40. Colt
Are You With Me - nilu
It’s the motorbikes that wake me.
The second the heavy rumble of those damn crankshafts rattle through the silent night air, I sit up in bed.
My empty bed.
I have a pissed-off wife next door who thinks I don’t respect her judgment calls, but that’s the least of my problems.
Swiftly, I roll out of bed, grateful that I was too tired yesterday to toss my stuff in the laundry basket because I drag my clothes from the floor and dress.
After we returned from our ride, the herd over on the northwest quadrant were displaying signs of distress. Theo called me in to help and we discovered a pregnant heifer whose leg was trapped in a fence. The shock had her giving birth early, but we showed up too damn late to save either of them.
The memory has me scrubbing a hand over my face as I stride out of my room and start down the hall, shoeless so as not to disturb Zee.
I can’t imagine she’d hear the bikes, not after years of adapting to living in the city, but a man can try.
Yawning, I make it to the staircase when I hear a, “Colt? Is that you?”
Hearing trepidation in her voice, I immediately return to the end of the hallway where our suites are. “It’s me. You should go back to sleep.”
“Where are you going?” she asks drowsily, deciding to kill me by opening the door wider and letting me get a good look at her.
She’s wearing an oversized sleep shirt with elephants on it.
It shouldn’t be sexy.
It shouldn’t.
And definitely not at a time like this.
But it is.
The only thing that could be sexier is her in my shirt. And I’m not sure if that’d win over her being naked.
Seeing her today out by the lake?—
“Colt?” The fear’s gone. Humor’s replaced it. “Are you regretting sticking me in here?”
I huff. “I wanted you to?—”
“I remember. You don’t have to remind me.” She rolls her eyes, her disdain for my request very clear.
“I need you to stay in your room.”
“What?” Her brow puckers. “I’m not a child?—”
“You heard those bikes?”
“Of course. The noise woke me. But?—”
“I need you to get inside because they’re going to approach the property and I don’t want you anywhere near them.”
“But—”
“No! No ifs, buts, or maybes. Keep your pretty ass in that bedroom or I’ll tie you to the radiator. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
She blinks. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
“Deadly. So, do I have to lock you in the bathroom or…?”
“I’d prefer that option to being tied to the radiator. But I’ll stay put.” Her mouth works. “What’s going on?”
“There was a weed farm on the Bar 9. MC owned and operated.” When a squeak escapes her, I tut. “It’s fine. I handled it.”
“Are you in danger?”
“No, chaos, I’m not.” I cup her cheek. “If you stay here. I can’t be thinking about shielding you at the same time.”
She bobs her head. “Understood. B-Be safe.”
“Of course.” I press a quick, hard kiss to her lips then stride off, splitting my attention between the crankshafts that are getting ever closer and the sound of any footsteps behind me.
Once I make it to the end of the corridor, I take off for the office where our gun safe is.
Quickly retrieving a shotgun and a box of cartridges, I slip them into my pockets for easy access before loading the empty chambers.
That done, I head for the door and open it just in time to see four single headlights coming up my driveway.
I cock the gun, lift it so the front sight is at eye height, then I watch the bikes and once they’re forty feet away, I pull the trigger.
The sound echoes around the homestead, as does the screeching of the bike as it brakes to a halt. The other three stop too and one of them growls, “What the fuck?”
“Plenty more where that came from,” I shout into the distance. “If you think you can come onto my fucking property and not shed any blood, you heard wrong.”
There’s only silence in response to my warning.
Then, the security lights from one of the nearby outbuildings pop on as a single biker walks toward me.
Because he could be armed with only God knows what, I reload, cock the gun, lift it to eye height, and aim five paces away from his feet.
Many things can be said about me, but one of them is that I’m a damn good shot.
When he jumps up, I quickly reload and hit the ground to his right side. I do the same thing to his left.
“You want to keep dancing, I have all night,” I jeer.
“Fuck you,” the guy snaps. “We came here to deal?—”
“No deals. No drugs. Nothing. You touch any part of my property and I won’t waste my breath talking to the RCMP. I’ll blow your fucking heads off.”
“You’re making a mist?—”
“No. You made a mistake by coming here tonight. You made a mistake by growing weed on my land. And you made a mistake by thinking I’d be afraid to stand my ground.”
My words are punctuated by the sound of my shotgun cocking.
That’s when I hear a booted footstep scraping on the gravel driveway.
It’s closer than the asshole I’m talking to, so I turn toward the sound and shoot.
To the biker’s screams, I holler, “I wasn’t trying. Next time, I’ll aim to kill.”
