Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance (6 page)

Ronan had his giant hands on her soft waist, and he lifted her off her feet. She squirmed and glared, but he lifted her higher, higher, until she was over his head. He often picked up Olaf like this, and Elizabeth was not much bigger than the cub.

“Ronan, you put me down!”

“Nothing doing, sweet thing. Not until you realize that I’m your bodyguard now, and that’s all there is to that.”

“You arrogant . . .”

Ronan saw her hand coming at him, fingers stiff, right for his eyes. He ducked out of the way in time, but the move made him lose his hold. Elizabeth kicked out, not contacting him, but with enough force to twist from his grip and land on her feet. She never touched him, and yet, there she stood, a couple yards from him, hands on hips, breathing hard, triumph on her face.

Ronan growled. “You fight dirty.”

“I learned how to a long time ago.”

“You know something, Lizzie-girl?”

Elizabeth canted one hip . . . Aw, wasn’t that adorable? “What’s that?” she asked.

“I fight dirty too.”

Before Elizabeth could scream, Ronan ran at her and lifted her again, letting the momentum carry them forward until her back was against the outside wall of the Den. Ronan pinned her tightly, his body against hers, so that she couldn’t squirm, kick, or do any neat karate moves with her hands.

Elizabeth struggled, and she glared, and the more she glared, the more Ronan wanted to laugh. She smelled sweet, like the honey she’d poured on her toast. One drop of that honey lingered on the corner of her mouth, and Ronan leaned down and licked it away.

Elizabeth froze. She felt the moist heat of his mouth, the flick of his tongue, the warmth of his lips. He was strong, his hands on her waist attested to that, yet his touch on her mouth was everything that was gentle. Elizabeth hung in his grasp for a long moment before she returned the faintest of pressures.

They were face to face, so close that Elizabeth saw the faint line of scar that laced from the corner of his cheekbone up the bridge of his nose. Where he’d broken it, she surmised.

She did nothing. Ronan studied her a long time, his eyes warm, his gaze sliding to her lips.

Slowly Elizabeth brought up one hand to cup his cheek. She let her thumb drift over the firm line of his mouth before she closed the inch between them and kissed him again.

Their lips fused, unmoving heat, slow goodness. Elizabeth felt the thump of his heart, the beat of hers in return, the Texas sunshine soaking into her bones, as hot as her blood.

“Oh, give me a break,” came a male voice from the porch. Scott, finally out of the shower and shirtless, leaned on the railing, his dark hair wet. “You told me not to touch the humans, Ronan. Why don’t the same rules apply to you?”

Ronan eased out of the kiss. Slowly, he lowered Elizabeth to her feet and turned around.

“I’m taking Elizabeth to her store,” Ronan said, voice neither harsh nor conceding. “Mabel is to be protected. She can move around Shiftertown, but not out of it, and one of us is to be with her at all times. Tell Rebecca.”

“I’m not a babysitter,” Scott growled.

He was defiant, but Elizabeth sensed him backing off under Ronan’s stare. Elizabeth had seen these dynamics before, at every home she’d lived in. Sometimes the adult radiated menace and the kid took a step back, shoulders slumping in submission; sometimes it was kid who was in control.

Ronan was definitely in charge here. “Not a babysitter,” Ronan said. “A protector. We all are.”

“Bodyguards,” Elizabeth said. Scott flicked his gaze to her, then took it instantly back to Ronan. “Not my choice, but Ronan’s right,” Elizabeth went on. “Mabel and I need protection until we figure out how to be safe from these guys. I’d really appreciate it if you made sure Mabel was all right. And if anyone comes looking for her, I’ll be glad to know you and Rebecca are around.”

Scott’s gaze flickered again, but the enraged defiance eased out of him.

“Well, if you’re going to stroke my ego, all right then,” Scott said. “See, Ronan, you only have to ask nice.”

Ronan shrugged. “Elizabeth’s nicer than me. Go tell Rebecca, and don’t be a shithead.”

Scott gave him a sneering look, but it was more mocking than angry. “I’ll tell her I found you kissing Elizabeth. I thought you said you’d conquered your mating frenzy a long time ago.”

“Go,” Ronan growled.

Scott went, but at least now he was laughing.

“I’ll be glad when his Transition’s done,” Ronan said, exasperation in his voice. “It’s like living with a volcano.”

“What’s a mating frenzy?” Elizabeth asked.

