Defended & Desired Page 5

  Peanut’s tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and he rapidly pawed at Trey’s calves.

  Trey sighed. He lifted the ten-pound fluffball and held the dog against his palm and forearm. “I’m doing this so I don’t squish you.”

  Peanut seemed fine with that arrangement. He blinked behind bangs of white fur, then settled his tiny jaw against the tips of Trey’s fingers. His pink tongue stuck out slightly as though making fun of Trey. He heaved a big sigh for a little dog and closed his eyes. Instant snooze.

  Trey took a seat on her white leather sofa, resting his occupied arm in his lap. A minute later, Devon stood beside him and handed him a glass of red wine.

  Her eyes glittered with amusement. “You and Peanut look cozy.”

  He glanced at his lap, then back at her, and arched an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

  “Not as long as I get to sit in your lap later.” She winked.

  Hell, yes. Trey considered pitching the dog, grabbing Devon’s waist and pulling her down onto him. But he’d probably offend her and spill wine all over her nice white couch. Later, he promised himself, talking down his erection. “For you,” he said, “there’s an open invitation.”

  “Good to know.” A wicked little smile tugged her lips as she reached for her dog. “Let me take Peanut off your hands.”

  Peanut gave a disgruntled snort, followed by a pitiful whine. “Ooh, I know, poor baby. Your life is so hard.” She sat beside Trey, and her dog pawed in a circle then collapsed on her thighs. “He likes to snuggle, and we haven’t had guests in a while, so you’re a novelty.”

  His glance wandered over her, pausing at her breasts before he met her eyes. “That’s surprising. I figured men would be lined up outside your door.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it must be a slow week.”

  He moved closer to her on the couch. “I don’t mind competition, as long as they know I have first dibs.”

  “First and only.”

  He clung to a few threads of etiquette, forcing himself not to jump her bones right here. “Lucky me.”

  “So I was thinking,” she said, changing the subject. “This hacker isn’t likely to respond to the Hacker Forum posts I planted until later. My favorite band, Voyager, is playing tonight. We should go, get out for a while.”

  “You’re sure he won’t be trolling for you now?”

  She shook her head. “These online hotspots don’t gain traction until late. Imagine a bunch of nerds gearing up for the weekend, hopped up on Redbull and settling in for an all-nighter. Besides, we won’t be gone that long. It’ll be fun.”

  The invitation sounded like a date, like she was asking him out. “You want to leave now?” he replied without a second thought. He’d wanted to ask her out for months.

  “We can finish our wine.” She gestured at his full glass. “Oh, and I put the take-out in the fridge for later, if that’s okay.”

  The only thing he was hungry for was sitting next to him. “Fine by me.”

  “Thanks for bringing dinner.”

  “Figured we were in for a long night, though I like the idea of going out someplace. But only if you agree upfront that I’m paying.”

  She nodded, glancing at him with a hint of shyness he’d never seen before. “You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?”

  “That’s the way I was raised.” He thought fondly of his dad and the cracks to the back of his head when Trey missed the opportunity to put a lady first. “My father would roll over in his grave if I ever forgot to open a door for a woman.”

  Intrigue glowed in her eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “What made you leave your bounty hunter business in Las Vegas to come here and buy Logan’s bodyguard company?”

  Caught off guard, he ran a hand through his hair. She was the first person to ask that since he’d arrived in Denver. “To be honest—necessity.”

  She tilted her head. “How so?”

  He liked that she wanted to know more about him, that maybe it meant her attraction to him went beyond the physical.

  Thinking about how to phrase it, he slid his palm down his thigh, smoothing the center crease of his suit pants. “Things were getting dark.” He stopped and realized how lame that sounded. He tried again. “You have to understand, we grew up in the environment. Adam and Liam’s dad was my father’s brother. At twenty and twenty-two, they went from blue-collar mechanics to owning their own business. They had young wives and small mouths to feed, and they wanted a better life for us than what they had growing up.”

  “I respect that a lot,” Devon said, running her finger along the rim of her wineglass. “My single mom worked in a sewing factory, then came home and started her second job as a seamstress on the side for extra money. It isn’t easy to raise a child on minimum wage, and somehow my mom managed to save enough for me to go to college for two years and supplement my ROTC financial aid.” With the hint of a smile, she held up her hand. “Before you ask, I can’t sew to save my life.”

  He shrugged. “Neither can I.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Well, I won’t hold it against you. Okay, go on. You grew up in that world…”

  “Starting their own business was a huge leap for them. We all walked around with that badge of honor.”

  “I take it you inherited the family business.”

  He nodded. “Dad gave me my first job the day I got my driver’s license. I became a repo man.”

  Devon swallowed the sip of wine she’d taken. “Wait. You repossessed somebody’s car at sixteen?”

  “That’s not the best part.” He grinned at the memory. “Keep in mind my dad dropped me off at the site then waited for me down the street. So I sneaked onto the property of the guy who’d defaulted on his payments. He had one of those wide-open yards in the desert littered with half-stripped cars on cinderblocks, engines and mufflers and spare parts scattered everywhere. I spent an hour moving scrap out of the way so I could make a clean break with his car.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “You were out there in the desert at night? Did you even have a flashlight?”

