Wild Card Page 12

  She didn’t flinch when he reached out to touch her. Over the years, she had always had to suppress a flinch when another man tried to stroke her, kiss her.

  “You don’t belong to him,” he told her, his fingertip stroking over the rasp of his beard that he had left on her jaw. “Testosterone is a dangerous thing sometimes. You should have waited to talk to him.”

  At least Noah sounded reasonable, and he was right. She knew he was right. She had thought Duncan understood. She had imagined he had accepted that she couldn’t give him the things he wanted.

  “He’ll get over it,” she finally breathed out roughly. “But I really think you should leave now too. I’m tired.”

  She moved around the counter to lead him to the front door, only to feel his arm curling around her, pulling her against his hard body as she stared up at him in surprise.

  “You ran from him,” he told her. “You know you’re safe with me. Admit it.”

  “I was safe with him,” she told him quietly. “I’m not a moron, Noah. I know how to protect myself. And I will, when I have to.”

  “Then prove it.” That gravelly, rough voice was a dark croon. “Try to get away from me, Sabella.”

  She almost laughed at the challenge. She would have, except something inside her was burning, begging, pressing closer to him as he lifted her against him.

  “You want me,” he stated roughly.

  “I don’t want to want you,” she whispered back painfully. “Because he was right about one thing. You’re dangerous. Too dangerous and too dark for what I need. If I had a brain in my head, I’d have made certain you were gone a week ago.”

  “You have plenty of brains.” His head lowered, his lips feathered against hers. “Enough brains to know whose arms you belong in. Enough to know where you’re safe.”

  Noah wasn’t fighting it. He knew now wasn’t the time to take her. Her common sense would kick back in, she would blame them both when morning came, but the adrenaline was racing through him. The mix of whore’s dust and lust was torturing his cock, filling it with blood as his balls felt tortured between his thighs.

  It had been over six years since he had taken his wife, since he had known the tight grip of her hot, sweet pussy. Since he had devoured her, licked her from head to toe, and heard her screams for more echoing in his head.

  All he knew now was the hunger. A hunger that clawed at him, that had him lifting her into his arms as he claimed her lips. Slanting his against them, his tongue pushing inside, tasting her, the sweet, delicate taste of passion and woman and the wine.

  He wanted to pour that wine over her body and lick it off her. He wanted to watch it stream over her pussy and bury his lips between her thighs to consume it. He wanted to be drunk on her, drunk on the lust and the need and a pleasure he had never been able to forget. Never been able to escape.

  “God, the taste of you,” he groaned, sipping at her lips as her head fell back, her hands pressing to the back of his head, tunneling into his hair.

  Oh, he knew what she wanted. A hard smile tugged at his lips as he let his beard rake over her neck, felt her shudder as he lifted her.

  Noah set her on the counter before moving between her thighs. The thin shorts did nothing to protect her from the hard, denim-covered length of his cock. Pressing against her, he swore he felt the heat and dampness of her. Remembered how tight her grip was, how that sweet sheath rippled and hugged him.

  Her moans were like fuel poured to the fire raging inside him. He tasted her neck with his tongue, gave her the caress of the rasp of his beard and felt her grinding against him.

  No sheriff to stop them now.

  His hands lowered to her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the loose T-shirt. Her pretty breasts were unbound, nipples hard and hot. And he wanted to taste. Needed to taste.

  Sabella moaned, cried out at the sensations racing through her body. They were wicked, carnal, so intense she couldn’t think, didn’t want to think. The rasp of his beard was a dark pleasure, his kiss like a potent wine. He made her head spin, sent her senses reeling and her heart hammering in her chest.

  And she needed more. She needed his touch. As his hands slid beneath her T-shirt she pressed closer, begging silently for his callused palms against her nipples, because she needed now as she never had. As she had only needed with one man, and the need now was brighter, stronger, and dug its claws deeper inside her.

  She wanted Noah Blake more than she could ever remember needing her own husband.

