Identical Threat Page 14

  Did she want a lot of kids?

  Riley smiled into the night air.

  She hadn’t been about to admit to anyone at dinner that, yes, a big family had always been a goal in her life. She’d just never found the right time to start reaching for that goal with Davies. Though, again, maybe that had been her heart’s way of warning her about the man.

  But now? Following behind the strapping, messy-haired, drool-worthy cowboy holding one of the few people she loved with her entire being?

  Riley found herself wondering what his dark hair and her curls would look like on a child.

  “Does he have abs?”

  Riley spun her head around so fast it was like she was in The Exorcist.

  “Come again?”

  Jenna kept on like they were talking about the weather.

  “I asked if he had abs,” she repeated, motioning to Desmond. “He literally caught me in his arms after I fell out of Hartley’s bedroom window and it was like hitting a wall. You said you didn’t you know with him but you did see him shirtless, right?”

  Normally, Riley would have swatted away—physically and verbally—the question, but there was an undercurrent to Jenna’s words. A small waver that she doubted anyone else would recognize.

  Jenna was scared.

  And rightly so.

  Being attacked at her home was one thing, but the idea that Ryan could be connected to it?

  Riley didn’t blame her for the fear. Heck, she was feeling it too.

  “Remember when we first watched Magic Mike and you said that no man really has a body that yummy? That they’re probably all computer generated?” Riley whispered instead. Jenna’s eyes widened. A whisper of a smile crossed her lips.

  “Really? That nice?”

  Riley nodded, matter-of-factly.

  “Abs. For. Days.”

  Desmond looked over his shoulder as they both devolved into giggles. Bless him again, he didn’t ask.

  * * *

  RILEY, JENNA AND HARTLEY opted to stay in the same guest bedroom upstairs. It was down the hall from Desmond’s, as was another empty room where Madi had lived before starting the bed-and-breakfast. Still the women hadn’t accepted the offer for each of them to have their own room.

  Just as Desmond didn’t admit that ever since that kiss out by his truck, he’d been thinking about Riley staying in his.

  Instead he gave them privacy and showered in his en suite while they used the hall bathroom to get ready for bed. Before saying good-night he promised to keep them updated as soon as he had any information.

  Desmond also wanted to make sure he had his own privacy as he undressed and got into the shower. Sure, a certain part of him was really craving some company but his more levelheaded side had reminded himself that he didn’t want Riley to know he’d been shot. Just as they had all agreed, even Jenna, at the Stone house, that they would keep that information away from their mother.

  He knew it didn’t make sense to ask that of Riley’s twin—and, honestly, he knew Riley could handle the news—but Desmond couldn’t shake the look of worry that had stared back at him at dinner.

  He didn’t want Riley to go through that needlessly, if he could help it.

  Not saying that he believed she would react the same as his mother, but still, Desmond was glad he was able to shower and clean the blood he’d hidden with his jacket.

  When he was done, he toweled dry, brushed his teeth and slipped on a pair of boxers. He was contemplating putting a shirt on over his wound, worried about getting blood on his sheets, when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Just a sec,” he called, trying to spot his robe. It was across the room. He didn’t have a chance to traverse the space before the bedroom door opened wide.

  Riley Stone, in an oversize T-shirt that cut off at the middle of her thighs and had a picture of French fries on it, stared back at him with anger clear in her eyes.

  Desmond realized then that leaving her out of the loop had been a bad, bad idea.

  “You were shot?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Riley said it in a low volume but it came out strong. Then she shut the door behind her and Desmond knew he was really in trouble now.

  “Listen, it was only a graze,” he tried, putting both his hands up in surrender. The movement made the gash across his bicep hurt. He winced. “I didn’t want to go worrying anyone over something that wasn’t a big deal.”

  Riley walked up to him, hands still on her hips.

  “Over something that wasn’t a big deal? Jenna said not only did you take a bullet that could have been for her, but you also shot Geordi twice.” She waved her hands around, as if confused as to what thought she wanted to grab on to first. “All of those things are big deals. Ones you didn’t tell me!”

  Desmond lowered his hands and sighed.

  “You’ve been through a lot, is all. I didn’t want to add anything unless I had to.”

  Riley’s expression softened. Then her eyes traveled to the gash on his arm. There was a bandage over it but still her look of concern grew.

  “That’s what I wanted to avoid,” he added. “That look.”

  She snorted.

  “I think if someone gets shot, it calls for some worry.” She lightly touched his arm. “Does it hurt a lot?”

  Desmond tried to control his breathing.

  And the rest of his body.

  Riley’s touch was innocent, he knew that, but the desire it stirred within him wasn’t.

  “Not enough to bother me.”

  Even to his ears his words came out differently than they had before. It caught Riley’s attention. She glanced down at his bare chest and then immediately took a step back. Her cheeks became flushed.

