SIX
Gunner
"This is cozy."
The low, rumbling, deep voice woke me up in a goddamn blink, my hand already reaching for the gun I had put on the floor beside me.
"If I were Cortez, you'd be dead already," the voice added, and my brain was clearing of the fog of sleep enough to recognize it.
Not Cortez.
But an even more unlikely person.
Ranger.
"The fuck are you doing here?" I asked, voice low. Why, I wasn't sure, since I could probably have a kegger in this joint without waking up Sloane who was curled up on me like she had been the night before - head on my chest, hand on my shoulder, knee between my legs.
Which, to be honest, was creating a bit of an issue when I was awake to notice it.
Because there was no way to deny that this woman was hot. Beautiful, really. And because I had gotten to see the more human - less cyborg - side of her all day, it was easier for me to accept my body's reaction to her.
It was all a front.
Not because she wanted to impress anyone - though I was sure that was a bonus she enjoyed - but because she came from a shit world, and she was doing everything in her power not to be seen as that girl with the shitty parents who likely came from a shitty area.
It was impressive that she had made her life what it was considering she came from those beginnings. I had judged her too prematurely, just assuming she was some trust fund baby, or some rich guy's arm candy.
But she had worked for every bit that she got.
A woman who hustled, who knew her worth, who demanded respect because of that, well, she was sexy.
Sloane was sexy.
And having her on my chest, smelling like those creams she smeared all over her skin, her long body curled into mine, her body warm and pliant, yeah, it was giving my cock ideas.
Ideas it needed not to get.
Since this was a job.
And you didn't fuck around on a job.
That was the rule.
The rule I had lectured Quin about breaking with Aven.
I wasn't going to repeat that myself.
Even though it had worked out for him.
That was the exception, not the rule.
The rule was you didn't fuck on the job.
Case closed.
"Helpless as a goddamn baby out here," Ranger rumbled at me, turning his giant back to me to go toward the fire, carefully placing a few more logs on it to get it going again.
"Doing fine," I countered, shrugging.
"Fine? Oh, you mean the half a drive you got going? Did you know they haven't run a plow down the main drag yet? Likely won't at this point."
"How'd you get here then?" I asked, watching as he dropped his ass down on the coffee table, sitting close, so we could keep our voices down. Which, well, wasn't exactly like him. Delicate and considerate were not words anyone would use to describe this giant brute of a man.
He was giant, first of all.
I was tall.
He dwarfed me.
I was in shape.
He made me look small by comparison.
His hair was black, eyes black, beard black, clothes... you guessed it, black. And if you asked any of the people we chucked his way to babysit - seeing as he was The Babysitter - they would likely claim his heart and soul was black as well.
To be fair, he was a decent enough man.
Just wild.
Just used to doing shit his own way.
He didn't put up with whining or laziness or emotional crap.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was alone in the middle of the fucking Pine Barrens, surrounded by nothing but nature.
That one percent when Quin had to throw someone into his temporary care, they quickly wished they had listened and done whatever Quin had demanded of them in the first place.
"A plow on the truck," he said, like I was an idiot for not thinking of that myself. "This is a new way of protecting a client," he added, jerking his chin toward Sloane.
"Her teeth chatter," I defended, not knowing why I felt like I needed to explain myself. He wasn't my boss. He had no say in how I handled my cases. And he wasn't one prone to gossiping since the fuck didn't even have a personal cellphone.
"It's a good seventy-degrees in here."
"I bet you that if I weren't right here, she'd be shaking."
"City chicks," he said, shaking his head, his voice implying that those words were perhaps the biggest insult he knew. Which, judging by the way he lived off the land, was likely exactly right.
"Did Quin send you?" I asked, knowing I had sent him a text explaining the situation.
"Heard the news. Figured this would be your situation. Grabbed you some shit to hold you over."
"What kind of shit?"
"Generator, some extra food, the connector you needed for the well. Gas. I'll plow you out, but I figured life would be easier with a city chick if she could shower and have heat." Which meant we'd be on our way. No more walking in on her sketching looking like a nerdier version of her usual self. No more of her opening up to me about her life, her past. No more of her clinging to me in her sleep, getting her addictive goddamn scent all over me. It was ridiculous, but I didn't want to leave for some reason. "Unless you want me to pack back up, and leave you two to your own devices."
"What are you implying?"
"Just observing."
"How far out is the road not plowed?"
"About four miles north you hit the main road again. I can do it once I get some light again."
"What time is it?"
"About four-thirty."
Four-thirty.
And I was still out cold?
I never really did lose my military time, always getting up before the sun. It was something Ranger, Quin, Smith, Lincoln, and I all had in common. Much to the chagrin of Kai and Miller when we were working jobs together.
