Unexpected Lovers (12 page)

“What’s wrong? Am I just not getting it?”

Biting her lip, she wiggled until he slipped from her pussy.
Why am I even thinking of that ass?
A tear streaked down her cheek.
Unfortunately, he left me a child to remember him by, and it ruined anything I could ever hope to have with Brett and Ryan.

“Uh-uh. Whit, talk to me.”

He pulled her back around and forced her face up with his fingers under her chin.

“Why are you crying? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Afraid to speak, she shook her head.

“Then what?”

“I can’t,” she whispered, burying her face against his chest.

“Shh. Don’t cry.” He held her tight, stroked her back and whispered words in her ear she could understand, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Ryan and Brett wanted her, not because of who her family was or how much money they had, but because she was just Whitney.

“What the hell did you do, Ryan?” Brett grumbled from the doorway.

“Nothing.”

Brett set the tray he’d been carrying on the dresser and crawled onto the bed with them. He took her hand and tugged her out of Ryan’s grasp and into his arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. He can be such a brute,” Brett said, his lips in her hair.

A watery chuckle left her lips, and she tipped her face up.

Brett brushed the tears from her cheeks and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Now. Tell me what has you so upset.”

How can I explain? How can I tell them I don’t deserve this from them? No, this has to stay a secret. This is something I can’t share, even with them.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Whitney, if you’re crying. Something has you upset.”

She moved out of Brett’s embrace, not wanting to touch either man while she tried to gather her thoughts.

“I need to get dressed.” Sliding toward the edge of the bed, she scooped up her clothes from the floor and slipped her tank top over her head.

Ryan shifted on the bed and grabbed his own clothing. The tinkle of his belt buckle sounded loud in the room as she fought the tears still clogging her throat.

Tucking her pants and underwear beneath her arm, she headed for the bathroom. Grumbling under her breath about men in general, she plopped herself down on the toilet, trying to think.

What the hell am I getting myself into? It would be too easy to fall for one or both of these two, but I can’t expect them to accept everything about me. There are things they don’t know and probably won’t be able to get past. Getting involved with them will only hurt them in the end.
She came to a decision while she sat in the bathroom—one she knew they wouldn’t like, but it had to be done.
I refuse to hurt them. They’ve been too good to me.

Once she dressed, she pulled the door open to find the two of them standing on the other side with their arms over their chests, waiting.

“Can’t a girl get any privacy around here?”

“What’s going on, Whitney?”

With a rush of air from between her lips, she sighed. “I’m leaving.”

* * * *

What the hell? She can’t leave.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Ryan asked. He stepped in front of her and grasped her shoulders. “What about Eric?”

“He doesn’t matter anymore, Ryan. He can’t get his hands on the insurance money now since I’ve changed the policy and we’re divorced.” She moved out of his embrace and walked around the other side of the bed. “I need to get on with my life. I can’t just forget everything in Los Angeles and live here with you two.”

“Why not?” Brett asked.

Her startled gaze shot to Brett. “I’m not staying here.”

“What are you running from, Whitney?”

She captured her lip between her teeth for a moment before she answered, “Nothing.”

Ryan moved to her side and pulled her to his chest, letting his hands skim down her back. “Don’t leave.”

“I wish I could stay.”

He took her lips, trying to convince her she belonged there with them.

Her hands wound around his neck as she moaned and fit their mouths together.

The next moment, Brett stepped behind her while his hands drifted over her shoulders and then down her sides.

“Stay, Whitney,” Brett whispered against the back of her neck, running his lips over the exposed skin.

She ripped her mouth away and pulled out of their arms, her eyes wide with glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t! You don’t understand. I want to, but I can’t.” She grabbed her backpack from the corner and walked out.

Ryan looked at Brett, and he knew the same astonished look on his cousin’s face probably graced his, too. Both of them followed her out, but she was quick. The front entrance slammed shut in the distance before they even reached the living room. They raced after her, but when they opened the door, they couldn’t believe what they saw. A white BMW sat in front of the house, and Whitney was struggling against the hold of a strange guy.

How the hell did he get through the gates?

“Let me go, Eric. Nothing you do now will gain you anything.”

Eric. Son-of-a-bitch! I’ll kill him.

“Not on your life. You’re still my wife, Whitney, and you’re coming with me,” the man yelled as he forced her closer to the car.

