzzle before her was absent, and the idea of sifting through the material for a key bit of information left her bored and unsatisfied.

Wow, two firsts in one day. Just a few days with Logan and he was already playing hell on her focus and work ethic.

Sighing, she took off her glasses and set them aside with the files, then rolled to her side and closed her eyes to rest them. She pictured Logan, smiling at her yesterday as he’d hauled the kayak out of the water. He’d been so wonderful to her, making her feel like a desirable and interesting woman rather than a dull and socially awkward numbers geek.

She must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, her T-shirt was sliding up her back and the scent of coffee teased her nose. Mmm, breakfast in bed? She’d never done that before.

“You’re back,” she murmured sleepily.

“Yeah. Missed you while I was gone, too.” Warm lips began trailing kisses up the length of her spine.

Smiling, all sleepy and warm, she kept her eyes closed and allowed herself to drift, enjoying his attention. The bedside lamp clicked off a moment later and the bed shifted. Logan’s warm hands began peeling off her clothes, the touch of his fingertips leaving streaks of fire in their wake. She was wet already, her entire body soft and aching for him.

So when he tugged her hips backward to bring her onto her knees, she sighed and followed his cues. Her skin buzzed at the feel of his beard and lips moving up the inside of her thigh. She held her breath, belatedly realized she’d curled her fingers into the sheets and stopped thinking altogether when his tongue delved between her legs to stroke over her tender center.

“Ohh,” she moaned, unable to form a more coherent response than that.

It felt like she was dissolving from the inside out, each tender lap of his tongue against her swollen clit increasing the aching need. She opened wider for him, resting her weight on her forearms, the muscles in her legs trembling slightly. The whole time he kept one solid palm pressed to the base of her spine and the other curled around her hip, anchoring her in place while his mouth took her toward heaven.

Soon she was gasping and panting, twisting against his mouth. She needed more. Needed him to push into her, fill her.

Logan sucked at her gently, making her back arch before he eased away. She let out a mewl of frustration and started to turn around but he stayed her with a solid grip on her hip. “Stay still.”

She did, allowing her head to rest back on her pillow while the whisper of him stripping came from behind her, followed by a quiet tearing sound.

“Picked us up something else while I was out, too,” he whispered, moving in behind her.

A wall of heat and strength surrounded her as his chest touched her back, his hips pressed tight to her rear. Her body responded to the feel of all that strength wrapping around her, not to hurt or control, but to cherish and protect. To pleasure.

There was no fear, and no self-consciousness. She trusted him completely. A light shudder rippled through her body, her heart swelling.

With tiny caresses, he slid the hard, thick ridge of his erection against her folds. She gasped and pushed backward, hungry for more, desperately glad he’d thought to buy condoms.

He obliged, slipping one hand around to cradle her sex, his middle finger rubbing her clit while he pushed inside her, inch by inch. Taylor groaned and pressed back as pleasure sizzled across her nerve endings. He was huge inside her, filling her completely with his heat and it felt so damn good combined with the way he was stroking her.

Nuzzling the crook of her neck and shoulder, he buried his cock inside her, one hand on her hip to keep her steady.

“Ah, hell, you feel so good,” he breathed against her neck, his warm breath and the tickle of his beard making her shiver.

“You too,” she gasped out. She was dizzy. Breathless.

There were no more words, only sensation, and she wanted more. She let her body take over, following Logan’s slow rhythm, angling her hips so he hit just the right spot. Her whimper of surrender sounded loud to her own ears but he made a soothing sound and nibbled at the side of her neck as he rode her, stroking all the best places at once.

Ecstasy hovered at the edge of her consciousness. She let her body float toward it, guided along by Logan’s sure movements. The muscles of her belly and thighs pulled taut. Her breath caught in her throat as the pleasure crested and burst, wringing cry after cry of ecstasy from her throat.

Logan wrapped his free arm around her and locked her tight to him, his teeth scraping at the side of her neck as he drove in harder. Faster. She was still coming down from her high when he buried his face against her skin and groaned in pure pleasure, his big body shuddering with the force of his own orgasm.

Taylor lay sprawled with her upper body flat on the mattress, too weak to move. It was like he’d melted all her bones and liquefied her muscles.

Oh my God. So. Good. So good with him.

After a minute, he gently eased out of her and kissed her shoulder. The mattress dipped again and she heard his soft footfalls on the carpet. She rolled to her side and drew the covers over her, too blissed out to find out where he was going.

