Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (3 page)

There were definitely no condoms.

As he continued to gape at her, she had to try not to sulk. “What about
you
? You’re the damn guy. Don’t you have anything?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

“I don’t carry them because I don’t often have a need of them,” he said, looking put out. “But why does logic have to play into this?”

It took a moment for his words to make sense. She was so busy staring at his mouth and remembering how his beard had felt as he kissed her that she didn’t care what he was saying.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to go mad.”

She didn’t even have time to breathe before his mouth crushed hers and she was trapped between him and the gate, his hard, heavy body driving into hers, the rhythm unmistakable. His tongue sought out hers, echoing the rhythm of his hips, and she reached out, closing her hands around the hard, round curve of his ass.

Thirty seconds later, he had her wrists in his hands.

No
—

“Enough,” he muttered, letting go without noticing anything was wrong. He sucked in a harsh gulp of air. “We’re leaving. I’ll go across the bloody square, buy a box of condoms. My flat is just up those stairs—we can be back here in five minutes.”

His gaze came to hers and Neve’s knees went weak as he added, “I’ll be inside you within six.”

She blew out a slow, careful breath, surprised she didn’t just melt into a puddle of useless female flesh right there. Swallowing, she nodded and eased away from the gate. She grabbed her backpack and swung it back into place. “What are we waiting for?” she asked, her voice steady.

It was surprising, she thought, a few short minutes later, how things could go so very wrong, so very fast.

She’d been leaning in the shadows near the mostly vacant building next to the pub.

Back when she’d left, it had been a hardware store—Steve’s Supplies and Lumber, she remembered.

Steve hadn’t gone out of business. Nope. He’d expanded and relocated, across the street.

The building behind her was being fixed up for something else, and while some part of her was curious, it was a detached part.

She was mostly anxious, and filled with a blinding, blistering need.

Or rather, she
had
been.

Now she was just blistering.

“I
knew
it was you.”

“Go away, Joel,” she warned, irritation and disgust twining together and spilling up her spine as the boy who’d made her senior year hellish horned in on her personal space. She needed him gone—and now.

One night. She fought the urge to shoot the heavens a look and scream.
Can’t you cut me just a little slack? I’ve been trying, haven’t I?

But God didn’t do bargains. She’d figured that out a long time ago.

She was pretty sure He didn’t care what she wanted anyway.

Joel reached out and she knocked his hand aside. He whistled under his breath. “You went and got nasty, Neve.” Then he winked. “Always knew you had it in you.”

He came in so close she could smell the garlic he’d eaten with his dinner—and the fact that he’d doused himself with some nasty male body spray. “Come on. Why don’t we go get”—he slid a finger down her upper arm—“reacquainted…?”

She eased away, moving so that he no longer had her trapped between the building and his body. “Joel,” she said quietly, giving him her best smile. It was a smile hundreds of thousands of people had seen. It was also a smile that would have warned anybody who knew her. The fact that she’d dropped her backpack would have been the second warning.

Joel knew her, but he’d always been an idiot.

“Did you forget what I told you I’d do…” She dropped her voice as he came in closer and flicked a strand of her hair.

She struck, spinning and grabbing hold at the same time. She used his body weight and her momentum against him. It took seconds, only seconds, to put him on the ground and he landed hard. She drove her boot down into his gut.

While he gagged and rolled onto his side, she finished, “… if you ever touched me again?”

“Oi!”

The deep bellow came from halfway across the street.

She looked up and saw the sexy Scot bearing down on her.

But now, so were several others.

The sight of one of them made her smile, even as the uniform had her blinking.

But all the others just made her want to curl in on herself.

Joel shot out a hand and she moved out of his reach and retrieved her pack.

“You … fucking … bitch,” he gasped out.

“Well, well, well…”

At the sound of that voice, she closed her eyes.

CHAPTER TWO

The very last thing Gideon Marshall expected when he woke up this morning was to discover that trouble had come rolling back into town. But, unlike most people, the discovery left him more than a little delighted.

