Breathe (48 page)

He muttered this against the skin of her neck, felt her body give a soft jerk of surprise under his then he heard a soft giggle escape her throat.

That felt good. It sounded good. Like everything was right in the world, just because they were together in his bed, even when everything was not.

She’d give him that if she was twenty-nine or seventy-nine and he knew that right down to his soul.

He lifted his head and looked down at her to see she was smiling.

“Maybe for you,” she replied. “I found it annoying.”

“Just so you know, I get a second, I’m hiding the scissors,” he informed her.

“That actually didn’t happen.”

He grinned and dipped his face close. “Faye, you’re lying.”

Her eyes shifted side to side before she muttered, “Well, if it did, I blocked it out.”

They came back to him when he stated, “
That
I believe.”

“I’m the middle child,” she began to defend herself. “Liza and Jude always ganged up on me.”

“That I believe too.”

“So,
if
I were to wield scissors, it was probably necessary. Self-defense.”

“That, sorry to say, darlin’, doesn’t jive.”

She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Whatever.”

“Baby,” he called softly and when she looked back at him, he told her quietly. “Told you I’d love ‘em.”

Her eyes went hooded, the tip of her tongue slid out to lick her lips then she whispered, “Good. I’m glad.”

He’d seen her tongue so he dropped his head to retrace its path.

When he lifted his head, her eyes were still hooded but the look on her face was entirely different. A look he was coming to know. A look he liked.

“You want more, baby?” he asked gently.

Her teeth came out to bite her bottom lip briefly before she let it go and whispered, “You have to go to work tomorrow.”

She lost her mind when he had his mouth between her legs. Even just coming, it’d take him fifteen minutes, she’d come just as hard or harder and he’d still get decent shuteye.

Worth it. Absolutely.

He bent his neck, kissed her earlobe and in her ear, ordered in a whisper, “Go clean up. Come back, I’ll give you more and eat you.”

Her head turned slightly so her lips were at his neck even as her three limbs convulsed around him and her fingers laced with his tightened.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

Fuck, he was still partly hard inside her, just came and his dick still twitched at that one, breathy word filled with want from his girl.

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

“Slide out, Chace,” she breathed and slowly, he slid out.

Slowly, she slid her lips up his neck.

Change of plans. Eat her until she found it. Then fuck her until he did and hopefully she did again.

He kissed her shoulder and rolled off.

She gave him a small, semi-shy grin then hustled her ass to his bathroom.

When she came back, not yet completely comfortable with her nudity in front of him, she was wrapped in his robe that was on a hook on the back of his bathroom door.

His mother bought him that robe post-Misty. Somehow when she was over, she’d discovered his old one was gone, this being because Misty, in the beginning, had taken to wearing it. So when her shit went, his old robe went too.

Another woman had worn the robe Faye now wore. He didn’t like that and made a mental note to get rid of it and get another that was just hers.

She left it on when she crawled into bed.

Which meant he got to take it off.

This he did ten minutes later.

Ten minutes after that, after he’d made her come, he was back inside her to find it himself.

And just like Faye always did, she found it again too.

Chapter Fourteen

He Was Gone

Chace was outside the Station putting the crate with Malachi’s books in the back of the Yukon when his phone went.

He slid the crate in, straightened out of the truck and grabbed his phone.

The display said, “Faye Calling”.

He hit the button and put it to his ear.

“Baby.”

“
He moved his fingers and toes!
” she screeched in his ear.

Chace dropped his head and smiled at his boots.

That morning, he’d gone for a run, come home, dragged his girl out of bed and into the shower then he’d taken her to La-La Land. They got breakfast while Faye filled Sunny and Shambles in on all things Malachi. He left her on the sidewalk outside La-La Land with a kiss. He was going to his truck and drive to the Station. She was walking the two blocks to her place to change then go to the store to get Malachi treats and last, to the hospital.

He’d separated from her a little over two hours ago. After a briefing from the boys that coincided with the two he had from Deck the day before, he’d asked the interns to modify their search to include missing siblings. Then he’d taken care of some business and now he was on his way to the hospital to check in and get Malachi his books.

He was doing this because the kid had nothing. Those books, the way he had them organized, meant something.

So Chace was going to take them to him.

“They said he ate all his breakfast even though they had to help him and he’s been awake all morning,” she told him. “He hasn’t spoken yet but when I walked in
he smiled at me.
”

She said this like her favorite movie star walked off the red carpet, picked her up in his arms, carried her to his limousine and drove off into the sunset with her.

“Great, honey,” Chace muttered.

“They’re moving him to a normal room now. But they say they’re only keeping him another day,” she stated.

“Karena is meeting with your parents as we speak, Faye.”

“I know, Mom called and said that’s why they’re not here. Is that going to go okay?”

“Yes.”

“Sure?” she pressed.

“Yeah, baby, I –”

He stopped speaking because he felt a nasty prickle on the back of his neck. There was a presence with him. Not a good one.

His head came up and he saw his father walking his way.

No.

Shit. Fuck.

No.

“Chace?” Faye called as Chace stared at his father who was staring at him.

He turned, lifted a hand and slammed the back to his truck, assuring her, “It’ll go fine.”

“Is everything okay?”

She read him instantly even on the phone. He wondered, distractedly, if it was that obvious or if that was how far he’d let her in and he decided it was both.

