Against The Wall (3 page)

“Nothing’s wrong with her, damn it,” Ryan growled, tossing the pack aside and rising to his feet to pace the length of the room. “But she’s too fucking young for one thing—”

Derek snorted again, cutting him off. “Come on, Ryan. She’s twenty-seven. It’s not like you’d be robbing the cradle.”

“Damn it, Derek, the woman’s just finished her dissertation on Ancient Civilizations and I spend most of my time trying to track down gutter scum. What the hell would we have in common? Hannah told me about her last two boyfriends—one was a poetry professor and the other was a fuckin’ sculptor.”

He kept pacing, his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans, jaw grinding so hard his teeth were beginning to ache. “And she’s too damn innocent-looking. I set eyes on her and she blushes. God only knows what she’d do if she had a clue what I’d like to do to her.”

Everything, he thought with a vicious curse. I wanna do everything there is with her. Front, back, top, bottom. I wanna fuck her and eat that sweet little cunt until she screams herself hoarse.

Derek raised his brow in wry amusement, as if he could read his friend’s mind, still wondering what Ryan’s problem was. “So what? You’re not even going to give her a chance because she’s young and smart and too innocent, whatever the hell that means? Stop being so pigheaded, Ryan. You’re not all that ancient yourself, you’re too damn smart for your own good, and I hardly think she’s as inexperienced as she looks. They never are. Hell, even if she was, why should that stop you?”

Ryan stalked to the window, staring out at the starless night, the black clouds mirroring his own dark mood. “Because she’s not the kind of woman you fuck and move on from. Women like Shea don’t expect to get tossed aside at the end of the night when you’re done with them. They expect commitment and all that crap I don’t believe in.”

Not anymore.

Not ever again.

“Ahh,” Derek drawled from the sofa. “You mean she’s not like the women you find at Red’s. She’s looking for more, and you’d rather die than—what? Have a nice woman come to care for you? What the hell’s so bad about that, especially when that woman’s someone like Shea?”

Ryan whipped around with barely suppressed violence, his lip curled in disgust, though he suspected it was more with himself than with Derek. “Yeah, asks the guy who screws a different woman every weekend,” he snarled. “You’re sounding like a self-righteous hypocrite, Kiely.”

Derek rose to his full height, matching Ryan’s intimidating six-four, inch for inch. “Well at least I’m not acting like a frightened ass,” he shot back, “too afraid to go out with a girl that might have more to offer than some sweaty time between the sheets.”

Ryan stepped forward, his shoulders and arms bulging with muscles beneath the thin cotton of his gray T-shirt. “Just because you crashed and burned with Hannah doesn’t mean you have to take this shit out on me!”

“Damn it,” Derek growled, “I did not crash and burn.”

“Huh! Only because she didn’t even give you the chance to—”

They both heard, at the same time, the crash and muffled scream come through the connecting living room wall between his and Shea’s apartment. Ryan’s stomach knotted with dread and icy rage, while Derek muttered, “What the fuck was that?”

Another muffled scream, another thud, and suddenly Ryan sprang into action, cursing himself for standing there for even those two stunned seconds, while he’d tried to come to grips with what he’d heard. Jesus, if anyone had so much as dared to lay a hand on her, Ryan knew it was going to take a friggin’ miracle to keep him from killing the sorry son-of-a-bitch.

Through a blinding fog of rage, Ryan was dimly aware of Derek moving behind him as he threw open his front door and rocketed around the building. His heart nearly stopped when he rounded the corner and saw Shea’s front door busted open, the useless safety chain dangling, broken from its clasp. Without even drawing his gun, Ryan charged through the doorway, Derek right on his heels, their actions timed in perfect unison.

Another loud crash and muffled shriek had them running for the bedroom. Ryan burst through the door and stopped short. The primitive killing instinct igniting his blood all but burned through his skin, filling him with savage intent. He took one look at Rich Spalding’s big body trying to pin a frantically struggling Shea to the floor and wanted to rip the man apart with his bare hands.

And Shea, God bless her, was doing her best to kick the shit out of the jerk. She had what looked like the remnants of a lamp in her hand, which she’d obviously just cracked over Spalding’s thick skull. The stream of obscenities pouring from her sweet little mouth would’ve made the most seasoned sailor stand up and take notice.

