Fire Me Up (25 page)

All other thought scattered apart as she climaxed, hard enough to force the breath from her lungs in a keening cry. Adrian's muscles tensed and flexed against her skin and inside her body, and she squeezed her legs around his thick waist, tipping up to eliminate any space between them even as he continued to thrust. Sound left his throat on a pleasure-soaked groan, and with one last near-punishing push, the tension in his body unraveled as he came with a shout.

Adrian's weight pressed against her, heated skin on skin, until both of their breathing steadied. He shifted to the center of the bed, but only enough to reclaim his own weight and tuck her back in at his side. The shadows slanting through the blinds stretched farther over the carpet, marking the minutes as they fell from the clock, and even though time was clearly passing, Teagan didn't move.

She wanted this moment, with Adrian's body all warm and strong and
hers,
to last forever.

Finally, when they couldn't deny that the rest of the planet was indeed still spinning away outside Adrian's bedroom door, Teagan slipped from the bed to gather her clothes. She felt Adrian's eyes on her from the bed, watchful and reverent, and she pulled her T-shirt over her head before giving in to his gaze.

“Are you hungry?” she asked with a grin, padding over to the bed on bare feet, and Adrian lifted a brow over a high-octane, sexy-as-sin smile.

“Never thought you'd be happy to get into the kitchen,” he said, levering up to kiss her before snagging his own discarded clothing from the carpet, and oh no. She might be all boneless and borderline goofy from the pair of religious-experience orgasms he'd just given her—not to mention the
I love yous
behind them—but no way was Teagan going to acquiesce.

“And I never thought you'd be happy to stay
out
of the kitchen.”

She dodged the pillow Adrian winged in her direction just before impact, letting out a peal of laughter before scooping it up to throw it right back. The pillow glanced off his shoulder before falling to the bedsheets with a
whump
, and Adrian's expression lit into
oh really?
territory.

“You want to eat, right?” His arms threaded into a thick knot over his freshly replaced T-shirt. Menacing as he was, Teagan matched the gesture, although the ear-to-ear smile pulling at her lips probably canceled out the serious factor.

“Sure do, Superman.”

His rough-hewn laugh was tipped in mischief. “Then you'd better hightail it to the kitchen, before I decide not to let you.”

Teagan weighed the odds for exactly point-four seconds before heading down the hallway, her shoulders feeling as light as they had . . . well, as far back as she could remember. Humming under her breath, she popped the refrigerator door with a soft
whoosh
, collecting the steaks before nudging it closed with one hip. She went through the motions of getting things prepped, and everything from washing her hands to seasoning the meat sent even more relaxation through her body and her mind.

“So what's this?” Adrian asked, jerking his chin at the sole grocery bag still on the counter as he moved into the kitchen to stand next to her.

Even more warm and fuzzy bubbled up in Teagan's chest, and God, she had it so bad. “Oh, I almost forgot! I got you a present.”

“You did?” He stilled at the counter, his surprise evident.

But Teagan reached into the bag with a smooth—albeit careful—sweep of her hand. “Yup. Your place is kind of bare, so I thought you might like it. Plus, it made me think of you.”

For a distortedly long minute, Adrian simply stared at the item cradled between her palms, finally lifting his gaze to hers.

“You got me a cactus?”

She blinked. “Well, yeah. You know, tough and prickly. Plus, you're not a throw pillow kind of guy, remember?”

Teagan took a step backward on the cool linoleum. She'd meant it as an endearment, but maybe the cactus had been a bad idea. Clearly, Adrian liked his rootless environment, with his few sparse belongings all in order and ready to go. She'd seen the little potted cactus at Joe's Grocery and thought of him instantly, so she'd just bought it, but maybe . . .

“You're right, I'm not.”

Adrian was on her then, taking the brown ceramic dish from her hands. But rather than balk or clam up his emotions, he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close.

“I'm the kind of guy who's in love with you. And nothing's going to stand in the way of that. Ever.”