“Yeah,” he lied, shifting around the side of his SUV. “I’m comin’ to you now. Bringing his books.”

“I don’t think he can hold them yet.”

“Maybe not but he’ll want ‘em.”

She was silent a second then he got a quiet, sweet, “Yeah.”

“Chace,” he heard his father’s terse voice call as he yanked open his door.

“Gotta go,” Chace muttered into the phone.

“Oh, right. Okay, see you soon,” Faye said in his ear.

“Chace!” his father clipped.

“Who’s that?” Faye asked.

“No one. Gotta go, honey,” he whispered, angling up into the truck. “See you soon.”

“Soon,” she whispered back. It was hesitant. She knew he was lying since someone was calling his name. It sucked doing it but he disconnected quickly as he tried to pull the door closed.

This didn’t work because Trane Keaton was standing in his door hand on it, firm and strong, holding it open.

Chace’s eyes went to his father.

In the many jokes life had to play on him, it saw fit to make him look like his father. Same height. Same build. Same hair. Same eyes. There was barely any of his mother in him, even though she was blonde and blue-eyed. He got what he got from his father. He’d heard it from his father’s cronies since he could remember.

Spitting image, Trane.

So Chace knew in thirty years, he’d look like his father.

Straight, lean, the strong features and good looks he’d been fortunate to be endowed with hardly faded. He was the kind of man whose looks enhanced with age, then, as that advanced, grew interesting, still retaining the handsome, the strong, the vital.

If Trane Keaton was another man, Chace would look forward to this and appreciate his father gave him good genes.

Instead, he dreaded a lifetime of looking in the mirror and remembering his father.

“You’re not returning my calls,” Trane accused, his voice hard, his face angry. He was pissed he had to make the trek from Aspen. Pissed his son didn’t do his bidding. Pissed to see Chace in jeans, a shirt, sweater, coat and boots with a badge on his belt folding into a Yukon when he should be wearing a five thousand dollar suit folding into a BMW.

“No, I’m not,” Chace confirmed then ordered in a cold voice, “Step back.”

“I need to speak to you privately and immediately.”

“You aren’t gettin’ this, Dad, but that is not gonna happen.”

“You aren’t
getting
this but that is not
going to
happen.”

Jesus, he was thirty-five and the man was correcting his fucking English.

“Step back,” Chace growled.

“You live with rednecks, Chace, but you don’t have to sound like them,” Trane returned, voice superior and fuck, but Chace hated that and Trane talked like that all the time.

“Got somethin’ to do, step back.”

“Personally, I blame Jacob Decker. I should have put a stop to you spending time with him when you both were at school. Your mother wouldn’t hear of it. Now I hear he’s back.”

Chace’s body went solid.

He was making a point and not the usual one.

Deck hated Chace’s Dad. Trane Keaton returned the favor.

Deck won a full scholarship to the private school Chace attended but he didn’t come from money. His father was an electrician. A skilled trade but not acceptable in the life of the Aspen Keatons. It didn’t matter that Deck had an IQ of one fifty, a certified fucking genius. He was not good enough for Chace. When Deck didn’t go on to cure cancer or help the government create space age weaponry but used his superior reasoning and higher intellect to do shit that was a little fucking scary, Trane felt this was proof positive he’d been right all along.

But this wasn’t the point Trane was making.

He was telling Chace they were keeping an eye on him.

Not a surprise but an annoyance. Deck could definitely take care of himself. When, in the flash of an eye, you could calculate your height, weight, muscle mass, the poundage behind your swing, aim and connect knowing exactly what kind of damage you’d inflict to wherever you connected, you could seriously fuck someone up. This wasn’t theoretical. When they were in high school and college together, Chace had seen it firsthand. Jacob Decker never got bested, not only because he was freaking tall and seriously strong but because he was fucking smart.

But if Trane and his band of assholes got impatient, they could aim at anyone to make their point to Chace.

Deck was in that firing line.

He made a mental note to phone Deck on the way to the hospital and repeated, “Step back.”

Trane’s eyes locked to his son.

“And, if you see Faye Goodknight any longer, your mother will want to meet her.”

Trane stepped back then. This was because Chace angled out of the car and he had no choice.

But Trane didn’t retreat, just gave him room so Chace, unfortunately, ended up nose to nose with him.

“You don’t breathe her air,” he whispered.

“You’ll never learn it’s not advantageous to wear your heart on your sleeve,” Trane replied, sounding put out that Chace had not learned one of the many useless lessons he’d tried to drill into him when he was a kid.

“Wore it for Ma. Anyone who wants to get at me knows I’m that kinda man. Got nothin’ left to hide. The thing you don’t get is, that kinda man is the kinda man a real man wants to be so there’s nothin’
to
hide.”

“Foolish?” Trane’s voice was snide.

“Protective.” Chace’s was firm.

“If you give it all away, Chace, you’re not protecting yourself.”

“It isn’t me I’m gonna protect.”

“Therein lies your faulty strategy.”

“No, see, the kind of man you are expends his energy to save his own ass. The kind of man I am doesn’t do shit to have to worry about that and instead, he works his ass off to keep those worth his efforts safe. So the message I’m sending is, I give a shit about someone, you do not fuck with them or you fuck with me.”