Hard to Come By (23 page)

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” Marz cried, his release erupting in a series of almost painful spasms. He shook and shuddered against her, fucking her through both their orgasms until her white-hot channel stopped milking him.

His knees almost gave out.

Hers definitely did.

Marz pulled her into his arms, nearly carrying her to the bed, where he sat on the edge and lifted her into his lap. She curled into his chest and neck, her breasts still heaving in exertion, and it was the sweetest fucking thing. God, she felt so freaking right there. In his arms. Against his heart.

And they were both nearly fully dressed. Her outfit was askew and her thong hung around her ankles, and his jeans hung around his thighs, only baring his hips and ass. And yet it had been the most mind-blowing sex he’d ever had. Because she knew who he was—his weaknesses, his losses, the kinds of bad things he was doing for what he believed, to the bottom of his soul, were pure, good reasons—and she still wanted him, still needed him, still accepted him.

“Talk to me, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“That assumes I’ve regained the ability to perform that particular function,” she said, soft laughter in her voice. “Jesus, Derek, that was so, so good. I don’t think I have any bones anymore.”

“I know just what you mean.” But the clock was striking midnight for them, and their stolen moment was about to turn into a pumpkin and some mice on the side of the road. “I hate to rush—”

“We have to go. I know.” She reared back and met his gaze. “Oh, my God. Do you think your friends will know?”

Marz tried to hold back his reaction. He really fucking did. But a grin that big wasn’t staying under wraps. “Probably. And now they’re all a bunch of jealous bastards.”

She slapped his chest and buried her face. “Oh, my God.”

He was having none of it. Tipping up her chin, he arched an eyebrow. “No shame, Emilie. Not for this.”

“No,” she said. “Never for this.”

They made quick if somewhat wobbly work of putting themselves back together, and then Emilie zipped up her suitcase.

“So, uh, big plans?” he asked, pointing at the spilled condoms before she’d finished closing the bag.

Emilie rolled her eyes and smiled. “My best friend Kelly told me to be bold and be prepared.”

Marz laughed. “I like her already.” And then he pulled Emilie in for one, last, searing kiss. The kind that had his body stirring already again despite his utter exhaustion.

Then he grabbed her suitcase for her and they made their way downstairs. Where there was a whole lotta staring off at the ceiling, faking napping, and whistling going on.
Fuckers
.

Marz cleared his throat. “We ready or what?”

The harassment was immediate. “Oh, like
we’re
the ones holding up the show,” Easy said.

“Y’all need a couple more minutes?” Shane asked. “Round two?” Emilie buried her face against Marz’s arm, but her shoulders shook hard.

Wet from head to toe, Beckett folded a towel over the back of a chair, flicked out the last few lights, and stalked toward the door, passing Marz and Emilie at the bottom of the steps. “Fly’s open,” he said, not even making eye contact.

No, it wasn’t. Marz wasn’t falling for that shit. Still, he walked out the door with a big-ass grin on his face, because he had his best friends around him and his girl on his arm. And for this minute in time, that was enough. To him, that was fucking everything.

A
horn blared, jarring Emilie awake. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But they’d been sitting still in nearly stopped traffic so long that the steady drumming of the rain on the roof of Shane’s truck had lulled her into unconsciousness.

“Have we moved much?” Emilie asked Derek, lifting her head from his shoulder. They were sitting in the backseat, with Easy on her other side.

“No,” Derek said, kissing her forehead. “Road’s closed ahead. There’s a huge accident. Like, ten cars.”

She looked out the windshield to the watery sea of red taillights ahead of them. It was the worst storm Emilie had seen in a long time. When they’d come across the Severn River Bridge on Route 50, the wind gusted so hard that it had shoved Shane’s truck into the next lane more than once.

Shane turned in the driver’s seat and held up his smartphone, an image of a map on the screen. Almost every road was depicted in red. “Traffic’s like this everywhere. At this rate, we won’t get home til the middle of the night.” He lowered his phone and rubbed his eyes. “I should call Nick and let him know where we are.” He put the cell to his ear and waited. “Hey, man.” Pause. “We’re all fine, but traffic’s at a stop with this weather. We’re gonna be a while.” Pause. “Aw, hell. Really? Well, after driving in it, I guess I can’t blame them.”

“Bad news?” Beckett asked when Shane hung up.

“The other Ravens couldn’t make it with this weather. They’ll be down tomorrow,” Shane said.

“That’s a bummer, but it’s only a matter of hours,” Derek said. Murmurs of agreement went around.

Speaking of phone calls, Emilie should call her mother. But a part of her just wanted to get where they were going and have a few minutes to collect her thoughts before placing the call. She also didn’t really want to have it in front of all the guys. Not that they didn’t know what she’d have to say, but because she thought it was more respectful to her mother. No doubt the others would be able to tell how upset Mama was from her side of the conversation, and Emilie didn’t feel like that should be up for general consumption. Instead, she shot off a text for now:
I’m fine but am stuck in traffic with this storm. Will call you in an hour or two. xo
.