“He got me, Razer. My fucking knee.” The asshole cries out in pain. “Oh, my fucking?—”
“You’ll regret that,” one of the guys snarls.
“No. You will. Come around here again and you’ll pay.”
I hear thudding this time, but it’s quickly followed by a dragging sound.
Next thing I know, the bikes are roaring to life and they’re driving off.
I don’t put down my weapon until the sound of the crankshafts is a whisper in the distance, and only then do I turn on my heel.
Adrenaline’s flooding my system but it’s a high I’m not afraid of. This land is mine and there’s no one alive who’ll steal it from me.
Once I’ve locked the door, I turn and find Callan, Mum, and Mrs. Abelman standing in the vestibule, all of them in their pajamas.
“It’s okay,” I assure them. “They’re gone.” I stab a finger in the air at Callan. “We’ll need to fix our gate if they gained access to our driveway.”
He hisses. “I’ll call Theo and we’ll take care of it now.”
Mum’s mouth trembles. “You shouldn’t have dealt with them alone.”
“They won’t be coming around anymore. Go back to bed.”
“I can put pressure sensors on the driveway,” Callan offers.
“No. Any more security features and this place is going to make us look like Bond villains. Go on. Bed. The lot of you.”
Mrs. Abelman sniffs her disdain for my edict, but it’s Mum who grumbles, “Who’s the parent here?”
Still, they retreat to their respective rooms and I make my way to the gun safe, where I lock up the shotgun. Then, I head upstairs. Which is where I find her sitting on the top step.
It’s oddly reminiscent of the day Lydia died—Zee watching and waiting for me, protecting me in her own way… Something nobody has ever done before.
As I climb the stairs, I ask, “You okay?”
“You were in danger!”
“From those punks?” I scoff, holding out my hand for her to take. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m fine.” She rubs her forehead with her free hand. “You’re a Korhonen, yes, but you’re not untouchable.”
“You’re scared for me.” She lets me tug her against my chest. When I brush her forehead with a kiss, I murmur, “I know what I said about us spending the night apart…”
“Can we not do that?” is her choked answer.
Another kiss to her temple and I guide us both to our wing. I can feel the soft jitters rushing through her small frame and I know it’s going to be one hell of a night. The prospect only has me tightening my arm around her as we step down the hall.
I bring us to a halt outside of her room. “Do you want a choice on what you eat or shall I pick?”
Her nose crinkles. “Do you hate it?”
“Hate what?”
“That I’m diabetic.”
My brow furrows. “No. It’s a part of who you are.”
“I hate it,” she rasps. “Sometimes I wish I were normal. Wish that my husband going off with a shotgun and facing a bunch of bikers just made me scared and didn’t send my blood sugar spiraling. We’re going to sleep together for the first time, and all night, we’re going to get alerts because I’m?—”
“Those alerts keep you alive.” Turning her to face me, my hands cup her shoulders. “They keep you here. With me. That’s the only place I want you, Zee.”
“It’s the only place I want to be.”
“Then why the long face?” I tease, even as my heart soars at her admission. “Part of being with me is dealing with a kid brother who never shuts the hell up, a mum who forces us to drink tea, and a housekeeper who’s part poltergeist. We all have our crosses to bear.”
Her snort has me grinning as I chuck her under the chin. “Shut up.”
I wink. “Who’s deciding on your food, hmm?”
With a soft huff, she disappears into her bedroom. Twice, she looks back as if she expects me to disappear, but I just hold out my hand for her to take.
Right on cue, an alert sounds.
Before she pops a dose of glucose gel, she passes me a few more as well as some granola bars.
With a tug on her hand, I lead her into my bedroom.
She doesn’t cross the doorway, just hovers there. “It looks as if it’s the same room your grandfather slept in.”
“He did.”
“The same furniture?”
“I changed the mattress,” I tease.
“That’s a relief.” She detangles the clasp of our hands and drifts around the bedroom. “I didn’t realize you were that much into baseball memorabilia.”
“Recent thing. Comes with access to a trust fund and a reckless lack of care about how much I spend.”
At my mocking tone, she hums and trails a finger along a glass box that houses a baseball while I head for the nightstand to check her blood sugar on my cell. Seeing it’s approaching normal, I direct, “You can eat the granola bar.”
She does but asks, “What’s special about the ball?”
“Mark McGwire hit it for his 70th home run in the ’98 season with the Cardinals.”
“You’re a Cardinals fan?”
I scoff. “No. But I’m a collector.”
“Why?”
“You want to know?”
Her eyes big in her pale face, she turns to me. “Of course.”
