Moving_Violations (17 page)

“I’m not asking you to forget about it,” he told her, fighting to keep calm. “But you can’t do anyone any good right now, Becca. Especially that child. Get better, maybe by then I’ll have a lead on what’s going on.”

He was working on it, that was for damned sure. In doing so, he was realizing the problems he was potentially facing. He couldn’t trust Roby and Martin. No way, no how. With Becca and Bryan out of commission, that left no one on his immediate force to back him. He had phone calls and plans to make, because he would be damned if he would see his county used for what he was suspecting it was being used for, especially by men who had sworn to protect it.

Silence lay between them then, thick and heavy, as he led her from the hospital entrance to the cool comfort of his pickup. He helped her in gently, then locked her seat belt in place and closed the door. As he walked to his side of the truck, he kept a careful eye on the cream colored sedan that had followed him to the hospital earlier in the day.

He would have been worried, except the two men who watched him did very little to hide their presence and screamed Feds. Now why the hell would Feds be on his tail?

“I want to take you to my place,” he finally told her as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed back to Jericho. “We’ll swing by your place and pack what you need then head to my house. I don’t want you alone right now. Especially with Mr. Slick roaming around town.”

“Who?” Her exclamation of surprise had him tossing her an irritated glance.

“Lawrence,” he bit out. “He’s been to your house twice since yesterday morning, according to your neighbors. I don’t know what the hell is up with him, Becca, but I don’t like the games he and Whittaker are playing. Our best bet right now is to keep you the hell away from him until we know what’s going on.”

86

Moving Violations

He glanced over at Becca, watching as she licked her dry lips nervously. His cock twitched. Dammit, he really liked the sight of that. He wished he were the one licking those tempting curves instead, though.

“I really do not want to deal with this,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the seat.

She was pale, bruised, and in no condition to be doing anything but sleeping, Jackson knew. She had demanded her release when the doctors would have kept her another day. Jackson had allowed it, simply because he knew he could protect her, if protection was needed.

87

Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick

Chapter Eighteen

“Dammit, Jackson, I’m not going to bed.” She stood stiffly in his sparsely decorated living room. She scowled at him and sat on the sofa, her arms crossed, trying to hide the weakness she felt. “I’ll sit here for a while.” She nearly sighed; the big overstuffed sofa was plush and so very comfortable.

She looked up into Jackson’s eyes and resisted her desire to cringe. They were hard and cold as granite. The muscle in his jaw flexed. “Rebecca. You fought me at the drug store when I asked you to take your pills and you took your pills. You fought me at your house when I told you to stay in the car. You stayed in the car. You fought me downstairs when I carried you up the steps. We already know I’m going to win. Stop being so damned bullheaded.” He was mad and struggling not to yell. She could tell, but she couldn’t seem to care.

“I’m not the bullheaded one. I will not lie around for a freakin’ week. I’m gonna sit right here till this blasted pill wears off then I’m gonna kick your damn fine ass.”

“When you’re up to it, my ass is yours. Until then you’ll damn well do what I say.”

His voice was low and menacing.

He picked up the suitcase he’d packed and walked down the short hallway. Damn man, she thought. She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. She was starting to feel better. The pain wasn’t as sharp and she was feeling warm and mellow.

She scowled in frustration and defiance as she glanced around, taking in her new surroundings. It figured, Jackson’s apartment looked like the typical bachelor pad. The walls were stark white; no art or pictures were hung. Along the wall beside the front door was an oak entertainment center with a huge television and a really nice stereo system. A recliner sort of divided the living room from the dining area. The camel colored sofa sat on the opposite wall from the entertainment center. A newspaper, two remotes and a Sports Illustrated decorated the coffee table.

Jackson returned with a pillow and blanket. Rebecca watched him warily as he dropped his bundle on the floor beside the sofa. He stood over her, his long muscular legs straddling her knees. Yummy. Her eyes dropped to his hips, the evidence of his arousal clearly straining against tough denim, just at her eye level. She raised her gaze to his and lifted a brow.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled and began pulling her shirt up. The corners of her lips tilted upward as she cupped that hard bulge in his jeans. He held his breath and grabbed her hand. “Becca. You need rest.”

