Hidden Flames (31 page)

Owen had to be delirious with all of his ramblings, but it had the desired effect he was looking for. Prue smirked and shook her head, doing everything she could not to laugh at his rationalization. He was everything she could ever want in a man and there was no use keeping that to herself.

“I love you, Owen Quade.” Prue rested her forehead against his, wishing she could ease the physical pain that he had to be experiencing. She’d been the one to put it there and she would be the one to take it away. “And yes, we’ll spend the rest of the evening making love once we get back up to the lodge, where I can show you with my body instead of my words.”

“Both,” Owen hissed, moving his leg while taking her hand and bringing it up to his mouth where he kissed her knuckles. “Body and words. You stabbed me, Prue. It’ll take a while for you to make that up to me and I plan to use that to my advantage for as long as I can.”

“You want sympathy?” Prue stood first, pulling him up with the help of the tire-changing machine. Once he was standing, she answered her question for him in the manner he’d come to expect from her…and accepted. Owen was grimacing in pain and she was happier than she’d ever been. It made no sense and yet the contradiction seemed to sum up their relationship. “I saved your ass. You should be kissing mine and thanking me instead complaining about a little scratch.”

Prue let out a cry of alarm when he used the grip on her hand to capture her, quickly wrapping his arm around her waist like a steel band. She’d lost her breath and looked up to find that arousal burned bright in those brown eyes of his. The pain was still there and yet she could see that his love for her was tenfold. She slowly smiled and waited for his response to her wit.

“I’ll do more than kiss your ass, you tease.”

Owen sealed his warm lips overs hers, sending desire through her and chasing away any fear that remained. They would stay by each other’s side, through thick and thin. A future in the traditional home with a white picket fence wasn’t possible, although they might have a shot at those grandchildren he’d mentioned. Maybe they could start with one of those pigs that Mr. Wicks had up at the lodge. She’d heard they make nice pets. By the time he was through kissing her, Prue thought that maybe it was
her
legs that needed time to recover and all thoughts of animals and children had disappeared.

“Let’s get you home,” Prue said softly, for the first time understanding what Owen meant about what made up a home. He returned her smile, letting her know that he understood what she was referring to. A house wasn’t a home, but instead it was the people inside of it who filled it with love. “We can talk about adopting a pig when we’re able to move into town. That’s a start.”

“A pig?” Owen laughed, shifting so that he could wrap his arm around her shoulder for support in walking to the truck. “Only you would pick some type of exotic animal versus a dog or a cat. What’s wrong with a puppy or a kitten?”

“Fine,” Prue agreed, visions of attack dogs or one of those large cats that looked like a domesticated bobcat helping to keep their home safe filling her head. “We’ll name him Tank.”

O
wen observed Kellen
Truman over the rim of his coffee cup. The back of his leg was absolutely killing him, although it had more to do with the punctured muscle tissue than it did with the stitches that Milton had put in a few hours ago. There had been a lot of questions after they returned to the lodge and Owen figured it was better to get the inquiries over and done with.

Prue had been the one to do most of the talking while Owen had been occupied getting eight sutures with 3.0 silk, but word had spread rapidly so he and Prue had decided to have dinner with everyone to stave off any residual doubt about what had occurred. Taking a life, even in self-defense, still meant something in this camp. Dean and Jason had taken care of burying Deacon’s body and had just returned to the camp, conferring with Kellen. There was a place on the far side of the creek farther down the valley that had been chosen as a gravesite in advance should they need to bury anyone. Deacon was unlucky enough to be its first occupant.

“Truman’s team has definitely become an asset,” Mav said, leaning back in his chair while still keeping a hand on Henley’s back. They had taken up one of the small tables in the great room, pulling their shifts and debriefing before calling it a night. Owen was damned tired, but he still planned to take Prue up on her offer of kissing her ass. Speaking of that little devil, she was across the room in deep conversation with Gage Dorian regarding the equipment they’d failed to retrieve today. Her brain never shut off and another idea had hit her regarding the tractors. She had enough energy to go around and have some left over. She’d also just spent at least an hour with Rosa, giving her more details than the others in regards to what had taken place. He was glad to see that the two of them were growing closer. “I’m still not sure why the other two team members are headed this way when they were relatively safe from the ash overseas.”

“We would do the same if Tank were somewhere during a disaster, moving heaven and hell to get to him,” Owen countered, using Prue’s empty chair to prop his leg up to keep the weight of his thigh off of the wound. “Speaking of that, have the guys checked in tonight?”

“Not yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Mason isn’t here by morning.” Mav set his empty mug down on the table with a thud while still massaging Henley’s neck. “I’ve already alerted Jeremy, since he’ll take first shift at the entrance.”

“Mason’s probably already set up in a sniper position among the trees covering the mountainside looking at the camp through his scope. You know how cautious he is.” Owen had just taken a drink of his coffee and choked when he caught sight of Ernie offering Mabel a flower just down the hall outside the entryway to the kitchen. The abrupt cough caused pain to shoot up to his ass, making him wince. “Did Tank just make his first move?”

“Awww,” Henley said, running a hand over Mav’s thigh and smiling. “He’s so old-fashioned that it’s quite sexy. Look at Mabel blush.”