“You fucking bastard,” Ryan snarled, hauling Spalding up by the back of his shirt and tossing him clear across the room. He’d instantly recognized the big guy as one of Red’s rowdier regulars. Behind him, Shea yelled his name as he started toward Spalding’s sprawled form against the far wall.

Looking over his shoulder, he told Derek, “Get her the hell outta here.”

Instead of agreeing, his stubborn friend just shook his dark head. “No way, Ry. As much as I’d enjoy seeing his sorry ass get pounded into the ground, you look ready to kill.”

Ryan hadn’t wanted to look at her yet, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to deal with it if she was hurt, but Shea stumbled in front of him, grasping on to his arm, demanding his attention.

“Damn it, Ryan, calm down! He’s not worth it. Just arrest him,” she all but shouted in his face. It took all her effort not to throw her arms around the beautiful man and thank him, from his golden head down to his big feet, but first she had to keep him from committing murder in her bedroom. “I mean it, Ryan. I don’t want you killing his sorry ass because of me.”

He looked down into her tear-streaked face, seeing the small cut at the corner of her bruised mouth and the slight swelling on her right cheekbone. New fury blazed within his battle-readied body, making him shake with it. Even his fingers trembled as they reached out to brush her swollen lip, stopping just short of touching her.

“Damn it, Shea. That bastard hurt you. God only knows what he would’ve done if I hadn’t come home and heard you fighting him. No way in hell am I letting him walk away from this.”

Spalding, who’d been leaning against the wall trying to get his breath back, chose that moment to try and make a run for it. As he shot past them, Ryan reached out and caught the front of his shirt, lifted him clear off his feet, and slammed his fist into the asshole’s nose. There was an awful crunching sound, and then Ryan tossed him to the floor where he lay in a motionless heap. Blood poured unchecked down the guy’s swelling face, collecting under his beefy chin.

Derek walked over, tossed down his denim jacket to protect Shea’s carpet, then nudged Spalding to his stomach with his foot so he could handcuff him and keep the drunken lout from choking on his own blood. While he fastened the cuffs, he ignored Ryan, who still stood glowering down at Spalding’s unconscious body, clearly spoiling for another go at the bastard, and instead focused his attention on Shea. She stood beside Ryan with a stunned look of shock and outrage on her pale face, as if she didn’t know whether to throw her arms around his dumb-ass pal or run screaming from the room.

Derek understood Ryan’s violent reaction. Hell, he wanted a go at Spalding himself, but Shea needed some attention before she collapsed at Ryan’s feet. Hannah would’ve been the ideal choice, but she’d driven up to her mother’s yesterday and wouldn’t be back until Sunday night. That left it up to him, since Ryan was looking about as gentle as a raging bull.

Trying to put her at ease, he gave her a slow smile. “You okay, honey? You need me to call an ambulance?”

She shook her head no, her dazed eyes darting between him and Ryan. “Okay,” he said in that same easy way, as if he were dealing with a skittish animal. “You want to go ahead and tell me what happened? Then I can get him outta here and let you get settled. I’ll come back tomorrow and take your statement.”

“Like hell you will,” Ryan muttered, cutting off whatever it was she was about to say. Ignoring the sudden glare she sent him, he explained roughly, “I’ll take her damn statement myself.”

Derek hid his knowing smile by looking down to check the cuffs. “Hey, whatever you want, Ry.”

Ryan didn’t even reply. His attention had been completely captured by Shea. She looked about ready to fall on her face, and the anger rolled through him hotter than ever.

“What happened, Shea?” He tried to gentle his voice, but there was no disguising the simmering violence just waiting to be unleashed. She didn’t seem to be afraid, though, not if the burning daggers she was sending his way were any indication, her small finger suddenly poking him painfully in the chest.

“You…big…arrogant…macho…idiot! Just what in the hell did you think you were doing?”

Behind him, Derek made an odd choking sound, one Ryan strongly suspected was caused by swallowed laughter, and tried to figure out what had the gorgeous little imp in front of him in such a snit. He figured she’d be shaken after an attempted rape, damn it, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected to have her chewing a strip off his own hide. He was the one who’d saved her sweet little ass and all she could do was screech at him?

