Against The Wall (2 page)

Heck, she’d even worked up the nerve to ask him out a few times, but something always kept him from accepting her awkwardly worded invitations. So this was it. The coup de grâce, and she wasn’t stopping until she got him right where she wanted him, which was buried so deep inside of her that he could satisfy this aching emptiness once and for all.

Okay, so far, so good, she thought with a little smile, the exhilaration of the chase settling between her legs with a warm rush of anticipation. This was going to be so damn sweet.

Then again, she silently stuttered over a sudden lurch of panic as a big, sandy-haired bruiser caught sight of her and began heading her way, maybe this plan wasn’t so damn hot after all.

Maybe she should’ve brought Hannah.

Or an army.

Or maybe she should just get the hell outta there!

Shea tried to conceal her alarm, praying the guy would leave her alone so she could get on with her hunt, but she didn’t think she was going to be so lucky. Hannah had warned her that this place could sometimes get rowdy—hence the pepper spray—but she hadn’t let herself fret over the fact that she just might have to use it. Like an idiot, she’d envisioned walking in, spotting Ryan, and getting the two of them out of there as fast as possible. Now she was going to have to open her purse, grab the spray, and pray she had better aim than sense.

Oh, hell, it was too late!

“Whadisa purty lil’ piece like you doin’ here?” the guy slurred in her face, his words and look clearly speaking of too much alcohol and too little cognitive brain power. His sour breath nearly made her go cross-eyed. Ugh! His bloodshot eyes stared straight at her quivering chest, and Shea felt an uncomfortable fear begin to form, strongly and rapidly, within her shivering limbs. It sat in the back of her throat, making her gag. Or maybe that was just the man’s noxious odor, like sweat and smoke and sour whiskey all rolled into one.

Oh Jesus, what have I gotten myself into now? No one in this place was going to get in this creep’s way, and Ryan appeared to be nowhere in sight. After all her preparation and determination not to be intimidated in this place, it was mortifying to feel the small cry begin to work its way up through her tight throat as the jerk’s clammy hand wrapped around her upper arm, hurting her with bruising force. Pepper spray, a kick to his nuts, scratching his eyes out—crap, the opportunities were endless, but she just stood there like a trapped little rabbit.

Come on, you idiot, snap out of it!

She tried to listen to her outraged pride, but she could feel the scream coming—up, up, up—clawing at the back of her throat, and then salvation came from the last place she’d ever expected to find it.

“Leave her alone, Rich,” the pretty redhead ordered, wedging her well-curved body between them. “I mean it,” she warned in a hard voice. “One more mess-up from you and Red’ll not only kick you out for good, but I’ll tell McCall, and he’d be more than happy to deal with your sorry ass.”

The look coming from Rich’s bleary-eyed glare burned into the other woman, but she held her ground, calling his bluff, or maybe just crazy enough to be unafraid of him. Shea didn’t care which, as long as he let her go so she could regroup. With a malicious sneer, he slowly released his painful grip on her arm. She barely resisted the urge to rub the dull sting away, finding just enough stubborn pride to keep from giving the big jerk the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt her.

Instead, Shea held her breath and waited until he finally turned around, watching him stumble back over to the bar. The rickety wooden stool groaned in protest beneath his beefy weight as he motioned the bartender over for another refill, then hunched back over his choice of poison like a wild animal protecting its kill.

She watched him for a moment more and then, when she was sure he’d forgotten about her, she ran her fingers through her curls, straightened her dress, and took three deep, smoke-filled breaths. The mundane tasks were all part of a mental pep talk to get her back in the swing of things. She needed to get it together, because drunken assholes were going to be the least of her troubles tonight.

No, she still had one major problem—one big, outrageously handsome, entirely too-sexy-for-her-own-good kind of problem. Ryan. Despite the fact that she’d smiled and gazed with undisguised longing into his mesmerizing blue eyes more times than she could count, the man remained completely oblivious to her need for him. Other men had taken note of the change in her, the awakening physical hunger, and reacted to it like a pack of dogs following the scent of sex—just never the man she wanted.

