Sinner (The Hades Squad #1) (12 page)

Even her ears blushed; she bit her lip and fixed her gaze on his hand.

“And before you ask, no, I don't ordinarily do this. You're my woman, Destiny Driven, and I
will
take care of you.” He hadn't meant to claim her, hadn't intended more than making sure she wasn't uncomfortable and sticky. But now the words had come out, he liked them.

His woman.

All his.

“Your hash browns will burn.” She jutted her chin and met his stare head-on. “I wouldn't want you to deplete your energy.”

He toweled her folds dry, patted the moisture from her springy pubic curls, and tweaked her nose. “I have reserves you haven't begun to dream of.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Jim-dandy. I'm hardly the one to question your bronco stamina, but if you don't mind, I have some eggs to attend to.”

“I'll let you go without a penalty, since the evidence of my
bronco
stamina is very much at large.” Just to make sure she understood his meaning, he rubbed his dick through her moistening folds.

Temptation danced rationalizations through his brain. They didn't have to fuck; he could play, bring her off again.

Selfish bastard, put her down.

For once his hands obeyed the mental command.

When he set her on the floor, she picked up a checkered dish towel and flicked his shoulder. “You—tree. Me—cook.”

Not wanting her out of sight, he situated the spruce opposite the tiny kitchen table and leaned the tree against the side of the cedar cabinet. A quick glance showed Destiny smiling and flipping potato slices in the frying pan. Saliva flooded his mouth when he inhaled the delicious aromas circulating the cabin, onions sautéing, ham sizzling, eggs frying.

His stomach growled in anticipation. Figuring an eating ETA of ten minutes, he made a quick trip to the freezer alcove, found three logs, and chopped each in half, lengthwise.

Armed with the makings of his tree stand and tools, Linc had the spruce standing firm ten seconds before Destiny called, “Come and get it.”

After washing up at the sink, he sat on the sturdy pine chair they'd both occupied earlier. Lips crooking down when she settled into the chair opposite, he asked, “Why're you over there?”

“Because you need to eat, and you're not going to if I'm on your lap.” She swung both legs to one side and curled one under her on the seat's polished surface.

Linc grinned when he spotted the pink flamingo slippers she'd tossed earlier lying on the floor.

Her sooty lashes framed the cute little glance she cut him. “How long have you been in the army?”

What's she up to?

“
Navy
not
army. I joined a couple of years after graduating high school.” He forked a heap of hash browns into his mouth, chewed once, and let out a moan of delight.

“Did you always want to serve?”

He savored the last few bites before swallowing. “That was incredible. Crisp, real potato flavor with a hint of garlic and those thick slices of onions.”

Piling another forkful but topping the carbohydrate with chunks of ham and egg, he answered, “Because I'm the hump kid, I knew the only way I'd ever get a college degree would be through the armed forces. I wanted some cash under my belt before I enlisted, so I worked for a couple of years after high school.”

She rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on the heel of her hand. “Were you deployed right away?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I've been out of the country for the last few years, mostly in Afghanistan and Iraq. A couple of stints in the Far East and Russia.”

“I've never even been to the West Coast. This is the farthest I've ever been from where I was raised unless you count college.”

He couldn't keep the surprise off his face. “Really? Kinda rare in this day and age. Folks not the vacationing kind?”

“Ha! Understatement of the year. We never went anywhere. I never even went on a school field trip.”

“You're kidding. Why not?” What kind of parents didn't let a kid go on a field trip?

“Parents wouldn't let me.” She traced an oval path on the tabletop, her forefinger lingering on a charcoal knot in the wood. “My dad wouldn't let me. He was a strict parent. No sleepovers, no summer camp. No after-school programs. No field trips. When I got into Vassar and announced I was going, he hit the roof. I found out why in my second year.”

Linc caught the change in her tone at once. His senses went into overdrive, nerves prickling and fraying. He kept his voice even, hoping she wouldn’t notice his new alertness. “Tell me why.”

“I took an elective, a class about twenty-first-century crime. One session was devoted to identity theft, and our professor showed us how easy it was to get information about anyone on the Net. So I researched me. Turns out my birth certificate doesn't match the records for the county I was supposed to be born in.”