She shook her head; it felt so heavy she leaned it back against the sofa. She didn’t fight him as he undressed her and pulled her nightshirt over her head. “I don’t need rest,” she murmured, frowning. Her voice sounded weird. “I need sexual healing.”

“Rebecca, baby.” Jackson’s voice sounded far away and so gentle.

88

Moving Violations

“Hmm?” She reached for him. His mouth, she wanted that wonderful hot mouth of his on her.

“Go to sleep.” He lifted her a bit to lay her down.

“I’m not laying down, Jackson. I don’t wanna lay…around.” She fought it but her eyes drifted close.

He kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth. Just a tender kiss, lingering for only seconds. “Okay, Pixie, whatever you say.”

* * * * *

Rebecca woke the next morning with a pounding headache. She opened her eyes slowly, and then squinted against the sunlight, hissing as she struggled to sit up. She scanned the room remembering where she was. Another blanket was thrown over the recliner. Coffee, she smelled coffee. She could see Jackson through the window in the wall that divided the dining area from the kitchen. He was making coffee…follow the coffee, she told herself. Standing took more effort than she thought it should have. She had expected the pain to be bad and knew it would only be worse tomorrow. Lifting her chin she took a deep breath, she could take it.

Jackson saw her hobbling toward the kitchen, cursed under his breath, wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and helped her to a dining chair. “Becca, you need to be in bed.

If you weren’t so damn stubborn you wouldn’t be as stiff.”

She scowled at him. “Bullshit,” she grumbled, thankful for his hard body to lean against. “Please, Jackson, I need coffee and Ibuprofen. ”

The man was fast and oh so efficient. She held her mug with both hands, inhaling the mouth-watering aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He set a glass of water in front of her and held a large white pill out to her in his wide palm.

“Take this,” he said in an adamant tone.

She looked at the pill. “That’s not an Ibuprofen.”

“No, it’s a Vicodin,” he said firmly, lifting a brow. His lips were pressed together in a determined line.

“That will make me goofy. I need to get back to work.” She turned away from him and sipped her coffee.

“Rebecca.” He was warning her and it only made her more determined.

“I don’t need it.” She turned her head, careful not to grimace in pain, and met his gaze. “Quit treating me like a child.”

“You’re acting like a child,” he bit out. “You take everything as a challenge.”

“Whatever.” Now he’d gone and pissed her off. She turned away and sipped at her coffee.

“Rebecca, take the damn pill. You still have some of the medication from yesterday in your bloodstream. When it wears off completely you’re gonna be in serious pain.” His voice was low, uneasy.

There was no way she was taking it. She didn’t like feeling out of control and she disliked being told what to do even less. “No.” She glanced at him from the corner of her 89

Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick

eye and continued to drink her coffee. He walked back into the kitchen shaking his head.

* * * * *

Several hours later Rebecca woke from her restless sleep to find Jackson sitting on the bed beside her, smoothing her hair back from her face and speaking softly to her.

He’d finally talked her into lying down in the bed. It wasn’t long till she fell asleep. Now the pain in her head was unbearable. It woke her and brought tears to her eyes. “Baby, please take the Vicodin.”

She squinted up at him. His concerned expression made her feel bad for ever fighting him. She rose up on her elbow and took the pill. “I’m sorry, Jackson,” she whispered weakly.

He kissed her lightly. “Shh…rest, Becca.”

She lay back and closed her eyes again. She didn’t feel so tough anymore. She felt the bed sag as Jackson slipped in beside her and gathered her to him. The badass cop part of her gave way to the woman in need. She turned toward him and snuggled closer.

He kissed the top of her head and she sighed. For the first time in fifteen years she felt at home.

* * * * *

Rebecca paced the room waiting for Jackson to get out of the shower. Several days had passed since the wreck and she felt much better. Still a little sore and a lot bored and irritated. She wanted to get back to work. Jackson promised just one more day and like a fool she relented and agreed. But now she was going stir crazy.

