Accidental Protector: A Marriage Mistake Romance Read online

  My gut clenches, thinking about the last time I saw Jess in the casino's lot. How she’d told me to stay out of it. To go home empty handed, leaving her in hell.

  “When did she turn up missing?”

  “Months ago,” I answer. “Aunt Judy called me after she hadn’t heard from Jess in almost a week. I hadn’t heard from her in almost two.” Not since that night at the casino. “I went back to California. The last person who saw her was her business partner, Trisha.” I don’t let my own judgments get in the way, even ones that said Trisha knew more than she’d let on. She'd seen Jess hanging around him too much, getting too close to an asshole she knew was bad news.

  Too many fucking cowards in the world. Even best friends.

  The fear kept her tight-lipped. Rightfully so. “She said Jess left the office to go to a house showing one evening, but never made it there. Her place was just as she’d left it, and so was the condo she was supposed to show. No signs of forced entry. Nothing to go on. She must've been grabbed somewhere between points A and B.”

  “What about the police? The FBI?”

  “They have her listed as a missing person, but they don’t have more to go on than I did.”

  “Did?”

  “Lucient contacted me then, said if I give him what he wants, he’ll give me what I want.”

  “Jessica.” Her eyes go big. “Oh my God. So...she's a hostage?”

  I wish. “More like collateral.”

  Dead collateral. I stopped believing she's alive months ago. It's too good to be true.

  “What does he want from you?”

  “To find people like Harkness, guys double-crossing him, and turn them over to him. I've got the skill set. He's got the carrot to dangle over me. Simple as that.”

  “God,” she whispers slowly. “It's...”

  “I know. I'm not taking the bait.” I kiss the top of her head. “I have to put a stop to it. To him. He'll try to get more leverage next, try to force me into dirty jobs.” I don't dare specify the leverage could be her, and the dirty jobs may be fatal, hellish, inhuman ones.

  “Maybe the police –”

  “No. If I bring the police or the Feds into this any further, I’ll never discover what happened to Jess. Lucient's group has moles in both. That's why Jess' case barely went anywhere.” The air in my lungs burns. “Besides, I can’t do that to Aunt Judy. She's trusting me to fix this shit. Figure it out like I promised.”

  We’d been there before, her and me, wondering for years if my father was alive or dead after he'd disappeared.

  Despite being an irresponsible dick, he was our blood. Family. We needed closure.

  That’s how I know Jess would've found a way to contact me if she could. She’d remember what that was like, us waiting, hoping, wondering about my old man.

  “Right. What's your plan now?”

  “I need to get Lucient alone,” I tell her. “On my terms. Cornered. Once he tells me where Jess is, what happened to her, I’ll turn him over to the authorities. End it for good.”

  I hope I can turn the prick over, anyway. I can't promise to her face I won't just kill him with my own bare hands. I'm a believer in the law, but don't have such high morals I can look the fuck who murdered Jess in the eye and walk away satisfied he's rotting behind bars.

  I don't know what I'll do.

  I don't want to find out, even though I know I have to.

  Lucky kisses my shoulder, then my neck, and then my lips. She’s trying to distract me.

  I tell myself I shouldn’t let that happen, but she’s so soft. So sweet. So good.

  The soft heat of her kisses promises to lead to something more.

  Soon, I'm tracing her lips with my tongue, teasing them open. She obeys, parts them, just as I knew she would. Welcoming me in with all the sugar of a candy shop.

  Something unique, and it has to be rare, tightens inside my chest. It’s foreign.

  Almost a sensation I’ve never felt this deeply before. I can’t be falling in love with her, dammit.

  We're almost strangers, even if we'd been through more than kin in a matter of days.

  I bury her in another sultry kiss, distracting myself from heady shit I can't deal with now.

  The heat sizzles between us and passion flares, but I keep it slow and easy, even though I can’t think of anything besides burying myself deep inside her, emptying the weight off my soul by pumping another load in her cunt.

