Rage & Killian (18 page)

After all, none of them were into the dance scene. They were too old for half-naked coeds and casual hookups. And none of them wanted to have to scream over pounding music to have a decent conversation.

Instead, they’d found The Saloon, a small, cozy bar with lots of polished wood, a jazz band that played softly in the background, and a handful of locals who knew better than to bother the other customers. Oh, and the finest tequila in the city.

They even had their own table that was reserved for them every Friday night.

Tucked in a back corner, it was shrouded in shadows and well away from the long bar that ran the length of one wall. A perfect spot to observe without being observed.

And best of all, situated so no one could sneak up from behind.

It might have been almost two years since they’d returned from the war, but none of them had forgotten. Lowering your guard, even for a second, could mean death.

Lesson. Fucking. Learned.

Tonight, however, it was only Rafe and Hauk at the table, both of them sipping tequila and eating peanuts from a small bucket.

Lucas was still in Washington D.C., working his contacts to help drum up business for their new security business, ARES. Max had remained at their new offices, putting the final touches on his precious forensics lab, and Teagan was on his way to the bar after installing a computer system that would give Homeland Security a hemorrhage if they knew what he was doing.

Leaning back in his chair, Rafe intended to spend the night relaxing after a long week of hassling with the red tape and bullshit regulations that went into opening a new business, when he made the mistake of checking his messages.

“Shit.”

He tossed his cellphone on the polished surface of the wooden table, a tangled ball of emotions lodged in the pit of his stomach.

Across the table Hauk sipped his tequila and studied Rafe with a lift of his brows.

At a glance, the two men couldn’t be more different.

Rafe had dark hair that had grown long enough to touch the collar of his white button-down shirt along with dark eyes that were lushly framed by long, black lashes. His skin remained tanned dark bronze despite the fact it was late September, and his body was honed with muscles that came from working on the small ranch he’d just purchased, not the gym.

Hauk, on the other hand, had inherited his Scandinavian father’s pale blond hair that he kept cut short, and brilliant blue eyes that held a cunning intelligence. He had a narrow face with sculpted features that were usually set in a stern expression.

And it wasn’t just their outward appearance that made them so different.

Rafe was hot tempered, passionate and willing to trust his gut instincts.

Hauk was aloof, calculating, and mind-numbingly anal. Not that Hauk would admit he was OCD. He preferred to call himself detail-oriented.

Which was exactly why he was a successful sniper. Rafe, on the other hand, had been trained in combat rescue. He was capable of making quick decisions, and ready to change strategies on the fly.

“Trouble?” Hauk demanded.

Rafe grimaced. “The real estate agent left a message saying she has a buyer for my grandfather’s house.”

Hauk looked predictably confused. Rafe had been bitching about the need to get rid of his grandfather’s house since the old man’s death a year ago.

“Shouldn’t that be good news?”

“It would be if I didn’t have to travel to Newton to clean it out,” Rafe said.

“Aren’t there people you can hire to pack up the shit and send it to you?”

“Not in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Hauk’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I’ve been in the middle of fucking nowhere, amigo, and it ain’t Kansas,” he said, the shadows from the past darkening his eyes.

“Newton’s in Iowa, but I get your point,” Rafe conceded. He did his best to keep the memories in the past where they belonged. Most of the time he was successful. Other times the demons refused to be leashed. “Okay, it’s not the hell hole we crawled out of, but the town might as well be living in another century. I’ll have to go deal with my grandfather’s belongings myself.”

Hauk reached to pour himself another shot of tequila from the bottle that had been waiting for them in the center of the table.

Like Rafe, he was dressed in an Oxford shirt, although his was blue instead of white, and he was wearing black dress pants instead of jeans.

“I know you think it’s a pain, but it’s probably for the best.”

Rafe glared at his friend. The last thing he wanted was to drive a thousand miles to pack up the belongings of a cantankerous old man who’d never forgiven Rafe’s father for walking away from Iowa. “Already trying to get rid of me?”

“Hell no.  Of the five of us, you’re the...”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Rafe muttered as Hauk hesitated.

“The glue,” he at last said.

Rafe gave a bark of laughter. He’d been called a lot of things over the years.  Most of them unrepeatable. But glue was a new one. “What the hell does that mean?”

