Open Life (Open Skies #5) (16 page)

Chapter Seventeen

That evening, just after sunset, Maria and Dillon strolled around Open Skies hand-in-hand. As they started up the road past the stables, they waved at Dawyne in the guard shed. In response, he gave them his usual brief nod. The man was actually remarkably friendly when Maria ran in to him in the restaurant or on the grounds, but when he was on duty, he was as hard-assed as Dillon. No chatting, no moving away from his post, no ignoring the camera feed.

"I guess you were right about him, huh?" Maria said, and pulled on a long-sleeved sweater against the chill. "He's the real deal."

"Damn right." Dillon stared back at Dwayne, whose eyes were now fixed on the screens. "He's got the right kind of background and he's worked security for years. He was a bodyguard, too."

"Dillon? Can I ask you about something?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I'm just wondering – how did you end up as a bouncer? I mean, after being a SEAL and then a private, high-end bodyguard, it seems a bit..." She stopped talking, suddenly aware that what she was about to say was insulting.

"A bit basic?"

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded, I swear."

"No, it's OK. Lots of people have told me it's a step down from what I was doing before."

"What do
you
think?"

Dillon shrugged. "I was laid-up for about a month after being shot and I spent lots of time at the gym, lifting weights and trying to strengthen my shoulder and chest. The place I go to in Denver is called The Rock and one of the guys who owns it, Adam, was a bouncer. He had some kind of emergency and had to leave the state for a few days and he was looking for someone to cover for him at the bar where he worked. I said I'd do it and Adam vouched for me with management, since he knew I was ex-special-ops and had all kinds of hand-to-hand-combat training. Close-quarters stuff, too."

"Wow," Maria said, looking at his biceps bulging out from his t-shirt. "You don't mess around, huh?"

"Nope." Dillon grinned. "Anyway, I worked for Adam for about a week and I actually really enjoyed it. It surprised me, but I liked the camaraderie with the staff. Working with a certain kind of drunk creates solidarity and I like that. I'd had that with my unit when I was a SEAL, and I'd had it with Foreman's crew, and I realized that I really need it. I like feeling part of a group like that."

Maria nodded, thinking how much she liked being a member of Julie's staff. She'd told Dillon that they were her family and she hadn't been exaggerating: Open Skies was the only place she'd ever felt at home in her life.

"So when this opening came up at Dangerous Curves, I went for an interview," Dillon said. "I liked Jax from the word go and he liked me, so he gave me a try-out. And I just -
fit
with the rest of the team, I guess is the best way to put it. The bouncers, the waitresses, the bar staff, even the regular customers. Bouncing at a place like Curves takes a certain kind of temperament and I just have it."

"You have to be able to stay calm?"

"Yeah, at least at first so you don't escalate a bad situation. Calm and controlled and don't-fuck-with-me. But you
also
have to be able to react and kick it up right away when something happens. Sometimes I need to go hardcore in the blink of an eye and not everyone can do that without second-guessing themselves."

"Do you?"

"Not often. Almost never, actually." He caressed her cheek, pulled her in for a soft kiss. "My instincts and intuition are usually pretty good."

She smiled up at him, remembering that night in the kitchen when he'd made his move. "I'd say so."

"Anyway, my plan was to bounce for a few months and then go back to work for Dallas, but as more time passed, I liked Curves more and more. It's damn hard work – physically, but also mentally – and I really love it. Some nights I go home all beaten up, but it doesn't happen all that much. Bodyguarding is way more dangerous, in my personal experience."

"Yeah, I suppose so." Maria tried not to think too much about Dillon being shot, since it still kind of freaked her out. She was a stranger to guns and had never even held one in her hand until Dillon had given her a few lessons. Dillon had one on his body all the time and she'd accepted that, while still being totally unable to comprehend it. She supposed it was one of those things she was grateful to not understand.

They were passing the stables now. Mattie and Phil were outside with a new horse, but the animal was tossing its head and rolling its eyes, totally agitated.

"Hey, guys," Maria said, startled at the horse's behavior. "Everything OK?"

"I don't know." Phil's normally unruffled face was puzzled, even troubled. "We bought Sunset a week ago to work with the kids in the youth program and she was so sweet then. We actually bought her to work with the youngest kids, since she was so incredibly serene. But now? Well, you can see."

