Chapter 15 #2
Lynnette shook her head, trying to ignore how flushed she felt, and let her own hands lower only enough to curl into the shoulders of his shirt.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I just—” What? What was she going to say?
That she hadn’t been intimate with anyone other than herself in something like eight years?
That the kiss they’d just shared had already blown at least one of her two prior sexual partners out of the water?
That I am apparently in desperate need of a good orgasm.
She still had just enough pride to swallow those words down.
Lance brushed a thumb over her cheek, desire still burning in his eyes. “Don’t be scared with me, Lynn. I’ll never hurt you.”
Her heart stumbled as a smile lifted her lips. He thought she was feeling skittish.
Aren’t I?
Well, there went her pride.
Lynnette drew a slow breath and moved her hands to curl them around his neck, letting her fingers splay across his skin just to feel his warmth.
He shouldn’t have felt so strong when she’d so recently seen him immobilized in a hospital bed, but there was no denying it.
A choked laugh escaped her before she could find the words she’d been searching for her, and the amusement lightened the confused tension that had built.
Lance arched a brow.
“You’re a terrible influence,” she said, smiling. “I always thought I held myself to two strict rules when it came to my personal life.” It would have required releasing him to count them off on her fingers, so she resisted the reflex and merely spelled them out. “No patients. And no military men.”
Amusement lightened Lance’s eyes and he curled his lower arm around her waist, drawing her closer to his body. “Whoops. Is there somewhere I should submit my apology?”
She leaned shamelessly into him, bending her arms behind his neck to dip her hands down between his shoulder blades. “We might be able to work something out. But only if you are truly invested.”
“Hm.” He slipped his hand from her hair to settle it again at her nape. “See, the thing is, I am incredibly invested—in you.”
“Oh, not bad, Marine.” She lowered her voice, letting her instincts guide as her nerves flared again. “And what if I need promises and vows of commitment before I let you into my bed?”
“Sweetheart, I’ll wait as long as you need me to. You’re never getting rid of my sexy ass.”
She’d been going for teasing and flirty—she hoped—and she was pretty sure he’d been aiming for flirty and funny with his secondary comment.
But she almost forgot to smile with the way her belly was clenching and her heart was doing things it definitely had never done before.
He’d said those other words far too easily.
Almost like he meant them.
Which was ridiculous.
Lynnette cupped the back of his head to draw him down to her again. “Why don’t you start with—”
The heated moment was shattered by sudden, loud banging on her front door only a dozen paces away. The pounding was so intense it rattled the door in its frame.
Lynnette jumped in place as she whipped half around, her already accelerated heart leaping to her throat.
Lance kept his arm around her and pulled her tight to his side as he narrowed his eyes at the door. “Expectin’ someone?” he asked in a quiet tone.
She drew a hard breath and shook her head. “No.” She exhaled slower and raised her hand to clench at the back of his shirt as the pounding resumed. “I never get visitors, since I’m usually only home to sleep. And Jen would’ve texted first.” Not that Jenna would ever knock in such a manner.
Lance grunted, kissed her temple, and eased from her grip. “I’ll handle it, then,” he said, already stepping forward.
Logic slammed back into her and Lynnette reached out, keeping her voice low because the angry knocking had rattled her. “Lance! It’s my place, I should—”
“Lynnette! Open the door, I know you’re home!”
Her blood ran cold and the argument died on her tongue. She almost didn’t register Lance’s spine stiffening.
The pounding intensified, so much so it rattled the sparse few pictures framed on the adjoining wall.
Outrage washed over her in the next instant, chasing away the numbness of shock and horror.
Lynnette marched forward, passing Lance, and yanked open the door before her never-invited guest could punch his way through it.
She vibrated with a seething kind of fury as she looked out at the uncharacteristically unkempt, entirely repulsive sight of Gavin Bishop on her doorstep.
Her nails dug into the old wood of the front door as she clutched it like an anchor.
“Gavin,” she greeted coldly. “What the fuck are you doing at my place of residence? After sundown, no less?”
Bishop’s nostrils flared. “I know you have it. Give it to me.”
Lynnette’s brows flew up to her hairline. “I beg your damn pardon?”
He took a step forward, attempting to crowd her personal space. It was his usual tactic.
Lynnette would have been happy to knee him in the groin, roll him down to the edge of the drive, and leave him in the rain. But she didn’t need to do even that much.
Lance pulled her effortlessly behind him like she hadn’t planted her feet at all, turning himself into the wall Bishop practically walked right into. And wounded leg or no, the surgeon didn’t have the mass or the momentum to move him.