Dread gouged a hollow in his stomach. He pushed the plate aside. “And?”

“My dad's not the kind of man who takes kindly to questions, and my mother—let's just say on a good day I irritate the dickens out of her.” She picked up a blue-and-cream patterned saltshaker. “I knew Dad kept all the important documents in the bottom drawer of his desk. That Thanksgiving, when he fell asleep during the football game and my mom was busy in the kitchen, I went through the drawer. I found a copy of my birth certificate, but I also found another one, one that gave my birthplace as Madera, Texas, one that listed my name as Destiny Driven, one that recorded my father as my real dad, but my mother was registered as Charlene Driven not Mona Parker as I'd always thought.”

Shit.
His fingers scraped the underside of the wooden table. He ground his teeth. “What did you do, Destiny?”

“I went to Madera and checked the county's records.” She sent him a smile belied by her trembling lips. “Turns out my name
is
Destiny Driven. Mona Parker, the woman I believed to be my mother, is actually my stepmother. I was born out of wedlock. My real mom married my dad about six months after I was born. They divorced when I was four. I vanished on one of the weekends he had custody.”

Fury singed his skin; calloused fingertips long immune to sensation smoldered. A heavy lump flared and burst into flame in his chest, the pain searing. “How long ago was this?”

“Seven years ago.” She cleared her throat. “It explained a lot. I realized I'd had a make-believe life.”

“Did you confront your father?” Shithead. Bastard. Asshole. He'd have to get Lucifer to run a background check on the scumbag.

“I thought about it.” She gave a brittle laugh. “It consumed me. I dredged up memories, understood finally why the woman I thought was my mother treated me like an unwanted guest. In the end I decided to pretend nothing had happened. I go home only for Thanksgiving and Christmas and I never stay overnight. This year I'm not even going to bother.”

“Did you find your real mom?”

“She died in a car accident when I was fifteen.” Destiny quirked both brows. “Ironic, huh?”

“Ah, Baby Doll, that's just rotten.” Lincoln's appetite had evaporated as she spoke. The urge to protect, to battle, scorched, flaming hotter than the entrance to hell.

Flipping his napkin to the side, he stood, took a step, slid into a crouch, and kissed the pulse quickening in the hollow of her throat. He drew back and studied the tight set of her mouth. “Who knows, Destiny? Who knows this terrible secret you keep?”

She visibly flinched, her head doing a little double take. Scooted back against the wall as if a physical retreat could swallow her words. “I don't know why I told you. I don't suppose you could forget I ever said anything. Cripes. Nadine can't know about this.”

He captured her gesticulating hands in both of his and chafed her icy skin. “Look at me, Destiny. No, Destiny, look at me.”

Linc suppressed the anger boiling and bubbling in his veins. Tipping her chin with a finger, the pressure slight but firm, he promised, “I'd never betray your confidence, Destiny. I'm honored you trusted me. And when you decide to confront your father, I'll be right by your side. Got that?”

Mist shimmered in her eyes; her lower lip quivered. The muscles in her throat worked and she ducked her head.

“What?” He jiggled her hands, her flesh now toast warm. “Talk to me, Destiny Driven.”

“I, um. You'll be by my side when I decide to confront my father?” Her eyes darted to his face, and then she focused on a spot near the fridge.

“Yeah,” he rasped, and the effort to not say any more nearly killed him. “You'll have to give me a couple days' warning. I'll need to work off some energy. No one. No one hurts my woman. Got that?”

“You've known me for less than two days,” she pointed out.

“You've been mine since the minute I laid eyes on you.” Time to change tactics. “Did you find the popcorn?”

Her eyes crossed. She smacked his forearm. “I hate it when you do that.”

“What?” Lincoln tried for an innocent, “I wasn't even in the room when it happened” look, but couldn't hold it together, angled his head back, and roared with laughter. “Your eyes cross when you get frustrated. You look adorable.”

“I'm five-seven. Adorable works on petite women.”

He tweaked her nose. “Uh-uh. You. Are. Adorable.”