  “Wow. I just burst in here, didn’t I?” she said around nervous laughter. “I’m so sorry. Jenna just finally told me what happened and I was going to wait for morning to tell you off—not that I was really going to tell you off or anything—but then I couldn’t shake it and—”

  Desmond crashed his lips into hers. Her words died between their lips. It pushed him closer to the point of no return. He made sure to disengage momentarily from their lip-lock to say something before the start of their next adventure.

  “Every time we’ve kissed you’ve either been apologizing or thanking me,” he said, gravel in his words. “I’m here to tell you now, you don’t owe me a thing. You don’t have to say sorry or tiptoe around me and what you want. Got it?”

  Riley nodded. Her lips were already rosy.

  He smirked as he continued.

  “But, I’m here to tell you right now what I want and if that lines up with something you’re interested in, you let me know.” He brought his hand up and ran it across her cheek. Then he looked at her lips and knew the woman in front of him, with wild, wild hair and wearing a shirt with fries on it, had the power to make him do whatever she wanted without question.

  “Riley Stone, I’d really like to show you a damn good time. Right now. Here in my bed.”

  For a second, Desmond thought she might turn him down but then Riley did what she did best.

  She pressed her lips against his with purpose.

  Desmond supposed that was her way of saying she liked that idea too.

  * * *

  RILEY’S NIGHTSHIRT WAS THROWN so far away she wouldn’t be surprised if later she found it in another state.

  Desmond’s lips moved to her neck and then slid their way right down to her breast. Riley moaned in response.

  It encouraged the man.

  When he dropped to his knees and slid her sleep shorts off, Riley nearly wept.

  But Desmond wasn’t quite so direct.

  He let out a primal sort of growl and was back to his feet in a flash. Then he gently threw Riley on the bed.

  It took all she
could muster not to yell, “Take me!”

  Instead she watched with bated breath as the man she often called cowboy crawled across the bed and right on top of her.

  Unlike their time on the living-room floor there was no awkward innocence or tentative prompting.

  Desmond had made it clear he wanted her.

  And she wanted to return the favor.

  Riley wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed up against his lips like he was the last drink of water in the desert. It surprised the cowboy but in the best way. He reacted by deepening their kiss and using one arm to keep her against him.

  Then he flipped them both.

  Riley let out a small laugh in surprise. Desmond broke their kiss, eyes hooded and lips swollen. Riley was afraid she’d offended him with the noise but then those same lips pulled up at the corners.

  That smile.

  That Desmond Nash smile.

  It was one in a million.

  And more than worked its magic.

  Riley relieved Desmond of his boxers while the last vestige of her clothes disappeared too.

  When he pushed inside, Riley let him know just how much she enjoyed it. He, in turn, wasn’t leaving her wondering. The comforter and sheets twisted. Moans of ecstasy escaped. A rhythm was created, kept and then sped along to a wonderful conclusion.

  What had started as a chance meeting at a party had become something so much more, and as Riley lay naked in his arms, breathless and slick with sweat, she couldn’t help but feel the shift in her future.

  Overlook had been a way station.

  A pit stop.

  A respite.

  A transition that she’d intended to end after she’d made sure Jenna was okay.

  Plans for her career, her future family and her happiness weren’t ready to be made. Not here. Not in Overlook.

  Yet, listening to the still-racing heartbeat of Desmond Nash, Riley found that she was dangerously close to including the cowboy in all of them.

  * * *

  THEY LAY TOGETHER. They laughed together. They showered together. They lay back down together. And they fell asleep together.

  It was a lot closer than he’d expected to become with someone in a while.

  However, when Desmond woke and found Riley was still there next to him, he was happy it was with her.

  A siren who hadn’t led him astray.

  The lamp on the nightstand bathed the bedroom in low light. It illuminated the relaxed face of the woman at his side. Even though she’d used his body wash, he still could smell the lavender on her. It had a calming effect on him, he realized.

  Desmond shifted onto his back. Despite having just woken up he was still dead tired. He hadn’t been sleeping that great lately. Not since the night of the gala, if he was being honest with himself.

  Not since he’d seen the graffiti at Second Wind’s construction site.

  If Ryan Alcaster was trying to get to Jenna or get Jenna, how did the construction site fit into any of it?

  Was it a distraction or a pointed jab to ruffle his feathers?

  And how did Brett Calder and, possibly, the Fixers fit into any of it?

  Desmond closed his eyes again, feeling his body tense in frustration. Madi had once worried about the family’s bad luck. Their constant falling in with trouble was pretty damning when it came to the accusation.

  But without trouble you wouldn’t have gotten to know her, Desmond thought a split second later. There’d be no Riley in your bed.

  That would be one heck of a shame, if he did say so himself.

  Desmond decided to wake up early, make the Stones some breakfast and then dive into a giant cup of coffee and figure out something that was going on so they could find some peace. He started to roll over to turn off the lamp when two things happened on top of each other.

  A board in the kitchen floor, right under his room, the one Madi used to complain about, yelled out its horrible whine.