  Fear sliced through her. Shock. Fury. Fury at herself as well as Noah.

  It took everything she had, every measure of inner strength, to jerk back and force him to release her, to jump from the counter and stumble away from him.

  “This is what I should know not to do.” She placed several feet between them. “This is exactly what I don’t need. Now, please, just get the hell away from me. Just go, before I end up doing something we’ll both end up regretting.”

  Noah stared back at her for long moments. He could have her, so easily. Touch her, hold her, ease some of that pain in her eyes. And he wanted to, needed to.

  God help him, what had he done to his wife? She was standing before him, staring at him as though he were her destruction rather than a man she ached for, longed for. And he could see the guilt in her. The guilt that another man could make her respond, that another man could touch her as only he, her husband, had done.

  And added to that was his own damned jealousy. The parts of him that had been Nathan hadn’t died as thoroughly as he had thought they had. The man that was Noah, darker, more dominant, more arrogant, hated the man he had been as Nathan. Because it was Nathan she ached for. And it was Noah who was left living to hunger for her.

  “I’ll see you at the garage in the morning,” he finally told her, shaking his head at his own thoughts as he turned and left the house.

  Tortured. His dick was pounding and the pulse of lust in his blood was like fire in his veins.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sabella dragged herself out of the bed and stumbled to the shower the next morning. By the time she made it to the kitchen and the pot of coffee waiting on her, thanks to the timer, she wondered if she would ever force her eyes open enough to actually make the breakfast date she had arranged last night with Sienna Grayson, the sheriff’s wife, and Kira Richards.

  Ian Richards had been Nathan’s best friend. His marriage several years before to socialite Kira Porter had been a surprise to the small community. The fact that they still returned each summer to the house Ian had kept since he lived in Alpine with his mother was even more surprising.

  They’d become friends over the years, though only in the past year had Sienna been able to join their breakfast dates. Sienna did not like getting up early.

  This morning, Sabella well understood the feeling.

  She felt flayed by the dreams that had tormented her the night before. Duncan’s accusation, Nathan’s wild blue eyes staring at her in love, in pain. And Noah, reaching out for her, but he had Nathan’s eyes, and Nathan’s voice. They were more vivid, more terrifying, than the past dreams had been. Or perhaps they just seemed more vivid because of the short break she had been given.

  As she pulled her car into the Richardses’ driveway, she breathed out a hard breath as she glimpsed Ian’s tan-colored Jeep sitting in the driveway. The Richardses lived in a sprawling single-story ranch in the National Park area. Surrounded by cliffs and pine, this area’s stark, desolate beauty always managed to steal her breath.

  Sienna pulled in behind her.

  “It should be illegal to get up this early, Sabella,” Sienna stated as they got out of their vehicles. “I should have Rick arrest you.”

  Sabella stared at her friend closely. Despite the perfect makeup, Sienna had dark circles under hazel-green eyes and an edge of worry at her brow.

  “I have to work this afternoon,” Sabella told her. “Morning is the only time I could get away.” She frowned as she ga
ve her friend a quick hug and felt that Sienna had lost weight in the past weeks. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Me?” Sienna gave her tired smile. “I’m fine. Rick’s been busy and you know how grouchy he gets when he can’t solve a case. Those deaths a few months back are driving him crazy.”

  “The Black Collar Militia,” Sabella muttered. “Bastards. I knew that girl they killed.”

  “She was an FBI agent.” Sienna sighed as they walked to the house. “I couldn’t believe it when I read that in the newspaper. Of course, Rick had known, but he hadn’t told me.”

  Sabella knew Sienna had raged at Rick for years because he refused to tell her about the cases he worked, or when he was close to breaking a case. There were times Sabella knew it strained their relationship.

  “He’s not allowed to tell you, Sienna,” Sabella pointed out gently. “Just as Nathan couldn’t tell me about his missions.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to live with Nathan while he was on a mission.” Sienna snorted. “Some nights, he doesn’t even come home,” she said softly, sadly. “I hate it when he does that.”