They all stared at Sunset. She was snorting at them, almost rearing up, shaking her head and stamping her hooves.

"What would make a horse act like this?" Dillon asked. "Is she sick?"

Mattie shook her head. "Nope. She's healthy as a... well. She's healthy as a horse."

They all laughed and Sunset snorted again and bared her teeth, as though offended at their levity.

"Maybe a storm is coming?" Maria said.

They all looked up at the clear sky.

"I don't think so," Phil said, still staring at Sunset. "It's something else."

All of a sudden and out of nowhere, Dillon felt the urge to get Maria inside. He looked around Open Skies, scanned the mountains, checked that Dwayne was at his post. Everything looked fine, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted Maria safe behind a locked door. Right now.

He tightened his grip on her hand and she gazed up at him, a bit taken aback at the look on his face. "What is it?"

"Let's go, baby," he said, and that rasp that she hadn't heard in a while was back in his voice. "Home."

"OK," Maria said, perplexed. "Bye, guys. I hope Sunset is better soon."

"Yeah, me too," Mattie said. "Maybe it's just nerves at being in a new place?"

"Maybe," Phil agreed. "Let's take her for a bit of a run, see if she throws off the shakes."

Dillon was no longer paying any attention whatsoever to the jittery, agitated horse; he was looking around, trying to figure out what was making
him
so uneasy. Just because he couldn't see a threat didn't mean that it wasn't there, he knew damn good and well. Life in Iraq had taught him that lesson, taught him brutally and more than once. This sixth sense had kept him alive then and it had helped him many times since – and no fucking way he was dismissing it just because nothing was in plain sight.

He was outwardly relaxed and calm as he and Maria walked up to the main building and entered the staff quarters, but he didn't actually start to unbend until the door clicked shut behind them and he checked the security cameras. He escorted her down to their apartment, went in first, every single sense alert and tingling. Maria went in to the kitchen to pour them a glass of wine and he seized the chance to quietly check out the rest of the rooms. All clear.

On the pretext of wanting a bit of air, he stepped out on to the patio, looked around, gazed up at the cameras. They were all working, he saw, and he stared around one last time before going back inside and locking the door behind him.

"Here you go." Maria handed him his glass of wine.

"Thanks, baby." He took it absently. "One sec, OK? I'm just going to grab the magazine I left out in the common area."

"Sure." She wandered over to the sofa and curled up on it, sipping her wine.

Dillon left the apartment, shut the door behind him. He pulled out his gun and started to check the common rooms. He looked in the closets and cupboards, checked the common bathroom. Nothing. He checked the empty apartments quickly, then paused in front of Mattie's place.

She kept her door unlocked which made it an easy place to enter and hide, but it was such a huge violation of her personal space to just walk in. Then again, he had to be sure... for everyone's sake. The thought that Mattie might come home to an ambush was unacceptable. Silently asking her for forgiveness, Dillon opened the door of Mattie's home. Gun out, he checked every room, every closet, every cupboard and wardrobe. Nothing and nobody.

He went back to Maria, trying to shake it off. Maybe he was just ridiculously overprotective of her? So much so that he was paranoid that something bad was going to happen to her? He'd never loved anyone so much and so quickly, and maybe he was just reeling from the experience, trying to adjust to needing someone this much. He was scared of losing her, he knew that much, so maybe this was just a bizarre mind game that he was playing with himself?

Maria glanced up at him. "Did you find your magazine?"

"Uh, no. Probably Mattie borrowed it." He picked up his wine again, hating himself for lying to her, asking himself why he was lying at all. "I'll get it back from her tomorrow."

"OK." She regarded him. "You alright?"

"Sure." Dillon gave her his slow, sexy smile. "I'm with you, ain't I?"

She laughed. "Charmer."

"You know it, darlin'."

They sat together on the sofa, Maria tucked in to his side. He felt better having her right on him like that; he wanted his body to be as close to hers as possible right now. He wasn't fully relaxed, but he did feel more in control like this. As long as he was touching her, nobody else was and she was safe.

They chatted as they drank, not about anything in particular and nothing very important. They finished their wine and Maria stood up, took Dillon's glass. He watched her walk over to the kitchen and he suddenly needed to tell her how he felt about her. His whole body and soul was screaming at him to
tell her now, tell her before it's too late.
This urge was so strong, so all-encompassing, it scared him.

