In His Sights (24 page)

“That could be tough. But if it's true, I know he'll be fine. He's got a great support system.”

“Yeah.”

Chris stretched and sat back in his chair. With a smile at Maddy, he said, “Is it time?”

“Yes!” the little girl shouted, jumping up from her seat. “Finally!”

“Time for what?” Robyn studied the two of them, confused.

“I'll help Maddy. Be right back.”

Her daughter had already raced inside, and Chris followed. In a couple of minutes, they were back, Maddy carefully holding a big glass vase of beautiful spring flowers mixed with red roses.

“Oh my! Are those for me?”

“They most certainly are,” Chris said, hovering in case Maddy slipped or started to drop them.

“They're so gorgeous!” She inhaled, reveling in the fragrant aroma as Maddy set them on the table. “What did I do to deserve these?”

“Are you kidding? Maddy and I thought you
deserved something extra special after all the stress you've been under. Flowers seemed just the thing.”

“Thank you, guys. They're so perfect.”

She fussed over them a bit more and noticed that they were standing in front of her, not moving, studying her as though they knew something she didn't. They were wearing broad smiles, the kind that made them look like they were up to something. Or knew something she didn't.

“There's a
card
,” Maddy stressed, pointing to the plastic stand with the small square on it. “Open it!”

“Oh, sorry.”

Robyn was reaching for the card when she spotted the red ribbon tied to the top of the plastic stand. Her gaze followed the ribbon downward, but it disappeared into the greenery. Curious, she pulled the ribbon up. And she was stunned by what was dangling from the end of it.

There, tied to the other end of the ribbon, was a beautiful diamond ring. It had a marquise diamond in the center and a few smaller ones scattered around it.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. All she could do was stare, dividing her attention between the ring, Chris, and Maddy. “Is this what it looks like?”

Instead of answering, Chris carefully untied the ring, palming it. Then he dropped to one knee right there on the patio, with Maddy for a witness.

“Robyn, I knew from the moment I saw you that you were the woman for me. I knew that
here
was the smart, beautiful lady that I wanted in my life forever. You've completed my heart and soul. You
and
Maddy.”

As he paused, she put her hand over her mouth, happiness filling every part of her.

“I love you both. I want to call you my wife, and Maddy my daughter—which is fine by Maddy, by the way.” The little girl chimed an agreement. “What I'm trying to say is, would you marry me?”

“Say yes, say yes,” Maddy chanted, bouncing up and down.

There was no other answer to give. Reaching out, she drew him in for a fierce hug and kiss. “Yes, yes, I'll marry you. I love you so much.”

Their kiss wasn't quite as steamy as she'd have liked it to be, considering their rapt audience, but every ounce of emotion was conveyed between them.

Drawing back, Chris took her hand and reverently slid the ring onto her finger. Then Maddy cheered and a group hug ensued, and promises of ice cream all around.

“So I thought I would sell my house and move in with you guys,” Chris said between bites of ice cream. “Makes more sense than uprooting Maddy. She's had enough of that in her short life. Right, munchkin?”

“Uh-huh.” She was more focused on her treat now that the main event was over.

“That sounds great. You're here now more than you are at your own house anyway. Especially since you've been taking care of me.”

He'd put on a show of staying in the guest room—even if he didn't stay there for long after Maddy was out for the count. Robyn thought it was funny, two adults sneaking around like teenagers.

The evening was wonderful, full of laughter. Joy. Later, after Maddy was long in bed, Robyn and Chris snuggled on the sofa surrounded by lit candles. Soft
music was playing and they were drinking each other in, savoring the warm closeness. It was hard for her to believe she would have this sexy, kind man as hers for the rest of her life. But she'd have forever to get used to it.

“If it was any other couple, I'd say the boyfriend would be taking a chance to let the child in on the proposal.”

His chest rumbled in a smoky laugh under her ear. “I don't want to sound arrogant, but I wouldn't have done it if I thought there was a chance you'd say no. I wouldn't hurt Maddy that way.”

His first thought was for her—their—daughter. This was a big part of the reason to love him for eternity.

“I know you wouldn't. I thought that was very classy of you to let her be a part of it.”

“Hey, she'll always be a part of anything concerning our family.”

“Well, not a part of
everything
.”

Turning in his arms, she began to nuzzle his neck. Nip and lick at the skin at his throat, hopefully driving him crazy.

“Point taken,” he moaned, tilting his head to give her better access.