  There was nothing Sabella could say. She could see Rick’s point of view. Although Sabella had understood that Nathan was a SEAL, Sienna had never been able to understand Rick’s dedication to being a sheriff.

  “Rick didn’t even tell me about the trouble you had with your new mechanic,” Sienna pouted as they approached the door and Sabella tapped on it lightly. “I had to hear through gossip.”

  Sabella rolled her eyes and tried to control her flush.

  “They sure weren’t wrong about that beard burn though.” Sienna craned her head around to look, snickering back at Sabella. “The man knows how to do it right.”

  “Good morning, ladies.” Kira chose that moment to open the door and invite them in. “Breakfast will be ready in a few. I just have to finish the tortillas and we’ll be good to go.” She paused and stared at Sabella, her eyes widening before a teasing smile curled her pert, pouting lips. “Wow, Sabella, gossip is right, that new mechanic of yours knows how to give beard burn the right way, doesn’t he?”

  Sabella narrowed her eyes at her friend. “We’re not talking about the new mechanic.”

  “The new mechanic?” Ian chose that moment to walk into the room. “Belle, could you let him know I have to bring the Jeep in.” He stopped, stared at her jaw and neck, lifted his brows and stared back at Kira.

  Kira smirked. “The new mechanic.”

  Great. “You guys act like you’ve never seen beard burn,” she muttered.

  “Have you looked in the mirror?” Sienna laughed, though the sound was tense. “Or did you do what you normally do and just ignore what you don’t want to see?”

  Sabella turned back to her, her lips tightening. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it’s not just beard burn.” Sienna laughed. “Sweetie, your mechanic left a hickey, and he did a damned good job with that one little bite while he was there.” She reached out, touched the area just under Sabella’s jaw, and shook her head. “We should all be so lucky.”

  Sabella walked into the garage late that afternoon. There were more than half a dozen vehicles lined up in the garage waiting area. Toby was pumping gas and there were several college students in the convenience section of the station.

  Rory was taking care of the register as Sabella moved into the office and closed the door behind her. She went to the coffeepot as the wide door into the garage bay opened and Noah stepped in.

  She was caught by his eyes. She was always caught by his eyes.

  “You’re late. Everything okay?” He entered the office and closed the door.

  “I stayed longer than I should have at a friend’s for breakfast.” She shrugged as she poured her coffee and headed to her desk.

  She pulled the overshirt she wore tighter around her. It had been one of Nathan’s shirts. Stained with oil, and she imagined she could smell him on it, though she knew the scent had long since faded. It was a comfort shirt. It was a warning to other men. Today, she needed something to hold Noah back, and she had prayed it would work.

  She watched as his eyes moved to the pocket patch. Nathan’s name was emblazoned there. When his gaze came back to hers she caught a hint of anger.

  “Still holding on to him?” he asked her softly, his rough voice darker than normal.

  “Always.” Let him make of that what he wanted to. She had stopped holding on to the hope he would come home three years before, but hadn’t forgotten what they had shared. No matter how hard she tried.

  “It’s been six years.” He poured his own coffee then sat on the corner of the spare desk. “Long time to be a frozen widow, don’t you think?”

  “So Duncan informed me last night,” she snapped. “I don’t need you reiterating the message.”

  Noah could see the pain that flashed in her eyes and it enraged him. The knowledge that he was fighting his own memory pissed him off even further.

  He hadn’t expected her to do this to herself. To put her life in such a deep freeze that no one else could touch her, hold her. Like an animal, she had burrowed into a hole to lick her wounds, but the wounds were still ragged and pain filled.

  But he couldn’t blame her for it. He’d done the same thing. Closed off everything, concentrated on the here and now, and the battles that came along. At least he had, until he returned home and learned nothing was as he had thought it should be.

  “I think you need to live a little.” He had never wanted her to be alone if something happened to him. But, just as he had done, Sabella had continued to hold on to that bond that stretched between them. The one Nathan had tried to break between them, but never could.