“If I hadn’t been the eldest, I’d have tried my luck at going pro.”
“Wow.”
I nod. “Cole isn’t the only one with skills.”
“Huh.” She points to a frame housing a ticket stub. “Why’s this one important?”
“It’s Jackie Robinson’s debut ticket stub from ’46. He was the first African American to appear in the MLB in his debut with the Montréal Royals.”
She points to a baseball card. “Why do you have this one?”
“It’s the first card I bought. It’s Jackie Robinson’s rookie card.”
“I saw the one in the office.”
“Cole bought me that.” I point to a Babe Ruth 1946 American League baseball bat. “And that… for my birthday.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, he knows I’m a collector.” Noticing she’s finished her snack, I hold out my hand for her. “Come on. You can check the rest tomorrow if you’re still interested.”
Her nose crinkles but she drifts over to my side. “I knew you liked baseball but didn’t realize you were such a fan.”
“Why would you? We never talked about sports,” I comment, pulling back the cover on her side of the bed. Then, I pause. “I sleep on the left. Is that okay?”
“You willing to give it up for me?” she jokes.
I grin. “In exchange…”
“For?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Her matching grin has me chuckling. “You’re in luck. I like sleeping on the right.” As she clambers onto the large, heirloom bed, I watch her sleep shirt skate higher along her thighs before she tucks herself beneath the covers. “It’s big in here.”
“Yours is just as big,” I point out, turning to the side so she doesn’t see my erection. An erection that has everything to do with her being in here. In my bed. Fuck.
I shrug out of my jeans and Henley then climb in beside her. The second I’m settled, she lifts my arm and burrows into me. I chuckle because she’s cold to the touch and it makes me jump because I run a lot hotter. As her feet tangle with my legs, I drawl, “Am I going to be your personal hot water bottle?”
“Maybe,” she mutters with a sigh, the tension draining from her as she wraps her arm over my stomach.
I should have known she’d be like this—an octopus in bed.
Not that I’m complaining.
As large as the mattress is, it could be a single for all the room we take up.
With her nose brushing my arm, she whispers, “I don’t want to lose you, Colt.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
She shifts then leans on her hand and looms over me. Her hair tumbles forward in a tangle of caramel locks that tickle my shoulder. “It was kinda hot.”
“What was?”
“I watched from my window… You going all Clint Eastwood on them. Pretty sexy, actually.”
“It was, huh?”
“Yeah. Very. That guy you hit… wonder how he’s faring on the highway.”
I snicker. “I’d imagine he’s in a world of pain.”
“Serves him right,” she grumbles. Her throat bobs as she gently swoops down and pecks my cheek. “Am I yours too?”
“I think you know the answer to that already.”
I turn my head so our mouths can brush and when they do, she sags into me, immediately letting me in.
As my tongue drifts past her lips in a soft exploration, she sighs again, but this time there’s less anxiety and more relief.
I get the feeling she’s never wanted to be anywhere but here in her whole life.
And I know that feeling well because I’m experiencing it too.
I gently turn us over so that she’s below me and the strain’s on me. I don’t want her pushing herself, but I need her to feel what she does to me. Need her to know how nothing has ever been more right to me than her presence here—with me.
Her soft moans drive me crazy, enough that I untangle our legs and settle between hers. I’ve never been more grateful that I’m going commando. Or that she is too beneath her sleep shirt.
She’s wet already. Not like earlier, but her need is as raw as my own.
I draw back. “Do you want me, Zee?”
Her whimper has me biting back a growl. “Yes! Come inside me, Colt.”
That triggers a memory. The last one I want to remember.
My lips return to hers and, as I explore, I hit up the nightstand for the condoms I put there this afternoon.
When her fingers seek mine, I know what she’s doing. The crinkling of the wrapper gives it away. The next thing I know, she’s delving between us, her hand shaping my dick and sheathing it with protection.
When I’m covered, she slots the tip to her entrance and digs her heels into my ass.
As her spine arches, I determine to keep it nice and slow. I need her to know how much I want her. How she’s safe with me. How she’s it for me.
When tears leak from her eyes and wet my cheeks, I don’t pull back.
I give her my everything.
When she cries out, her body shattering around me, I let myself go. And a few minutes later, the crying baby alert blasting us, she deals with that while I throw away the condom.
This is life now. This is us.
As she takes another dose of glucose gel, I murmur, “You won’t be sleeping in that other room again. Never hated a wall as much as I hate that one.”
Her smile’s small but there. “Bossy.”
I tap her on the nose. “You love it.”
She sighs.
And that’s all the answer I need.