Search and Rescue by April Wilson
Chapter 26
Killian Devereaux
After everyone leaves, I call Jake with an update because this is definitely something he needs to know. It’s five-thirty in the morning his time; hopefully it’s not too early to call.
“Devereaux, what is it?” he answers in a deep, raspy voice. Yeah, I woke him up. A sleepy female voice in the background asks him what’s wrong.
I give him a succinct rundown of the night’s events. “The important thing is Hannah’s fine, despite the fact she doesn’t listen and doesn’t follow instructions.”
Jake laughs hoarsely. “You sound like every teacher she’s ever had.”
“Yeah, well, the bad news is that the chickenshits got away, and we’re no closer to identifying them. The cops missed them by minutes.”
Jake snorts. “Chickenshits?”
“That’s Hannah’s name for them.”
“Figures. All right. Good work. Stay frosty. I know the sheriff’s office is working hard on this. Hopefully they’ll have a breakthrough soon. In the meantime, your number one priority is Hannah’s safety. Leave the police work to the cops. You stick to Hannah like glue. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” As if he needed to tell me that.
“Good. Send her my love. We’ll talk again soon.”
After ending the call, I double-check that all the windows are locked and the front door is barred. I toss more wood into the stove before heading back to the bedroom. Hannah’s already there, lying on top of the covers in just her panties and a T-shirt, her cast propped up on the designated pillow. Her long legs are bare, and seeing all that beautiful skin makes my pulse skyrocket. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Are you kidding? I’m overheated from all the excitement.”
“And your ankle?”
She huffs out a breath. “Fine, for the umpteenth time.”
“Just checking.” I make a quick pit stop in the bathroom, then return to bed and crawl in beside her. In his post-adrenaline state, Scout’s anxiously pacing the room. “Come here, pal,” I say, patting the mattress. “Settle down and go to sleep.”
Scout jumps up onto the bed, circles a few times, then lies down at the foot of the bed. He lets out one tired woof before dropping his head onto the mattress.
Hannah sits up to scratch the dog behind his ears. “Good boy. Don’t let cranky Killian bother you. He’s sleep deprived.”
“I am not cranky.”
She lies back down and turns to me. “Then what are you?”
I realize I’m tense as hell and my voice is overly curt. I make an effort to soften it. “Sorry. I’m not used to this.”
Her brow furrows. “How are you not used to this? You’re in the security field. Surely your days are filled with all sorts of danger and excitement.”
I reach over to trace the curve of her cheek, then one eyebrow and the other. “I’m used to danger and excitement, yeah. What I’m not used to is being afraid.”
She scoffs. “You’re not afraid of anything, Killian.”
I roll up onto my elbow to get closer and drop a kiss on her cheek, then on the tip of her nose, then a peck on her lips, which are curving up into a smile. “You. I’m afraid of you.”
She laughs. “Bullshit.”
“You’re fearless, which makes you prone to recklessness. I’m afraid of something happening to you.”
She turns to me with a smile that makes my heart stutter and presses her lips to mine. “I’m not reckless, but I was afraid for you out there alone, facing off with at least two armed men and possibly more. I had to do what I could to help. I couldn’t just sit idly by and let you take all the risk.”
“You’re such a McIntyre—ready to run into a burning building, no questions asked.”
She smiles. “Hey, don’t knock it. That’s how my dad met my mom. She ran into a burning building—literally—and he, a firefighter, ran in after her to pull her out. So yeah, we protect the people we care about, no matter the risk.”
I love the fervor in her voice. “So, does this mean you care about me?”
She sucks in a breath. “To be honest, I’m pretty enamored of you. Earlier, you said you loved that I was a force of nature. You said that was one of the things you love about me.”
“There are quite a few things.” I slip my hand under her shirt and skim my fingertips over smooth, warm skin. When my palm encounters a bare breast—soft and round—my dick begins to stir.
She grins. “You’re not going to backtrack from that word?”
“What word?” I say, completely distracted by the sight of her breast.
“Love.”
Oh, that one. Shit. “Nope. Not gonna backtrack. There are a lot of things I love about you. Your bravery, your passion, your loyalty to your family and friends. Not to mention your very fine ass.” I slide my arm around her and pat her butt cheek.
She searches my gaze intently as if looking for something. “I’ve never met a man like you, Devereaux.” Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over my beard. “At least not one I wasn’t related to.”
“I don’t beat around the bush. I know what I want, and I go after it.”
She skims her hand down my chest, tracing the outline of my pecs, down to my abs, and presses her palms against my boxer-briefs, molding her fingers to the length of me. She smiles as I thicken more with each beat of my heart.