Prue caught Owen’s attention as she made her way over to the table, only stopping briefly in front of the game room to speak with Rob Wicks. She was nodding and smiling as she made her way over to the table. He was so proud that she hadn’t allowed what had happened today to overshadow the fact that they were alive. They’d had a long talk on the drive back up to the fishing lodge about self-defense and her head was definitely in the right place. He’d said it before, but she would have made one hell of a Marine. She had her fingers wrapped around his ankle before he could move his boot out of the way, placing it gently in her lap so that his leg was still elevated.

“Mr. Wicks said he would set aside one of the piglets if we wanted him to.”

Prue took off her utility cap and set it on the table. Owen had no words for the pig comment, but he was mesmerized by how beautiful and exceptional she was. Her long black hair was completely loose from the braid, framing her classic features and bringing out the color of her pink lips. He was thinking it was time to call it a night, and not just for the reason they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow in returning to retrieve the equipment from the garage in town.

“Did we miss something?” Mav said, sharing a humorous look with Henley. “What are you going to do with a piglet?”

“Don’t even go there,” Owen warned, dropping his foot and managing not to groan. “We’re talking about rescuing a dog or a cat should one show up in the area looking for sanctuary.”

“I like the idea of a piglet,” Henley encouraged, siding with Prue. “I was friends with an actor who had a pet pig and it was the cutest thing ever. He even had his own bed, blanket, and—”

Owen groaned, letting the women think that he was in pain to stop this insane talk of having a pig as a pet. Prue certainly wasn’t the old-fashioned type of gal, but he loved her for the unique woman she was. That still didn’t mean that he wanted a pig as a pet and if he had to exaggerate his pain level to escape this topic of conversation…he moaned a little more.

“Ow!” Owen exclaimed after Prue grabbed her cap and cuffed him in the shoulder. He rubbed the area indignantly, feigning innocence and wishing they were already on the way to the bunker. “You’re assaulting the man you stabbed and—”

“Did you give her reason to?” Tank asked, standing in front of all of them with that stare he’d perfected back in the days he’d commanded the unit. Mav starting mumbling under his breath that Owen was at fault for the speech they were about to receive and the women sat back with Cheshire grins on their faces. Owen’s day just wasn’t getting any better and got worse when Tank started to smooth his gray mustache as he launched into a lecture about women. “Let me clue you fellows in on how to treat your women. You only need to know two words…
yes, dear
.”

Prue leaned over and placed her soft lips against Owen’s ear and whispered, “I need you, Marine Boy. Take me back to the bunker and make love to me. Tank says the appropriate answer is—
yes, dear
.”

*

“What is that
look for?” Owen asked from his position on the bed. He’d been waiting for her to appear, but the only comfortable position that didn’t put pressure on his wound was lying on his side. He’d shucked his clothes first, having taken a quick shower a while ago, and currently had only a sheet draped over him. Prue was presently standing in the alcove of the small bathroom, wearing nothing but a beige terrycloth towel. The long strands of her hair were spirals that fell down the length of her back and her dark lashes appeared longer from the remaining droplets of water, accentuating the sadness he saw within them. His chest tightened at the fact that she appeared unhappy. “Prue, what is it? We can get a piglet, if that’s what you want. I was just—”

“I really could have killed you.” Prue slowly walked over to the bed and gently sat beside him, her gaze searching his. For what, he didn’t know. It couldn’t be forgiveness, because she’d saved all of them from Deacon’s desperate rage and whatever revenge he’d conjured up in his mind. “You could have died if my throw was off or if you had moved in any other way than what you did. We even joked about it, Owen, and yet I almost made it a reality.”

“Sweetheart, there are times when we have to make difficult decisions—that is what we call the mantle of leadership. I lived it every day in the Corps and now we have it no different. We didn’t ask to be in this situation. We’re dealing with it to the best of our ability and if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times that I’m glad it’s you that has my six.” Owen brushed a water droplet that was trickling down her cheek, grateful that they weren’t tears. She had nothing to cry over and everything to be proud of. “Your quick actions saved my life. My ammunition misfired and had given Deacon the opportunity to pull that trigger. I saw his finger turning white with pressure and the hatred pouring from his eyes. It was inevitable and yet you prevented it with quick thinking under pressure with a skill that few people possess.”

“I do love you and I’m sorry that I made it so difficult for us to actually get to this point,” Prue said, baring her soul and making Owen’s heart hurt worse than the wound in his leg. He didn’t like how hard she was being on herself and he would do everything in his power to rectify it. “Do you need another dose of the pain medication that—”

Owen slid his fingers around her neck and into her damp hair, pulling her close enough that their lips were inches apart. She let out a small gasp, but didn’t pull away. In fact, her soft hands landed on his chest as she waited for what he was going to say.

“The only thing I need is you,” Owen whispered, finally kissing her the way they’d both wanted all evening. It was just the two of them here, with no outside distractions. He could hear the catch in her breathing, sending his own into a more rapid pace. Her towel fell and he pushed it to the floor, managing to pull her underneath him. “Only you, Prue.”

Owen trailed his lips down her neck, the fragrance of her body wash invading his senses. He ignored the pull of his stitches and eased down far enough to capture her nipple into his mouth. He would have continued farther down to taste her sweet flavor, but she stopped him by wrapping her legs around his waist.