“Don’t humans have that?”

“No.” Elizabeth folded her arms, keeping him out of her space. She shouldn’t have let him kiss her, but, damn, she’d enjoyed it.

Ronan moved to his motorcycle and started checking things on it. “Mating frenzy happens at the Transition for the first time, but it can happen any time we scent a potential mate. It
always
happens after a mate-claim is accepted. Mating frenzy means a Shifter wants to mate without stopping, not even to eat. Maybe to sleep, but then only to wake up and mate some more.”

“An out-of-control sex drive?” Elizabeth asked. “And you conquered it? I didn’t know men
could
conquer their sex drive.”

He ignored her attempt at humor. “Once, a long time ago, I almost mated, but she got killed.”

Ronan bent to study a dial on his bike, but not before Elizabeth saw the raw pain in his eyes. She went to him. “Ronan, I’m so sorry.” She touched his shoulder, strong beneath her hand. “I didn’t mean to tease you.”

“It’s more than fifty years ago now. I’ve never found anyone I wanted to mate with since.”

But it hurt him. Elizabeth saw that. Some hurts never went away, no matter how much you tried.

“Seriously, Ronan, I’m sorry,” she said. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”

Another shrug. “We need to get to your store.”

Elizabeth let it go. She’d also learned that when people didn’t want to talk about their pain, they didn’t want to talk about their pain.

She started for the pickup, but Ronan shook his head. “Marquez’s guys will know your truck. We take my bike.”

“What does it matter? They’ll know I’m at the store when I get there.”

Ronan gave her a look of great patience. “It matters when they’re scanning the streets for your truck, and it matters when I need to get you away as fast as I can.”

Elizabeth conceded, not so much because she agreed but because she wanted a ride on that bike. Her skin tingled with glee as she headed for it. She’d owned a Harley once upon a time, until some asshole stole it, and she’d never seen it again.

The bike was huge, fitting its large owner. An older model, she saw, but lovingly kept. Ronan handed her a spare helmet. Elizabeth fastened it, then mounted behind him.

The motor throbbed, power between her legs. Elizabeth hung on to Ronan, the man as powerful as the bike, and suppressed a whoop as Ronan tore out of the driveway and onto the street.

***

Elizabeth let herself put away her worries to enjoy the ride to the shop. Ronan took it easy, but she felt the bike’s energy, its need to open up. What heaven it would be to get this thing out on an empty highway and really let it go.

She felt Ronan’s strength as he leaned into the turns, the fluidity of his muscles as he moved with the bike. He knew how to ride, knew how to coax the machine to do what he wanted without fighting it.

“Sweet ride!” she yelled.

The journey ended too soon, Ronan pulling up in the alley behind her store.

All seemed quiet. Ronan let her dismount first and took the helmet from her, but told her to wait for him to scout. “If I tell you to, you get on this bike and go,” Ronan said. “I can tell you know how to ride, right?”

Elizabeth nodded. She knew, all right, though this motorcycle would be a challenge, as large as it was.

“Good,” Ronan said. “Let me go check it out.”

Truth to tell, Elizabeth felt a lot better with Ronan there. If she’d come alone in her pickup this morning, she’d be lingering, debating whether to go inside, and possibly losing the debate. In spite of her brave talk about staying open no matter what, she was afraid.

Watching Ronan walk away wasn’t bad, either. He was a big man, but trim, not fat. His ass in those tight jeans was very nice, and the black T-shirt stretching across his shoulders was nice too.

Ronan unlocked the back door of her store and stepped inside. Elizabeth tensed, hands clenching around the motorcycle helmet until she swore she’d dent the plastic. When Ronan came back outside after about fifteen minutes, her entire body relaxed, and she flexed her sore fingers.

“Everything’s fine,” he said. “No one’s in there, the lock hasn’t been forced, and I didn’t find any booby traps.”

“Booby traps?” Elizabeth said, eyes going wide.

“These guys aren’t going to fight fair. I checked for tripwires and explosive devices, but I’m pretty sure it’s clean.”

“
Pretty
sure?”

Ronan actually smiled. “I’ll keep looking. Like I said, no one forced the locks or any windows, so I don’t think anyone’s been inside.”

Elizabeth blew out her breath. “All right. Let’s go in.”

