Colorado 03 Lady Luck (71 page)

Then I bent, kissed his cheek quickly,
whispered in his ear, “Thank you, hold tight, stay alive and we’ll
get you help as soon as we can.”

Then, belatedly, though I’d never fucking
tell Ty in a million fucking years that I had delayed, I ran to the
truck, jumped in, closed the doors, locked them, put that fucker in
gear and raced the fuck away.

* * * * *

Ty

His phone rang, it was in his hand, he
hadn’t had a call from his wife for twenty fucking minutes so he
flipped it open without looking at his display and said,
“Talk.”

“Tate,” he heard. “Aspen Valley Hospital.
Both your father and Lexie are here. He’s in surgery, she’s getting
checked over.”

“Right,” Ty said, his heart, lungs and gut
not loosening even a little.

“How far out are you?” Tate asked.

He looked at his speedometer. Then he looked
in the rearview mirror and saw the highway patrolman who had been
on his ass but keeping a distance for the last hour and a half.

Then he said to Tate, “Half an hour.”

“Okay, brother,” Tate said quietly. “Quick
brief. You need this now and you need to keep yourself safe drivin’
that fuckin’ car while I tell it to you. Then you need to process
it. Then you need to bury it because you gotta have your shit
together when you get here. This was all about you but now it
isn’t. Now, you gotta look after your wife.”

“Tate –” Ty growled.

Tate didn’t delay. “I’ve seen Lexie. She’s
got some bruises, she’s trembling like a motherfucker, scrapes from
a dash through the forest and Fuller clocked her with a gun butt so
looks like you two’ll have matchin’ scars.”

Fuck, fuck, fucking
motherfucker.

Tate kept going. “They’re worried about
shock. She killed that fuckwad and no matter why she did it and she
had no choice, she is
freaking out.
Her drama that she endured probably isn’t helping. Seein’
your Dad the way he was also isn’t helping. She’s a fuckin’ mess. I
got Laurie on gettin’ to your house and gettin’ her some clothes.
She’s all over it.”

“Right,” Ty bit off.

Silence then, cautiously, “Okay, now, your
father came in flatline.”

Ty stared at the road but his hand on the
steering wheel tightened.

Tate continued, “They shocked him, got a
weak heartbeat, rushed him into surgery. But, brother, that is not
lookin’ good.”

“Right,” Ty whispered.

“Maggie is goin’ to Reece as we speak.”

“Right,” Ty repeated on a whisper.

“Keaton is locating your brother.”

Ty didn’t respond.

Silence then, quietly, “Where’s your
head?”

“I’m good.”

Again quietly he got, “Good. See you in half
an hour.”

“Right.”

Then he flipped his phone closed.

Then he made a one hour journey in half an
hour.

* * * * *

Angel

Angel Peña opened his eyes and felt someone
in the room.

He didn’t turn his head because, no matter
the fucking painkillers they were pumping into him, he’d learned
movement didn’t feel too good.

So he shifted his eyes and saw Ty Walker
standing three feet away.

Fuck him.

He shifted his eyes further and saw Lexie
asleep in an armchair, knees to her chest, the arm that had been
holding them had fallen so her hand was at her ankle, her head was
turned, chin tucked in, cheek to the back of the chair.

But she had a black eye and a thin strip of
white holding together an angry, red and purple gash.

His eyes went back to Ty who had moved to
the side of the bed.

“Shift?” he asked and his voice was a harsh
rasp. This was mostly because he hadn’t used it much. It was also
because the day before they’d yanked the tube that had been down
his throat for four days.

Ty shook his head and answered,
“Fuller.”

He forgot not to move and his eyebrows shot
up.

Good news. That didn’t hurt. Maybe he was
getting better.

“Fuller?”

“Lost his shit, kidnapped my wife, took her
to a hunting cabin for reasons we’ll never know, got her with the
butt of my gun before my Dad stormed in. Lexie got away but tagged
my gun before she went. Dad took a bullet to the chest. He died
twice but now he’s in better shape than you. Fuller went after her.
On a cliff in a nightgown, Lexie drilled him with six. He’s very
dead. She’s very alive.” He paused, held Angel’s eyes and
whispered, “Now back to sunshine.”