It had been a bitch of a day. He was pulling a double—
and
handling patrol on a Friday night—something the chief of police really should be able to dump off onto somebody else.

But his police department had a whopping ten cops on the payroll and it was down to seven currently. One of his officers had a very justifiable reason for not being here—she was pregnant, and on Monday, the baby had decided she’d just make an early appearance.

Another officer was on vacation.

What really killed him was the third—Beau Crawford had chicken pox.

Who in the hell caught chicken pox at thirty-six?

Gideon didn’t know. But he didn’t ask anything of his officers that he wasn’t willing to do himself, and since they were scrambling to keep the shifts covered, he was pulling his fair share of doubles, too.

But heaven help the next person to ask for a day off between now and the time Beau recovered from his bout with chicken pox and Tommy got back from his fun and sun down in Jamaica.

Gideon had been this close to losing his mind, and when the call came in about the “drunken reckless hoyden” who’d parked in front of the “den of sin” down on the square, he’d already been gritting his teeth.

Now, though, he suspected he knew who the “hoyden” was.

With the exception of the eldest, the McKays drove like demons, and the piece of shit in front of the pub was from out of state. It didn’t fit Neve at all, but he knew better than to expect anything
expected
from her.

The aggravation of the day melted at the sight of her, and he found himself smiling even as he prepared himself to restrain her.

And he just might have to—there was an ugly history between her and Joel Fletcher, and while there might be a version that most of Treasure believed, he’d always thought Neve had more sense than to get involved with that dickhead.

Her warning to him only solidified what he’d always suspected.

“Did you forget what I told you I’d do if you ever touched me again?”

“Well, well, well…”

Neve cut a look his way and the grin that lit her face had him flashing one of his own. He’d always had a soft spot for Neve, a hellion of the highest order and the youngest child of the McKay clan.

“Looks like Trouble is back in town,” he said, ignoring Joel as he rolled to his hands and knees.

Neve rolled her eyes and hooked her thumbs in the front pockets of her jeans. “Am I going crazy or did somebody
else
go crazy … cuz it looks like there’s a badge on you, Gideon.”

“Well … someone had to take the job after old Crenshaw decided he’d retire.” He tapped his badge idly, aware of the crowd gathering around them, equally aware of Joel as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, a sneer on his lips.

“Damn … bitch,” he wheezed.

Ian Campbell, the bartender, manager, and possible future owner of Treasure Island, moved closer to Joel, his lips peeled back from his teeth. “Easy, Campbell,” Gideon said. “I don’t think Joel is going to do any damage at this point.”

One big hand curled into a fist at Campbell’s side, but he gave a short, terse nod. Turning his head toward Neve, he went to say something.

Joel chose that moment to speak. “I want that fucking cunt arrested, Chief! She assaulted me.”

Ian snarled.

Gideon moved between them, slapping a hand against Ian’s chest even as he said, “Fletcher, you’re either stupid or you think I am. I saw the whole damn thing. If Neve hadn’t taken matters into her own hands, the two of us would probably be having another … discussion. Our discussions usually don’t end well now, do they?”

More often than not, they ended with Joel Fletcher’s sorry ass in lockup for the night.

Fletcher looked at him and his small, ugly eyes narrowed down to slits.

Gideon just smiled at him and then shifted his attention back to Neve.

“Neve…” Ian said the name slowly.

Gideon glanced at him, saw the odd look he focused on her.

She had her arms crossed over her chest, chin angled up, one brow cocked. It was her
princess of the castle
look.

“Neve, I take it you just got back.” Gideon recognized that haughty look all too well.

“Ah … mostly,” she said, the look falling away as she grimaced. “Yeah.”

Gideon nodded. “Ian runs the pub now. Ian Campbell, this is Neve. Neve McKay. Brannon’s baby sister.”

*   *   *

She was still trying to figure it out an hour later.

