Chapter 16
Dallas entered the motel room with the bags of steaming food in his hand. He’d worn the hat he’d had in his backpack and kept his head low as he walked around the block to one of the takeout joints. Thankfully, the area had been quiet, and since it was past dinnertime, there were only a few stragglers eating at the restaurant, and they’d paid him no mind.
“Gemma,” he called. “Food’s here.”
He shed his boots and carried the items to the small dinette table. He’d already had a quick shower so he could rush out to get them something to eat while Gemma soaked in the tub. It had probably been a shitty bath—the tub had barely reached his knees. When they got back to the US, he’d ensure they stayed somewhere she could really relax. Or he’d just let her use his tub, which was significantly better than this dive of a motel’s.
He scrubbed his hand over his face and smothered a scoff. Gemma hadn’t given any indication that she’d see him again after their escape. If he didn’t prepare himself to part ways with her, he’d likely be setting himself up for disappointment.
And why the fuck should he be disappointed? He had no claim to her. They were friends at best, and the sooner he got that through his thick head, the better off he’d be.
The bathroom door popped open and Gemma walked out. She wore one of his T-shirts and nothing on her lower half. Water glistened off her legs as she moved across the small room, her hard-tipped breasts swaying freely beneath the material.
The crotch of his pants tightened on his junk.
If tonight was the last night he got to spend with Gemma, he’d damn well make it unforgettable. “I see you found my shirt.”
She grimaced and took the seat across from him. “Sorry. All I have are dirty clothes, and they’re the last thing I wanted to put on my body. Hope you don’t mind.”
He waved her off. “’Course not.”
She snagged one of the bags and grabbed the container from it. “Smells good. What’d you get?”
He did the same with the second bag. “Fuck if I know.”
Her shoulders shook on a laugh, moving those damn breasts again. “I’m not in a position to complain.” She opened the container and picked up one of the plastic forks. “Can’t go wrong with beans, meat, and rice.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I think there’s veggies in here too,” she said, as she stirred the sauce.
“Don’t forget the naan bread.” He passed her the foil wrapper.
“Oh my god. This smells heavenly.”
He stabbed his fork into the chicken, which was covered in sauce, and moaned as he took a bite. “Jesus, that’s good. Mind you, anything would taste delicious after the week we’ve had.”
“That’s true,” she said, tearing off a piece of bread and stuffing it into her mouth.
He passed her a water bottle, and she cranked it open and took a sip. He watched her throat bob, and even that made his body hum with desire. Fuck, he needed to get his head examined.
Yeah, sex with Gemma was out of this world—always had been. Yeah, he was attracted to her, and yeah, she was fucking gorgeous. But his raging hormones should be somewhat sated. At least to the point that he didn’t want to rip off her clothes and bend her over as desperately as he had in the closet two nights ago.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, lowering the bottle.
He shrugged and took a bite of naan. “Nothing really.”
“Did you get a hold of Dare and let him know we made it?”
He wiped his mouth and set down the napkin. “Nah, I’ll shoot him a text in a bit. I’m sure Cole told him we spoke.”
“They’re pretty close?” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. You don’t need to answer that. I know you want to keep your brothers private.”
He stretched his hand across the table and covered hers. “I trust you. Even if I acted like I didn’t at the hotel in Cali. I get your situation now.”
Her eyes warmed. “Thanks. I wish I had siblings. I hate being an only child.”
He cocked his head. “From my view it can’t be that bad. Having three brothers torment me my whole life hasn’t always been a good thing.” Humor laced his voice. “We’re all close, though. Cole and I just fit better, but Nash and Dare were like an extension of us. Always there. The hardest thing was being young but having to take care of two small kids.”
“What about your parents?” Her gaze searched his face. Part of him wanted to retract his hand, to get back to his meal and comfortable silence. Dodging her curiosity was the easy way out, but some things were just too hard to talk about.
“That’s a loaded question. Maybe I’ll save that for when we make it back to the US.”
Her eyes darkened, and her face fell with sadness.
“It’s just a lot to unpack. I don’t want you to know how crazy my past is yet,” he said with a chuckle, to lighten the mood. “What about your mom? Did she remarry after your dad passed?”
She moved her rice around her container, and he mentally booted himself in the ass for being so tight-lipped. Here she was trying to get to know him better and he fucking shut her down.
“My mom, Carla, lives in the country with her mountain man and would die if she knew what I did for a living. They’re not married, but happy. So I guess that’s all that matters. She met Joe a few years after my dad died. I don’t see her a whole lot due to my work.”
He winced. He might not have his parents, but she was just as alone as he was. “That must be difficult.”
She lifted a delicate shoulder. It looked even slimmer and slighter than usual in his oversized T-shirt. “It is what it is.” She smiled. “Let’s clean up and head to bed.”