Why do I think that soon, it might be too late
?

“Hey, baby.” His voice sounded strained, even to his own ears.

She turned to smile at him, the empty wine glasses still in her hand. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Maria’s mouth fell open in shock and despite his weird mood, he grinned at her expression. God, she was adorable.

“You – you…” She waved her hands around a bit as she stuttered. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. What do you think about that?”

She stood very still, just looking at him sitting on the sofa. Then suddenly, she moved to one side, setting the glasses down on the bookshelf. “Dillon, I –”

It was at that exact second that all hell broke loose.

Chapter Eighteen

Maria was about to tell Dillon that she loved him too –
dear God,
of course
I love him!
– when the sound of glass breaking stopped her. Startled, she looked down, thinking that somehow she’d set the wine glasses too close the edge of the shelf and they’d fallen off. Then she heard more breaking glass behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see the dishes cabinet door in pieces on the kitchen counter.

Dillon was on his feet and on her before she even saw him coming. He threw her down to the floor, covered her body with his own. His gun was in his hand and he looked furious.

Did he shoot the cabinet? What’s going on?

“Dillon,” she said, shocked. “What –”

“They’re here, baby.” He whispered the words close to her ear. “They’re outside.”

“I – I don’t –”

“You stay down, you hear me?” He forced her to meet his eyes. “Maria. You hear me?”

“Y – yes.”

“What did I just say?”

“To stay down.”

“That’s good. Don’t you move. I’ll be right back.”

Terrified, she watched him crawl on his stomach over to the patio door – except the door wasn’t there anymore. That’s when she understood that someone had shot through it and the bullet had missed her by inches, hit the kitchen cabinet behind her.

Oh, my God. Dillon's going
towards
the guys with guns!

She backed up in to the corner and wrapped her arms around her knees. She lowered her head, watched Dillon move farther and farther away from her. He peered in to the darkness and another shot rang out. He threw himself to the side, rolled, looked over at her.

“OK?” he said quietly.

She nodded. “You?”

“Yeah. Stay there.”

“I will.”

He got to his feet, the gun held in both hands. He listened, seemed to hear something outside. She watched as every muscle in his massive body tensed up under his t-shirt; all that raw power held in check, waiting for the right moment to burst forth.

A footstep outside on the patio steps. A voice, a second voice. Dillon raised the gun now, totally focused on what was coming towards them. Maria saw a foot appear and she covered her mouth with both hands, afraid that she’d call out to Dillon and give him away.

She didn’t have to tell him anything, though. He knew they were there; he knew exactly where they were. The one man stuck his head around the shattered patio door and Dillon stepped in front of him to meet him. He shot the man in the forehead and Maria pushed her hands over her mouth harder when there was an explosion of red. The man fell heavily, fell without a word and Dillon took another step forward, spun and faced to his right.

“Put it down, you fucker,” he hissed at whoever was standing there.

A sound like a
thunk
and Maria sighed. The man must have dropped his weapon.

“Inside,” Dillon said in a voice that scared the life out of her. “
Now
.”

A man with dark hair and cold blue eyes appeared, his hands in the air. He glared at Maria as she cowered in her corner.

“Fucking bitch,” he spat at her. “You and your cunt sister are both dead.”

Without a word, Dillon pistol-whipped him across the back of his head viciously and the man fell to the floor unconscious. Now Maria did give a small cry, shocked at how fast Dillon had moved. She’d barely seen him raise his arm before the man was falling.

He was standing there, huge with anger and she just stared at the man she loved. He’d shot a man in the head and violently knocked out another one – all to keep her safe. She felt sick and shaky, but also grateful. She was still here, she was still in one piece.

“Maria,” he said now, and it was Dillon’s voice again, rough and gentle. “Stay over there, baby.”

Unable to form words quite yet, she nodded.

He checked the unconscious man for weapons, took a second gun from him and set it on the kitchen island. He walked back outside, checked the dead man, looked around the patio. Then he came back in to the living room and picked up his cell phone. He pushed a button and waited, staring down at the guy, watching him for signs of coming around. He glanced up at Maria and saw that she was on her feet now, standing next to the island. He was about to tell her to go lie down in the bedroom when he saw her eyes widen as she stared over his shoulder.