"Must be all the... shoveling," Ranger supplied in that rumbling growl of his, lips twitching up as his gaze went to Sloane's face. "Really makes a man want to stay in bed," he added for emphasis.
"I get it," I said, trying to convince my cock to calm down when Sloane made some soft mewling noise in her sleep, her body shifting over mine, the top of her thigh almost pressing against my crotch.
Soft.
She was so fucking soft.
She tried to be hard to cover it.
But once you spent some time around her, you could see it was all a front. She was just trying to protect herself. Hell, it sounded like she had valid reasons to do so too.
"You're gonna be tossing her on her ass in a new life in a few days," he went on, clearly thinking I didn't, in fact, get it. "Figure she's had enough shit hands dealt her way recently. Doesn't need to become a notch in your belt on top of it. Never to see you again."
"I fucking get it, Ranger," I said, voice getting a little louder. "I gave this speech to Quin last year."
"Yeah, and look how that worked out," he said, lips curving up a little. It was rare to find humor in him, unless maybe it was at your expense, like when he once threw his head back and laughed at Kai attempting to figure out how to change the oil on a generator at Ranger's place.
"He's happy."
To that, Ranger made some noise that was neither agreement nor denial. "Well, let's get moving," he declared, clapping his hands before he could think better of it, face scrunching up immediately when Sloane shot up on a swallowed shriek.
Because when Ranger clapped those dinner plates he called hands, it was like a gun going off in the small space.
"Easy," I tried, reaching out to her as she flew upward, sitting back on her heels, eyes huge and confused. My hand went to her wrist, closing around it, giving it a squeeze. "This is Ranger," I added as her eyes went to the wall of a man sitting on the coffee table not more than two feet away from her. "I work with him," I added when she still didn't seem to be grasping it, her breathing a little faster than it should have been from the shock.
"It sounded like a gun went off," she admitted, looking down at me.
"He clapped," I explained, nodding over toward his hands as I moved to sit up as well.
As her gaze went to Ranger, so did mine.
It was fair to say the man was good-looking. In a rugged, wild, skyscraper kind of way. It didn't surprise me when Sloane did an up-and-down in her half-awake state.
What did surprise me, though, was the way Ranger did one as well. I'd known the man a long time. I'd been on jobs with him. Been to his place. Been out celebrating with him. I'd never seen him with a woman. Not like me and Quin and Smith - casual. Or like Lincoln - always shacked up. Never.
His eyes traveled bottom up, though, looking at the short pink silk bottoms she had on, exposing most of her long, slim thighs, then over the slice of pale skin above the waistband and below the hem of her barely-there peach silk top with some white bird design if you looked really closely. His gaze stopped for a stutter at her breasts, small, but there, the nipples pointed, before it traveled up again, taking in her face, the way her hair was falling out of the up-do thing she had it in.
"Get it," he said to me, nodding. He moved to stand, unblocking the fire, allowing the light to cast on us.
Which made him stop suddenly, arm flying out, grabbing the bottom of Sloane's shirt, and yanking up.
"What..." I started to object, but noticed the way his brows were drawn low.
His breath hissed out of him. "Hurt?" he asked, drawing my attention back to a shocked Sloane, her body stiff, eyes on Ranger instead of her stomach where his gaze was.
"What?"
"You're bleeding, duchess," I supplied, finally realizing what had caught his attention. There must have been a small stain of it on her shirt.
"What? No, I'm... oh," she said, air exhaling out of her.
And I swear to fuck, she went white as a ghost immediately.
"'Ey, no," Ranger said, snapping loudly in her face, making her body jolt, her head flying up again. "You're not passing out over a few drops of blood," he informed her as though he was in control of how her body reacted to it. "You just pulled a stitch," he added, shrugging it off. "It's not a big deal. We'll get it clean. It will be fine without it."
"I can..." she started to assure him, even though she was still too pale, and there wasn't even a trace of her usual confidence in her voice.
"Gunner will deal with it," Ranger cut her off. "I will go fire up the generator. You look like you need some coffee."
And to that, Sloane made a noise that sounded like he'd flicked her clit, not promised her caffeine. I felt it in my dick. Judging by the way Ranger's brows went low over his dark eyes, he felt it too.
"Yeah," he said, sounding off, unfolding to full height again, then disappearing out the door in just three strides.
"He's... interesting," Sloane said, moving to stand, holding her shirt up still as she did, likely trying to save her shirt. Didn't know dick about fabric, but I was pretty sure she wasn't getting blood out of that silk shit.