Every drop of blood in my body is heading south.
“We have plenty of condoms, you know,” she says as she traces the head of my cock through the fabric. “We don’t have to ration them.”
Grinning, I lean in for another kiss. “Is that your oh, so subtle way of saying you want me again?”
She nods. “You’re a fast learner, Devereaux. That’s one of the things I love about you.”
The L-word.
She said it, too.
Part of me wants to tell her I love her—flat out say it. No joking around, no kidding. Just fucking say it. But I know it’s too soon. And the last thing I want to do is scare her off. Just because she’s opened the door doesn’t mean she’ll let me stay.
And I want in.
I want to be a permanent fixture in her life.
I reach past her and open the nightstand drawer to grab another condom. The one thing I can do right now is teach her that I’ll provide whatever it is she needs.
* * *
After long, leisurely sex, we clean up and doze off for a few hours, not waking up until sunlight is streaming through the open curtains. According to my watch, it’s ten o’clock. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.
Hannah covers her eyes and groans. “I opened the curtains last night so I could see outside and forgot to close them. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I hop out of bed and close the curtains. “That better?”
“Yes, thanks.”
She moves as if to roll onto her side to face me but, apparently, she’s forgotten about her cast. Lying on her side isn’t really an option. “Damn it,” she mutters.
The knowledge that she’s naked beneath that sheet has my cock rising once more in all its glory. The movement catches her eye, and she skims my body with a sleepy gaze. She hardly got any sleep last night between the chickenshits showing up and then me ravishing her afterward.
“Dibs on the shower,” I say as I skirt the foot of the bed and head for the door.
Her laughter follows me down the short hallway.
Once in the bathroom, I turn on the shower, and while it’s heating up, I take a piss and brush my teeth. After I rinse and spit, I straighten to see her very naked reflection in the mirror in front of me. My gaze devours all that silky skin covering a supple, slightly muscular build. The woman has biceps and triceps, and they’re sexy as hell. Her belly is softly rounded, yet I see a hint of abs. The girl’s fit. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise with all the hiking and running she does.
It’s the first time I’ve stopped gawking at her body long enough to get a good look. I attempt to redirect my thoughts. “Need something?”
She smiles guiltily. “Nope.”
“You can’t shower with me, love. We have no way of keeping your cast from getting wet. It’s not waterproof, is it?”
“No, but I can watch you, can’t I?”
Damn. Can this girl be any more perfect?
“You want to watch me? Sure, suit yourself.”
“Let’s go into town this evening,” she says. “It’s Saturday. Everyone gathers at Ruth’s on Saturday night for drinks, pool, and darts. How about it?”
“You mean, like a date?”
Grinning, she nods. “Yeah. Like a date.”
Jesus—our first date in public. “I’d love to, but are you sure you’re up for that?”
“The only way to find out is to do it. It’ll be fun. Ruth wants to meet you. Maggie will come, and she’ll drag Owen with her.”
“All right. If you think you can handle it.”
She laughs. “Oh, I can handle it, big guy. I just hope you can, too.” And then she pivots and swings herself back toward the bedroom.
“I can handle anything,” I mutter as I step into the shower. The hot water feels good against my scalp as I duck beneath the spray.
* * *
After breakfast, we dress warmly and take Scout outside so he can run the agility course. He hardly misses a step as he maneuvers the obstacles with ease. It’s definitely time to increase the difficulty for him.
Hannah fetches his tennis ball and throws it across the yard for him. “He’s restless because I haven’t taken him running.”
“I’d take him, but I’m not leaving you here alone. Maybe later, when Owen and Maggie visit again, I’ll take him on a run.”
Hannah ups the game by throwing the ball far into the woods. Scout tears through the underbrush, crashing through leaves and twigs as he hunts for the ball. Each time he returns with the ball in his mouth, he looks pretty damn proud of himself as he drops it in Hannah’s palm.
I reach over and pet the dog’s head. “He’s a good tracker.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. When folks get lost on the hiking trails, the sheriff puts out a call for volunteers to help in the search. I’m hoping to train Scout to track missing persons.” She hands me the ball, which is soaking wet from the dog’s saliva. “Throw it as far as you can.”
I throw the ball and it disappears from sight, deep in the forest. Scout is off like a rocket.
On impulse, I pull off my hoodie and hand it to Hannah. I’m just wearing a T-shirt underneath, and it’s damn chilly outside. “When he brings back the ball, have him smell my sweatshirt and tell him to find me.”