Adrian sat back in the extra chair in La Dolce Vita's small but tidy office, his chest full of
yes, yes, and more yes
but his gut brimming with dread. He'd gone over the impending street fair no less than a trillion times in his head, and while the plan itself was damn near flawless, there was one giant roadblock Adrian simply couldn't avoid.

Their success hinged on Lonnie keeping his word, and there was a zero percent chance the sleaze basket was anything other than violently untrustworthy.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. I got caught up planning specials with Bellamy. I swear that woman is a culinary tour de force,” Carly said, handing over a plate full of biscotti and a steaming mug of coffee. She plopped down into the chair behind the desk, running the flat of her palm over her belly before gesturing to the cookies in a
gimme
like wave.

“No sweat,” Adrian returned, sliding the dish to the no-man's-land on the desk between them. “She's come a long way in a couple of years, huh?” When he'd first laid eyes on Bellamy, she'd had damn little practice to go with her promise. But hell, if she was responsible for the perfectly golden, chocolate-studded biscotti at his elbow, she'd come even further than he'd thought.

“I know, right? Even I have no clue how she gets her pie crust so frickin' flawless.” Carly crunched into a cookie, making a blissed-out face before brushing the crumbs from the corners of her mouth. “So is everything okay? You sounded kind of serious on the phone.”

“That's because I am.” Shit. There was no way to slice this other than right down the middle, and Carly probably didn't expect any less from him, anyway. “There's more than just a little fund-raising going on behind this street fair at the Double Shot.”

“There is.” Carly's words held no hint of a question, and Adrian scraped in a deep breath. Fuck, this was going to be difficult, and more than a little dangerous. But the bottom line was that he trusted Carly, and no matter what, he had to protect Teagan if things went south.

Even if he didn't have a clue how to do that.

“Yeah.” Without pause, Adrian dove into the story, giving Carly enough details to fill her in but not so many as to scare the hell out of her entirely. But from her wide-eyed, holy-shit expression as he finished twenty minutes later, he'd been only partially successful in not freaking her out.

“Jesus, Ade,” she breathed, the words shaky. “Do you have any clue how totally dangerous this is?”

“I wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't. It's possible, maybe even probable, that once Lonnie gets his money, he'll do like he promised and become a ghost.” After all, the best way to run a successful business—even a nefarious one—was to take your profits where you got 'em. “But I trust the guy about as far as I can throw a baby grand. I know the street fair will do its job, but . . .”

“You don't think Lonnie will do his,” Carly finished, and Adrian gave a shrug so tight, his shoulders might as well have been vacuum-packed.

“I think he's a bully. But he's a well-armed, cagey-as-all-get-out bully, and unfortunately, he's also not stupid. A bar like the Double Shot could launder his dirty cash from here to kingdom come. The easier he makes this, the more I'm not sure it makes sense that he'd let an opportunity like the Double Shot slip away with a simple payback.”

Carly's dark brows jacked downward, outlining her confusion. “I don't get it. If Teagan's father
does
pay him back, what does Lonnie have as leverage?”

The needling disquiet that had built in his belly every time Adrian thought of Lonnie's radio silence made a comeback tour, and he swallowed hard to keep it in check. “Not what,” Adrian said, the words grim as they stuck in his throat. “Who.”

“You think he'd threaten Teagan to get her father to launder his gun money?” Carly gasped, her back going stick-straight and rigid against the cushions of her desk chair.

“I don't know,” Adrian admitted, hating the words. “Like I said, he might just take the money and go back under the filthy rock he slunk out from. But something about how hands off he's been lately doesn't pass the smell test, and I can't sit back and take the risk.” His gut doubled down, the adrenaline perking in his veins just begging for an outlet. “Not with Teagan.”

“You're in love with her,” Carly said, her tone as unreadable as her expression. Adrian had always gone big-brother-bulldog with regard to Carly's love life, and she returned the favor in spades. Hell, after the Becca disaster, Adrian's current fast track to the head-over-heels routine probably had her protective hackles up.