Angel tried another movement and found it
didn’t hurt to smile.

Then he heard, “Angel?”

His eyes shifted again to watch Lexie
folding out of the chair.

Shit, but only Lexie Walker could have a
black eye and an angry gash on her eyebrow and still look
beautiful.

She moved to him and Ty shifted slightly so
Lexie could get in there and she did, immediately curling her
fingers around his hand.

Her blue-gray eyes held his. “How are you,
honey?”

He held her blue-gray eyes, they were warm,
concerned, searching and he felt her lightly squeeze his hand.

That was all he was ever going to get. All
he was ever going to get from Lexie Walker.

And he’d take it.

“Better now,” he answered then she proved
him wrong.

She gave him a bright smile and her light
shone down on him, bright, blinding, beautiful.

He took that too.

Catching Up

Five years later…

Forearms in the bed, my husband’s big hands
spanning my hips lifting them up, my knees were inches off the bed,
I’d pushed my thighs back and pressed their insides to the outsides
of his as I took his driving cock.

If he wanted to take me from behind, he was
so tall, his legs so long, this was how we had to do it unless he
stood by the side of the bed.

I liked it, like,
a lot.
That power, the reminder of how big he was, the
strength that was at his command. It was a huge, freaking turn
on.

I was close, God, I was close, I slid an arm
out in front of me, under the pillows, pressing my hand into the
headboard, I tilted my ass up half an inch to get more, held on
tighter with my thighs and pressed into my hand to give me leverage
to push back.

Ty pulled out and dropped me to my
knees.

My head shot back and my neck twisted, my
mouth opening to protest but he was leaning over me, his arms
circling, one at my belly, one slanting across my chest. He pulled
me up on my knees and one hand immediately went to my breast,
fingers rolling my nipple, the other hand moved instantly downward,
finger rolling my clit.

My head fell back, colliding with him, I
turned it and begged. “Want your cock back, baby.”

He didn’t respond. He never responded. He
just kept doing what he wanted to do.

And it felt
way
nice.

Still.

My hips moved with his hand, my hand moved
to cover his at my breast, my other one curled behind me and
wrapped around his cock.

“Honey,” I breathed.

He didn’t stop.

I started stroking, gripping hard, pulling,
sliding, moving fast.

Ty growled in his throat.

I tipped my head back to see what I could of
his face but didn’t get the chance, his mouth came down on mine and
his tongue darted in and out, matching my strokes on his cock.

I gripped harder and moved faster, as did my
hips and his tongue.

There I was again, God, so close. I reached
for it and my hand gripped tight but stopped as he gave it to me
and it was so good, my entire body shook with it.

Then I was on my back, my husband on top of
me, driving deep, grunting with each stroke, his hands at my hips
yanking me down as he thrust up. I had nearly all of his weight. I
was hazy from a really fucking good orgasm that hindered my
breathing and his weight hindered it more. I didn’t care. This
happened, not often, only when I wound Ty up. Therefore, I liked
it, snapping his control. And he never did it long; he only did it
when he was close.

And he was close.

Then he was there.

I felt it, watched it, listened to it and
loved it.

He’d shoved my knees up high at his sides
and I pressed them in and wrapped my arms around his shoulders as
he shifted his weight to a forearm in the bed, the other arm moving
to curl around my lower back as his hips continued to move. He was
gliding. He did this too, and often, taking me gentle after he took
me hard.

I liked that too.

When our breath settled and while he was
still gliding, I turned my head, found his ear with my lips and
whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

His body stilled, mid-glide, half-in,
half-out.

Then he slid fully in and stayed there but
lifted his head and caught my eyes.

“Seriously?” he rumbled.

I grinned. “Seriously.”

“Babe, we’ve been tryin’ for like, two
days.”

I bit my lip not to giggle, succeeded, let
it go and informed him, “More like a month.”

