The Wicked Bad (Crimson Romance) (18 page)

“Time for brunch.”

Ronnie reached for her glasses by the bed. “You’re incorrigible.”

Nick laughed and stood. “You love it.”

No, Nick, I love you.
She paused for a moment, did she say that aloud? But Nick had already headed to the bathroom not breaking his stride, so apparently she didn’t. The words were going to slip out sooner or later, then — she knew. She would be hurt. Again.

• • •

An hour later, they sat curled up on the couch watching
The Today Show.
The odor of bacon still hung deliciously in the air, intermingling with the smell of simmering coffee. Wow, he could cook. The brunch he prepared had been satisfying to the extreme. Fluffy scrambled eggs with chives and shredded cheese, bacon, toast, hash browns, and she ate it all. She was ravenous. She even had a second helping of hash browns. Now as she lay in his strong embrace, she was ravenous for something else. She began to stroke his chest, feeling the ripple of muscles through his T-shirt. Her hand climbed higher caressing his soft goatee. How she loved the feel of his closely cropped facial hair caressing her bare skin.

She leaned in, inhaling deeply. His essence, so appealing, whether it was the aftershave he used or just his own musky, spicy scent or a combination of both. Veronica laid a feather-light kiss on the corner of his lips. He at last tore his eyes from the TV and looked down at her.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

Oh, she loved he called her that now. It rolled off his tongue like melted butter. Her hand dropped to his crotch. Nick was semi-erect. Slipping her hand under the waistband of his sweatpants, she gripped him and stroked. He grew larger in her hand, as hard as stone. Like velvet over hardened steel. His head fell back against the sofa and he moaned.

“Oh, Jesus. When you touch me,” he rasped huskily. “Do it, baby. Stroke my cock — make me come.”

The words sent a wave of molten, liquid heat straight to her core. Nick lifted his hips for a second and lowered his sweatpants just enough to give her full access. She smiled. The temptation to kiss his shaft was hard to ignore. Lowering her head, Veronica flicked her tongue across the head. Nick shuddered, his head snapping back up, his eyes wide.

“Just a taste,” she crooned.

She moved her hand up and down the length of him, finding a quick rhythm that had Nick groaning. His breath quickened, his chest rising and falling. He climaxed, he laid his large hand over hers as she pumped his release. The hot essence of him covered her palm. His breath regulated at last.

“Listen to me, Ronnie. What we’ve shared — all of it — I’ve never shared with another woman. It never felt this good. Never. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, moved by his words. She knew what it took for him to admit such a thing. With her hand still on his crotch, she kissed him on the lips.

Veronica moved to his ear and bit his earlobe, then whispered, “I’ve never shared this before with any man. Never. Nothing has felt as good as this, Nick. The sex, the intimacy. I want more.”

Nick leaned his forehead down to touch hers. “So do I.”

• • •

An hour later and Ronnie had left for home. His place felt empty, and he felt — bereft. He could feel her presence everywhere. He picked up the pillow she laid her head on all night and inhaled her essence. He glanced at the kilt lying on the back of the chair and smiled. How many times did she reach the heights of ecstasy? This was a night he’d never forget. He picked up a pearl button from her blouse. She must’ve torn three or four of them off in her haste to undress. He placed the button on the end table.

His gaze focused on the rumpled bed. How many times did they make love? He lost count. Four, five — he closed his eyes. The smell of her scent, the feel of her skin, those blue-gray eyes that looked at him with such intense desire and passion moved him. Did he read more there? Did he
want
to read more in her eyes? This had progressed far too fast and was becoming far too intense. He walked to the kilt and ran his long fingers over the rough wool. Why did he order this? To please her and make her happy. He loved it. Perhaps he
was
beginning to fall in love with her. Was it love? He didn’t know what it felt like. Only had that damned puppy love with the school teacher to go by and that had been frigging agony. The songs all say it, love hurts, love bites, love stinks. He agreed, 110 percent — all the way.

This didn’t stink and it didn’t hurt — only when she was apart from him. Wasn’t that love? Not wanting to be apart from the person? His feelings were so powerful they disturbed him. He wanted to sink into her softness and stay there, days at a time, revel in her curves, and suck those luscious breasts. He wanted her to share — everything — with him. He wanted cinnamon buns on a Sunday morning with her and only her.