“What?” he said, but he already knew.

“Fucking put it down, asshole.” The voice came from behind him and he shut his eyes.

One more hiding beyond the patio. Goddammit. What a great time for my instincts to fucking let me down.

Dillon took a deep breath, set down the phone without disconnecting. He put up his hands and turned to face a third man, a familiar one. He was pointing his gun at Dillon and smiling.

“Dillon,” he said in a friendly tone.

“Captain,” Dillon returned. “Should have known Trigger would get you involved in this whole thing sooner or later.”

“Oh, I
volunteered
.”

“Did you now?”

“Yep. But don’t y’all worry – I’ve got a rock-solid alibi for tonight.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Captain grinned, then focused on Maria. “Come over here.”

She didn’t move.

“
Now
, cunt.”

Dillon’s eyes flashed. “Watch your mouth, man.”

Captain laughed. “Yeah, OK. Seeing as I have the gun and you have your hands up, I’ll call the little bitch whatever the hell I want to.” He moved closer, trained the gun in the middle of Dillon’s chest. “If you want to watch me shoot him and
then
come and get you, I’m happy to do that. Or you can just come on over here to me and we leave and he lives.” He shrugged. “I really,
really
don’t give a shit either way. I was just thinking that maybe
you
did.”

Maria swallowed hard, took a step forward.

“Maria,” Dillon said, knowing full well that Captain wasn’t intending to leave him alive as a witness. “Don’t, baby.”

But she kept coming forward, kept walking towards Captain. The man was almost smiling at her, looking pleased at her cooperation.

“Good girl,” he said. “Come on with me and I don’t hurt him.”

“Promise?” she said in a small voice. “You’ll leave Dillon alone?”

“Oh, for sure.”

She passed Dillon, threw him a glance.

“No,” he said to her. “Please. Don’t.”

“I have to do this.” She bit her lip. “I love you.”

“This is so fucking sweet, you know, but can we get a move-on?” Captain said, moving the gun to point at Dillon's head. “I want to get the hell out of here.”

Maria walked closer, closer still. When she could smell his sour breath, that was when she pulled her sweater sleeve up, extended her right arm. The cocked gun was level with Captain’s face.

He froze. “What the fuck –”

She saw him tighten his finger on the trigger and without another second of thought, she pulled her own first. The gun that she’d picked up from the kitchen island bucked in her hand – loud and hard – and she fell backwards, vaguely aware that something had hit her in the face.

Right away, Dillon was there, gently taking the gun from her clenched hand, unfolding her locked fingers one at a time. Beyond that, he didn’t touch her, though, didn’t make any move to hold her. He stood between her and Captain’s body, staring at her.

“Don’t look at him, Maria.” Dillon’s voice made her look at his tense face. “Look at me. Just me.”

She blinked up at him, feeling like there was no ground beneath her feet.

“That’s good. You want to sit down?”

She shook her head, reconsidered, nodded.

“OK. Come on.”

He was just reaching for her when there was pounding at the apartment door, shouting from the hallway outside. Maria jumped and Dillon cocked the gun again.

“Stay here,” he said. “Turn away from him. Look at me, Maria, don’t take your eyes off me. You hear me?”

She nodded again, wrapped her arms around herself, wondered why she was on her knees all of a sudden. She hadn’t meant to go to the floor like that.

“Who is it?” Dillon shouted through the door.

“Mattie.”

“Thank Christ,” Dillon muttered. He swung the door open and there she stood, shotgun in hand. “We’re OK. It’s all over.”

Mattie stared down at the unconscious man on the floor, looked at the two dead bodies near the patio, saw Maria kneeling on the floor.

“Maria!” she said. “You hurt, honey?”

“N – no.” Her teeth were chattering now, making it hard to talk.

“So why are you covered in –” Mattie fell silent as realization hit her.

Covered in what?

Maria looked down at herself. Her sweater was covered in red liquid and flecks of something hard and gray. She blinked and touched her chest, wondering why her fingers came away sticky. Bewildered, she looked up.

“Dillon? What –”

“Don’t touch it, Maria.” She could hear stress and distress in his words. “Just don’t, OK?”

“But –” She licked her lips, tasted something salty and tangy. She raised her wrist to her mouth, wiped it, stared down at the red left there. “What is it?”