The water ran in the bathroom sink a moment later, then he came back and slipped in behind her. He drew her back into the curve of his body, those powerful arms contracting around her. She groaned in utter contentment and forced herself to roll over so she could snuggle up against his chest, the scattering of hairs there tickling her nose.

“I actually did bring us breakfast,” he whispered against her hair, stroking the fingers of one hand through it. “Not just condoms.”

She had to be careful she didn’t start drooling at the thought of eating in bed with him and then having another round of fabulous sex. “That was nice of you.”

“You hungry?”

“Mmm, later. Don’t wanna move.”

“Well then, my work here is done,” he said on a proud chuckle.

They lay quietly for a long time while she soaked up his heat and the thud of his heartbeat beneath her cheek as he held her. “You working today?” he finally asked.

“I should.” But she still didn’t want to, and that wasn’t like her at all. And she really needed to get back to the investigation because she’d already taken most of yesterday off. She should feel more guilty about that, but apparently being targeted for death then having crazy hot sex with Logan had changed the way she looked at everything. “Might have a meeting later on, Chris said he’d call and let me know. You working?”

“Physio in an hour, then I’m meeting some of the guys for some light training and we’ll grab something to eat after.” He stroked her back with his blunt fingertips, making her want to purr. “Call me when you’re done for the day? I don’t want to hang around here and distract you if you’ve got stuff to get done.”

“Good call.” Because he was the biggest distraction she’d ever come across. Even in full workaholic mode with this time-sensitive investigation going on, she would never have the strength to resist him if he stayed here.

“Can I ask you something?”

She opened her eyes but didn’t look up at him, something inside her stilling at his tone. She didn’t want this peaceful interlude to end, but she knew it had to eventually. “Sure.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot and wanted to ask you, but it never seemed to be the right time.”

She was fully awake now, some of the sensual bliss fading away at his words. “Okay.”

His hand never ceased its slow, gentle stroking up and down her back. Soothing. Caring. The man had amazing hands. “How did you wind up in foster care?”

Of all the things he could have asked, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Maybe she should have. It was natural for him to be curious about her, since they’d been intimate and were still getting to know each other. Because she felt safe with him, she was willing to tell him. It was time. But she couldn’t look at him when she did. There was still too much humiliation for her surrounding the incident.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Yes. But only if you want to tell me. If you don’t, I understand.”

She drew a deep breath. “I told you my parents were both addicts.”

“Yes.”

She hesitated only a moment before continuing. “They weren’t bad people. They just made poor choices and then their addictions took over.”

His fingers stroked lazily up the length of her spine. “Were you close to them when you were little?”

“I think so. My mom especially. I remember her making birthday cakes for me and turning off all the lights before she lit the candles and carried them to the kitchen table while she sang happy birthday. And the three of us liked going to movies together. Dad and I would always share some popcorn. On Saturdays, he and I would get up early in the morning and watch cartoons so my mom could sleep in longer.” The thought brought a bittersweet smile to her face. It had been so long since she’d thought about them, or those times.

“I’m glad you’ve got some good memories of them.”

“Me too. I missed them for a long time, but I think rather than mourning the loss of my parents, I mourned the loss of what could have been if they hadn’t been addicts. You know?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

A few beats passed while he waited for her to continue. Taylor hesitated about whether to keep talking. The next admission was hard for her. Other than Dillon and a few other people who’d worked on her case, no one knew what had led to her being taken into foster care. She’d made sure of it.

In all these years, she’d never told a soul about what had happened to her, not even Charlie. That inability—or unwillingness—to open up to anyone about it was part of the reason she’d never thought she could have a relationship with a man. At least, not a healthy one, due to her trust issues.

Logan had changed all that. She wanted him enough to exorcise her demons once and for all and lay herself completely bare to him. Even though it scared her to death.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine,” he murmured.

“No, I…want to.” And that said it all, didn’t it? She trusted Logan. And she had carried this burden for far too long as it was. This shameful, dirty secret that had stained her soul and all but obliterated her self-worth.

She swallowed before continuing, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “After my mom died of an overdose, my dad started using more and more. He went into a sharp downward spiral. At some point it got so bad that he stopped going into work. He would stay in bed with his door locked and I barely saw him. Eventually he ran out of money. Sometimes I went a full day or two without anything to eat.”

Logan made a gruff sound and wrapped both arms around her, strong and secure. “How old were you?”