One of her hands slid between his legs, palming the crotch of his soft sleep pants. Well, soft except for the steely rod underneath begging for attention. Apparently he couldn't take much teasing tonight, because he stood and gently scooped her into his arms, carrying her to their bedroom.

Theirs. She loved that.

Chris took his time undressing her. Pushing her onto
the bed and making sweet love to her. He was careful, not wanting to hurt the tender area around the scar, even though the wound had healed.

Parting her thighs, he pushed inside of her, keeping his weight from pressing down too hard. He moved with exquisite slowness, stroking the flames higher with every thrust.

All too soon, they were shattering together. Coming down to earth.

Then he wrapped her into his arms, making sure she was lying on her left side, and pulled her head onto his chest.

“I love you, my sexy detective.”

“I love you, my smart and gorgeous doc.”

She raised her head and kissed him deeply, then relaxed into him again and started to drift off to sleep.

Please be happy for me, Greg. Wherever you are.

Just before she went under, she could have sworn she heard him reply,
I am, honey. So happy for you. Time to let me go.

And so she did, her soul finally free to love a man who would cherish her, keep her safe.

For the rest of their lives.

Turn the page for a special preview of

the next book in the Sugarland Blue Series,

 

On the Run

 

Coming from Signet Eclipse in April 2015.

The stench reached his consciousness first.

Then the pain. All over, racking agony, which proved he wasn't dead yet, though he didn't have a clue how that could be.

Awareness of being trapped came next. Buried. But not in the dirt. As he tried to move, various items surrounding him shifted and rolled away. With his fingertips he felt . . . cans. Paper. Slime. Old food? Cold knowledge gripped him, turned his blood to ice.

After the bastards were finished with me, they threw me out with the garbage. Literally
.

Move, Salvatore. Move or you're dead.

Using his hand, he sought the air. Pushed and clawed, twisting his body in the stinking refuse. The weight on top of him was heavy but not crushing. They'd meant to hide his body, completely confident he wouldn't awaken, or make it out even if he had. He tried not to think they might have been right.

At last, fresh air. But as he broke through the pile, the heap sloped downward sharply and he was tumbling sideways. For several feet he fell, being jabbed and poked
by sharp edges until he landed in the dirt at the bottom, the wind knocked out of him. Breathing was almost impossible, his lungs burning. He was hurt inside and out.

His eyes opened to slits, and he tried to peer into the darkness. All he could make out was a sea of garbage. No moon or stars. Worse, little hope.

They'd thrown him into the dump miles outside the city, where nobody in their right mind would venture.
Don't give up.

Drawing his legs under him, he pushed upward. His legs were like rubber, his strength almost nonexistent. He made it halfway to a standing position before crashing back to the ground with a hoarse cry. God, the pain. His entire body felt hot and cold by turns, and swollen like a balloon. Any second, he would split and spill onto the ground like the plastic bags all around him vomiting their guts. His skin and clothing were wet, too, from head to toe.

He knew it wasn't all from the slime of the trash.

Shaking, Tonio crawled forward on his belly, inch by inch. Time lost meaning. An hour or three might have passed, though he didn't think it had been so long—he would have already been dead.

Wetness ran down his forehead, down the bridge of his nose. Gradually, he grew cold. So cold he knew he'd never get warm again. What was he doing? Why had he been abandoned in this godforsaken place? Too much blood loss. Confusion. He tried to remember, couldn't. Knew it was the beginning of the end.

Anthony. I'm Anthony Salvatore, and I'm a cop. Have to get out of here, get help. Let them know—what?

Her name whispered through his mind like a promise.
Or a nightmare. He didn't know which, and now he might never.

Angel.

Have to let Chris, somebody, know about Angel. Because if I fail . . .

Sister or not, Rab would kill her. He would show her no mercy, and she would end up here, in a grave next to Tonio. No matter what she'd done, her betrayal, he couldn't let that happen.

“Angel.”

Her name was on his lips, her beautiful face in his mind, and the memory of her warm, supple body close to his heart when his strength finally deserted him.

Angel's or devil's mistress. Dark or light. He'd wanted years to learn her secrets, and been granted only weeks. It would have to be enough.

“Be smart, baby,” he rasped. “Stay safe.”

Against his will, his eyes drifted shut.

And Tonio surrendered to the darkness.

Five weeks earlier

Detective Tonio Salvatore leaned against the bar in his favorite dive, where the regulars only knew him by his first name, and sipped his whiskey, neat.