Hauk settled back in his seat. “Lucas is the smooth-talker, Max is the heart, Teagan is the brains and I’m the organizer.” The older man shrugged. “You’re the one who holds us all together. ARES would never have happened without you.”

Rafe couldn’t argue. After returning to the States, the five of them had been transferred to separate hospitals to treat their numerous injuries. It would have been easy to drift apart. The natural instinct was to avoid anything that could remind them of the horror they’d endured.

But Rafe had quickly discovered that returning to civilian life wasn’t a simple matter of buying a home and getting a 9-to-5 job.

He couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in a small cubicle eight hours a day, or returning to an empty condo that would never be a home.

It felt way too much like the prison he’d barely escaped.

Bonded

The Cavanaugh Brothers Book 4

By Laura Wright

Coming September 1, 2015

Click
here
to pre-order!

The New York Times bestselling author of Brash returns to the Triple C Ranch in River Black, Texas, for more cowboys, romance, and danger…

Ranch hand Blue Perez’s once simple life is spinning out of control. He’s discovered he has three half-brothers, and they’re not ready to accept his claim on the ranch. Also, Blue’s girlfriend may have betrayed him in the worst way possible. And after one evening of drowning his sorrows at the bar, there’s someone he can’t get out of his mind, a woman who says she’s carrying his child.

Following a night of breathtaking passion in the arms of the man she’s longed for all her life, waitress Emily Shiver is contemplating her next step. With everything that’s going on in Blue’s life, she doesn’t want to force him into fatherhood. Yet as hard hearted as he may seem, Blue can’t turn his back on her, particularly when she becomes the target of someone’s dark obsession....

* * * *

Last thing she wanted was someone getting hurt because of her. Especially someone with such a beautiful face. That hard, sexy jawline . . .

This time when she rolled her eyes it was internal and at herself.

She reached for a napkin on the table behind her. “Your lip . . . Let me clean it up for you.”

“Naw, it’s nothing.”

“You’re bleeding,” she said.

He swiped at his lip and the blood with the back of his hand. “All gone.”

“Well, that wasn’t very sanitary,” she said.

His eyes, those incredible blue eyes, warmed with momentary humor. Then he touched the brim of his hat and turned to head back to the bar. “Ma’am.”

Emily stared after him, confused. What was that? Saves the day and on his way? “Hey, hold on a sec,” she called out. “I didn’t thank you.”

“There’s no need,” he called back, sliding onto the same barstool he’d occupied earlier.

Well, that’s not very neighborly, she mused. She followed him. “Maybe not,” she said, coming up to stand beside him. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”

He turned to look at her but didn’t say anything. Good night, nurse, he was handsome.

She inclined her head formally. “Thank you.”

Those incredible eyes moved over her face then. So probing, so thoughtful. They made her toes curl inside her shoes. “Something tells me you could’ve taken those men out yourself.”

“What tells you that?” she asked.

He ran a hand over his jaw, which was darkening by the minute. “Just a guess.”

Her gaze flickered to the bruise, to his mouth, and she frowned. “Are you in pain?”

“Constantly,” he said, then turned back to his drink.

The strange, almost morose response made her pause. But before she could ask him anything about it, Dean slid back behind the bar and asked, “You want something, Em? After having to deal with those assholes I’d say you’re done for the night. But first, a drink.”

“And it’s on me,” Blue said, then tossed back his tequila.

Dean gave the cowboy a broad grin. “After what you did for our girl here, it’s me who’s buying.”

“Well, thank you kindly.” Blue held up his empty glass. “Another, if you please. And what would you like . . . ?” He turned to Emily and arched a brow at her. “Em, is it?”

The soft masculine growl in his voice made her insides warm. “Emily,” she told him. “Emily Shiver.”

“Right.” He cocked his head to one side and studied her. “The girl with the flowers in her hair,” he said, his gaze catching on the yellow one behind her ear.

Emily smiled. Couldn’t help it. She liked that he’d noticed. “Started when I was little,” she told him. “Stole flowers from my grandmother’s garden every time I was over there. I’d put them everywhere. My room, the tables here, in my hair.” She shrugged. “It became kind of an obsession.”

