Dirty Little Lies: A Men of Summer Novel (10 page)

“One that will get you killed if you don’t keep your damned nose out of it.” Not that Madden would follow the advice. He was too damned stubborn to do anything so sensible.

Madden chuckled at the suggestion. “You know me better than that, Zack. Besides I’m probably the only one with enough common sense to realize you’re not using your head where this girl is considered. Your dick is a piss-poor guide, take my advice on that one.”

“
Your
dick is a piss-poor guide,” Zack reminded him ruthlessly. “Mine doesn’t have near the poor judgment yours does, so keep your advice to yourself.”

A slight, mocking grunt could be heard over the line. “Well, I should warn you, the old man is heading to the airport and flying into Memphis to meet with the team he has there. He’s coming for her. And he’s convinced that the two of you aren’t lovers, that you’re just doing this to piss him the hell off because you’re so pissed that Luce managed to get a weapon and off herself while she was here.”

Alexander was never going to stop, Zack thought, and so he was going to have to shoot his uncle.

“And don’t make plans to kill my father, cousin,” Madden warned him. “We’d become enemies, and that would be a shame.”

“And we’re what now?” Zack growled. “I was unaware we were anything less.”

Madden laughed at that. “We’re cousins,” he drawled. “We’ll fight and hate and do our best to poke at each other whenever we want. Unless someone else decides they can do the same.” His voice hardened. “Then we cover each other’s back.”

“And you’re covering my back how?” Zack sneered.

“I’m letting you know the old man will be there by morning with every intention to take that woman from you,” Madden revealed. “I know she’s meant something to you for a long time, so I’m covering your back by telling you it’s all a game. You stand in his face, and he won’t take her—but that won’t keep her safe. Find the information she’s supposed to have, or run with her. And when you do, find a hole and bury yourselves deep because he won’t rest until he has her.”

“Then he’ll die, Madden,” Zack warned him quietly. “I guess it’s time you and Tory choose sides: his insanity, or what’s right. Because any attempt to take Grace will ensure the pact between Maddox and Brigham is irreparably broken. They’ll turn against you, and so will I, and you don’t want that.”

“You’d go that far?” Madden asked, his tone mildly curious.

“What do you think,
cousin
?” he questioned the other man, wondering if Madden had ever gotten a clue that he wasn’t the only Brigham willing to sacrifice his link to the family for his ideas of right versus wrong.

A heavy sigh came over the connection. “I think I can’t complain of being bored at the moment. Take care, Zack. Call me if you need me,” Madden suggested before he disconnected the call.

No, Zack agreed, there was definitely no room for boredom.

*   *   *

“Well?” Alexander asked impatiently when his son stepped back into the library, his brows drawn into a frown.

Madden was a good-looking boy, though disillusion had taken the joy from his dark brown eyes years before. The cobalt black of his hair grew a bit longer than Alexander liked, but Madden had been ignoring him where his hair was concerned since his late teens.

At least he gave some consideration to his clothing this time. He actually looked rather nice today. The white dress shirt, even with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows, was pressed and fit his tall, leanly muscled frame excellently. The tail was tucked neatly into dark slacks, his feet shod in expensive black leather shoes while an understated black belt cinched his pants.

“Well.” A sardonic smile tugged at Madden’s lips. “I wouldn’t advise sending in that team—he’ll decimate them.” He sat down in the heavy leather chair across from the desk. “Then he’ll probably come after you. And the Kin will follow him, Father, trust me on that.” Ice filled his voice and his dark eyes.

No, this wasn’t the same son he remembered from before Madden had joined the military. He was still strong, though, still loyal—of that, Alexander had no doubt.

At least, to a point. That loyalty was growing thinner by the day, especially now in the face of Grace Maddox’s suspected treachery.

“You believe her innocent?” Alexander questioned him mildly.