Nope. All the best-friend doubt on the planet wouldn't keep him from defending the way he felt. “I know things between me and Teagan happened fast, but she's not like Becca. She's . . .”
Gorgeous. Everything. Mine.
“Different. And I can't let anything happen to her.”

“I know.”

Whoa. “You do?”

But Carly just shook her head and gave a knowing smile. “Please. We've had each other's backs for a decade,
gnoccone
. It's all over your face that you're in love with her. And it's all over hers that she's nothing like Becca. Plus, I hate to break it to you, but I actually know a thing or two about being in love. I can call it when I see it.”

Relief spun through Adrian's gut, but it was short-lived. “So you know where I'm coming from, here.” He'd sworn to Teagan he'd do whatever it took to keep her safe.

Trouble was, he had no plan for how to make that an unequivocal reality, and with the street fair happening in just five days, time was running out.

“I do. And I agree that you need some kind of assurance if you want to keep this jackass from coming back for seconds,” Carly said. “But I have to be honest. You don't have a lot of options, especially if you want to keep this on the down-low to avoid attracting attention from Big Ed.”

Though the guy had backed off of Carly as promised, he'd made no bones at all about the fact that he'd still haul Adrian back upstate at the slightest whiff of impropriety.

And damn it, Lonnie reeked like a landfill on the hottest day of July.

“There has to be something,” Adrian grated, lowering his empty coffee mug to the desk with a hard
thunk
. “This dirtbag is running guns and exploiting people when they're vulnerable, right here in Pine Mountain. He needs to go down.”

Carly sat bolt upright, opening her mouth to speak but then clamping her lower lip between her teeth at the very last minute.

Too late. Damage done. “What?” he asked, leaning in to search her expression for any bread crumb, however small. “Carly, if you have any ideas, I need to know.
Please
.”

“Well . . .” She paused, but then muttered a curse in Italian. “Screw it, you're not going to let up until I tell you anyway. There might be a way you can get the insurance you need to keep Teagan safe. But . . .” This time, her pause was accompanied by tears gathering in her dark eyes. “It's iffy, and you'd be risking everything in order to do it. And I do mean
everything,
Adrian.”

But his answer had started springboarding from his mouth before Carly even finished her last sentence.

“Done. Now tell me what you're thinking.”

 

 

Teagan didn't even bother to trap her idiot grin between her lips as she double-, then triple-checked the pantry inventory on the computer in the Double Shot's office. For the last four days, everything had been all systems go with street fair preparations, right down to the commercial-grade smokers Jesse had gone to pick up from his buddy in Riverside just this morning. With the food delivery Teagan had supervised and signed off on a few hours ago, nothing was holding them back from launching into the final countdown for the street fair, with the key to breaking Lonnie's smarmy stranglehold so close, she could practically smell sweet freedom.

Things couldn't be coming together more perfectly if Teagan had scripted them line by happy-ending line.

“Hey, boss.” Brennan stuck his head in the office doorway, shifting his weight to lean against the wooden frame. The poor guy had bent over backward for the last few weeks, running the front of the Double Shot while coordinating all the volunteers and safety specs for the street fair. No wonder he looked like he could take a load off.

“Give me good news and I'll give you some back,” Teagan said, her idiot grin going for maximum wattage as she waved him past the threshold.

Brennan sank into the chair across from her, nearly black brows raised in a who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-coworker expression. “I just got off the phone with Hunter Cortland, down at the Cold Creek Brewery. Everything he finalized with us in this morning's meeting is a definite go, and we're all set for that early
A.M.
drop-off. I take it you were able to sweet-talk the rental guy into giving us the tents early?”