Ronan parked the bike right outside the back door and took the helmets inside with him. The alley door led straight into her office, which was still a mess from the fight the night before. The door to the store hung from its hinges, and the doorframe had splintered where Ronan’s big body hadn’t quite fit through it.

“I’ll get Spike and Ellison over here to fix that,” Ronan said. “They’re good carpenters.”

“I can’t pay them much. I only have so much set aside for repairs.”

“No paying. I broke the door, I’ll get it fixed. Gratis.”

Elizabeth rose from picking up papers from the floor. “You mean your friends will come over and replace a door and drywall for free?”

“Sure. We help each other out. Besides, Liam likes you, and if Liam says they do it on the house, they do it on the house.”

Elizabeth thought of Liam Morrissey’s warm blue eyes and the pressure of his hands when he’d clasped hers. “Are you sure Liam likes me? You were arrested for helping me.”

“If Liam didn’t like you, you’d know. Trust me.”

Yes, she believed that. He’d beamed a charming smile on one and all, but Elizabeth had sensed his controlled power, the dangerous thing beneath his surface.

Elizabeth went through the store, righting things, replacing the displays that had been knocked over. At least Marquez hadn’t gotten into the safe. He’d been right that Elizabeth hadn’t made her deposit—she’d planned to do it last night, and the safe held several thousand dollars. The police had kept Marquez’s shoulder bag full of cash and given her a receipt for a hundred and seventy-eight dollars.

Elizabeth picked up the torn bits of a huge T-shirt and held the strips up before her eyes. Ronan’s bear body had ripped its way right out of the shirt. The strength the torn fabric represented made her shiver. She stared at the strips for a time then, for some reason, she rubbed them against her cheek.

A large hand took them away from her. “Throw those out. I trashed that shirt. And I owe you for the other one.”

Elizabeth flushed as he tossed the pieces of T-shirt into the wastebasket. “No, no. It’s on me. You saved my life and my store. Least I can do. Oh, and, you said you were buying a birthday present last night. For who?”

“Rebecca. Got anything for a horny she-bear who doesn’t want to be reminded she’s coming up on her hundredth birthday?”

Elizabeth hid her astonishment at the
hundredth
part. “I’ll find her something cute. Also on me. You all have been so nice to me.”

Ronan nodded, as though it was no big deal, and turned away to answer his cell phone. He continued to make calls after that, she noticed as she kept cleaning.

By the time shoppers had started migrating to the area, and Elizabeth reached to turn on her neon “OPEN” sign—custom-made, with a girl with long legs sitting on the curved end of the
N
—Ronan was off the phone and all was ready.

“The trackers are coming,” he said. “Probably they’re already here.”

“Tell one of them to bring me my phone. If Liam wants it, he can have it, but I need the numbers stored inside.”

Ronan rumbled a laugh. “He’s done playing. He’s sending it.”

The cell phone was returned to her via a tall, broad-shouldered Shifter with a shaved head, deep brown eyes, and body art all over him. He gave her a predatory smile as he handed over the phone.

“I’m Spike,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

Spike
. The “hot” guy Mabel said had tatts all over him. He was certainly well inked, his muscle shirt showing art that interlocked and wove up and down his arms like living paintings. His own skin showed only in his face and hands. Like all Shifters, he was tightly muscled and had that edge of animal about him. Elizabeth wondered what he turned into.

Ronan shoved the phone from Spike’s side of the counter to Elizabeth’s. “You’re on perimeter,” Ronan growled at him.

Spike shot Ronan a glance, and his evil smile widened. “You’re the boss.” He walked out of the store without saying good-bye, the small bells on the door tinkling.

“Felines,” Ronan said. He might as well have said,
Shitheads
.

“Liam’s a Feline,” Elizabeth said, tucking her phone into her pocket. “Right?”

“The whole Morrissey clan are Felines. That’s why Liam is so full of himself. Like a cat with cream.”

“And Spike’s a Feline like him?”

“Different clan. Spike’s wildcat is bred from jaguars, but the Morrisseys have more lion in them. Spike came up here from Mexico, the Morrisseys from Ireland.”

“What do you mean by
more lion
? Aren’t they all were-lions or were-jaguars or whatever?”

Ronan shook his head. “We’re all Fae-beasts, technically. Feline and Lupine clans tend to lean more toward one cat or wolf type than others, but none of them breed true. Only bears do.”

“Of course.”

“Bear Shifters were the last ones created. With us, the Fae finally got it right.”