His gaze flickered to the flower in her hair again, then returned to her face. “Pretty.”

Heat instantly spread through Emily’s insides. Granted, plenty of men came into the Bull’s Eye and looked at her with eyes heavy on the hungry—either for food or for her. Hell, sometimes both. But no one had ever looked at her like Blue was now. Curious, frustrated, interested . . .

 “Drink, Em?”

Swallowing hard, she turned to see a waiting and mildly curious Dean. “Just a Coke for me, boss. Thanks.”

Blue groaned as Dean filled a glass with ice.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked him, wondering if his jaw was paining him.

But the man just chuckled softly. “Come on, now. Have something a little stronger than that.

You’re gonna make me feel bad. Or worse.” Under his breath he added, “If that’s even possible tonight.”

Curiosity coiled within her at his words. The way he looked at her, spoke, acted . . . clearly he was working through some heavy feelings tonight. Was it about the fight with the jerkweeds? Or something that came before it? She bit her lip. Did she ask? Or did she wait for him to tell her? But why would he tell her? They barely knew each other.

Maybe she should just ignore it . . .

Dean set the Coke before her and poured another round of tequila for Blue, which the cowboy drained in about five seconds flat; then he tapped the bar top to indicate he wanted another.

Oh yeah. Definitely dealing with something. She’d worked at the Bull’s Eye long enough to know that drinking like he was doing had nothing to do with relaxing after a long day. Dark feelings were running through Blue Perez’s blood. And maybe some demons to go along with them.

“Everything all right tonight, cowboy?” she asked.

“Yep.” He turned to look at her again, his gaze not all that sharp or engaged now. The liquor was starting to do its thing. “I remember you. Flowers, and a ton of strawberry blond curls.”

Emily’s breath caught inside her lungs. What a strange and very suggestive thing to say. Not that she minded. Just wished he’d have said it before the double shot. And the way he was staring at her . . . like he was trying to memorize her features or something. Then suddenly, he reached out and touched her hair, fingered one of those curls caught up in a ponytail.

A hot, powerful shiver moved up her spine.

“Here you go,” Dean interrupted, filling Blue’s glass once again.

“Thanks,” Blue said, though his eyes were still on Emily. Even when his fingers curled around the glass, his eyes remained locked with hers. “Sure you don’t want something stronger, Em?” he asked.

Emily’s brows shot up, and her belly clenched with awareness. “I think you’re doing fine for the both of us,” she said, reaching for her Coke and taking a sip. Her mouth was incredibly dry. “And I’m going to assume that you’ll be walking home.”

He downed the contents of the glass and chuckled. “Not to worry, darlin’. I got my truck.”

Oh jeez. Not to worry? She shook her head. People could be so stupid sometimes. So reckless. Even gorgeous cowboys with eyes the color of a cloudless Texas sky— and a pair of lips that kept calling to her own.

Like the meddlesome gal she was, she reached over and grabbed his keys off the bar top. Blue’s gaze turned sharply to hers, and under the heat of that electric stare, Emily tried not to melt. Well, outwardly at any rate.

Yes, you’re hot and sexy and annoyed at my ass now. But I’m not going to let you be a shit for brains.

She held up the keys. “No rush, cowboy. I got my Coke here, and nowhere to get to. I’m going to take you home when you’ve sufficiently drowned yourself.”

Blue didn’t like that one bit. He released a breath and ground out, “Not necessary.”

“I say it is,” she returned.

“You don’t want to do that, darlin’. I’m not fit to be around tonight.”

“Maybe not. But there’s no use arguing the matter. I always win arguments. Right, Dean?”

The bartender chuckled. “Don’t even try anymore.”

“If you’re really going to push this, I can call someone—” Blue started, then stopped. His eyes came up and met hers, and it was impossible to miss the heavy, pulsing pain that echoed there.

This wasn’t about the jerks or a bad day. This was deep and long lasting. Emily knew some of what had happened to him in the past couple of months. Finding out— along with the whole town— that his daddy was Everett Cavanaugh. That he had part claim to the Triple C. Along with a set of three new brothers. But clearly there was more that was weighing on him. So much more, she’d venture to guess.