Madden’s brow arched with mocking surprise. “I don’t think it matters what I believe, Father,” he stated, his tone icily polite as he rose from his chair. “You’ll do what you do, regardless. You’ve already proved that one time too many. I made the call for you, though. I assessed his tone and determination based on what I know of him.” He paused, his gaze darkening. “Taking her will destroy the Brigham–Maddox loyalties. I’d think about that long and hard before I attempted it.”

chapter seven

Maybe it was all a nightmare.

What had she eaten for dinner? No doubt something known to cause strange and frightening dreams, Grace thought the next morning as a feeling of warmth enveloped her. She’d learned a long time ago not to eat mustard on her favorite midnight snack of hot pretzels because of just that reason.

In this dream, Zack had slipped into her room and plastered his naked body against her back. And he was definitely naked. She could feel every bare inch through the black chiffon gown she wore.

Nope, the past few days hadn’t been a dream.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” Zack rumbled behind her, causing her heart to race as he flattened his hand against her stomach, holding her to him. “You feel good first thing in the morning.”

“Is that what you tell all your women?” she asked suspiciously. The thought of those women had always infuriated Grace. Not that any of them had lasted long, but the fact was, they had had him, while she hadn’t had a chance.

“I can’t remember a single time I told another woman that.” He moved behind her, his head brushing against the top of hers. “And no other woman’s ever slept in this bed with me either. They’ll be terribly jealous of you.”

She snorted at the mocking comment. “It doesn’t even matter,” she sighed, tamping back her anger. “The only reason I’m here is to prove to the world you’re sleeping with me. Otherwise, you’d have slapped me in the guest room so fast, both our heads would be spinning.”

Zack cleared his throat, but it sounded more like he was smothering a chuckle. “Your opinion of my self-control is far higher than the truth actually is,” he stated with no small amount of amusement. “Wouldn’t matter the circumstances, you’d still be in my bed, and that’s a fact.”

Yeah, that was why he’d ignored her since she was eighteen.

“That’s what you say now.” She swallowed tight—the feel of his erection against the crease of her buttocks was making her hunger for him.

Heat flamed through her, melting any resistance she might have been able to dredge up had they both been dressed. Damn him, he made her want, made her ache, and she couldn’t make it stop, no matter how hard she tried. Zack was a weakness she’d never been able to excuse or rationalize. As far as she was concerned, no other man compared to him, no other had the ability to make her burn like Zack did.

“I need to get up,” she squeaked.

Hell, she
squeaked
. That had sounded bad, like a teenage boy whose voice was changing or something.

The low murmur of a chuckle at her ear as his lips brushed against it had her fighting to breathe. The effect he had on her was disconcerting and always made her feel as though the air around her were simply too thin.

“Are you sure about that, baby?” His hand smoothed down her arm, the feel of his rough flesh against her softer skin sending a rush of sensation up her spine. “Are you absolutely certain you want to leave this bed?” He nudged her hair aside with his chin, and the rasp of his overnight beard against her earlobe felt far too good. “Because I’d love for you to stay a minute,” he whispered wickedly before catching her lobe between his teeth in a gentle nip.

His leg slid between hers.

She was in so much trouble.

Grace could feel the wild intensity building between them like a thunderhead. She’d spent so many years holding so much back that she had no idea how to let the wildness within her free.

The very thought of doing so was terrifying.

“Made up your mind yet, Grace?” he asked softly, an obvious dare in his tone.

Questions, questions.

Unfortunately, she knew the answer to this one.

She was about to step willingly into a heartache that there would be no turning back from—she could feel it all the way to her bones.

And there was always the chance Zack was just teasing her, tormenting her. After all, he’d done no more than flirt for years, keeping her hanging, keeping her hoping. He had never called her himself, never invited her out, never seemed interested in more than the friendly flirting they engaged in.

“Do you remember the first time you called me?” Zack asked curiously, a hint of a smile in his voice as he pulled the strap of her gown down the curve of her shoulder. “You were, what? Seventeen?”

She did remember the first time; it was burned into her mind. She’d attended a concert at the park with friends that night, and while walking to her car, she collapsed from a ruptured appendix. Zack had been there. He, Slade, and Jazz rushed her to the hospital, called her family, and Zack had stayed until she was out of surgery and in recovery.