Gideon insisted on hauling her suitcase into his spare room—that was after he’d spent forty minutes trying to convince her to call her brother and sister. Once he realized it wasn’t going to happen, he refused to let her stay at the single inn the town boasted. There was a nondescript motel near the hospital, but that wasn’t acceptable, either.

So she was with Gideon.

She
should
be trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her brother and sister probably already knew she was in town. Somebody would have called them. As soon as she was recognized, they would have called. She knew that.

But was she worrying about that? Nope. She was trying to figure out why Ian Campbell, the very mouthwatering Ian Campbell who had brought her to one very earth-shattering climax, had heard her name and gone stiff as a board and rigidly formal.

It wasn’t like her name hadn’t affected people before.

Brannon had chased off more than a few boyfriends. And some guys had tried to hook up with her just because she
was
a McKay. Then there had been that brief starstruck time in New York City. It hadn’t lasted long, not long at all, but for a short period of time there, her name had garnered looks of envy and awe—and it had been because of
her
. Not the McKay name, but because of Neve. Granted, it had more to do with her body and the glitz and glamour that had been piled on, but it was
Neve
who’d caught their attention.

That time had faded all too soon, and then she’d learned just how quickly things could change.

She definitely wasn’t a stranger to having people respond to her name. But something about Ian’s reaction had been … different

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home? Moira is going to be desperate to see you—she’s bound to know you’re here by now.”

Instead of answering right away, Neve moved to the large window facing out over the river. She dumped her backpack on the chair nearby and focused on the view.

It was dark now, but Gideon had a few lights placed around the backyard here and there and she could see their glow reflecting off the river. “I think I like your place.”

“Thanks. I know I like it,” he said dryly. “And you didn’t answer me.”

She tossed him a scowl over her shoulder. “I already answered that question—like five times over. I’m not ready to see them. Not yet. I needed tonight to get ready.”

The floorboards squeaked under his boots and she saw his reflection in the window as he moved closer. When he reached up to wrap a friendly arm around her shoulders, she leaned against him, fighting the sniffles that suddenly seemed to clog her throat, as he said, “They’re your family. You shouldn’t need to brace yourself for that.”

“You weren’t here those last couple of years, Gideon. It wasn’t … fun.”

He rubbed her shoulder, the gesture familiar. He’d been like another brother to her—the more understanding brother who didn’t mind if she clung to him a little too hard, the one who seemed to know that sometimes she needed that extra hug. Brannon had never cared. Moira had always been too busy.

That’s not fair,
she told herself.

It wasn’t like life had been kind, punching them in the face the way it had.

“Fun or not, they love you. They’ve missed you.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey, you haven’t been home in ten years—did you think they’d just forgotten you existed?”

In the window’s reflection, she looked at the backpack she’d thrown on the bed, thought of what it held. It lay there, battered and innocuous. Almost everything she treasured was inside. “I don’t know,” she said, her throat tight. “Sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t.” He hugged her, a little tighter this time, his voice brusque. “I know for a fact that they didn’t. Neither did I. It’s about damn time you came home, Trouble.”

She turned her face into his chest and hugged him. He hugged her back, and for those few moments, she let herself pretend the past ten, twelve, fourteen years hadn’t happened.

Did you think they’d just forgotten…?

*   *   *

At the sound of the door opening, Moira McKay rushed out of the family room and into the foyer, her heart jumping up into her throat.

Brannon McKay, younger than her by five years, towered over her by a foot and his hair was wild—either he’d been speeding around with the top of his car down or he’d been shoving his hands through his hair half the day. Possibly both.

His eyes connected with hers. “Is she here?”

Moira’s heart, trembling in anticipation, seemed to freeze in mid-beat. Shoulders slumping, she closed her eyes. “No.” With a wry smile, she looked at him. “I was kind of hoping it was…” She lifted her shoulders and then turned back toward the family room, heading for the fat, overstuffed chair. It was old and faded and probably should have been replaced five years earlier.