Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) (29 page)

"Hey," I greet her softly.

"Hey," she says back, a hitch in her voice.

K
im

"I'm sorry."

Boo's big head is on my lap, his big body splayed out over the couch I've tried for the past few weeks to keep him off, as the memory of my sister's parting words play through my head.

She's on her way back to Grand Junction where my mother was transported by helicopter this morning. Gus apparently offered to drive her, but she'd been adamant about needing time to process and thought that driving would be good for that. It's been two days since my mother was shot and although the surgical team at Cortez Memorial had managed to pull her back from the brink, they'd made it clear that her survival would take more than stopping the active bleeding and fixing her collapsed lung. The bullet had torn through Mom's spine, leaving her spinal cord almost severed. The surgeon enforced on us the importance of moving her as fast as possible to either Grand Junction or Denver where a specialized neurological team would be able to try and repair the damage. For now, they'd kept Mom in an induced coma, until the neurosurgeons have a chance to assess her. We opted for Grand Junction. The team there has a high success rate repairing damaged spinal cords as Britta discovered when she immediately researched our options. Of course it was also the more convenient option, although that was clearly a secondary factor.

I'd felt useless as Britta had spent most of yesterday making phone calls to Mom's friends. People I don't even know. It was hard for me to admit how little I have to offer my mother. I've been so far removed from their life for so long. I can't help wonder how many real friends she has. I can't really recall any from when I was growing up. Other 'society ladies' yes, but not the kind of friends you'd chat with for hours at a time over a cup of tea, or that you'd go hiking with. Not the ones who would laugh and cry with you through your ups and downs. I realize how fortunate I am to have that, and it makes me sad for her. Her carefully toned and honed body that she put so much value on is almost a shell now. For so long the memories she left me with were mostly painful. Not joyous, not sweet, but bitter and hurtful. Except in those last few moments before she was shot, the wonder in her eyes when she told me "He loves you," and the sacrifice she made, putting my life ahead of hers. I recognized her as a mother in those moments and I will treasure them.

"Hey."

I feel the couch shift when Mal sits down on the other side of me, curling me into his body. I willingly drop my head on his chest, where his hand finds my hair and starts stroking. "You okay, baby?"

"Sad," I mumble into his shirt. "Just so sad about... everything. But also very blessed in a way. My mother has given me more in those last moments before all hell broke loose, than she ever did before. Those are warm and unexpected."

"Mmmm." The rumble from his chest is comforting and I snuggle in deeper.

"It just feels so empty—wasteful, you know? All these years, all that hurt and disappointment and I'd resigned myself to it. But now all I can think of is what we missed out on and whether it's too late to make amends or work things through."

"I hear you. Believe me, I hear you. Just remember this though, whatever happens to her, hold on to those glimpses she showed you. They may have been very raw and uncensored, but also very real in a way that no amount of analyzing and working through history would've been able to accomplish. She may not even have realized the gift she was giving you."

I lift my head and look up at his words. "A gift?"

He nods his head seriously. "Your sister. She brought you your sister. Reconnected you. Hell, for all I know, the two of you may never be close, but I wouldn't let her disappear from your life again."

I snort in response. "I don't think I could stop her if I tried. Have you met my sister? She has a successful career and kicks serious ass for breakfast. If she chooses to stay away, she will."

"I don't see it that way. You're the strong one, the one with the power. You're the one with the friends who care for and accept you just as you are—not for your success, your money or your looks, but simply for you." He shoves Boo's head off me and lifts me to straddle his lap, taking my face in his hands. "You're the one who wakes up every day to a man who loves you. All of you. For your strength, your beauty, your  honesty, your body, and your heart."

The lump in my throat has grown to massive proportions and I struggle to swallow around it. The beautiful swelling in my chest so overwhelming, it's to the point of painful. I don't even try to hold back the tear that forms and rolls down my cheek, leading the way for the next one to follow, and the one after that.

Mal smiles one of his rare and stunning smiles as he wipes at my cheeks with his thumbs.

"I love you, Kimeo—my
Nizhóní,"
he says, right before he slants his mouth over mine and kisses the pain from my heart.

Deep and thoroughly his tongue explores and tastes, and before long I'm squirming in his lap, my hands tangled in the thick silky strands of his hair. I can't stop myself from moaning in his mouth, when his hips rise up and I feel the hard ridge of his erect cock rub against my core. I shamelessly rock myself against him, whimpering when I'm already close to exploding.

In one move, he is up and my legs automatically wrap around him. I'm too far gone to question his ability to carry me as we make our way upstairs to the bedroom where he slams the door behind us, effectively locking Boo out. My hands are already under his shirt, running through the sparse hair and over his hard chest. The charge that builds when my skin touches his is almost tangible and makes me feel alive, free, beautiful.

Our touching is intense, almost frantic. In no time I'm stripped bare under his skilful hands and bent over the dresser, my hands bracing me.

"Stay just like that." His voice sounds jagged as I hear, more than see, him remove his clothes. My breathing is erratic with anticipation and the moment his large hands caress my ass cheeks I inhale open-mouthed. A tiny fragment of self-consciousness lingers until I feel his groan of appreciation vibrate against my pussy. The firm, rough rasp of his tongue licking me deep brings out goosebumps all over my skin and the shiver that follows is one of utter bliss. With my eyes closed, the sensations are multiplied tenfold and I shamelessly grind myself against his mouth.

