Palming the bulge in his jeans, I shudder. “This much?”
“More. So much more.”
His phone rings from somewhere over his shoulder.
“Goddamn fucking timing.” He releases me, stalks over to the nightstand, and puts the call on speaker. “Couldn’t even give me until noon?”
Raelynn’s Texas drawl carries through the room. “I would’ve. But someone’s workin’ damn hard at trackin’ down C. Jacks. You’re outta time, Doc. Either you make the call, or I will.”
Oh, God. I sink down onto the bed. If Bastian can’t find who hethinkshe’s looking for, he’ll call Clancy. Or worse. He’ll hurt the old man until he talks.
Doc runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I’ll call. They’re your family, Raelynn. I won’t let you do anything to break their trust.”
I can’t sit still.The conversation Doc had after hanging up with Raelynn lasted all of sixty seconds.
“McCabe. Since I expect you’re planning on showing up at my house in the next hour, do me a favor.”
The man’s raspy laugh carries an ominous tone. “Another one? I already saved your life. Twice. What do you need now? The game-winning ball from the 2004 World Series?”
“Pizza. Breadsticks. Throw in a salad for good measure. Natasha needs to eat.”
“Done.”
He didn’t say a word about me being here. Like heknew. That was almost an hour ago. I tug at my tank top. It’s notmine.Neither are the jeans, the underwear, the bra, the tennis shoes… Not really. For years, I lived in whatever I could get from Goodwill . But once I found Blakely, I felt safe enough to order clothesIwanted. Courtesy of Gladys and her credit card. She was only too happy to help once I told her an ex had ruined my credit score.
She’s never going to forgive me for lying to her.
“Natasha, breathe.” Doc comes up behind me and wraps his arm around my waist. “McCabe is an asshole of epic proportions. But he’s been through some shit. He’ll understand.”
“When I asked if he was a friend, you said no. Then said he’d kill you if you explained that statement. And I’m just supposed to trust him?” I turn in his embrace. “How?”
“Do you trust me?” His fingers skim along my jaw with the lightest touch.
“Yes.” The answer comes so easily. It shouldn’t. The last time I trusted anyone, Parker killed my brother. But whether out of desperation or some connection I’m only starting to understand, I trust Doc with my life.
“Raelynn got hurt a few months ago,” he says. “It was…bad. She lost enough blood, I wasn’t sure I could save her. McCabe and I got into it that night, and I told him if he didn’t back the fuck off, I was done.”
He’s still touching me, but now he’s tracing circles over the back of my neck.
“I hadn’t heard from him since that night. The money kept coming, but the calls stopped. I lived for those calls.” He drops his hand, limps over to what once was obviously a bar just off the kitchen, and flattens his palms against the marble. “He pulled me out of the bottle when he gave me this job. Last week, I was dangerously close to falling back in.”
“Doc—”
“I fucking loved being a PJ. When I had to retire, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Working in the ER was enough for a while. But after I lost Tessa, I…gave up. Somehow, McCabe knew. I never asked how he found me. Or why he thought hiring a drunk to patch up his team was a good idea. But he saved my life. You can trust him to save yours, too.”
There’s so much I want to say. To know. But before I can go to him, someone pounds on the front door.
“Trust them, Natasha. Not just for you. But for me.”
Doc restshis hand on the butt of his gun. He clipped the holster to his belt minutes after getting dressed, and I regret putting my weapon back in his safe.
The man standing on the porch must be close to seven feet tall. Dressed head-to-toe in black, bald, and covered in scars, he’s lethal in every way. Except for the five pizza boxes he holds in his massive hands.
“Doc.” He nods, then beelines for the kitchen like he knows right where to go. West strides in after him with two large takeout bags.
Raelynn is next, followed by a man with a German Shepherd pressed to his side, and a gorgeous woman with a dark, angled bob.
Once he’s locked the door again, Doc holds out his hand to me. I let him draw me against him. “Natasha, that’s Ripper and his service dog, Charlie. This is Inara. She’s?—”