  “Hell, no. I wasn’t about to give myself away. People go crazy when you try to take something they think belongs to them. Anyway, I finally tiptoed up to the car, picked the lock—you could do that back then—and managed to hotwire the engine. When the beater roared to life, this guy bursts out his front door wearing boots and a robe and ran toward me. I slammed the car in reverse and punched the gas. Then he opened fire.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “He shot at you?”

  “Pumped about six shells into the trunk before I peeled out onto the highway. My dad could barely keep up with me on the drive home.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “Shitless.” He chuckled. “But when we dropped the car off to the authorities the next day, he slapped me on the back, told me I’d done a great job and he was proud. And that my second repo was waiting for me that night.”

  “That’s crazy. Did the family business start out doing repossessions and move into bounty-hunting?”

  “Uncle Joey, Adam and Liam’s dad, steered the business in that direction. More lucrative, but also more dangerous. Took a long time to convince my dad, but when the profits started rolling in, he finally got on board. He took over when Uncle Joey died of a heart attack, at thirty-nine. I won’t swear by it, but I think he was so worried about the times when bounty hunting affected his personal life and family, it sent him to an early grave.”

  “That’s so sad.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine doing that every day, constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to take aim at you.”

  He frowned. “It gets old, trust me.”

  Devon gazed at Trey with a whole new level of admiration. The courage it must’ve taken for him to earn his father’s approval by joining such a dangerous line of work floored her.

  After he swallowed a large gulp of wine, two faint red sta
ins marked his chiseled upper lip like tiny parentheses. She wanted to smooth them away with her thumb, lean over and kiss him, but curled her fingers against her palm instead. She doubted his strong sense of pride would appreciate the gesture, and she didn’t want to distract him from telling the rest of his story.

  She asked, “Why did you come to Denver?”

  “The God’s honest truth?” He released a heavy sigh and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I did it for Cade and Liam. Adam may be too far gone. I haven’t figured that out yet, but I’m sure he’ll let me know. In no uncertain terms.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “Cade has a frigging MBA in business management. His loyalty brought him back to the family business after Dad died, but he deserves the chance to run a real company. And Liam…”

  The pained expression on Trey’s face wrung her heart.

  “Liam deserves the chance to live out his life in some resemblance of normalcy. He’s only twenty-eight, you know? I won’t let him take a knife to the chest or a bullet to the head in the name of family tradition. And he would, all of us would have, if I hadn’t changed things. From the day Dad died—because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time without backup—I took over the books. I took over everything. I kept the family business running at a huge profit, even though I hated having to bury some of our guys along the way, so I could save up and approach Logan with an offer he couldn’t refuse for his bodyguard business.” Trey tipped his glass back and drank his wine to the last drop. “There’s the long answer to your short question. In all its ugly glory.”

  “It’s not ugly, Trey.” She rested her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently, wishing she knew how to reassure him. “That’s true honor. That’s real family loyalty. Creating a new legacy in a safer place can’t be easy, but it seems so worth it in the end.”

  His eyes held hers, revealing his personal torment in their dark depths.

  Peanut chose that moment to howl. Sprawled on his back in her lap, his little front legs pawed at the air, his muscles twitching. Devon sighed, disappointed but slightly relieved that the spell of their intimate moment had been broken. “Isn’t it so bizarre that dogs can dream?”

  Trey revealed a wide grin. “He must be chasing after a buffalo.” Peanut kicked Trey’s thigh. “You get ‘em, tiger. Show them who’s boss in Peanut dreamland.”

  Devon snorted. She finished her wine and slid to her feet, resting her dog on the couch to continue chasing bison in his dreams. “Ready to head out?”

  “Sure.” He looked relieved, and the mood lightened. “I’ll drive.”

  Ten minutes later, as he drove them toward the city limits, she relaxed against the luxury of his convertible Audi’s buttery leather seats. “So where is this place?” he asked.

  The warm night wind raced around them, snatching his words and making it difficult to have a conversation. “Turn left at the next light.”

  She guided him down a dark side street, and they parked next to the curb outside Jake’s Bar. Trey insisted he get her door, so she waited until he helped her out of his low-riding car.

  Pleasure swirled in her belly. The unexpected gesture made her feel special, and she hadn’t experienced that with a man in a long time.

  Trey stood with his hands in his pockets, peering at the bar’s disheveled roof and slightly dilapidated entrance. “This is your idea of a big night out?”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. This is one of my favorite dive bars.”

  “I’d hate to see the others,” he muttered. He scanned her up and down, a territorial gleam settling in his eyes. “You’re dressed for deluxe, not dive.”

  “They cater to all kinds. Even uptight guys in suits,” she teased. He was still dressed to the nines in his work attire.

  “I’ll leave my jacket in the car.” He shrugged out of his suit coat, removed his tie, and tossed both into the small backseat. Then he released the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing the hollow in his tanned throat surrounded by cords of muscle.