She laughed as she struggled to pull her arm out of his grasp. “No, I’m not. Our divorce was final yesterday, you ass.”

“You can’t divorce me without my signature.”

“Bullshit. I did. The papers are in my bag. Take a look if you want.”

Eric stopped, obviously startled by the revelation. It gave Ryan and Brett enough time to reach the guy and slam him against the hood of the car.

“I’m going to break you in half, buddy,” Ryan growled into Eric’s face.

“Ryan, stop.” Her terrified words penetrated the fog of anger that had encompassed his brain with the name Eric.

“He tried to hurt you. I’m going to kill him,” he said, his gaze never leaving the man he held.

“And you’ll go to jail, Ryan. He’s not worth it.”

Ryan pushed Eric and then stepped back. “Fine, but you aren’t going anywhere with him.”

“I won’t.”

“Oh yes you are,” Eric said, struggling to stand before moving toward her. He pulled his hand back and slapped her hard across the face. She spun around, flipped over the wall surrounding the driveway, and landed in a heap on the ground.

Brett dove on top of Eric, and they rolled across the pavement, each grappling to be on top. Finally, Brett got the upper hand, pulled back his fist and punched Eric several times, knocking him out.

Brett stumbled to his feet and said, “I’m calling an ambulance and the police.”

Ryan jumped over the fence and cradled her against his chest. “Whitney? Baby, talk to me.” He brushed the hair out of her face, growling low in his throat when he saw the bruise already starting to form on her face.

With cell in hand, Brett called nine-one-one and the police and paramedics were on their way.

“Let me see her, Ryan,” Brett said, coming to her side. He brushed the hair back from her forehead and then pulled her eyes open to check her pupils.

“Brett?”

His cousin didn’t look up while he continued to examine her. “Yeah.”

Ryan pulled his hand back from underneath her and started to shake when he saw the sticky, red blood on his hand.

* * * *

The sound of beeping brought Whitney out of her haze, and she squinted when the bright florescent lights hit her eyes. Sirens blared as she tried to focus. An ambulance. She tried to turn her head, but she was strapped to the board. Looking to her left, she almost expected to see someone she knew on the bench next to her, but she couldn’t think of who that might be. She didn’t know any paramedics.

“Ah. You’re awake. I really didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Soon? Do I know you?”

The guy frowned. “Cale? I was with Ryan when we got you out of the canyon?”

She tried to shake her head. “Ryan? Canyon?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Los Angeles?”

“What’s your name?”

“Whitney Scott.”

“What’s the date?”

Searching her mind, she tried to remember. “I don’t know.”

“We’ll be at the hospital in just a minute.”

“Hospital? Where am I?”

“Flagstaff.”

“Arizona?”

The guy chuckled, and she frowned. She really didn’t think it was very funny. “Last time I checked, yeah.”

A moment later, the back doors whipped open and two hands grabbed the gurney. They wheeled her through the glass doors, and the feeling of déjà vu washed over her. The face that bent over her and looked into her eyes wasn’t right.
Something’s wrong here, but I can’t think of what.

“I’m Doctor Reese, Whitney.”

“Hi.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“The guy in the ambulance said I’m in Flagstaff. I’m assuming this is the hospital?”

“Yes, the emergency room, to be exact.”

“What am I doing in Arizona?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No. The last thing I can recall is being in Los Angeles at my house with my husband.”

“I’m coming in there, damn it!” a loud male voice yelled from the other side of the curtain. The doctor frowned before he moved away.

“You can’t come in here, Ryan. Neither can you, Brett. Neither of you are on duty and you know the rules,” the doctor said.

She tried to see, but couldn’t move her head at all. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t seem to place it.

“I don’t give a flying fuck.”

“Keep your voice down, O’Rourke, or I’ll have you thrown out of here.”

“Easy, Ryan. They’ll let us in after they examine her. Right, Bill?” another familiar voice said.

Why can’t I remember?

“Maybe, but if you two don’t calm down, I’m not letting you anywhere near her. She’s obviously been beaten. Care to explain?”

The voices moved off, and she couldn’t hear what they said anymore.

“Nurse?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Where’s my husband?”

A frown moved over the woman’s face. “I don’t know. He didn’t come in with you that I’m aware of.”

“Thank you.”