It was annoying as hell, but Shea knew she shouldn’t be all that surprised. After all, she was hoping to change the inexperienced part, but there wasn’t anything she could do about being a sexually repressed, brainy introvert; at least not without the stud’s cooperation.

She’d wasted months lusting from afar, but all of that was about to change. At least that was her hope before she heard, “I’d get on outta here if I were you.”

Well, hell.

“Come on, honey, you gotta go,” the woman drawled out the side of her candy-apple-red mouth. “He’s a mean enough bastard when he’s sober, but once he hits the bottle he becomes downright stupid. I want you gone before he causes anymore trouble and Red fires my ass.”

This woman had just saved her from God only knew what, and Shea couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way she’d been thinking about her and her toes when she’d first arrived. She wanted to argue and dig her heels into the sawdust-covered floor, unable to believe she was being kicked out of this hellhole while the drunken jerk-off got to stay, but she didn’t want the woman losing her job because of her. Even if the lady was one of Ryan’s women, she’d gone out of her way to look out for her when no one else would have. Though she hated the hell out of it, Shea couldn’t help but give into the begrudging gratitude that allowed her to let the woman steer her back out the bar’s entrance.

As they walked through the swinging wooden doors, the redhead looked Shea up and down with obvious curiosity. Once they were outside in the frigid night air, she lit up a Marlboro Red and rasped, “Just what were you doing in there?”

Well, gee, what do you think?

“I was, ah, looking for a friend of mine. Ryan McCall.”

Two red eyebrows raised in surprise. “Ry? No shit. Man, he really is gonna be pissed when he hears about Rich.”

Shea wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in her bitter disappointment, and burning streak of jealousy. “So you know Ryan personally, huh?”

The other woman smiled, clearly understanding the train of Shea’s thoughts. “Yeah, I know him, but not like you’re thinking, honey. Though God knows I’d change that sad fact if I could. Any woman in her right mind would. Now you go on and get outta here. Ryan’s not here tonight and Red’ll kill me if Rich causes anymore trouble.”

“Well, um, thanks for what you did,” Shea said softly, feeling immeasurably better that the redhead, whose name she still didn’t know, wasn’t intimately involved with Ryan—and frustrated beyond belief that apparently she wasn’t going to be either. At least not tonight. The perfect friggin’ chance and she’d crashed and burned before she even found him.

“Serendipity my ass,” she grumbled, climbing into her silver Jetta. With a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, she slipped off her killer sandals and tossed them in the passenger’s seat. Then she pulled out a stale pack of cigarettes from her glove compartment, lit one up and took a long drag, choking on a bitter combination of smoke and disappointment. She took a few more drags, crunched the rest out in her spotless ashtray, and finally drove home without ever looking back.

ATF Agent Ryan McCall and his longtime pal, Detective Derek Kiely, were all but dead on their feet as they dragged their tall, aching bodies through the front door of Ryan’s Dunwoody apartment. Derek slumped down on the dark sofa while Ryan made his way into the small kitchen to fix them both ice packs for their throbbing faces.

They’d spent the evening on a joint sting operation, busting a local gun dealer who’d been selling weapons to gang kids on the side. A couple of the criminal’s young security punks had made a run for it, and it’d been Ryan and Derek who chased down the gruesome duo. The street kids had fought to the ragged end, and the two “old dudes” were now feeling the pain.

Ryan took out two plastic bags, filled them with crushed ice, then walked back into his living room and tossed one over to Derek. “Damn,” he laughed in his deep, rough drawl that made most women go all soft-eyed at him. “It looks like that little shit-head tried to smash the side of your face in.”

Derek made a groaning noise behind his ice pack. “Yeah, well, it feels like he tried to smash it in too.”

“Shit, I know this sure as hell wasn’t how I’d planned on spending my night.”

His buddy smiled, or at least as much as he could with his head pounding the way it was. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little old to be hanging out at Red Mackey’s place? And God only knows it’s hardly the kind of dive where an ATF guy should be seen, uh, socializing. Not unless he’s undercover.”

Easing back in his chair, Ryan propped his big feet on the low coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. “Red’s is exactly the kinda place this particular ATF guy should be hanging out, and I’m only a year older than you, asshole.”