“Oh, God,” Mattie said. “Maria…”

“What?” Panic was rising now and she didn’t understand why. “What is it?”

It was the white and gray stuff that finally made the merciless wave of blinding understanding crash over her. She held some bits of it in her palm, trying to focus on the shards of white mixed in with it.

Red. Gray. White. Liquid, spongey, hard. Hard like – like bone. Spongy like tissue. Wet, salty liquid.

Oh, my God. Oh, fuck.

She screamed now, clawing at her face, at her hair. “Get it off me! Get it
off
!”

Dillon shot forward, picked her up of the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands to her sides.

“Shhhh,” he said in her ear. “I got you, baby. I’m going to get you cleaned up, OK?”

She screamed again, struggling to free her hands so she could rip her skin off her bones. “Get it off me!”

“I will, I promise you.” He carried her to the bathroom, kicked the door shut behind him. He turned on the shower, still holding her close in a vise-like grip. “I’m going to wash it all off.”

She stopped screaming since she didn’t have enough breath all of a sudden. Dillon let the water run for a few seconds to heat it up, then he stepped right in to the shower with her. He set her on her feet, but didn’t let her go. Her head fell forward on to his chest and her eyes closed; the warm water running over her body was soothing, relaxing. It almost made her feel sleepy.

“Maria?” He lifted her chin. “Deep breaths. Don’t faint.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, her eyes still shut. “You hate it when women pass out on you.”

He paused, then chuckled. “You’re still here, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to undress you now. Can you stand by yourself?”

She nodded. He pulled off her thin sweater and t-shirt, tugged her shorts off and there she was, just in her bra and panties. She looked down and saw dark red water swirling away down the drain. It made her feel sick, so she slammed her eyes shut again.

Dillon dropped her soaked clothes on the floor, caught her against his chest again. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

They stood for a long time, just letting the water wash over their bodies. Maria started to feel again – her fingertips returned, so did her knees and eyelashes. She opened her eyes and saw Dillon staring down at her. He smiled bit, trying to reassure her.

“I’m going to wash your hair and face. Come here.”

The shampoo smelled wonderful, his fingers felt amazing. Tenderly, he massaged her scalp, making soapy bubbles that slid down her golden skin. The pure, fresh scent of jasmine filled the bathroom and she sighed, almost completely back in her body. With the soap, he scrubbed her face and neck until all traces of Captain’s death were gone from her body. When she was clean, he held her close, running his hands through her curls over and over again.

Maria took a deep breath. “Dillon?”

“Yeah?”

“Is he dead?”

His fingers stilled in her long hair. “Yeah, baby. He’s dead.”

“I killed him?”

“You defended yourself – and me. You did what you had to do.”

“I killed him?”

“Yes.” Dillon turned off the water.

She watched as he grabbed a towel. He dried her body slowly, gently. That was when she noticed that he was in soaked jeans and a t-shirt. The material was plastered to his body, every curve of every muscle clearly outlined.

“You got in the shower fully clothed?” she said.

“Yep.” He grinned down at her, but it was strained and white. “No need to do laundry this week, huh?”

“I guess not.” She stood still as he wrapped the towel around her shoulders. “Dillon?”

“Yeah?” He lifted her, sat her down on the counter next to the sink.

“I killed him?”

He planted one hand on either side of her body on the marble, leaned forward to hold her eyes. “Yes.”

“
I
did?”

“Yes.”

“You need to say it,” she said. “Please.”

“You killed him.”

She was quiet for a minute. “I don’t feel sorry. I don’t feel
anything
. Is that bad?”

A look of pain crossed his face. “It’s not good and it’s not bad. It’s shock.”

“I’m in shock?” she asked, interested despite herself.

“For sure. It’s your body’s way of protecting your mind. You need some time to accept what just happened.”

“How am I supposed to accept that I killed somebody?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “But I’ll help you.”

He got undressed now, dried off. She clutched the towel around her body, watching his every move. He had just wrapped the towel around his waist when the shaking started suddenly, completely out of the blue, and she felt a deep chill start to work its way up her body. She moaned and Dillon grabbed her again.

“OK, baby, OK. I’m right here.”

“I’m so cold,” she whispered, burying her face in to his warm chest.