Her eyes light up. “Really? You think he can? He’s tracked me before, but I’ve never asked him to track someone else.”
“Try it.” I run toward the woodshed and keep going into the trees, as far as I can go and still keep an eye on Hannah.
I can hear her praising Scout when he returns with the ball. She holds my sweatshirt out for him to sniff as she gives him instructions. “Where’s Killian? Go find Killian. Go on. Go find Killian.”
Scout crisscrosses the yard several times before he locks onto my scent. Damn. He’s good. Then he comes running in my direction.
When he reaches me, Scout sits at my feet and barks.
“Good job, buddy,” I tell him as I scratch the top of his head. “Come on, let’s get back to your mama.”
After we tire out the dog, Hannah sits on the porch swing reading on her tablet while I chop more wood for the stove. Despite the chill in the air, I’m sweating like a pig, so I whip off my T-shirt and work bare-chested. When I catch Hannah staring at me, she looks away, flustered, and goes back to reading her book.
I bury the ax in the chopping block and turn to face her, my hands on my hips.
When she realizes I’m looking her, she glances my way. “What?” she asks.
Although I’m halfway across the yard, I’d swear she’s blushing. “You likin’ what you see?” I ask her. Hell, I’d like to walk over there, scoop her up in my arms, and carry her inside.
“Oh, yeah,” she says, setting down her tablet. “What are you gonna do about it?”
I can’t pass up an opportunity like that, so I march over there to her. As I climb the porch steps, she sits up in anticipation. I’m hot and sweaty, and when I lean close, my hands gripping the back of the swing, one on each side of her, she looks up at me with wide eyes.
Her gaze meanders down my chest to my abs, then flashes back up to meet mine. “You like what you see?” I repeat.
She nods.
“Good.” And then I lean in and kiss her.
She starts to reach for me, but I snag her wrists and hold her hands to the side. “Hands off, darlin’. I’m a sweaty mess.”
Her dark eyes glitter. “Maybe I like it when you’re a sweaty mess.”
I chuckle. “Oh, don’t tempt me, love.” Her stomach growls then, loud enough that we can both here it. “Somebody’s gettin’ hungry. Let me get cleaned up, and then I’ll fire up the grill and cook some burgers. Sound good?”
While I’m cooking outside, Hannah makes potato salad with the leftover spuds we cooked the other night. When I come in with a plate of perfectly seared burgers, she has the table set.
We do the dishes together after we finish eating, and then we end up on the sofa. Her ankle’s aching from all the activity, so we decide to relax and watch a movie on her flatscreen TV.
Halfway through the film, she dozes off in my arms, and I don’t have the heart to wake her. She didn’t get enough sleep last night, and if we’re going out tonight, she needs a nap.
I relish the feeling of her in my arms, warm and sleepy. I don’t think I’ll ever take this for granted. Gently, I brush her hair back, and she stirs sleepily. “Shh, sorry,” I murmur. “Go back to sleep.”
She turns into me, her face resting against my chest, and drifts away.
* * *
Early that evening, when Hannah comes out of the bathroom, I try not to stare. She’s a beautiful woman under any condition, but all dolled up to go out, she’s breathtaking. I suspect she’s put on a bit of mascara and a hint of smokey eyeshadow, although it’s subtle. Her lips look pinker than usual, with a hint of gloss. How in the hell does she make a pair of ripped jeans, boots, and a sleeveless top that shows more cleavage than I’m comfortable with look so damn good?
She’s got a girl-next-door look, coupled with a fierce Indiana Jones vibe. She can either make your dreams come true or she can just as easily whack you in the balls.
Damn it.
This is a bar we’re going to, so I know it’ll be filled with guys looking to score. Now I think I know what she meant when she said she wondered if I could handle it.
I cross the room just to be near her and cup her face in my hands. “You look amazing.” And then I kiss her, because I can. Because she’s opened that door to me—or at least a good-sized window—and I’m walkin’ right through it.
She smiles up at me. “So do you.”
I look the same as I always do—jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. “Sorry, it’s just the same ol’ me.”
“I know. You always look amazing.”
“Sorry about your jeans,” I tell her, nodding down at her cast. We had to cut off the bottom third of her left pant leg to accommodate her cast, and the rest of the pant leg is slit up to the thigh so we could get it over the cast.
She shrugs. “Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.”
“Are you ready to go?”
She nods. “Let’s do this.”
Why do I have the feeling I’m in for trouble this evening?
I strap on my chest holster and slip on my jacket. Before we walk out the door, I grab my radio and earpiece and tuck them into my jacket pocket—just in case. It pays to be prepared for any contingency.