“Eleven.” She cleared her throat, the protectiveness of his embrace giving her the strength to keep going. Now that she’d started telling him, she wanted to get the rest of it out. “He started bringing people home with him. They’d shoot up together in the living room or kitchen. He’d make me go to my room first, so I wouldn’t see it, but I snuck out a few times and saw him. Sometimes various dealers would show up at our place.”

The shame started to close in on her again, thick and suffocating. She shook it off. I am worthy.

Her past did not define her. She’d been a child. She wasn’t to blame for what had happened. And she trusted Logan. Trusted that he cared about her and wouldn’t judge her.

“Then one night, my father couldn’t pay for his next hit. He was desperate. He’d sold nearly everything we had that could be pawned to support his habit. The dealer came that time, and there was nothing. Nothing except me.”

Logan sucked in a harsh breath, his entire body going rigid.

She squeezed her eyes shut, kept her cheek against his chest and just said it, wanting to just say it and get it over with. “The dealer asked if he could have half an hour alone with me in my room in exchange for the heroin. My father said yes.” Drawing in a bolstering breath, she ran her fingertips over the center of Logan’s wide chest.

“So while he was getting his next fix, the dealer came into my room. At first, I didn’t realize what was going on. But the way he looked at me was wrong. He came over to the bed and grabbed me.” The memories bombarded her like a string of flashbulbs bursting in her mind. Vivid. Terrifying. “I started screaming and fought him. He pinned me down but I bit and scratched and kicked. I knocked over my dresser. It hit the wall and my lamp broke on the floor. Thank God the walls in that building were thin, because my elderly neighbor who happened to be the superintendent heard me. He came over and broke the door down, dragged the guy off me and carried me out of there.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but the tension in his muscles told her exactly how upset he was.

She was silent a moment, letting the horror of the memory fade under the comforting warmth of Logan’s embrace. “The police came with a social worker to take me away. The last time I saw my father, he was in cuffs being loaded into the back of a patrol car. He looked right at me, but he was so high I don’t think he recognized me or realized what he’d done. I heard he died in jail a few months later. Got his hands on some potent heroin inside, and OD’d.”

A resounding silence filled the room as she finished, pressing in on her. She couldn’t look Logan in the face, not wanting to see the pity or the anger that had to be written on his face.

But he didn’t say anything. He just rolled to his back and took her with him so that she was lying flush against his body, and wrapped his arms snug around her. Then he pressed his face into her hair and held her that way in the quiet.

A lump formed in her throat and her eyes stung. The sheer relief of his acceptance and support after what she’d just told him meant the world to her. She felt lighter inside now that she’d finally opened up to someone about her past.

“You sorry you asked?” she said quietly a minute later.

“No. But it kills me to think of you going through that. You were just a kid.”

She nodded. “It sucked. I wouldn’t go back and live through that again for all the money in the world.”

“No kidding.”

She was quiet a moment, collecting her thoughts. “For a long time I felt like they’d both abandoned me. That they must not have really wanted or loved me if the heroin was more important to them. It made me believe I was unlovable.”

“That’s BS. You’re totally loveable, and they loved you as much as they were able to until the addiction finally took over.”

Yes. “Guess that’s why I’m so anal-retentive about everything now—I like to control my environment.”

“Well, you’re not anal-retentive about everything.”

She tipped her head to look up at him in surprise. “No?”

“You’re not like that in bed. Actually, I’d say you’re the opposite and kind of like giving up control to me.”

Her cheeks heated even as a thrill raced through her. She loved the way he took over in bed, it was the hottest thing she’d ever experienced. Yet another surprise discovery about herself. “With you, yeah.”

But no one else. Maybe that’s why it had never worked out with another guy. She hadn’t trusted him enough to let go, let alone confess her darkest secrets.

A wide, satisfied smile spread across his face. “So I’m special, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you are,” she teased.

His eyes widened in mock outrage. “You guess? You guess?” He rolled her back beneath him, pinning her with his weight, and gripped her head to hold her still while he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

She gasped at the sensation and giggled as he rubbed his beard over her sensitive skin. “That tickles!” It kind of burned a little, too.

“I know. Too bad you’re gonna have to endure more of it, huh?”

Squirming and wriggling, she laughed as he proceeded to give her a whisker rub all over her naked body. And soon the giggles and struggles turned to moans and arching into him.

Thankfully he got the message, quit teasing her, and put his mouth to much better use.