Bishop stumbled back again, one arm raised like he’d been affronted, and gaped up at the man suddenly between him and his goal. “You— Blackburn— What?” He cut a glare to the side, where Lynnette had angled to watch the show. “What the hell is the meaning of this?”
“Yeah, you don’t get to ask questions here, doc,” Lance said.
He folded his arms across his chest and Lynnette was fairly sure he doubled in size.
There wasn’t an ounce of warm and friendly in his voice when he spoke again, either.
“Keep your eyes on me, Gav. We need to have a chat. Namely about what in the goddamn fuck you think you’re doin’, showin’ up at the private residence of a nurse you have an established history of assaulting.
You’re already on record for that shit. And don’t think either of us is dumb enough not to believe you didn’t have a hand in her losin’ her job the other day.
So, this power trip? This is what gets you put in the one place you can’t walk back out of, asshole. ”
Bishop drew up tight, anger pinching his features and reddening his face. “Garver! You signed a binding contract, you dumb slut! It’s bad enough you were obviously screwing around with a patient, but violating an NDA, too?” He barked a bitter laugh. “I’ll have you by the—”
Lance wrapped a hand around Bishop’s throat before Lynnette ever processed that Lance had moved. It was startling. “She didn’t say a word, you scum-sucking piece of shit. I got my intel from buddies with reach. Buddies who wanted to make sure I was in good hands.”
Lynnette bit down on the inside of her cheek. She knew that wasn’t true, even if it also was true that she hadn’t violated her NDA. He was going with a feasible lie that no one would be able to disprove, for her sake, and likely for Amy’s, too. And she appreciated him all the more for it.
Bishop sputtered, alternating between clawing at Lance’s hand and shoving weakly at Lance’s chest. “You can’t do this,” he wheezed. “I have rights!”
Lynnette scoffed before she could catch herself.
Bishop’s wild eyes snapped to her.
“You heard the lady,” Lance said firmly.
“You tryin’ to hide behind the law you love to violate so much is fucking hilarious.
But you know what’s not?” He raised his arm, bringing Bishop to eye-level and leaving the toes of Bishop’s surprisingly muddy sneakers to scrape against the porch decking.
“A goddamn pedophile like you, still preying on innocent women and walkin’ around free in this country I fought, bled, and nearly fucking died for. That don’t sit well with me, Gav.”
Bishop curled his lips into a sneer.
Lance buried his free fist into Bishop’s abdomen, up under Bishop’s ribcage. The man’s spine hunched, but because of Lance’s grip on his throat, he was unable to cough up the bile that had just been forced up. Bishop began to choke and cough, spluttering.
Lynnette’s eyes widened. Shit.
Lance dropped the surgeon to the porch, drew a leg back, and kicked him hard in the groin.
Bishop rolled off the barely raised porch and into the mud that predominantly made up Lynnette’s yard.
Normally it was dirt with patches of wild grass and the occasional wildflower, but on rainy days, it was mud.
On rainy days, she was extremely grateful for the concrete walkway that led to her porch.
That was not the portion Bishop rolled off of.
Lance took a step to follow after him and pursue the beating.
Lynnette surged forward, catching him by the arm in an attempt to hold him back. “You could kill him.”
Lance raised a brow. “That’s the point.”
She stared back at him, processing his words and his clear awareness of his actions, and waited for her moral compass to demand intervention.
Bishop was a terrible man, but it was equally wrong to make the choice to end a life.
She worked in a field of healing, of saving lives.
On principle alone she ought to oppose. Yet that drive never rose.
She was aware of all the logical arguments, all the intellectual reasons, but none of them resonated.
Bishop was scum. Without knowing the details of whatever Lance had found, she believed what Lance had said and that Bishop had done far worse than merely what he’d done to her.
And he’d already gotten away with it, for all intents and purposes.
Who knew how many had suffered. Who knew how many more would continue to if her attempt at punishing him the moral, legal way failed.
Or simply didn’t last the rest of his natural life.
Which, she realized in the next moment, it surely wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure it would even cause him jail time.
Bishop groaned from the ground and a faint sloshing sound indicated he was moving. He was cowardly enough; he’d surely flee at the first presumed opportunity. Then more would suffer.
He’s abused patients. He abused his own daughter.
Lynnette looked into Lance’s eyes. “Can you get away with it?”
The smile he offered her should have terrified her, but she had an altogether different reaction instead. One she had to fight very hard to contain. “Yeah, sweetheart. Don’t worry about a thing.”
She tugged him to her and pressed a hard, brief kiss to his lips. “Come back when you’re done,” she whispered. “I’ll be waiting.”