"That's a kind way to describe him," I said, grabbing the flashlight, and leading her to the bathroom. "Tuck this up, duchess," I said softly as I wet gauze from the emergency kit with witch hazel to wipe the blood away. "Deep breaths," I reminded her when her air seemed to shallow out, her eyes looking worried. "I'm not gonna hurt you," I promised, hoping I could keep it as I cleaned her up. "Extra deep breath," I said as I grabbed the very edge of the stitch that was just barely still stuck in her skin. "This might pinch," I added, tugging just as she started to suck in her breath, making it rush right back out of her. "Sorry, sorry, duchess," I said as I stood, watching as her eyes seemed to go a little unfocused. "Hey, no," I said, snagging her chin, dragging it up to make her eyes hold mine. "Stay here," I demanded, watching as she slow-blinked a few times.
But it was only a second of being fully focused.
And then her eyes went hazy again.
But this time for an entirely different reason.
And, fuck, there was no way I was going to be able to follow my own goddamn rules.
There wasn't a single argument that could come to my mind that could make me turn down the invitation in her eyes.
"This is a bad idea, baby," I said, voice low.
"I know," she whispered back, hand sinking into the shirt covering my shoulder. "I don't care," she added.
My hand slid around her neck, my fingertips just barely snaking into her soft hair, yanking her forward slightly, her body melding to mine, her eyes drifting closed just a second before my lips sealed over hers.
I expected soft and pliant.
But her lips were hungry under mine, taking what was offered, but demanding more.
She made the noise that she had made in her sleep, but this time needier, a sound that had my cock stiff in a heartbeat.
I wondered as my tongue moved in to toy with hers if she had been dreaming of this, if she had been thinking of my lips, hands, tongue, everything on her.
The idea made a low growl escape me as my hands traveled down her back to sink into her ass, yanking upward until she was up on the sink vanity, thighs spreading, letting me move in between.
My cock had just pressed against her pussy - making her let out a throaty moan - when the lights suddenly flicked on, making us both pull back as suddenly as we had leaned in.
Just like that, the moment was over.
Even as I tried to find something to say, I could hear Ranger's clomping footsteps in the living space. "Making coffee," he growled out.
"We might want to stop him," I said, taking a steadying breath. "Otherwise, we'll be drinking sludge."
"Right," she agreed, attempting a smile as she reached up to touch her hair self-consciously. "Can I take a shower first?" she asked, looking over at it with a small bit of the trepidation that had been there before.
"You want me to stay?" I asked, watching as she shot me a somewhat shocked look. "To stand guard," I clarified.
"With the two of you in the cabin, I don't think anyone could get to me," she said as she carefully hopped back down.
"Alright. I'll save you a cup."
With that, I left her, trying to talk my cock into calming down as I made my way back into the common area.
"I interrupt something?" Ranger asked, towering over the coffee machine, steadily putting too many grounds in.
"I was fixing her stitches," I clarified, it being partly true.
"That's what they're calling it, huh?" he asked. He was an oddly preceptive person for someone who spent almost no time around other human beings.
"Drop it," I demanded, going to yank open the back window, reaching out to grab the eggs from where Sloane had them buried under a pile of snow.
"Your life," he agreed, reaching above the machine to drag down three mugs. "How does she take her coffee? Don't have any fancy shit," he told me as though I didn't already know he wasn't the type to remember to pick up caramel syrup or anything like that.
"She takes it black," I supplied, cracking eggs into a bowl.
We said nothing else, both of us generally used to silence. A good ten minutes later, while I was pushing around scrambled eggs in a pan, the door to the bathroom opened, bringing steamy air, and the heady smell of all Sloane's scents, a moment before the woman herself reappeared.
And her uniform was completely back on.
Navy blue slacks.
Beige blouse with buttons up the front.
Skyscraper heels that matched her shirt.
Her hair was still wet, wrapped in yet another braid down her back.
She'd even put her minimal amount of makeup on.
And jewelry.
"I would have cooked," she said immediately, almost sounding off-put that I had done it.
"That is about all he knows how to cook," Ranger told her, handing her a mug. "And he's burning them," he added.
"Thank you," she said, bringing up the mug, taking a long sniff before drinking, closing her eyes on a moan that had both Ranger and me tensing up. "I missed this more than the lights," she admitted, sounding a little embarrassed by her own reaction. "So, um, what is the plan now?" she asked, clearly not as comfortable with the silence in the room, likely because she didn't want Ranger catching on to the tension between the two of us.
"What plan?" I asked, plating the eggs.
"Well, now that you don't have to shovel," she clarified, grabbing forks for us. "Are we still going to stay here the extra time, or are we moving on?"
I could feel Ranger's gaze on me, but ignored it.
"We'll head out tomorrow morning."
"And by morning, you mean four, I imagine," she said, pushing around her eggs.
"Yeah, four. We have a lot of ground to cover."
"Right," she agreed.
And just like that, Miss Blythe-Meuller was back.