“What did I think I was doing?” he sneered, looming over her until she had to crane her neck back to see his face. “How about saving your scrawny, ungrateful, bitchy little backside? Jesus, Shea, what the hell’s the matter with you?”

The Shea he knew was sweet and shy and so far out of his league it wasn’t even funny. He didn’t know who the hell the little sexpot standing in front him was, giving as good as she got, but his dick was standing up and taking notice, and Ryan felt ready to strangle the damn thing in frustration.

She took one deep breath, then another, her small nostrils flaring as she struggled to calm down and stop shrieking like a fishwife. “Okay, look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You were bloody brilliant and you know it. Just don’t go acting like you’re going to commit a homicide over me because of some stupid, drunk asshole, whose balls I was about to shove down his throat. God, Ry, I thought you were going to rip his heart out there for a second, and I don’t want you thrown into jail along with him!”

“You’ve got a pretty screwed up way of saying thanks, Shea.”

“Well you almost scared me as much as he did.” Then, with a small smile that he felt all the way down to his dick, she arched one fine brow and said, “Maybe I should just shut up now and say thank you.” Her eyes darkened and she took a step closer to him, one that had Ryan stumbling back a quick step. “How can I say it and make sure you believe me, Ry? I wouldn’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.”

His gut cramped and he swallowed hard, thinking of the dozens of ways he’d have loved to have her sweet little body thanking him…sucking him…screwing him into sexual oblivion. Unfortunately, he and the delectable Shea Dresden were never going to happen. Not tonight. Not ever.

But she was so fucking soft. He loved the way the mellow light in her bedroom played over the surface of her skin. Loved the soft, sensual lines of her body, and the sexy little silver hoop he knew was nestled in her navel beneath the silky blackness of her dress. It was the best damn part of his day, whenever he was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her in her blue bikini and see that little silver hoop glinting brightly against her golden skin.

And her hands. Hell, he was in some serious shit when he started mooning over a woman’s hands. But Shea’s hands were so damn sexy. They were soft and smooth, with little dimples on her knuckles that he just wanted to brush with his lips, and then drag her pretty little hand down to his cock, where she could wrap those delicate fingers around the pulsing mass of his erection.

She always made him so painfully hard—he just wanted to freaking explode with it. He had a sudden vision of Shea on her knees, her lips parted as she swallowed his cock, his hot cum shooting down her throat while she sucked on him with her greedy little tongue and lips.

Oh, damn, that was a good one. But still not the best. No—the best was having her under him, all quivering and wet and soft, while he pounded his cock into her like a hammer and drilled her into one screaming climax after another. He’d pump harder and harder, cramming her to the hilt until she was packed full and ready to burst around him…until he was ramming himself into the depths of her soul, and then he’d unload into her like a flood. He’d mark her as his own—fill her full of his seed—and keep her forever…

Whoa! Where in the fuck did that come from? Shit, he didn’t want her forever—he just wanted her now! Just wanted to be able to screw this insane need for her out of his system once and for all. Just needed to get his cock in that hot little cunt and burn the need for her from his body before it drove him friggin’ nuts.

Forcing his traitorous mind back on track, Ryan tried again. “The, ah, words are just fine, Shea, but I want you to tell me what happened here.” He jerked his head toward the floor, where Spalding’s body lay reeking of alcohol and sweat and blood. “Do you know this guy?”

Shea frowned down at the unconscious heap on her floor, looking as if she might enjoy giving him another good kick. Ryan thought she just might, too, considering she’d fought the bastard like a hellcat. Half of Spalding’s face had long ugly scratches, probably from her nails, and he’d limped when he’d tried to run as if she’d kneed him in the nuts. All in all, she’d put up a damn good fight, and now she genuinely seemed more angry than upset.

Still, it made Ryan’s blood run cold to think of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t heard her. No way in hell would he have been able to live with it if anything had happened to her. He didn’t know how the hell it had happened, but she’d come to mean so much to him, even though he’d fought it. Shit, he was still fighting it.

How had she gotten under his skin?

What had she done to him?

And what in God’s name was he going to do about her now?