The beak of a flamingo slipper sprawled on the floor tickled his knee. He grabbed the bird. “Only an adorable woman could wear these with such flair.”

“Linc?” A fingernail tapped his forearm when he fitted the fuzzy slippers on her feet.

“Destiny?”

“Where do you go after you finish with the fire?”

He stood, hauled her up with him, and draped an arm over her shoulders. “This was my last mission. I'm heading back to Long Island.”

“You're quitting?”

“Yeah, Satan, Lucifer, Demon, Devil, and I are venturing into the security business. Piracy on the high seas is rampant, especially in the Indian Ocean area. Satan's family is Greek, and he has contacts in the shipping industry. We've secured contracts to protect three shipping lines.”

“You
have
to explain the nicknames.”

“We're the Hades Squad.” He formed quotation marks around the name. “When we're not deployed, we do aerial shows around the country. Mostly charity gigs. There’re a few more team members. Most are still on active duty. A few are due to retire soon, and we’re hoping they’ll join us. Actually, we’ve pretty much decided to actively recruit from our current and ex-members.”

“Why the
Hades
Squad?”

“In Afghanistan, the enemy collectively referred to any American in uniform as the great American Satan. Our Senior Chief decided to us the term to intimidate the shit out of the locals. At first we called ourselves The Devil’s Squad, but the bureaucrats and brass decided the word ‘Devil’ wasn’t politically correct. Hades was the Greek God of the Underworld, so we settled on The Hades Squad.”

“That’s actually very clever. Just how did you get the moniker, Sinner?”

“Senior Chief Googled alternatives for Devil and antonyms for Saint and put all the names into his helmet. I picked Sinner.”

“And Lorcan picked Sinner. Demon, the guy who loaned me the cabin, is one of you, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

Emotions churned in her eyes, and she tapped one foot on the floor; the flamingo's obsidian beak danced like a drunken domino.

He cupped her jaw and turned her gaze to his. “You do that whenever you want to ask me something but won't. What?”

“What happens when the blizzard stops?”

An eerie quiet heightened the intensity of Lincoln's direct stare.

Destiny wanted to take back the question; she chewed the insides of her cheeks and willed him to look away, to stop the electric sparks tingling her chin when his thumb grazed a slow stroke and outlined her lower lip.

“Depends. We could take things slow—see each other on the weekends. You can reintroduce me to the city. I haven't been to Manhattan in years. I'm pretty sure that won't cut it for me. I intend to fall asleep with you in my arms. Wake up to your gorgeous face.”

Hope and joy and elation rioted and burned her lungs. She didn't believe in happy ever after—in forever, in
The Princess and the Pea
fairy tales—but that's what he was saying. Men didn't do this. Men didn't commit. Especially after only, what? Two days together? If that?

A deep yearning to believe him, to accept each word as truth, battled the hard-won practical side she'd developed during the past six years.

“What do you say to finding a place together? Somewhere close enough to the city that you don't have an hour-long commute.”

Disbelief captured her voice, filled the balloon in her throat with helium, and swelled the lump to a proportion that forbade the formation of actual words. Voice function had nothing on mind control. She stared at him, helpless, speechless.

“Destiny?” He gave her chin a little shake. “Some sort of response would be good right now. Nod or shake your head if you must.”

Things started to function, things like gray brain matter, her voice box, and a whole bunch of sensation making her toes and fingers prickle like they'd been asleep for decades. He couldn't mean, couldn't be suggesting…

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Even Kenny'd never proposed that, and they'd been together almost five weeks. Acidity welled in her throat. What if this was a Juanita repeat? How would Linc react when he met Juanita? Once Juanita found out about Linc, she'd engineer some event, some requirement to throw herself into his orbit, to flaunt her slender figure under his nose.

“Stop,” he ordered.

Whaaat?

“You're scowling and frowning and getting all hot and bothered. What's flying around that brain of yours?”

Damn, the man didn't miss a trick.
She curved her mouth into a facsimile of a smile. “You didn't answer my question.”

“You are a stubborn cuss, aren't you? You need the words. Destiny Driven, will you move in with me? Enter into a relationship with me with one goal in mind—marriage and the happy ever after you don't believe in?”