  That happens a short time later. I slide my engorged cock deep inside her wet and ready pussy, and go hard, lost in the most fantastic fuck in the world.

  We take our time, both of us, climbing and thrusting and teething our way to another perfect orgasm.

  Both drawing it out as long as possible. The pressure inside me is immense, powerful, and fighting it, keeping it contained, until the perfect moment, I thrust deeper inside her and hold my breath at how she contracts so tight around me.

  Lucky goes off like fireworks, coming so hard on my cock, she bites my shoulder, burying a scream.

  I can't fucking last.

  My balls become fireballs and send their heat up my cock. Flames shoot through my system, scalding my brain with pure white pleasure.

  She arches into me, giving in to her own drawn-out release.

  I muffle the way she shouts my name with more kisses and keep the pressure on between us, thrusting deeper, harder, until we're totally spent.

  Then I sink down on top of her, grinning at the bliss in her giggle as she nips at my ear.

  “You're one amazing beast, Noah Bernard.”

  “Glad you think so.” I kiss her and then slowly pull out. “Because I think you’re pretty damn incredible, too.”

  I’m in the bathroom before I realize just how true that statement is.

  She is incredible. Miraculous.

  I don’t just mean in bed. The way she’s befriended Aunt Judy, the way she’s put up with being stuck in the middle of this mess without totally freaking out...

  I can’t imagine there are too many women like that out there.

  I might have to explore that, after Lucient's done.

  “Noah?”

  I open the bathroom door, listening for her soft voice.

  “Come back to bed.”

  Smiling, I click off the bathroom light and bound toward the bed. “Missing me already?”

  “Yeah,” she confesses, a softness in her green-eyed soul.

  The muted moonlight makes her look demure, extra innocent.

  With the way she’s sitting up and has the sheet pulled up and tucked under her armpits, she looks sleepy, too. Adorably so.

  I climb onto the mattress and pull her down beside me. “Close your eyes, darlin'. If we’re lucky, we’ll get a good four hours in before Aunt Judy is up and raring to go have breakfast.”

  15

  Figaro (Mindy)

  I really should call my mother.

  Aunt Judy left hours ago, and so did Noah. He said he had an errand to run after taking her to brunch. Their last hurrah before she wanted to head home. I was too tired, and not very hungry, so I stayed here. Besides, I couldn’t ask all the things I really wanted, not with Aunt Judy standing there.

  “Damn it,” I sigh to myself. If I’m going to make this work, this new life I want, I have to be more assertive.

  Grabbing my phone off the counter, I carry it to the couch and plop down. “In more ways than one,” I say, clicking on MOTHER in my contacts.

  She picks up. “Mindy. How are you? Where are you?”

  “I’m fine. And I’m in Reno. Still. You know that.”

  “Good Lord, it's been days! Time to come home, dear. Carol called me this morning and said that Charlie's on his way home.”

  My heart leaps into my throat.

  “Why?” I ask. He’s supposed to be gone for three weeks. It’s only been one.

  “Because he misses you, dear. I sent him a text. Gave him Martha’s address.”

  I jump off the couch. “Why w
ould you do that?”

  “So he can come see you, silly. Unless, of course, you leave today. You could be home by late tonight. Surprise him when he arrives home.”

  Never.

  “I don’t want to surprise him, Mother. It's over, remember? I don’t want to see him, and I sure as hell don’t want him coming here, to Reno.”

  “Honey, you’ve had long enough to –”

  “To what?” I interrupt. “Know I’m right? Know that I never want to see him again? I already know that. I knew it before I left Scottsdale.”

  “Don’t argue, Mindy. It’s not like you, and so unbecoming.”

  “Maybe it is me, and maybe I don’t care if I’m unbecoming or not. Maybe I never cared.”

  “Of course you do. You always have. You’re the oldest and have always set such a good example. What will Alice and Grace think?”