Message sent, Emilie snuggled closer into Derek’s side, and he released her hand and put his arm around her shoulders. Just what she needed. And after what they’d shared in her bedroom, she really wanted this closeness with him. God, Derek could be funny, he
could be sweet, he could be sexy—and holy freaking crap, he could fuck. The rough, rasping, dirty talk streaming from his mouth might’ve gotten her to orgasm all on its own. She pressed her lips together tight to keep from grinning.

A half hour later, traffic started to move. After crawling for nearly forty minutes, they were diverted off the highway altogether onto a much smaller four-lane commercial strip.

“Oh, God. This road’s busy under normal circumstances. This is going to take forever,” Emilie said. Traffic moved so slowly that it took them eight changes of the stoplight at the end of the exit ramp before they got through.

“Anyone else hungry?” Derek asked.

The guys all chuckled. “Leave it to you to bring up food,” Beckett said.

“Every time,” Easy said. The car crept forward a few feet at a time.

“What?” Derek asked. “Tell me your asses aren’t hungry.”

“Of course, we are. But you’re always the first one to bring it up.” Beckett looked out his window and then tapped his finger against the glass. “We could run for the Border.”

“Aw, yeah,” Derek said, peering out the window.

Smiling at Derek’s reaction, Emilie leaned closer to Easy to see what Beckett was talking about. All she saw was—hell to the no. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Taco Bell.”

“What’s wrong with the Bell?” Derek asked.

“Generations of my ancestors are rolling in their graves at that question,” Emilie said, unable to keep
from smiling at his mock-outrage expression. “Besides, I have some great leftovers if you’re in the mood for Mexican.”

“Yeah, but they’re in the back of the truck,” Derek said, rubbing his stomach. Thankfully, Shane had a cover for the truck bed or all her belongings would be floating back there by now.

Emilie chuckled. “All right, I’ve registered my protest. Do what you have to.”

It took Shane almost fifteen minutes to get over into the right-hand lane and reach the entrance to the restaurant.

Emilie scanned the shopping center on the far side of the parking lot behind the Taco Bell for other places to eat, but almost all the businesses were dark. And then her eyes settled on the green-and-red neon sign of the Courtyard Marriott. “I have a crazy idea,” she said as Shane pulled around the restaurant. “How long have we been sitting in traffic?”

“Over two hours,” Shane said.

“Before you pull up to the drive-through, hang on a minute,” she said. The truck rolled to a stop and Shane looked over the seat. “How much longer do you think it’ll take to get back to Baltimore?” Emilie asked. “Another two hours? More?”

Shane nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Emilie pointed out Easy’s window and smiled at each of the guys. “Why don’t we just stay at a hotel tonight? Courtyard Marriotts always have those restaurant areas where they serve breakfast in the morning. There’ll be a microwave. We could have our very own feast and get out of this traffic and weather. I mean, get food here if you really want to, but we could take it to the hotel.”

“Homemade trumps fast-food every time,” Derek says. “So it sounds pretty damn good to me. And, honestly, I wouldn’t mind stretching my leg.”

Emilie wondered exactly how badly he was really hurting.

The other men exchanged looks and finally nodded.

“Anyone want food from here?” Shane asked. Negatives all around. He backed the truck out of the drive-through lane and headed in the direction of the hotel.

The good news was that there was a huge canopy over the driveway in front of the Marriott’s lobby doors, so they wouldn’t get soaked going in. The bad news was that they were not the first people to have this idea. Shane just managed to fit his truck into the carport behind two other cars. “Might as well make sure they have rooms before we unload,” he said.

“I need to use the restroom, so I’ll come too,” Emilie said.

They all hopped out, and Derek helped her down from the truck and took her hand. She adored that he didn’t mind showing affection for her in front of his friends. What she didn’t like so much was his marked limp. She’d seen him when he wasn’t hurt and knew it wasn’t usually this noticeable. Hell, she wouldn’t have even guessed he was wearing a prosthesis before he’d showed her.

Luckily, they still had rooms available. Shane, Beckett, and Easy decided to share one room, and she and Derek got another. Which was awesome. Except for the repeat round of razzing that it unleashed. Emilie couldn’t help but laugh, though.

Annnd she couldn’t help but wish they could go to their room . . . Right. This. Very. Minute.

Guilt stalked at the back of her mind and paraded
all the reasons why she shouldn’t be finding any joy right now. Manny’s breakdown, her shooting Jeffers, and the threats that hung over all their heads topped the list. Honestly, though, those were the exact reasons she
needed
a little joy. Something to even out the cosmic scales. Something to help her cope and let her forget, even if for just a little while.

“I’ll go get your suitcase while you find the bathroom,” Derek said.

“Take a load off,” Beckett said, arching an eyebrow at his friend. “I’ll get it.”

Emilie nodded. “I should call my mother, too. She’s probably freaking out by now.”

“I gotta park the truck,” Shane said, “so I’ll go with you, B.”

Easy pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call Jenna. Meet you over there?” he asked, pointing to a big open room with lots of tables and chairs.

“Yeah,” Derek said as they all went their separate ways.

Emilie used the restroom, then found a little unoccupied nook off the lobby with a pair of couches. She sat and sagged back against the cushions as her mother answered with, “Are you okay?”