  And then Desmond realized he hadn’t just woken up, he’d been woken up.

  Instead of turning the lamp off he went for his phone. There were no new messages or calls. After everything the Nashes had been through in the last few years everyone knew not to just creep around without some kind of warning. Which was why his mother had rung the doorbell the other day and not burst right on in.

  The clock on his phone read 4:05 a.m. Nashes were also early risers, came with the territory of helping run a ranch growing up, but that was a little too early for normal.

  Surely no one had broken in, he hoped.

  Brett was dead, Geordi was in the hospital, but Davies?

  Desmond got out of bed in a flash. Riley stirred as he went for his jeans and put them on in record time. He cursed beneath his breath when he realized his gun was still at the department. He had another in the safe but it was downstairs in his office.

  “Desmond?”

  Riley was sitting up and blinking away sleep. Then her eyes were wide. She’d noticed his worry.

  “I think someone is downstairs,” he whispered. “Could be nothing, could be something.”

  Riley vaulted out of bed, impressing Desmond with how quiet the movement was, and started for the door. The fun fries shirt contrasted with her serious expression.

  “I have to make sure Jenna and Hartley are okay,” she explained, low.

  Desmond caught her hand before she could hit the doorknob. For a moment he saw anger flash through her. He understood it just as quick.

  No one could stand between him and his family.

  Just like no one could stand between her and her sister and nephew.

  So Desmond wasn’t even going to try.

  “Let me go out first. If I don’t yell up to you as soon as I go down the stairs, call Caleb. His house is down the road.” He tucked his phone in her hand. “Don’t come downstairs.”

  He held her gaze until she nodded.

  Then he kissed her, opened the door, and they went their separate ways. Riley to the guest bedroom down the hall and Desmond to the stairs. He made a fist, angry he hadn’t thought to keep a weapon in his room, and descended.

  Since there were people staying in his house who weren’t familiar with it, Desmond had left a light on over the sink in the kitchen and a lamp on in the living room. It didn’t do much for the small hallway between or the rest of the first floor but it was enough to see that his family wasn’t in his house.

  But someone else definitely was.

  Desmond pushed back up against the wall next to the bottom step of the stairs. Around the corner from him was someone he didn’t recognize.

  But given the shock of platinum-blond hair, Desmond assumed it was the fancy lawyer he’d heard about from his brothers.

  Maria Wendell.

  In his living room at four in the morning.

  Desmond took a quick breath and crouched. He eased his head around the corner again.

  She was looking toward the front door, as if her being there was normal. She even had her fingers threaded together and against her stomach.

  The odd stance showcased the lack of weapon in them.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Why was she there?

  Movement across from him in the kitchen changed everything. Desmond didn’t even have the chance to move.

  A man walked out into the hallway, gun raised.

  He was wearing a three-piece suit.

  “If you lunge at me, I’ll still be able to get at least one shot off,” he said, voice cool and calm. “Considering how close we are, that shot will probably cripple, if not kill, you. Then how will you help Ms. Stone?” He nodded toward the living room. “Let’s go in there.”

  Desmond swore but followed directions. Making noise to wake him had been on purpose. Just as Maria had been a distraction.

&nbs
p; The blonde didn’t look at all surprised as Desmond stopped in front of her. He angled his body so he could see them both.

  “I can’t believe that worked,” Maria said to the man in the suit. She looked Desmond up and down. “And you were right, no gun.”

  The man shrugged.

  “He gave it to his brother after he shot Geordi and his safe is downstairs.”

  “Who are you?” Desmond bit at him.

  The man ignored him. He kept the gun steady and addressed Maria.

  “One of them is probably calling the Nash who lives the closest. You have less than a minute to get her. I suggest you go do that now.”

  Maria pulled a small pistol from the pocket of her coat.

  “Fine. Just make sure he doesn’t touch me or I will shoot him. Comprende?”

  The man in the suit adopted a look of quick anger.

  “You kill him, or anyone in this house, and I will be the only, and the last, problem you ever have. Comprende?”

  Desmond didn’t understand the directive but Maria’s gusto was doused by it.

  “What do you even want with her?” Desmond asked, trying to stall.

  Maria snorted.

  “You think just asking me a question is going to get me talking?” She glanced at the man in the suit. “If I can’t kill you then I’m certainly not going to talk to you.”

  Desmond didn’t hate the fact that he was about to ruin her day. The moment she was next to him Desmond threw his shoulder into her as hard as he could, two guns in the room be damned.

  He expected a gunshot to go off but the only sound that followed the hit was Maria’s short-lived screech as her legs smacked the coffee table and she flailed over. The pistol hit the wood first and then slid as the table toppled with her weight.

  Desmond lurched for the weapon but the man in the suit surprised him with a swift kick to the side. It was Desmond who stumbled now. He caught his balance before falling all the way to the floor and then spun on his heel.

  Only to be staring into the barrel of a gun.

  Maria was cussing up a storm but the man in the suit was still as unruffled as they came.