“Hell of a difference between thirty-four and thirty-five,” Derek laughed, grimacing when his split lip cracked open again.

Ryan gave him a dirty look, then with a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, leaned his sun-streaked head back on his chair. “Piss off, Derek.”

“Hey, I’m just saying you could do a hell of a lot better than those broads you pick up at Red’s. Hell, most of ‘em have seen more action than I have.”

Ryan was getting tired of the topic, mostly because Derek had been harping on him for the past three weeks about it. It’d become an irritating subject of conversation ever since he’d let it slip where he was spending his Friday nights, and now his tenacious, pain-in-the-ass pal wouldn’t let it go. “The women at Red’s go there looking for the same thing as me, so drop it. The last damn thing I need is another woman clinging to me, driving me out of my friggin’ mind.”

Derek snorted. “You’re a cynical man, Ry.”

Wide set, clear blue eyes narrowed with frustration. “Since we’re on the subject of my sex life, why don’t we take a look at yours, Kiely? Hannah told me you’ve been sniffing around her for over a week now, even asked her out to dinner for tomorrow night.”

Hannah Mitchell rented the apartment directly above Shea’s. When her divorce had finalized six months ago, she’d moved down from Tennessee for a chance at a new beginning. She’d known Ryan forever, having grown up with him in Nashville, and they were as close as family, even without any blood relation between them. There’d never been anything sexual about their friendship and there never would. And that fact suited Derek just fine, since he’d finally dragged his head out of the sand and taken note of what an attractive woman she was, both in character and physical appearance.

The only problem was that Hannah had been burned badly by her ex-husband, a man Derek had never met. But he knew enough from Ryan to know the guy had been bad news. Really bad. Now that the two-timing ass was out of the picture, Hannah wanted nothing to do with another man; especially tall, gorgeous, womanizing men like Derek Kiely. He knew because she’d told him so when he’d stopped by to ask her out on Tuesday.

Derek had stood there red-faced and irritated, and a whole hell of a lot disappointed as Hannah told him she was flattered, hoped they’d still be friends, and preferred to go on as if the entire conversation had never taken place. Then she’d smiled and closed the door in his face, leaving him standing on her doorstep like some dumb-ass idiot.

Damn. Just the memory had his voice going hard with anger. “Yeah, and before you start in on me about leaving her alone, I’m sure she told you she turned me down, so save us both the lecture.”

Ryan pulled the ice away, turned it over, and reapplied it. “Who said I was going to ride you about it? So long as you’re serious about her, I’ve been thinking you and Hannah would be kinda good together. Since her ex is out of the picture, I was wondering what was taking you so long to make a move.”

Hell, Derek had wondered the same thing. “Well, it hardly matters now. But speaking of cute couples, you said yes to Shea yet?”

And just like that, Ryan went from laid-back and easy-going to stiff, tight-laced tension. Jesus, just the thought of the woman tied him in knots, not to mention what it did to his dick. “Shea? What the hell does she have to do with anything?”

Derek lifted his ice pack to send a dry look Ryan’s way. “Come on, Ry. In the last two weeks, the girl has asked you to go with her to everything from the movies, to dinner, to coffee. And I’ve seen the way you watch her when you think nobody’s looking. You’re ready to throw her over your shoulder like a caveman and drag her away to your little love cave. So how come you won’t give her a chance?”

He looked ready to kill. “I don’t screw around with women like Shea. So. Drop. It.”

Derek attempted another smile, clearly enjoying the unsettled look on his normally oh-so-cool bud’s face. Nothing ever rattled Ryan, but it sure as hell looked like his little next-door neighbor was rattling him but good. She was cute and sexy as hell in a kind of gypsy-like way, like something from the pages of a fairy tale. She didn’t have bombshell curves, but the ones she did have were soft in that womanly way that just made a guy want to fall into her. She’d be warm and sweet as he rode her, taking everything he had to give and more, instead of feeling like he was nailing some kind of lifeless Barbie doll. Women needed to have a little give—and Ry looked more than ready to give Shea Dresden whatever the hell she wanted.

He couldn’t understand what Ryan’s problem was. “Why not women like Shea? What’s wrong with her? She got cooties or somethin’?”