  “Dunno. They've always been able to do as they please,” I point out. “They’ve never had to worry about what others think.” Guilt ripples my stomach. It's not like that. The girls haven’t had it that much easier than me. Mother tries to peck away and control them, too. They just don’t care.

  “Now, honey – oh, hold on. My line's beeping.”

  I hold the phone out and stare at it. This is how it’s always been. Nothing I say has ever been important.

  “Sweetie, it’s Carol calling. I’ll call you back.”

  I want to say don’t bother, but she’d already disconnected. Par for the course.

  The door opens, and the mere sight of Noah wipes out the frustration left by the conversation with my mother. “Hello.”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Where did you go?”

  He holds up a shopping bag after placing a few groceries on the counter. “To get this. Also damn near impossible to keep Aunt Judy away from the thrift stores. She just had to go on a shopping spree before heading back to Redding.”

  I notice the bag, but it’s the smile on his face, the shine in his eyes, that totally has my attention. Looking at him makes my heart skip a beat, and my mind think about last night. The amazing sex we had more than once.

  He sets the bag on the counter.

  “What’s in there?”

  He catches my hand as soon as I step close enough, and then pulls me into him, kissing me.

  His kisses are so wonderful, so skilled, so all-consuming. I wrap my arms around his neck, thinking about nothing, just enjoying his mouth, lost in the moment.

  I lean my head back, eyes closed, giving him complete access as his lips move down the side of my face.

  “Don’t you want to see what’s in the bag?” he asks before nibbling on my earlobe.

  “Why? Is it for me?”

  “Yeah,” he kisses my neck. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  He gives me a long, full mouth kiss and then twists me around. The bag is in front of me. At his nod, I pull apart the top and reach in to pick up a box.

  “Huh? A portable CD player?” I ask. “I didn’t know they even made these.”

  “They aren’t easy to find, but...” He reaches into the bag. “I figured I’d have better luck with CDs than online downloads. Plus I've got an old sound system at home still plugged into a CD changer I haven't parted with. Gift from Aunt Judy after finishing up boot camp.”

  He holds up several CDs.

  “Opera?” I’m touched in ways I’ve never been before. No one, absolutely no one, has ever done something this kind for me. “You bought me opera CDs?”

  “Us,” he says, grabbing my waist to pull me closer. “I bought us CDs so you can teach me to enjoy it. If that's possible.”

  I’m floored. This has to be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

  And he mentioned his old CD system at home. Home.

  Does that mean...dare I even think it? He's imagining a future. With us. At home, his real home, in Redding.

  He kisses my forehead and then releases my waist. “Pick one, darlin'. I’ll get this thing out of the box.”

  Whether he knows it or not, he has excellent taste in music. He's picked some of my favorites. “How'd you know which ones to buy?”

  “I can’t take any credit for that. The clerk helped me, so if there are none you like, it’s his fault, not mine.”

  I laugh. “The clerk did a wonderful job. We’ll start with this one.”

  It's a collection of Pavarotti's best performances.

  He plugs in the player and I put the CD in, then close my eyes as uplifting Italian verse fills the room. I can’t help myself and start to sing along. It’s been awhile since I tried to hit some of the notes and it strains my voice, but I manage. For a time, and then have to stop and laugh, catching myself.

  “Sorry. I suppose your neighbors won't appreciate the noise.”

  Noah stares at me, eyes wide.

  I cringe with embarrassment. “Sorry. Really.”

  “For what? That was fucking astonishing. You've got a voice to match that body. Damn beautiful.”

  A blush like the sun explodes on both cheeks.

  “It’s just the music.”

  “Nah, it wasn’t.” His hands take my sides as he steps closer. “Never heard anything like it before, Lucky. You should be on stage.”

  “No way. I’m not nearly good enough for that. Don’t have the stamina.”

  “You have stamina,” he says. “I’ve seen it.”

  “Not that kind of stamina.” I wind my arms around his neck and lean against him as another song starts playing.