Nick stripped the bed, but he left the pillowcase, the one she’d laid her head on. He would sleep tonight with it close. Christ, like the song said, he had it bad and that ain’t good.

Should he pull back and keep his distance like he did with every other damned woman? If he was smart, he would. The honest truth? He couldn’t stay away. Ronnie was strong, loving, giving, and funny. Nick flopped across the partly torn apart bed.

Oh, shit. He
was
in love with her. How the fuck did that happen?

• • •

It was fifteen minutes before one in the morning, Nick’s Monday night closing time. He locked the door behind the last two patrons who staggered down the street happily drunk and singing Guns N’ Roses songs. Exhaustion rolled through him, Ronnie had worn him out and he ached all over. Maybe he’d swing by her bakery tomorrow morning early, drop by with coffee. Yeah, he wanted and needed to see her again, he could admit that much to himself. Lorcan came by an hour before closing and they’d talked. He was tempted to discuss Ronnie and what he felt, but he still found it hard to verbalize emotions. Not used to confiding to a friend, hell, not used to having a friend. So he said nothing as he usually did. If he couldn’t even talk about it with Lorcan, how in hell could he ever talk about it with Ronnie? He kicked a nearby chair in frustration.

Wrecking the joint wasn’t the answer. He leaned down and set the chair upright. A cleaning crew came in three nights a week. It used to be seven, but with the economy in a down turn he had to make a few cuts. He and Kevin picked up the slack, tonight was his turn. Rubber gloves and Comet, coming up. He hated cleaning toilets and urinals. When men had a few beers in them their aim became lousy. Nick headed out back to the storage closet to collect the mop and bucket. He had a date with Mr. Clean.

• • •

Outside, Ronan McCarthy watched the bar as he had for the last couple of weeks. He knew the big biker bastard’s routine now. Tonight he would stay late and clean before retiring upstairs to his flat. The time was now. Ronan tightly gripped the gas can handle in his gloved hand. The place looked ancient. He noticed when he came in the bar a few weeks back there was a sprinkler system, but he could do a lot of damage before they kicked in to any great assistance.

The place wouldn’t burn to the ground, but he wanted to inflict enough damage to equal his revenge. This to his twisted mind was of paramount importance.
Striking the name out in my book.

He glanced around, it was late and the street quiet. The bar was situated at the bottom of a hill and somewhat isolated. Empty warehouses surrounding it and the half moon illuminated off a few broken windows and worn bricks and mortar. A nearby elevated train whizzed past, sparks from the track fluttered down below giving a brief smattering of light.

Ronan doused the building with the gasoline. His nostrils flared in protest as the nauseous petrochemicals seeped through his nasal cavity.
Blimey, why some people sniffed this stuff.

He worked quickly and efficiently. He was no firebug, had not really started a fire before on this scale, but he did do a lot of research. Got to love the Internet. A cruel smile curled about his thin lips. If the biker got a little toasted then all the better.

• • •

Lorcan grumbled as he drove toward Nick’s bar. How the shite did he leave his wallet on the table?
Eejit.
As he turned onto Prince William Street and headed down the hill, he gazed into the night sky. A strange orange glow hovered above Nick’s bar. He hit the accelerator and the back end of his rented Lincoln Navigator banged on the pavement leaving sparks from the under carriage.

Nick’s bar was on fire.

Lorcan’s SUV squealed into the parking lot. Nick’s bikes were in their usual spots. He jumped out of the Lincoln before he barely slammed it in park. Flames poured out of the building. Lorcan kicked at the huge oak door
. That bugger is not going to give.
He ran around back, the steel door was locked tight. Grabbing an empty wooden vodka crate, Lorcan sprinted back around front and sent the heavy crate careening through the window. The glass blew apart and flames roared out and then just as quickly were sucked back into the building. Lorcan climbed through the window, not caring his hands were getting cut on the jagged glass.

The sprinklers had come on, not the best with regards to the water pressure, but it did the job. The flames were being contained, but where was Nick? Kicking aside tables and trying not to slide in the water that quickly accumulated on the wood floor, Lorcan raced to the back rooms.

“Nick!” he yelled.