“You gave me your number while I was in the hospital,” she reminded him nervously. “You told me to call anytime.”

She was sure he hadn’t thought she’d take his words as literally as she did.

“You called me at three in the morning,” he remembered, his lips lowering to her shoulder. “You instantly informed me that I should be there with you, because whatever drugs they’d given you were keeping you awake and you were bored.”

She’d done just that. “And you came to the hospital and talked to me until I went to sleep.” And she never had the nerve to ask him why he’d done it.

“I thought for sure the staff would tell Cord, and he’d rip my head off.” He brushed a kiss against her bare shoulder. “I knew then you were trouble when I walked in and that little smile curled your lips and you told me you were certain it was going to be nice knowing I’d come when you called.”

“You said you’d always come when I called,” she remembered, her breath catching as he nipped at her shoulder. The feel of his teeth against her flesh was a shock and a pleasure she wouldn’t have expected.

“You should have called the minute Vince learned you could be in danger, brat,” his voice rumbled with displeasure just before he licked over the spot where he’d nipped her. “I’ll spank you for that at some point.”

The muscles of her rear tightened at the threat, at the involuntary curiosity that surged inside her. “Zack…” she breathed in roughly. “It’s not like that. I didn’t have a chance to call. We’d just learned the night before—”

“Grace, you really shouldn’t lie to me, baby. It just makes me want to smack that pretty ass of yours that much more.”

Oh, wow. What was she supposed to say to that?

Yes, please?

She had a feeling this was a bit more than she was ready for right now. No, asking for the punishment wasn’t a good idea, no matter how interesting it might sound. And it sounded very interesting. Zack could make the experience a life changer for her. She was having enough life-changing moments right now—she didn’t know if she could handle more. Especially such a sensual one.

“You’re awful shy, now that you’re in my bed, Grace,” he growled, a warning in his voice. “Tell me, which one is you? The tactful, graceful little paragon of Maddox virtue, or the wicked little temptress who’s teased the hell out of me for years?”

She couldn’t breathe. Lips parted, Grace struggled to remember how to draw air into her lungs. “Zack…” she tried to protest, though what she was protesting she wasn’t certain.

“So demure now,” he crooned, his lips moving to her neck. “Let me see the woman who came in my arms the other night. The one who ached for me as much as I ached for her.”

She frowned at the rumble of demand in his tone as well as the subtle implication.

“There’s a difference between tact and demureness, or weakness, Zack,” she assured him, certain he was seeing that weakness he felt she possessed and she was a bit offended that he’d never recognized that she wasn’t weak—or else she would never have survived working for Vinny.

“In your case, it’s hard to tell, baby. Tact would be using a polite tone when you were telling me you weren’t ready to be touched. Weakness is just plain lying about it like you are now.”

“It isn’t weakness, Zack,” she assured him, knowing she’d pay for stepping out of the shadow of patience and tact and freeing the woman she’d always kept restrained inside her. “It was the knowledge that not my uncle, my cousins, or the man who refused to get a clue would know what the hell to do with me if I gave myself to them exactly as I am.” She jerked the blankets from her, turned, and stared up at the faint mockery in his expression. “And you knew you couldn’t handle me,” she informed him disdainfully. “Or you would have done more than shoot me a few hot looks and give a suggestive compliment here and there over the past few years. I might have been hiding, but at least I wasn’t a coward. I was simply all too aware that you were having too much fun running—”

Oh. My. God.

The thought was like a clash of cymbals in her head as she finally took in the fact that he was stark naked and heavily aroused. Very heavily, very largely aroused.

The stiff, dark flesh rose from between his thighs, much bigger and thicker than she’d imagined. Much more than she’d imagined. The toys she’d used to practice certain acts hadn’t been nearly that size.

As she watched, Zack lowered his hand, his fingers gripping the tight flesh just below the head as a bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip.

There went the air from her lungs again. Her heart was suddenly beating in her throat as it tightened, and she really needed to swallow. Her mouth was dry, then watering for a taste of him as she unconsciously licked her tongue over her lips.