They put their empty food containers in the trash and tidied the table. He brushed his teeth and exited the bathroom as she entered. Then he plugged in his phones and peeled off his shirt and pants, keeping his briefs on. He pulled back the covers as Gemma came out of the bathroom. She crawled in on the other side.
“Want the light off?” he asked, hovering his hand near the lamp.
She wrinkled her nose again. The expression was becoming too damn cute for his self-preservation. “Nah. I’m not too tired yet.”
He shrugged and got into bed beside her. “We can chat if you want. Unless you feel like we’ve done enough of that.” He was aiming for wit, but the fact that he’d shut down her questions and she’d been turned off by his didn’t bode well for further conversation.
She turned onto her side and pillowed her cheek with her hand. “I always want to talk to you. We can keep it light this time. Tell me about your tattoo.”
He lifted his arm. “Which one?”
She shook her head. “The one on your back. I’ve always wondered what all the water meant. It’s waves, right?”
He turned around so she could see. “Yeah, waves.” His voice turned thick. He couldn’t think about the beach without remembering that day. “You couldn’t have picked a tattoo that has deeper meaning if you tried.”
Her eyes rounded. “Oh. You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He’d pulled away once. He wouldn’t do it again. He had the chance to open up a little about himself without, hopefully, exposing old wounds. He lifted his arm, and she scooted to his side. Maybe a little tear from his past wouldn’t hurt so much with Gemma as balm.
“Okay, so what inspired the waves? I always assumed you surfed but never got around to asking.”
“Well, as you know, we didn’t do a whole lot of talking.” He gave her a squeeze and she chuckled, moving her hand to rest on his chest.
“I kind of regret that.”
He glanced down at her. Hesitancy clouded her eyes—as if she wanted to say more but had already said too much. His stomach muscles bunched. For the first time in his life, he questioned his career. The lucrative job that came with travel and freedom was something he’d never imagined parting with. Why the hell would he want to? What else could he do anyway?
A woman like Gemma couldn’t be with someone like him. Someone who broke the law in nearly every country he visited. She didn’t even know the half of what he did. Maybe if she did, she wouldn’t look at him like she felt sorry for him.
“Tell me,” she said softly.
He sighed. The ink of the tattoo that stretched from the column of his neck to the middle of his back burned almost as much now as it had when he’d had it done. The memory was so tied to the imprint that his skin throbbed.
“You asked about my parents earlier. I can’t really tell this story without talking about them. My dad was an alcoholic. He beat the shit out of my mom almost daily.” Ah, hell. His voice had become heavy with gruffness already. Goddamn his dad. And his mom, for letting all four kids witness what their father did. “It sucked. Cole and I were getting older and we started to intervene, which only made him turn on us, lock us out, or beat her harder.”
A choked sound of sympathy erupted from Gemma’s throat, and she rubbed the bare skin between his pecs. He stilled her hand, not wanting the distraction.
He coughed. “Eventually, it didn’t matter. They abandoned us when I was ten. My dad dropped my brothers and me off at a group home. He said he’d be back in a few hours and never returned.”
The air conditioner kicked on with a whir, but other than that, only silence beat through the room, giving the tension a heartbeat.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “How could they—”
“I never figured it out. But they did.” He rolled back his shoulders but his muscles stayed tight. “Anyway. Cole and I knew what was happening. Dare had a suspicion, I think... but Nash. God, he took it the hardest. He was only six. He must have known Dad wasn’t coming back because he hung on to the window of the truck as he pulled away. I don’t think he ever let go of the hope they’d return.”
“That’s so awful.” Gemma’s voice was gritty with tears.
He hated being a downer. Hated making her feel sorry for him, for fuck’s sake. But if she wanted to know the real him... she was in for a rude awakening.
“Anyway. Back to the tattoo.” He forced the angst from his words. “We lived near the beach.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “It was probably the highlight of our childhood. We spent our days at the water. Cole and I would raid the fridge or steal from the grocery store before getting Nash and Dare and taking them for the day.”
“That sounds nice.” The fact that she didn’t comment on him stealing warmed his heart a little. They hadn’t had much choice. Not if they’d wanted to eat.
“On one really hot day we were sitting on the sand. I was watching the younger ones—”
“How old were you?” she interjected.
“Hmm. Maybe nine or ten? Nash was about five or six. Dare would’ve been seven or eight.” He cleared his throat. “I was getting lunch together and Cole was out in the water.” Nostalgia pulled at his vocal cords. “That damn kid had an ax to grind with God.”
“What do you mean?”