“Yup.” Teagan snapped up the dog-eared master copy of the schematic and unfolded it with a flourish. “Carly's restaurant manager, Gavin, and Shane were nice enough to run out to Bealetown to pick them up in Shane's truck, and they're on their way back now. We should have plenty of time to get the tents set up in the parking lot before it gets too dark, which will put us ahead of schedule. Then we can double-check the food prep for the morning, get the smokers set and ready to go, and everyone can get a little shut-eye.”

In order to keep everything on a manageable timetable for setup, Teagan had made the executive decision to close the Double Shot for tonight's dinner shift. While it might pinch a little to lose the income from a Friday night, the four of them needed to be game-on for this street fair, from right this moment until the last sandwich was served tomorrow.

“Okay. Sounds good,” Brennan said, but his expression made him a liar.

“What?” Teagan asked, her pulse flaring. “Is something wrong with the setup?”

“No.” Brennan brushed a palm over the back of his neck before exhaling a heavy breath. “Nothing's wrong with the setup. In fact, nothing's wrong at all. Everything's perfect. And that's kind of the problem.”

“I don't understand,” Teagan said, unable to rein in a chirp of relieved laughter. “How is smooth sailing a problem?”

“Because it's
too
smooth. Look, don't get me wrong, I want nothing more than for this street fair to work so your father can get the bar back to rights. But Lonnie's given your old man an awfully wide berth for someone who owes him that much cabbage, especially now that time is running out. Doesn't this feel a little bit off to you?”

Frustration welled in Teagan's throat, but she tamped it down. The last thing she needed was to get gruff-and-tumble with someone who was on her side.

“No,” she said, absolutely firm. “Look, I'm not going to lie and say we didn't get a little lucky that Lonnie kept his word about leaving us alone until the month was up, but that doesn't mean anything's wrong. Lonnie hasn't made any other threats, and the only leverage he has over this place is what my father owes. He's greedy, and he wants to get paid. Adrian feels sure that Lonnie will disappear once we pay him off, and I trust that.”

“I know you do, but . . .” Brennan paused, as if he was choosing his words with the same care he'd use to handle a highly combustible substance. “When was the last time you really talked to him about it?”

“Last week, I guess,” Teagan said, surprised to realize that she'd had so little time alone with Adrian lately that she couldn't pinpoint the answer to Brennan's question. “Why?”

“Do you remember two days ago, when Adrian said he had a PT session?”

What the hell did that have to do with anything? “Yeah. He's getting his cast off in about a week, so the therapist wanted to take a look at his mobility.”

Brennan's voice went soft and deadly serious. “No, she didn't, Teagan. He wasn't there.”

“E-excuse me?”

“He wasn't there,” Brennan repeated. “And he's been acting kind of weird ever since then. I can't put my finger on it, but he just seems . . . I don't know. Almost detached. Are you sure you can trust him?”

“Of course I can trust him,” Teagan said, finally finding her voice even though it was two octaves too high. “Jesus, Brennan! You went all the way to Riverside to check up on Adrian's physical therapy just because you think he's acting weird? We're all supposed to be in this together.”

“No, I . . .” Brennan winced, redirecting his words. “Look, I know you two are tight. I get it. But I'm your friend, and this place is my livelihood, too. I hope to hell I'm wrong, but my gut is telling me I'm not. Something's not right here.”

“Of course something's not right,” she countered, her determination barging in and taking charge. “We're all exhausted from trying to save the bar from Lonnie. But the solution to the problem is right in front of us, and we've planned it to the damned letter. The street fair is going to work, just as long as we all back each other up.”

For a fraction of a second, Teagan's rib cage tightened with the urge to protect what lay beneath it, her old, sewn-in defenses welling up like blood from a nasty scrape. Okay, so now that she had time to think about it, Adrian
had
been kind of off-kilter this week, but truly, with his parole officer still one foot out the door and the threat of paying off Lonnie literally days away, the stress was enough to rattle even the toughest person. Plus, planning and prep had taken up literally all of their waking hours for the last week straight. All four of them were harried as hell. So Adrian had clammed up a little and skipped a PT session. Big deal.