His eyes drifted over my head and he
muttered, “Feels like two days.”

“It’s been a month, hubby.”

It hadn’t. It had been six weeks but I
decided not to say that.

His eyes came back to mine. “Jesus. Your
fuckin’ womb’s more fertile than the heartland.”

I felt my body shake but quelled my verbal
laughter.

“Maybe it’s your swimmers,” I suggested, my
voice shaking with laughter I hadn’t unleashed. “Maybe they have
Mr. Humongo’s superpowers.”

Ty didn’t find anything funny. He didn’t
laugh. He didn’t smile. Instead, he bent his neck back, looked at
the ceiling and said an audible prayer.

“Please, God, this time, give me a fuckin’
son.”

My body shook more.

“I’m not sure God likes the word fuck,
honey,” I told him and his head dropped.

“He knows me, He’s answered my prayers
before and trust me, mama, he doesn’t give a shit.”

I burst out laughing.

Ty pulled out slowly, rolled mostly off me,
got up on an elbow in the bed, his long, heavy legs tangled with
mine, body pressed the length of me, hand at my belly, eyes
watching me laugh.

I turned slightly to him as my laughter
waned and sought to assure him, “I feel it; this one’s a boy.”

“You said that last time. You were wrong,”
he reminded me.

“
I
really
feel it coming through strong, Ty. He’s speaking to me,” I
promised him.

“
Babe, you said
that
the
first
time. You were wrong then too.”

I decided to be quiet since he was not
lying.

Ty wasn’t quiet.

“Lex, Lella’s four and a half and I had to
paint the living room last weekend because she got in your
fingernail polish and painted her fingernails, her fingers, her
hands, her toes, her toenails, her calves, her belly and a three
foot square space of wall with that shit.”

I bit my lip because he was still not
lying.

He wasn’t done.

“
And Vivian’s two and a half and she was
screamin’ just last night ‘cause she got hold of one of your hoops
and was trying to shove that fucker through her earlobe. She was in
pain but, fuck me, she didn’t quit. My baby girl was
determined
and she didn’t care if it ended
in carnage.”

My body started shaking again because he
was
still
not
lying.

He wasn’t finished.

“And she pitches a fit every time she sees a
game on television.”

I pressed my lips together hard and rolled
into him, wrapping my arm around his waist and holding tight, my
body still shaking because he was
still
not lying.

“I need another dick in this house and soon
before the whole fuckin’ place is painted pink and I slip on a
glitter pen and break my neck.”

I swallowed laughter and promised him, “You
won’t slip on a glitter pen.”

“I will, you don’t quit buyin’ that shit for
Lell. How many does she have now, a thousand?”

It was more like nine hundred and
twenty-five. But I decided not to quibble and instead change the
subject.

“We should probably get up and shower. I
have to start cooking.”

He held my eyes. Then his big, warm hand
pressed lightly into my belly and his gaze moved there.

When his touch didn’t ease and his gaze
didn’t shift for some time, I called softly, “Ty?” and his eyes,
those beautiful, light brown eyes with their thick, black, curly
lashes came to me.

“Proof,” he whispered.

“What?” I whispered back, lost in his eyes,
over five years with my man and, still, I frequently got lost in
those eyes.

“Proof,” he repeated then explained, “Lady
Luck likes us.”

I grinned because she did. I’d had five
beautiful years and I wasn’t sure but I was thinking we were
favorites.

“Yeah,” I said softly.

His hand pressed slightly deeper as his head
bent so he could touch his mouth to mine. Then his lips went away
but his forehead touched mine.

Then he was out of bed but reaching in and
then I was out of bed.

Then we were in the shower.

It was a long one.

Seriously, if my man didn’t want so many
kids, he should probably stop fucking me so much.

Then again, at that point, the damage was
done so we might as well have fun.

* * * * *

The doorbell rang and there were three,
“I’ll get its,” one from Bess, one from Honey and a deep, rumbling
one from Ty.

Ty won and I knew this because Bess and
Honey didn’t stop what they were doing and Ty moved.