She heard Jackson turn on the shower. A wicked thought crawled through her mind and she smiled as she walked down the hall and opened the door to the bathroom.

Steam billowed out as she stepped in quietly. She could see the silhouette of Jackson’s well-defined body through the translucent shower curtain.

Her mouth watered, her nipples tightened, and her cunt spasmed in anticipation.

She bit her lip and quietly pushed her pajama pants down and pulled her top over her head. Jackson spun around when she pulled the curtain back. He stood there, water sluicing over the tan muscular planes as his gaze traveled over her naked body. She watched his cock respond immediately and she couldn’t help but smile.

Stepping into the tub, she ran her hands over his shoulders, down his chest as the steaming water flowed over them both. Jackson grasped her hips and pulled her close.

His mouth slid over hers with lips made slick by the water and she sipped at him as he teased her with slow strokes of his tongue.

She moaned, pressing tighter against him as his hands slid over her ass, gently massaging her. His fingers delved deeper, sliding through the slick honey collecting between the swelling sensitive lips of her pussy. His cock hardened, thickened as it probed her lower abdomen. He pulled away, his breath labored. “Becca…God, baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” She kissed his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. She nibbled and licked and sucked at his skin. He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking, his 90

Moving Violations

tongue stroking, sending spirals of desire curling through her, drawing throaty moans from her as tiny ripples sent her vagina into micro spasms of pleasure. She sifted her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. “I’ve missed your plump, sweet berries, Becca,” he murmured against her skin.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him slowly. He groaned, his mouth devouring hers. He cupped her breasts, lathering them, his fingers skillfully plucking her aching nipples. She trembled in his arms. Was that ringing in her head?

Jackson cursed colorfully. “I’m sorry, baby, I gotta get the phone.” He kissed her hard and stepped out of the shower quickly.

“Well, hell.” Her body hummed, ached—no, screamed—for completion. She sighed shakily and washed her body and her hair hurriedly. Turning off the shower she got out. No sense in wasting water. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body.

Opening the tiny closet she grabbed another for her hair.

She walked down the hall. Jackson was still on the phone, holding a towel around his waist. Might as well put on the coffee. She ran her fingertips over his flat stomach as she passed him, not missing the way the towel tented just a little lower.

“No, Bryan, you did the right thing. I’m glad you called me about it.” Jackson winked at her but she could tell something was troubling him. She leaned back against the counter and watched him.

“Right.” He nodded, his frown deepening. “Well, rude is normal for them. Tell me exactly what they asked.”

She wished she could hear the other side of the conversation. It was driving her nuts watching Jackson clench his teeth, that muscle in his jaw jump.

“Uh huh. Yeah, that was odd. Don’t worry about it, Bryan. I need to you to get better as soon as you can. What’s the doc say?” He paused, shifting from one leg to the other. “Good, good. I’ll come see you soon.”

He looked up at her and his expression softened. “She’s good.” He chuckled and Rebecca frowned. “Exactly. Okay, you bet. If you need anything, call. Don’t hesitate.

Bye.”

“What was that all about?” Rebecca asked, watching Jackson closely. He stalked toward her. Bracing his hands on the counter on either side of her he leaned down and sucked at her neck. Her eyes drifted close as she tilted her head to give him better access.

“Bryan.” He lifted her, setting her on the counter and kissed the top swells of her breasts. “Martin and Roby…were asking him… some questions…they shouldn’t care about…I have to go deal with this, Becca.”

“Okay, I’ll go get dressed,” she said, jumping down.

Jackson laid his hands on her shoulders. “No, you promised. You aren’t one hundred percent yet. I’ll feel better if you stay here.”

“Well I won’t. I’m fine, Jackson…” she argued.

“You promised.” He held up one finger.

“You don’t play fair,” Rebecca scowled.

Jackson leaned down and kissed her. “When I get back, we’ll pick up where we left off.”

91

Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick