Edge of the Enforcer (13 page)

“If you don’t think ahead. The good news is Stella’s is very keen on their clients moving past minimum-wage jobs. They hold classes at night and weekends, and if there’s something you want to learn they don’t offer, there’s usually a way to get it.” She leaned forward and took Edna’s hands. “You’re making a big change already, yet while you’re at it, why don’t you shoot for the top?”

“I…” Edna’s gaze dropped to the papers.

“Besides”—Lindsey squeezed the cold fingers—“your ex can’t even keep a shit-labor job. Wouldn’t it be cool to have a classy one he couldn’t dream of matching?”

Edna’s shoulders straightened, her head lifted, and her expression changed to one of resolve. “You’re right.” Her lips curved. “And you are a sneaky young woman.”

Wasn’t it odd the entire room felt brighter? “That’s me. So fill out—” Lindsey glanced at her watch. “No, you can’t. Your group session starts in a few minutes. Can you complete this form later? We’ll talk about it next week.” She put the already completed papers into her leather satchel.

Determination had lit the older woman’s expression. “I can do that.”

Lindsey felt her eyes heat, and she wrapped an arm around Edna’s shoulders in a brief squeeze. “You’re going to do great,” she whispered.

In the hallway, deVries was leaning against the wall, bag over one shoulder. He nodded at Edna and stepped in front of Lindsey. “You all done here?”

“Uh…” Could she make up a reason to have to stay? Except every lie she told made her feel as if she were smearing dirt on her skin. She felt filthy enough already. “Guess so.”

“Good.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I could hear you through the door. You’re damned good at talking to people, baby.”

She blinked up at him. A compliment from the Enforcer. “Um. Thanks.”

“Could have used you in interrogations.”

Seriously? Her stare of disbelief made a dimple appear in his cheek. Her attempt to retreat didn’t work. “So what do you want?”

“I saw a grill on your back patio. Let’s swing by the store, pick up some steak, and I’ll cook while you make the rest of the shit.”

She stopped. “Are you inviting yourself over to my place for supper?”

“That would be an affirmative, pet.” He smiled down at her. “I rescued you and helped you move. Seems you owe me. Again.”

“Really.” Her stomach twisted as she remembered the first time she’d owed him…how it had ended. He’d explained, but if he turned cold again, how could she bear it? “So, am I going to get another
‘debt paid’
from you afterward?”

“That really bothered you?” He guided her out the front door.

“Well, yes.” She slapped a hand on his chest and shoved him back. “You also said you didn’t like me. I know guys make lo—uh, fuck—anyone. All the same, being intimate with someone you hate is just plain downright icky.”

“
Icky
.” His lips quirked. “I didn’t hate you when I fucked you. It wasn’t until the next morning I decided you were a mercenary bitch.”

She heard Victor’s voice. “
Hell, you married me for my money.”
The memory was an unexpected blow. With an effort, she kept it from her face and pushed the sickness away. In its place, she plastered on a scowl and used it on deVries. “You really do enjoy pissing me off, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah.” The way his dimple came and went made her knees weak.

“So you really did like me that night?” Her question came out in a whisper.

He pushed her hand off his chest and yanked her forward into a full frontal. “You mean when my cock was buried in your pussy, or when I took your ass?” His head lowered, and his words whispered against her lips. “Or licked you until you screamed?”

Her mouth went dry, and the sound she made was simply needy.

“Oh, I liked you.” He planted a kiss on her lips before giving her a level stare. “Baby, I wouldn’t have fucked you otherwise.”

The tornado of relief flattened her defenses and swirled them away.

As she stared up into his sage-colored eyes, she knew she was screwed every way from Sunday.

* * * *

DeVries brought the sizzling steaks from the grill to the patio. While he’d been cooking, Lindsey had covered the table with a bright yellow cloth and set out colorful stoneware dishes. He glanced at her. “I didn’t see these in the dump.”

“No. They were with all my stuff in storage.” She looked around. “It’s nice to have everything back.”

Not that she had much, he thought, as he rummaged through the cupboard for steak sauce. “Got a lot of macaroni and cheese, babe.”

Rather than whining about being broke, she grinned. “Hey, I love macaroni and cheese. It’s comfort food.”

“Mmmhmm.” Sure it was—maybe once a month, not every day. Yet, she’d actually wanted to split the cost of the groceries earlier.
Jesus.

She took a seat at the table and handed him one of the beers he’d bought.

“You gonna be okay in the duplex?” He dropped down into the chair across from her. Taking a sip of the beer, he watched as she served him a green salad, a mound of cheesy potatoes, and one of the steaks. Graceful and smooth. Unlike him, she’d probably learned table manners from birth, rather than years later in a foster home.

“It’s great.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I guess I should thank you for telling Xavier about the mess I was in.”

“Not a problem. Speaking of which…” He toed off his boot and unstrapped the leather sheath from his calf. “If you’re going to carry a knife, wear one that will do some damage.”

“But…”

He set it on the table. “Figured this might be a good size for you. One on your belt would be better—this is hard to reach in a hurry—but with the people you’re around, you probably don’t want to terrify them.”

“I—” She stopped and said carefully, “Are you giving me your knife?”

“Yeah, Tex, I’m giving you my backup-backup-backup knife so I don’t see you waving a pocketknife at someone again.”

Her eyes actually lit. She unsheathed the knife. Flat handle, double-edged blade. Heavy. Smaller than he preferred. Still, it’d get the job done in a pinch.

“My daddy liked guns,” she said. “Hunting. But I never learned.” Her mind seemed to go elsewhere, and she shuddered.

Probably thinking about Bambi’s mother. Damn cartoon. “I take it you prefer knives?”

“You bet. Every cowgirl should have a knife—even if it’s only to open some beans when she can’t find a can opener.” She held it up, and her smile was gorgeous. “Thank you. Really.”

“No problem. Really.” He took a bite of the potatoes and stilled. The girl could cook. “Besides, I intend to collect.”

“Doesn’t that just figure?” Her scowl was definitely cute, but under it…was that surprise? “You want sex with…me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Damn straight I want sex with you. You didn’t think I would?”

“I…” She shrugged and said lightly, “It’s nice to be wanted.”

The lightness was bullshit and contradicted by the hurt in her eyes. “Who didn’t want you?”

Her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t say that.”

Bull’s-eye.
“Who didn’t want you?”

“Well, jeez, I’ve been divorced twice. What do you think?”

He leaned back to watch her move her potatoes from one side of the plate to the other. Uh-huh. She had hurt buried in there. And despite his avoidance of relationships, he wasn’t blind. Women rarely escaped a relationship with their self-confidence intact.

She’d been angry when she thought he’d fucked her without liking her. Hard to imagine a man not liking little Tex, but the world was filled with assholes. “I think both your husbands made you doubt your attractiveness.”

Her pupils constricted, and the tiny muscles beside her mouth flinched down. “I forgot the salad dressing.” She shoved to her feet and rummaged—pretended to—through the fridge before returning with a small bottle.

He couldn’t help pushing despite the fact his fucking curiosity had led him into landmines before. However, her reaction seemed to exceed the normal bitterness from a divorce. And, he plain wanted to know… “Did you love them?”

Her muscles tensed as if she’d jump up again. Too bad for her she’d run out of culinary excuses. He put his hand over hers, a physical restraint, and pushed with his voice. “Lindsey, did you love them? Simple question.”

She slumped, gaze on her plate. “I thought I did,” she whispered.

“They didn’t?”

She shook her head. When her hand trembled under his, he wanted to take her in his arms.

No. She wasn’t ready for that kind of comfort. Not from him. By being an asshole, he’d destroyed the trust he’d earned the first night. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, releasing his hand and his dominance.

She pulled in a breath harsh enough to hear. Her shoulders straightened. “So, what’s going on with the security system at the shelter?” she asked lightly.

Damn, he fucking admired her spirit. “I’ll make sure they get top-of-the-line equipment.” He cut a bite of his steak. Sampled. He hadn’t lost his touch. “You’ve got a decent grill out there.”

“It’s Abby’s.” She looked around. “I really love this place already.”

“Good.” He damned well planned to get her to cook for him again. “No rodents here?”

Her laugh was light, cheerful, back to the Lindsey he knew and had avoided before because she was so damn appealing. “I miss Francois. He was good company.”

