Stone set a light but firm kiss on her lips, hovering there. Wanting more. Remembering more??—what they’d had together, the fun, the laughter, the … yeah, even the love. “I’m sorry, Brighton. Sorry for my part in what happened to you.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re sorry? I??—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “The danger you’ve lived with, the cruelty, the perversion??—you didn’t deserve that. Nobody does.”
“But I?—”
“You. Didn’t. Deserve. It.” He almost smiled. “You do deserve so much more. A good life. A man who will honor and respect you. And if I could gut some men to erase that pain, I would.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged tight, faced buried in his shoulder. He felt her slight frame trembling as she cried.
His phone buzzed. As he reached for it, she eased aside??—but not completely out of his arms. Man, she twisted his mind up good. He dropped another kiss on her lips. She gave him that sultry smile that turned his brain to goo.
“Hello?”
Stone twitched. Angled his head aside and paid attention to the call. “Yeah?”
“Heeeey, Rocky.”
Stone started, that voice and nickname so jarringly familiar. “Boone?”
A deep, resonant laugh carried through the line. “Been a while, eh?”
“Long time.” What on earth was Boone Ramage doing calling him? “What’s going on, brother?”
“Well,” Boone said with his Northern Virginia country twang, “Sure do hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think ya might have some trouble coming your way.”
Stone straightened, moving around Brighton and making his way to the windows. He’d known this was coming. Why hadn’t he listened to his instinct? “What do you know?”
“Not sure ya heard, but I moved back to NoVA and have been working contract with a team. All female. They’re?—epic, I’m telling ya. Anyway, I was out getting gas when I bumped into a surly fella who had his manners backwards and his pants inside out, if you know what I’m saying.”
Stone rarely did.
“But ya know how rich folk are, and he was chatting loud on his phone cuz the signal was bad?—ain’t that hilarious? People think talking louder improves a bad signal.” He snorted. “Anywho, ya know I’m not really one to get up in someone’s business until they make it mine, but this fella left no doubt of his intentions and making it my business when he dropped your name.”
“My name.” A guy at a gas station in Northern Virginia just happened to say his name? In front of Boone? What were the chances?
“Yep, and that’s why I’m calling because I know there ain’t many Stone Metcalfes out in the world. Least not up this way.”
Ice dumped down Stone’s spine. “Where’d this happen again?” Northern Virginia. But where?
“Little nothin’ of a town called Lucketts. One light. Blink and you’ll miss it. But I didn’t miss his phone when I somehow lost control of my coffee and spilled it all over that fella’s device. Hoo-ee. He was pretty ticked. Doubt he’ll be able to report back in like he promised?—least not for a while. Then, wouldn’t ya know? I dropped my durn knife. Straight into his tire.” He clicked his tongue. “Dang if those hilts aren’t slick. Thing just flicked right outta my hand. Never seen nothin’ like it, if ya know what I’m saying.”
Boone had bought him time. “I owe you.”
“That ya do, brother.”
Stone strode into his bedroom and unlocked his gun safe. “I’ve got to run.”
“That ya do, too. But listen here. If you’re planning on getting noisy up that way, I know a brother or two nearby who’d be glad to come party.”
“Thanks, Boone. Might need that help. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Anytime, brother.”
Brighton was at his side?—she hadn’t touched him, but he felt her presence.
He dragged a hand over his beard, thinking. Planning.