They didn't know what he did for a living, either, and nobody ever asked. He figured, if anything, they had him pegged for a dangerous thug of some sort, maybe into drugs or fencing stolen goods like three-quarters of the guys there. Because he was dressed as he always was when he came here, in leathers, a tight black Metallica
T-shirt, heavy boots, a five-o'clock shadow on his jaw, and a bandanna around his short raven hair, it was a reasonable assumption.

It didn't hurt that he was six-four and muscular and looked mean, even though he wasn't unless he had to be.

Stroker's was a rough place with an even rougher clientele, but it suited him despite his job—or maybe because of it. It was the perfect place to keep his finger on the pulse of Cheatham County's criminal activity without risking being seen and recognized in his nearby city of Sugarland, Tennessee. He wasn't here in any official capacity, though. He just wanted to relax, incognito.

And maybe see some action that involved the weapon in the front of his leathers and not the one strapped to his ankle.

Taking another sip of his Dewar's, he savored the smooth flavor and recalled the sweet little piece of work from last weekend. The blonde—what was her name? Trish? Tess? Didn't matter. She'd been all over him from the minute she spied him at the bar, and it hadn't taken her long to maneuver her way between his legs as he sat on the stool, then proceed to check his tonsils with her tongue.

His cock stirred as he remembered giving her a ride on his Harley to the motel down the road, his go-to for one-night stands, which provided him and his chosen partners with relief. No way was he taking any of them home. He wasn't stupid.

The blonde had hugged him tightly from behind, pressed her breasts against his back, her hot crotch against his ass, and he'd nearly wrecked trying to get them to the motel.
Inside, they'd been naked in seconds, and he'd eaten her out, enjoying the moaning and breathy little whimpers coming from her throat. She'd dug her fingers into his short hair and held on for the ride as he'd thrown her onto the bed, slid his cock deep, and fucked her so hard, the headboard had cracked the plaster on the wall.

Looking around, he hoped she'd be back tonight.

“Another round?” the bartender asked. The guy's name was Rick, and he was as tough as anyone here. Had to be to work in a place like this. Tonio knew for a fact the man kept a baseball bat behind the counter and wouldn't hesitate to use it.

“Sure,” he answered. Fuck it, he was off duty tonight.

“Comin' up.”

His night improved when the little blonde with the perky bust and tight jeans strolled through the front door. He turned back to his drink, making sure not to clue her in that he'd noticed her arrival. As he thought she might, pretty soon a warm body sidled close to him, and a woman's voice whispered in his ear.

“Fancy meeting you here, Tonio.” Small teeth nibbled at his ear lobe. “Buy a girl a drink?”

“You bet.” Damn, what
was
her name?

“Hey, Tess,” Rick said in greeting. “What's your poison tonight, baby girl?”

Settling on the stool beside Tonio, she brought a long manicured nail to her lips in thought. Then she grinned. “How about a Screaming Orgasm?”

Rick snorted and winked at her, then smirked at Tonio. “Don't think you need me for that one, but whatever the lady wants.”

While Rick mixed her drink, she swiveled to face Tonio. Leaning over enticingly, she showed every bit of the rosy nipples under her plunging blouse and eyed him like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. They both knew she wouldn't have to work real hard to catch him.

“Watcha been up to, sexy?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not much. Messing with my bike, doing a little business to keep a roof over my head. The usual.” All true, even if he'd just effectively skewed her perception of him possibly being a criminal even further. Why he was playing this game, he wasn't sure.

But they were both enjoying it, so what was the harm? He might learn something interesting.

“What do you do to keep that roof over your head, hmm?” She took the drink Rick slid over and took a healthy swallow.

He'd stepped into this willingly. But there was no question he had to develop a cover now. Besides Tess, Rick and a couple of other men were very interested in his answer and were trying to pretend they weren't. Who knew? He might luck onto a case that would lead somewhere, eventually to arrests for drugs, or who knew what else. Sure, his captain would have his balls for going out on his own, but if it lead to something big, he'd forgive Tonio just as fast.

“I acquire things,” he heard himself say. “For those who want them.”

She arched a brow. “What kinds of things?”

“Whatever you want, for a fee.”

“Anything?”

“Pretty much.”

Tess wasn't fazed. “Good to know. I might be persuaded to pass that along.”

“Up to you.” Pulse kicking up a notch, he tossed back the rest of his drink, letting his demeanor say he didn't give a shit whether she did or not. But he'd gotten a nibble that might lead to something bigger, and the game was on. The high was better than any drug.