“Hi, Mama. Yeah, I’m okay. Did you get to Rosa’s all right?”

“Yes, but I hated to leave you. What happened after I left? I saw him come running out of the house.”

“He totally freaked out. Just like I thought he would,” Emilie said, telling her the truth without overwhelming her with the specifics.

“Meaning what,
mija
? I can handle it, you know.” Sighing, Emilie debated—apparently a few seconds too long because her mother said, “I want to know, Emilie.”

“Okay,” Emilie said in a low voice. She hated to
recount it—both because she wanted to spare her mother and because she really didn’t want to relive it herself. “He threatened to hit me with a bat.” A gasp came down the line. “A friend I had there in case this very thing happened protected me and then Manny drew a gun. They tried to get him to turn himself in and he wouldn’t. And then he started shooting at everyone and took off.”

“Oh, dear God,” her mother said. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Yes, but not badly.” At least, she hoped Derek wasn’t hurt worse than he was letting on. That limp was really worrying her. They spoke a few more minutes—mostly Emilie trying to reassure her mother she was fine, and then Emilie said, “I’ll call again when I can. I’m not going to stay at my house until this is over. If you see Manny, call the police, Mama.” Jeffers’s image popped into her mind’s eye and she shook her head. “Better yet, call me. My friends will know what to do. Just remember, he’s not
our
Manny anymore.”

The sadness in her mother’s agreement broke Emilie’s heart.

When the call was over, Emilie returned to the dining room to find all the guys gathered and the bags of food unpacked on the counter by the microwave. Emilie took a deep breath and pasted on a happy face. “Okay, let’s get cooking.”

While a dish of beef enchiladas was reheating, she took the lids off the pasta salad, corn-and-black-beans salad, and ceviche with shrimp. And then she reheated the chicken tortilla soup, the rice and beans, and the corn bread she’d baked.

Derek offered to help, but she wanted him off his feet. And, honestly, keeping busy helped her bottle up the sadness she’d felt after the call with her mother.
Soon, everything was done, and she found some heavy paper plates in one of the cabinets under the counter.

“Dig in everyone,” she said.

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Emilie smiled at their enthusiasm and at their compliments. She’d always loved watching other people enjoy what she’d made. The conversation flowed around the table, ranging from discussions about the food to joking around to telling old stories. What they didn’t talk about was the situation they were all in the middle of. So she guessed she wasn’t the only one who needed a distraction from reality.

She didn’t eat much—her stomach was too tied up in knots. She mostly sat back and watched and listened. From their easy familiarity, to their ability to call one another out, to the stories they told, it was clear the four men shared a tight bond.

“So, was it better than Taco Bell?” Emilie asked when the meal wound down. Mischief filled Derek’s eyes. “Answer carefully,” she said, smiling.

“Hell, yes,” Shane said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m happier than an old dog with a new bone.”

“Your inner redneck is showing, McCallan,” Easy said.

“I fly that flag loud and proud,” Shane said, grinning.

“Definitely better,” Beckett said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Easy said. “Appreciate you sharing all this food with us.”

“I’m just so glad it didn’t go to waste.” She pushed out of her chair, but Derek rose and leaned over her.

He planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Fantastic, Em. Thank you. Now, you sit. We’ll clean up.”

“You sit with me,” she said in a low voice.

A question flashed through his eyes, but he acquiesced without asking. From behind Derek, Beckett gave her a nod. Guess her effort to make him stay off his feet wasn’t all that subtle.

“You two should go settle in,” Beckett said. “We got this.”

Both Emilie and Derek protested, but the guys all insisted. Before long the two of them made their way to the elevators. As soon as the doors closed, Derek boxed her in against the wall and kissed her like it had been months since they’d last touched one another. The kiss was slow and deep and arousing, especially as his erection grew against her belly.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. “Love in an elevator,” he sang softly and shifted his hips against hers. “Lovin’ it up when I’m going down.”

Emilie chuckled. God, he was absolutely, earbleedingly tone deaf, but she adored that he couldn’t care less. He was fun and spontaneous and playful. There wasn’t an ounce of pretense about him. Derek just was who he was.

And his genuineness was so compelling, so attractive, that Emilie gave into the urge to throw her arms around him and hug him tight.

Ding, ding
.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Derek said, grabbing her hand in one of his and the handle to her suitcase in the other. He carried a backpack of his own on his shoulder.

The room was decorated in dark greens and otherwise lacked much personality, but it did have a very comfortable-looking king-sized bed that filled the center of the space.

“How are you?” Derek asked, placing her suitcase and his backpack by the side of the dresser. “I know
you were upset after your phone call but I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone.” He turned toward her.

“Better now,” she said, falling into his open arms. “I just hate upsetting her. And there’s not even any resolution I can give her yet.”

“Yeah, but you should be proud of yourself, Emilie. You got her out of that house and away from the danger. You took great care of her in the midst of that moment. I know I was proud of you,” he said, rubbing her back.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Derek hugged her tight. “I’m really sorry for whatever role I played in pulling you into all this.”