  “What I think is that it isn’t any of your business. You didn’t know him and you don’t know me.”

  He grunted at that, sipped his coffee, and stared at her bent head as she went over the accounting book. He’d gone over it himself, several times. It was in perfect order. Once she had returned and knocked the garage back into shape, she had managed, miraculously, to hold on to it. Mostly because, according to Rory, she had refused to sleep and had practically lived at the garage.

  “I don’t have to know him,” he told her, as he rested his wrist on his knee while holding his coffee and staring back at her. “I’ve had him shoved down my throat every day I’ve been here. Every one I’ve met loved ‘Irish.’ ” He nearly spat out the word. He was so sick of hearing about himself he could barely tolerate it.

  When the hell had people in this town decided he was larger than life and no other man was going to compare?

  “Nathan had a lot of friends.” She shrugged, her fingers picking at the edge of the accounting book, her expression tight.

  “Friends that let his widow suffer,” he reminded her. “What happened, Sabella? Who finally told you the garage was going to hell? According to Rory, you hid in that house on the hill and wouldn’t even answer the door some days. How did you figure out the Malones were trying to destroy you?”

  Her lips tightened.

  “Yeah, old Nate, he was well loved.” He sneered. “So well that his widow was deserted and nearly lost her ass while she was grieving. What the hell happened with that one, Sabella?”

  “Again, none of your business.” But her voice was tighter, the edge of hurt flaying his guts.

  He knew what had happened. His family had turned against her. Mike Conrad, it was rumored, had offered to help her out if she would be so kind as to let him fuck her. Noah had to force the violence down. And once the Malones and the bank had turned against her, then finding anyone willing to help hadn’t been easy. Only the fact that Nathan Malone had indeed had friends who were still willing to use the garage had saved her. Friends who didn’t have power, and there were too many of them for Grant Malone, or Mike Conrad, to be able to strike out at effectively.

  He knew what Mike Conrad had wanted. The garage was the perfect setup for laundering money and was centrally located for th
e militia members to congregate. With the apartment upstairs, the reputation of the garage, and Nathan Malone’s good name to fall back on, it would have worked.

  The sheriff and his wife had stood by her, though it was rumored the friends Mike Conrad had in the local government were pressuring the sheriff to choose sides. Mike’s or Sabella’s. Noah knew Rick Grayson, if he wasn’t part of the BCM, was at least a suspect. Hopefully, the program Noah had slipped into Mike’s laptop would give them the proof they needed to bring that bastard down. Him and his friends.

  The mayor, one of Grant Malone’s boyhood friends, had taken the city’s contract from the garage, illegally. Rory was checking with a lawyer in Odessa about suing for that one. What they had done to Sabella was unconscionable and wouldn’t be tolerated any longer.

  The gossip and rumors that filled small-town life were there for anyone willing to listen. And Noah listened each time a customer got nosy enough to question him regarding the talk now circulating that he was taking the place of the man they had nicknamed “Irish.” He listened, picked through the gossip to find the truth, and the truth only managed to piss him off more.

  “I’m making it my business,” he finally warned her.

  The battle he faced would have been amusing if it were anyone else. He was going to have to steal his wife’s heart back from his own memory. Hell of a position for him to find himself in.

  He watched as her gaze lifted, just her eyes, and she stared up at him, and he could have sworn he felt his balls twitch in warning. He had only seen that look one time in the two years they had been together.

  Her lips parted as the door from the convenience store opened and Rory stepped in.

  Noah’s gaze sliced to him, his demand to leave clear. Rory grinned back then his gaze moved to her neck. She was getting sick of that. The surprise, the look of shock that a man had marked her neck. What, did everyone suddenly think she really wasn’t woman enough to draw a man’s passion?

  She curled her lip angrily before getting to her feet, moving around the desk, and jerking open the door to the garage. She stepped into the garage bay and slammed the door closed behind her.