Almost better than sex. But not quite.

After taking another drink, she slid a hand up the thigh of his leathers and brushed her fingers across his tightened crotch. “I can provide something
you
want, too.”

His dick was throbbing in his pants. Hot.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Leaning into his chest, she took his mouth and tangled her tongue with his. Her nipples grazed his chest and peaked to tiny eraser points, rubbing. Driving him crazy.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked between heated kisses.

“Sounds like a great idea,” a woman's voice said. And it wasn't Tess's.

Tonio and his hookup turned toward the woman who'd stalked up to them without either of them noticing—and Tonio's breath caught. The woman was several inches below Tonio's height—perhaps five-nine—long-limbed with a killer body that looked like she'd just stepped from the pages of a skin magazine. Long dark hair fell past her shoulders, almost all the way to her waist. Her eyes were large and green, and her nose was a sharp blade above a full, lush mouth made for sucking cock. Full, ripe breasts
pushed at the snug cotton shirt, which had been cut with scissors or a knife to make it a low V-neck and sleeveless as well. She wore tight jeans and black ankle boots with silver conchos studded around them. Encircling her right upper arm was a surprisingly feminine Celtic tattoo. His mouth watered. The look, which would have come across as tacky on anyone else, was stunning on her.

Definitely centerfold material.

“What the fuck do you want, Angel?” Tess was clearly less than pleased with the other woman's presence.

“Are you really that stupid?” Angel stared at her, then shook her head. “You know this is Rab's territory. He's not going to be happy to find you here again, and he's not taking you back.”

What? Stuck in the middle of Tess's trying to make another man jealous? Fuck.

“You think I give a shit what that asshole thinks, or what makes him happy?”

Angel sighed. “Look, I'm telling you this for your own good. My brother— Crap, too late. Here he comes now.”

Angel really did look worried, Tonio had to admit. When Tess glanced toward the door, she did, too. Who was this Rab guy who had the women so nervous? Tonio followed their gazes and cursed inwardly.

The man who held their attention was a frigging tank, maybe even an inch or so taller than Tonio himself. He was about thirty or so and bald, and wore his tats proudly as sleeves down both thick arms. Several pendants bounced against his broad chest, and he wore jeans that emphasized his muscular thighs.

Rab headed straight for their group, a steely
expression on his face. Tonio slid from his stool and planted himself slightly in front of the women on pure instinct. This wasn't even his fight, for God's sake.

“Bitch,” the man growled, throwing his sister the barest glance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tonio's back went up. He absolutely
hated
any man who addressed a woman as
bitch
. Only bottom-feeders resorted to that kind of talk to make themselves seem like bigger men.

“What do you think?” she purred slyly. Curling into Tonio's side, she wrapped an arm around his waist. “I'm here for a drink, same as you. A little company, too. No harm in that.”

“There is when you know goddamned well I don't want to see your face.” His eyes were dark and cold, like black marbles. He hadn't acknowledged Tonio at all.

“Fine,” she said airily. “I guess I won't introduce you to my friend Tonio here, who has a special talent.”

That icy gaze settled on Tonio for the first time, and inwardly he actually shuddered. That didn't happen often. There weren't many people who scared him. But there was something about this man he perceived as dangerous. Even deadly. Maybe it was because he was too still, too calm. As though watching and calculating.

“What talent might that be?” Rab drawled, checking him out from head to toe, his disdain clear.

“Acquisitions,” Tess said pointedly.

And here we go
.

That caught the other man's interest. “What's your specialty?”

“Don't have one. Someone wants something, I get it.”
That was taking a risk, not specializing. It might have sounded too close to fishing on Tonio's part. Too suspect.

Rab studied him for a long moment. Tonio held his gaze, not backing down.
Never, ever volunteer more than you're asked. That's the first rule of being undercover
. Eventually, the other man spoke again.

“You got a last name?”

“Reyes,” he lied.

“You got a number?”

Shit.
He couldn't give out his real cell phone number—he'd have to get a burner, fast. And have an unpleasant conversation with Rainey first thing tomorrow. He was onto something here. He could feel it. The room had hushed, every single person there tense. Belatedly, Tonio noted all the men dressed in a similar fashion who'd risen to their feet and moved subtly behind Rab. None of them appeared to be the stereotypical bumbling backwoods yokel. They looked tough and serious. He'd bet most of them had done hard time.