"Watch yourself when I make you come," he growls against my skin, and I open my eyes into the mirror leaning against the wall on top of the dresser. My face is a shock. Eyes glazed, lips wet and plump and a deep red flush on my chest and cheekbones. I look... vibrant, very unfamiliar, and when I feel Mal's touch disappear, almost lost. In the next instant he rises up behind me, his hands firm on my hips and his eyes boring into mine in the reflection of the mirror. His chin is shiny with my juices and I should be ashamed, but I'm not. The sight is arousing, with his long hair dark around his shoulders, his eyes devouring me and his body dark and muscular against my white and plump one. He slips his arms around me and pulls me up, one dark hand sliding down to cup me between my legs and the other one up to cup my breast.

"I love the way you overflow my hands, the way our contrast balances me. You balance me."

His words, his skin against mine, his cock hard with promise against the small of my back, I'm almost delirious with need. "Please..."

One finger on the hand cupping me shifts and slides over my clit and I detonate on a sharp intake of breath and loss of orientation. I drop forward on my hands to catch my breath, but before I can even find my legs, Mal has the head of his cock slowly sliding through my folds.

"Sweet Jesus," falls from his mouth as he seats himself deep inside me. My eyes find his again in the mirror. He's beautiful. We're beautiful together. He pulls out slowly before surging home again, and again, and again, until I see his jaw clench and his body bend over me, jerking his release. With his mouth latched onto my neck, I follow him over.

M
al

"You love me?"

Her almost timid voice filters through my post-coital haze. After coming so hard I thought I'd go blind, I was able to maneuver us onto the bed, where Kim draped her naked and sated self on top of me. We've been lying here, tangled up in each other—touching—for at least ten minutes when she responds to my earlier declaration. For a bit there I thought she was purposely ignoring my words. Fuck. That would've hurt.

The relief at her question bubbles out of me in a laugh and she pushes herself up on my chest.

"I was afraid I might've misunderstood. That maybe it was a joke."

"Fuck no. No joke, just worried. When you didn't say anything, I thought I'd fucked up." I spread my hand over her face, softly drag my fingertips over her features and watch her eyes flutter closed.

"Thought maybe I'd been dreaming, or wishful thinking or something," she mutters almost to herself. "I never... I feel so much, sometimes I think I can't breathe, my chest feels so full. It's terrifying to feel so vulnerable to one person, but at the same time so very good. Almost too good to believe..."

Her words trail and although she hasn't really come out and said it, what she does tell me is enough. I feel exactly the same way and trust me, vulnerable is not something I like feeling. Yet with Kim it feels safe—I trust her completely.

M
al

It happens on the way home from Grand Junction, where we'd just spent yesterday waiting in the hospital while the surgical team spent almost ten hours trying to repair Elaine's spine. They won't know for a while yet how successful their efforts have been. Kim's mom will be kept in a coma for a while to allow her body to heal. It may be a week or more before they even attempt to wake her up, so Kim had wanted to come home. She misses her dog, which is staying with my brother and Katie, and wants to move back to her house in Cortez. I'm not sure whether that is safe yet, but hate to bring that up with her. She's been through enough. That's why when I called Gus earlier this morning, I made sure Kim was still sleeping in the spare bedroom in her mother's house.

I wanted to get an update because Hartnett had not been talking at all so far, but with warrants in hand, the FBI was peeling apart his home and his offices, and questioning his staff. They were bound to find something at some point. A couple of days ago, we'd had a meeting with the Sheriff's Office and Damian Gomez. It didn't go so well. When put on the spot about his lack of communication when they realized Hartnett had been en route to Cedar Tree, Damian had tried to pass the unwritten 'need-to-know' rule off on us. That resulted with me up in his face, explaining in no uncertain terms that I held him personally responsible for putting my girl in danger.

"We were waiting for Hartnett to communicate with his contact, but when he headed to Cedar Tree, we figured we'd have some leverage to make him talk if we could catch him red handed," he said, trying to justify his decisions.

"So you used Kim and her family as bait?"

When he shrugged his shoulders in response I lost it.

I got exactly one hit in before Gus and Drew were pulling me back. And then Gus was sending me home. He told me although he didn't think Kim would be in danger from anyone but Hartnett, to keep a close eye on her. And I have—not letting her out of my sight for anything.

We've just passed Monticello when Kim's phone rings.

"Hello?...Oh hey, Naomi...Yes thank you, we're on our way back now. It was okay. They’ll try to wake my mother in a few days, but Britta has it all under control...Yes, Mal's driving."

I watch from the corner of my eye and see Kim pulling her eyebrows together as color seems to drain from her face.

"They did? What does that mean?...Okay, I'll meet you there."

I pull off the road, first chance I have, shut the engine off and turn in my seat. "What's going on?" I ask Kim whose face is turned away from me. I cup the back of her head and turn her toward me. A cold fist grabs me when I see the stark fear in her eyes. "Kim? Talk to me."