“He always had to push his limits. When we climbed trees, he went the highest. When we stole, he went for the big stuff. When we rode bikes, he always did the stupidest tricks. It’s like he needed to test God—to make sure he wanted him alive. I don’t fucking know. But he was out far. I knew he’d come in soon to eat, but after ten minutes or so I had this feeling—I can’t describe it—I just... I couldn’t breathe. It’s like the air was kicked from my lungs. My whole body went cold and I knew, I just knew, it was Cole.”
Goosebumps rippled over his skin at the recollection. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget that feeling. A feeling that was so powerful, but one that hadn’t even been his. The paralyzing fear that had coursed through his veins, turning his skin cold and stiff and making his hair stand on end... it’d been Cole’s fear, and he’d felt it on a cellular level.
“I stood and ran to the water without even thinking. Cole was nowhere. I yelled at Dare to watch Nash and then just dove into the water. Didn’t even know where to fucking look.”
Gemma’s chilled body pressed tighter against his—or maybe he was overheating. The need to get up and pace the room made his legs tingle. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose. He could tell the story now. It was over. He was no longer a helpless, starving kid who had to run his little brothers out of the house so they didn’t see their mom get beaten or hide them under the bed when their dad went on a rampage and came after them.
“I swam toward the last place I’d seen him. The water was so fucking green. Couldn’t see a thing. I just swam and swam, only coming up for a breath when I had to...” He gulped down the swell of emotion in his throat. “I knew I’d die before I gave up. It crossed my mind... swimming back to Nash and Dare, but it was like there was an invisible hold on me. There’s no way I could have left that lake without my brother.”
He lifted his hand and swiped it over his forehead, mopping up some of the sweat. Jesus, he should be over this. Shouldn’t be affected anymore by the feeling of helplessness that had overtaken him that day.
Gemma’s hand closed around his wrist, and she brought his knuckles to her lips. “You’re okay now. So is Cole.”
He nodded and rubbed his face—what the fuck was that on his cheeks? Tears. Holy shit. He dashed them away with the back of his hand. A glance down at Gemma’s gaze on his chest assured him she hadn’t seen. “Yeah. Yeah, he is. I was under the water, fighting to stay under even though my lungs wanted to burst, and then I felt it—his hand. He was so damn cold. I pulled him to the surface, and it took everything I had to get us both back to shore.”
His heart ratestarted to slow. In a second, the memory of Cole gasping for air would hit him and the nightmare would be over. “I didn’t know CPR. I just started slamming on his chest. Dare ran for help and then... Cole coughed up water and started to breathe.”
Gemma sat up and threw her arms around his neck. “That must have been so horrible for you. But you saved his life.”
He brought his hand to her slender back and ran his palm over the indent of her spine. His pulse pattered against his temples as her raspberry-and-lemon scent soothed his frazzled nerves.
Her fingers curled into the skin at the base of his neck, and she clung to him as if he’d float away if she let go.
He chuckled. “I’m fine, you know.” Wetness leaked down the side of his neck and she sniffed. “Tell me that’s not snot.”
She laughed and swatted his chest. “You’re such an ass.” She pulled her face away and his neck cooled without her hot breath against his skin. Redness rimmed her eyes, and tears ran down her cheeks with no sign of slowing. Her smile faltered. “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”
He shrugged and brought his hand to rest against her ear. His palm cupped half her head. She fit so nicely with his body... like a lost puzzle piece or some shit. “Don’t be. It’s in the past.”
“You must still worry about him.”
He chortled. He’d never admit it to Cole, but she’d hit the nail on the head. “I guess you could say that. Not because I worry about something randomly killing him, but because he’ll always put himself in the deadliest situations without a goddamn care for his own life. It’s why he—” He cleared his throat. “Never mind.”
“Why he what?”
“It’s why he does what he does for a living. But don’t ask, okay?” He shook his head. “That story’s for another day.”
Her eyes grew small. “I’d like to meet him one day.”
That made him let out a full-blown laugh. “Honey, trust me. No one wants to meet Cole.”
Her lips slid into a mischievous grin. “Well, now you’re just intriguing me more. I want to know what makes you tick.” She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip.
He wiped the remnants of moisture from her cheeks. “You wanna know what makes me tick?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes blazed navy fire.
He caught her around the waist and flipped her over on the mattress. She let out a squeal as he landed on top of her. He dove his hand into her dark locks, caressing her scalp. He pressed his lips to each cheek, beneath each eye that had cried for him, then to her lips.
The playfulness fell away from her face, and she hiked her knees up to his sides. The warmth of her sex pressed against his cock drove him wild.
He melded his lips to hers, touching her soft flesh and flicking his tongue between her teeth. A soft mewl escaped her throat.
He pulled away for a beat, flames burning inside his core. Taking in her dark, pinched-together eyebrows and full, pink lips wanting more, he swallowed a breath of air.
“You, Gemma. You make me fucking tick.”