Now that was pitiful, a fucking field mouse for companionship. Jesus, she was something. Rather than screaming when seeing a rodent, she’d named it Francois. She’d faced down a gang with pepper spray. Despite her big eyes and gentle heart, she was a strong woman. Fucking strong. “I’ll keep you company tonight.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

He grinned. “Because I like you?”

* * * *

In the kitchen, Lindsey glanced into the sink. Empty. The Enforcer had actually loaded the dishwasher and put the condiments away. Helping out was sure more than either of her husbands had done. Of course, Miguel had helped in the kitchen before they’d married. Not after he’d obtained his green card. Obviously, premarriage behavior wasn’t an index of reality.
Don’t get carried away, girl.

Carrying the plate of sweets into the living room, she found him on the couch, flipping through the channels.

“Looking for a game?”

His dimple showed. “Nothing good on. Got any movies?”

With one arm propped on a plush red pillow, he looked right at home on her overstuffed white sofa. She’d chosen comfortable, practical furniture. It sure wasn’t delicate—but neither was she. Good sturdy Texas stock, that was her. “Movies are in the bottom of the stand.”

Grabbing a cookie as he walked past, he gave her a firm kiss and squatted down in front of the TV. Startled, she could only stare at him, then, okay, stare a little longer because the man had a really fine ass.

With a shake of her head, she set the cookies on the distressed white coffee table and snuggled into a corner of the couch. Was he seriously planning to stay and watch TV? Wasn’t it a tad domestic for him?

But he inserted a DVD and joined her, dragging her over his body so she lay sprawled on top of him. Resigning herself to watch a gory movie, she blinked in surprise. “You like
Jurassic Park
?” Jeez, it had a romance and children and—

“Yeah.” His dimple flashed for a second. “Not for girly love shit. I’d just rather watch dinosaurs than war.”

“Oh.” She frowned. DeVries’s bearing, his ability to snap out orders, the careful assessment he did of his surroundings, all screamed soldier. “Were you in the military?”

“Mmmhmm.” After adjusting her so her cheek rested on his shoulder, he took another cookie, eyes on the screen. “You’re a great cook.”

“Grandma’s recipe.” She lifted up to look at him. Melissa’s husband had been in the Air Force. “What branch?”

His foggy-green eyes flicked down to her. “Navy SEAL.” With a firm hand, he pushed her head back down.

Ooookay, guess the military wasn’t going to be a topic of conversation. What the heck, she’d always enjoyed this movie, and lying on top of a muscular guy wasn’t a problem. In fact, he was a pretty comfortable mattress and wonderfully warm.

“That why you took a fake name?” he asked. “A divorce?”

She stiffened and had to force herself to relax. He kept tossing unexpected questions at her. Butthead. So she used his answer, “Mmmhmm,” and had to smother a snicker when his jaw tightened. But he turned back to watch the show.

As they watched, she deliberately commented on the romance which made him chuckle. In turn, he critiqued the actors’ idiotic combat maneuvers. Bet he was something in the field.

WITH HER HEAD on his shoulder, the little Texan was half-asleep, draped over him like a limp kitten. He usually went for larger women, but this one was just plain cute. And when she was happy, she revved right up to totally beautiful.

His curiosity nagged at him. He still didn’t know why she used a fake name. Might be a divorce. Might be scandal. Might be related to breaking the law. Or maybe she was running from someone. If some asshole was threatening her, he needed to know.

As
Jurassic Park
ended and the credits scrolled up the screen, deVries turned off the television. How sleepy was the girl? Steady, even breathing. One hand curled around the side of his neck.

“What’s your name, pet?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Lindsey R—” Her mouth snapped shut as her eyes opened, and her body turned rigid. Color rushed into her face. “You bastard.”

“Just wanted to know,” he said mildly, eyeing her warily. Good thing the knife he gave her was still in the kitchen.

As she shoved to her feet, one hand came dangerously close to unmanning him. “I think it’s time for you to head home, deVries. Thanks for the steak and all that.”

“Fuck, you got a temper. I only asked your name.”

“And you got that if I wanted you to know it, I would’ve told you. Hit the road.”

“Are you in trouble?” He rose and stepped into her personal space.

Letting her understand he’d touch her even if she were furious, he pushed her hair over her shoulder. The purple colors gleamed under the brown locks. He liked that quirk of hers. “Can I help?”