  Swaying together, I explain the story behind the song. Two lovers, struck with misfortune by the gods, based on a re-working of Renaissance classics. The history and innermost thoughts behind the composer. I do the same with the next song, and then the next.

  I click off the machine after that one, not wanting to wear him out the first time, and tell him so.

  “You won’t wear me out,” he says. “Go ahead and let it rip. I can tell how much you’re enjoying this.”

  Guilty. Grinning, I click the machine back on, but keep the volume down. “I’ll let it play while I make us some lunch. Do you want mustard or mayo on your sandwich? Thank God somebody finally went grocery shopping.”

  “Mayo,” he says, giving me a knowing smile.

  Then his phone rings.

  The frown that instantly appears makes me wonder if he’s going to answer it or not.

  Turning, he answers it, saying hello while walking toward the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony.

  Without another word, he opens the door, steps outside and closes it behind him.

  I open the fridge, but then close it again, unsure how long he’ll be. My phone chooses that very moment to light up, too, belting out its unbearable ringtone. I consider not answering, especially when the caller ID says MOTHER.

  Letting out a sigh, I grudgingly accept the call.

  “Mindy Marie Austin!” she says, almost breathless. “Have you...have you checked your email recently?”

  “No, why?” My email app is on my phone, but I only ever get junk.

  “Well, if you get one with an attachment, for the love of all that's holy...don’t open it!”

  I rarely do. I'm also way past confused.

  “Okaaaay.”

  “Jesus. I’ll...I'll call you later, Mindy. Promise. We'll get through this, together, baby, one way or another...” she says, sounding detached.

  “Mom, wait –”

  Too slow. She hangs up before I can say another word.

  I consider sending her a text, or calling dad's phone, but there are times when the less a person knows, the better. That's probably true here.

  She or Carol probably sent me something about the wedding and then changed their minds. One more disgusting reminder of everything I want nothing to do with back at home.

  The quiet swish of the sliding door has me dropping the phone on the coffee table. “Ready for a sandwich?”

  “Sounds good.”
<
br />   There’s no sign of frustration on his face, so his call must have been insignificant. Much like mine. Which makes me happy. Overjoyed, really, that we're not dealing with more bad news.

  We eat sandwiches for lunch, and hours later, I make a chicken stir-fry for supper. We spend the day not doing much of anything, other than listening to the CDs Noah purchased, and talking.

  Not about anything significant, just life in general.

  The next few days are the same, except Noah spends hours on the computer. He tells me more about Jess, mostly stories of her as a young girl, and more about Aunt Judy.

  I talk more about my family – my younger sisters in high school, still at that ‘impressionable’ age, as Mother calls it. They're twins, and overall, good kids. I also reminisce about my dad, who's a great guy, and fun, and always either buried in work. Or recharging at the golf course or a gun show.

  We have a long conversation about guns. My favorite types, and his, and the crappy models we'd never touch to save our lives.

  I tell him Charlie hated how much I knew about guns and swore he’d never allow one in his home.

  He says it's because Charlie was probably afraid I’d shoot him.

  That’s when I throw a pillow at him, and the rest, well, I’m now lying on the bed, half-undressed and fully satisfied, thinking a nap is in order.

  Noah, too, is blissfully relaxed.

  Until his phone rings.

  As he leaves the room, I realize mine hasn’t gone off for the past four days.

  Not since the weird, frantic call where Mother told me not to open any emails. I'd tried to call her back twice, and it went to voicemail both times. Exasperated, maybe not wanting to really know, I'd just given up.

  I climb off the bed and snag a shirt of Noah’s out of the closet to put on while walking into the living room to collect my phone.

  Noah’s on the balcony, pacing. I’ve seen that before. It means he doesn’t like the conversation he’s having. It could be Lucient. Or it could be a client or an old army buddy. His phone rings constantly sometimes.

  Unlike mine lately, when before it barely ever shut up.