Did he hear a groan? Kicking the men’s bathroom door open, he found Nick on the floor unconscious. Flames were making a meal out of his arm. Lorcan took off his jacket and smothered the fire, but he could smell the horrid, acrid smell of burning flesh. He reached in his pocket for his newly purchased iPhone. He almost dialed 999
. Get control Lorcan, you’re in America, 911.
He called it in, and then shoved the mobile back in his jeans. He tried to move Nick, no luck. Christ, the bugger was heavy. Lorcan glanced outside the open bathroom door. The fire was nearly out, but Nick’s bar appeared to be in tatters. He looked up at the ceiling; at least the flames didn’t spread upstairs. Sirens wailed in the distance. Over and above the smell of burnt wood, leather and skin, Lorcan could smell one other odor. Gasoline. Jaysus, someone set fire to the bar.

Veronica paced the floor of the waiting room at Rockland General. Lorcan sat nearby, his gaze closely watching her nervous march across the tiles.

She wrung her hands to keep them from trembling. The doctors were examining Nick. When Lorcan called her, she thought she would break into pieces from worry. She can’t lose Nick, she can’t. The thought of it ripped at her heart. She loved him. Fiercely. Completely.

Of course, she said none of this to Lorcan. She glanced at him. He was a hero in her eyes. Since she met him on the double date, Veronica came away from that evening with a rather low opinion of him thanks to Julie’s reaction. She’d misjudged him.

Nick didn’t hand out friendship to just anybody. The only explanation is he must’ve sensed something in this man. What would have happened to Nick if Lorcan hadn’t shown up? Smoke inhalation, more severe burns, maybe even death. It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Come and sit, you’re wearing a hole in the tile, darlin’,” Lorcan soothed.

Veronica nodded and took a seat opposite him.

“Please, tell me the truth. You saw — how bad is it?” she whispered.

“It was dark and smoky, I couldn’t see much. Let’s wait and see what the doctor says.”

Her eyebrows knotted in worry. “I’ve no idea how to contact his parents. He told me his mother’s in Nebraska, his father’s in New York City. He really has no contact with them, has he said anything to you?”

“No, darlin’. Nick certainly plays it close to the vest. You knew him from before when you were younger?”

“He moved here in the twelfth grade, I was in the tenth. He was almost as big as he is now and just as intimidating. When he walked down the hall people got out of his way. He was very quiet, brooding even. Then in March he dropped out,” she laughed shakily. “I knew who he was and I found out he knew of me, but we had never spoken.”

Lorcan leaned back, his arms outstretched. “But here you are years later. Aye, it’s fate. Destiny. You care for him, darlin’. I can see it.”

She nodded quickly. Before she could reply, the doctor walked out of the examination room. Veronica shot to her feet. Lorcan stood next to her and laid a hand on her arm as if to steady her.

“Miss Barnes, Mr. Byrne? Nick Crocetti is resting now. We sedated him for the pain and he can’t have visitors so perhaps you should head home. You can visit tomorrow afternoon. Nick has first degree burns and a few second degree ones. The burn on his arm is the most serious. We’ll be watching that to ensure infection doesn’t set in,” Dr. Murphy turned to Lorcan. “Mr. Byrne, have you been checked out for smoke inhalation and had those cuts treated?”

“Lorcan! I never asked after you at all!” Veronica turned and looked up at him. “And I never thanked you properly. If you hadn’t come back, I shudder to think what would’ve happened to Nick.”

Lorcan patted her arm gently. Glancing over, he nodded at the doctor. “Aye, I did.” He held up his bandaged hand.

The doctor left.

“I’m fine, Veronica. Don’t fret. A little smoke won’t hurt me.” Lorcan seemed quite touched by her concern and her sincere thanks. “Come, I’ll drop you off at home. Nick is resting. We’ll come back tomorrow, I promise.”

• • •

The next morning, Veronica busied herself in the bakery taking inventory of the baked goods she’d prepared. Returning home from the hospital at three in the morning, she began to bake until the sun came up.

She overdid it with the cookies and didn’t prepare enough rolls. Forget cinnamon buns, it reminded her too much of Nick. Perhaps she would make some later, especially for him. The hospital informed her Nick could have visitors after one in the afternoon. Julie would cover for her today.

Her mind raced all night while she found herself up to her elbows in dough and chocolate chips. Nick’s place upstairs, would it be livable? Did he have insurance? What was he going to do, refurbish, renovate and re-open? That could take weeks and months. What would he do in the interim? Would he stay with her? Or maybe stay with Lorcan? Where did Lorcan live anyway?