  She licked her lips, unable to look away from the intimate glimpse of skin. She wondered if the rest of him was equally tanned and toned. He leaned into the car, offering a stellar view of his backside, and pressed a button on the dashboard. While the convertible top glided up to seal with the windows, he rolled his white shirtsleeves back on his forearms. His sexy look could’ve been printed in GQ magazine, one of those spreads where a gorgeous man in a thousand dollar suit was attempting to look casual and effortless. Only, Trey succeeded.

  When the convertible roof slid into place, he locked his car and spread his arms. “This is as dressed-down as I can get on short notice.”

  She entertained several descriptions—hot, delicious, and drool-worthy—but kept those to herself. “You look fine.”

  He held the door open for her and they walked inside.

  The muted lights, tobacco-stained ceiling, tacky wood paneling, familiar faces, and the jukebox waiting in the corner, filled her with fondness. A stab of nostalgia reminded her how much she loved coming here most Fridays after work to relax and unwind. No computers or keyboards, no deadlines, no one to impress or answer to. Just a fun group of low-key regulars who worked hard and played harder. She’d miss this place when she took the job offer and moved to Phoenix. Along with so many other things that made Denver home.

  She scanned the bartenders, hoping to recognize one. When she recognized both, she smiled and waved.

  Mo, wearing his signature flannel shirt with hacked-off sleeves, paused while wiping a glass. He elbowed Mitch, who dressed like he’d time-warped out of the 1980s hair band era. “Hey, she’s here.”

  Mitch turned away from a cooler where he was stocking bottles. When his eyes met hers, she broke into a smile. “Hey, Snow. You abandoned us for three weeks in a row.”

  “Snow?” Trey repeated with a blank look.

  “They call me Snow White. The whole pale skin, dark hair thing, I guess.”

  “I like it,” he said in a low voice that sent a quiver down her spine. “Where are your seven dwarves?”

  “Pick one,” she said, gesturing to the row of regulars lining the bar. She tapped them each good-naturedly on the shoulder as she passed. “Happy. Sleepy. Slumpy. Wheezy. Drunky. They’re all here.”

  The older men waved in succession and then proceeded to bicker over which name belonged to whom.

  A strained look crossed Trey’s face. “Another legion of fans I have to contend with. Great.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sent her a wry smile as they approached an open space at the bar. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way your minions hang on your every golden word.”

  A laugh caught in her throat at his misguided but entertaining observation. “Cheer up.” She patted his shoulder. “You can be my Prince Charming for the night.”

  “Now that’s a job description I can handle.”

  With a dazzling grin that made her knees weak and rivaled any Walt Disney prince, he pulled out her chair and waited until she was seated before he slid onto the bar stool next to hers.

  Mo moseyed on over to them. “The usual?”

  She turned to Trey. “Care for a shot of whiskey?”

  “I’m in.” He reached for his wallet and handed Mo a red American Express card. “Whatever Devon orders, it’s on me.”

  Mo regarded him with a sour expression. “We don’t take American Express.”

  “Then here.” Trey tossed a shiny platinum card on the counter. “Again, whatever she wants.”

  “Again. We don’t take Discover.”

  Sensing Trey’s growing agitation, Devon interjected. “I’ve got it, Mo.”

  Trey grabbed her wrist to stop her from reaching into her purse. He proceeded to slide a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and slap it on the counter. “Is this acceptable?”

  Mo’s eyes bugged for a moment then narrowed on Trey. “Yup.” The bartender turned away and shouted to Mitch. “Grab me two Millers from the cooler.”
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br />   Devon glanced at Trey, who was in the process of sizing up Mo and Mitch. With his history of locating and confronting scumbags, he probably did that instinctively.

  “Trey.” She rested her hand on his arm and felt the livewire tension that turned his muscles into granite. While his expression remained neutral, his posture was anything but. If the situation required it, he was poised to strike. “Trey,” she repeated, “ignore them. It’s nothing personal.”

  “Sure as hell feels personal.”

  “They’re just a couple of guys who own a bar that’s been in the family for three generations. They cater to blue-collar people who cash their checks on Friday and come straight here.”

  Trey visibly relaxed. “Right. I get that.” When Mo returned with two shots and two beers, Trey added another hundred to the one resting on the counter and leaned over the bar. “Get everyone here a shot or whatever they’re drinking. Say it’s on the house.”

  For a second Mo looked guarded, but slowly his face brightened. “Yes, sir.” He turned to the crowd and bellowed, “Everybody! Drinks on the house!”

  A collective cheer rose up, people rushed the bar, and Trey settled back into his seat. He shook his head. “One year, and I’ve forgotten where I came from.”

  She squeezed his forearm. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.”

  The look of reverence in his eyes stopped her heart for two beats. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” They shared a smile. He lifted his shot glass. “To old roads that lead to new horizons.”

  “Cheers.” She clinked his glass and tossed back her shot.

  With a twinge of guilt, she thought of her new horizon. Of the sun that would set on Denver and rise in Phoenix. While part of her wanted a new start, a fresh perspective, this is where she’d earned her professional stripes, found a sense of belonging—and she knew she would always have the roots of her foundation here.

  Again, the word circled her mind like a hawk on a cloudless day. Home.

  “You asked me a personal question, now it’s my turn.”

  Extracting herself from her thoughts, she glanced at Trey. “Okay.”