Staking His Claim (14 page)

As she climbed out, she looked back. “Be careful, Matt.”

After a single nod, he pulled away, leaving Lucy staring after him on the sidewalk.

Chapter Fifteen

Matt lay perfectly still on his stomach, watching the building across the street, his finger resting on the trigger of his rifle. He could see the man in his scope, could take him down with a single shot. If he didn’t have a bomb strapped to his chest capable of decimating an entire city block, he would have already done it. Instead, he’d been ordered to hold his fire and wait. His perch in the tenth-floor window of a high-rise gave Matt an unobstructed view into the bank where the man paced back and forth. The NYPD had evacuated the bank building as much as possible, through side exits and back doors, in addition to the surrounding area. However, the customers on the main floor of the bank stood huddled together, looks of horror on their faces as the man continually ignored phone calls from Daniel, who had been called to the scene as lead hostage negotiator.

In his ear piece, Matt could hear his friend’s low curse as his call into the bank’s main line went unanswered for the fourth time. Daniel, along with Brent, their explosives expert, and dozens of ESU officers were on the first floor, ten stories beneath him. With such vastly different specialties, the three of them were rarely called in at the same time, but this situation required each of their specific talents. Especially Brent’s, although Matt prayed like hell he didn’t have to walk into that bank.
Please don’t let it come to that.

Back at the parking garage, he’d seen the emergency message on his department cell phone calling him to a scene involving highly volatile explosives. He hadn’t been able to tell Lucy. To look her in the face after already hurting her once and explain what kind of situation he and Brent were heading into. If she’d shown an ounce of worry or fear, he would never have been able to drive away.

As usual when he was in this position, the noise around him faded into nothingness, his measured breaths coming in time with his heartbeat. The drumming in his chest felt different this time, though. Not as steady as usual. Duller. More than a little painful as it knocked rhythmically against his rib cage. The silence he’d created around him couldn’t stop Lucy’s words from drifting through his head.
I know the score. I know what this is. It’s nothing.

He swallowed around the knot in his throat and tried to push the words to the back of his head, where he
would
deal with them later, but they stubbornly refused to fade. She refused to fade. Her injured expression. The lack of sparkle in her eyes. He’d done that to her, goddammit. All along, he’d known it was inevitable, but seeing it had been devastating.

What the hell had he been thinking? She’d slid her hot curves over his body, looked up at him as if to say
I need it good and hard, Matt
, and he’d lost his battle with common sense. He’d been incapable of stopping himself from drilling her against that seat, even as the voice inside his head warned him something was off. Her demeanor, her distant attitude…her Lucy-ness had been missing. At first. She hadn’t been able to hold back once he pushed inside of her. What happened after that… Sweet Jesus. They way she’d writhed on his cock, thighs wide open for him as she’d pushed against him with her hands.
Bit
him. The contradiction of her resistance and capitulation had been mind-blowingly hot. Toward the end, he’d been heedless to anything but his body’s demands, completely consumed by her. Again that voice in his head had implored him to slow it down, kiss her, look her in the eye until he got Lucy back, but there had been no stopping at that point.

Then before he could blink, it had been too late. She’d been walking away, such finality in her tone that he’d been frozen in denial. If she could walk away after what they’d just shared, he’d done some serious damage, but he had no experience repairing his own destruction. Only causing it. He only hoped it wasn’t too late to fix it. No, he wouldn’t
let
it be too late. There was way too much at stake this time.

Focus. You have a job to do first.

Matt breathed deeply through his nose and focused on the target, who looked completely calm, resigned. Oddly enough, that wasn’t unusual for a man in his situation. He’d had time to come to terms with what he was attempting to do. While he was overseas, Matt had seen more than his share of this type of event, but it was rare to say the least in New York City.

Matt frowned. Also rare? The amount of time it was taking the man to detonate the bomb. If he wouldn’t open a line of communication with Daniel to state his demands, what was his goal? At this point, he would only succeed in bringing a handful of civilians with him.

Then it happened. If Matt had blinked, he would have missed it. Subtly, the man checked his watch and glanced through the window at the building across the street. The building he and hundreds of ESU officers were stationed inside. Matt’s heart began pounding loudly in his ears as he reached for the radio on his shoulder.

“Evacuate the building now. Get everyone out.”

Immediately, his chief’s harried voice responded. “Donovan? Wh—”

“He’s a decoy. Move everyone out. Now.” His own voice sounded distant. “We’re the target.”

Matt didn’t bother waiting for an order. He shouldered his rifle and moved at a fast clip toward the stairs. Before he’d made it halfway to the lobby, the ground began to shake under his feet.

…

Lucy hadn’t made it a full minute before turning on Hayden’s massive flat screen and flipping to the local news station. What she saw had made her heart stop.

Suicide Bomber Holds Bank Customers Hostage.

She hadn’t been able to fathom it. A bomb. That meant…her brother and Matt were
both
there? Smack in the middle of harm’s way. After having held Matt in her arms only minutes before, it had been surreal. And terrifying. His stoic expression after he’d been called to the scene came back to her, suddenly making far too much sense. From there, it had only gotten worse.

Explosion Rocks Lower Manhattan. Number of Casualties Unknown.

She had no idea how long she stood there, still as death, in front of the television, worst-case scenarios materializing in her head before she could stop them. Her brother…Matt…she replayed every minute she’d spent with them over the last few days until she realized tears were coursing down her cheeks.

A commercial break for toothpaste had finally snapped her out of her stupor. As soon as she’d lowered herself onto the couch, her cell phone started to ring. She’d fumbled to answer it, praying it was her brother. Matt didn’t even have her phone number. How ridiculous was that?

It had been Hayden calling.

“I’m home. I haven’t heard from Brent yet. Can you…come over and sit with me?”

Lucy had found herself in a cab, heading toward Queens, before she was even aware her feet were moving. Home. That was where she wanted to be. Not some giant, unfamiliar house in a neighborhood where nobody knew her name. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law had to be worried sick, much like herself. Twenty minutes later, she walked into the front door of her childhood home. The differences were startling since the last time she’d been there.

Accent walls?
Sconces?
When had that happened?

Hayden appeared in front of her, wringing her hands. “Brent redecorated. He said he wanted to chick-ify it for me.” She looked shell-shocked. “I’m marrying a man who dismantles bombs for a living. Am I a fucking lunatic or what?”

They both laughed, but it died just as quickly.

Lucy set her purse down. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Tequila in the cabinet.”

She nodded and went to the kitchen. “Are you partaking?”

In an absent motion, Hayden smoothed a hand over her belly, but Lucy caught it. “No, I’m fine for now. You drink mine.”

Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat. She poured half a shot’s worth into a coffee mug, then changed her mind and poured another two fingers. When she walked into the living room, Hayden stood in front of the television, watching footage of the explosion being filmed by a circling helicopter. She looked so ready to buckle from tension that Lucy knew she needed a distraction. Hell, she desperately needed one herself.

“How are the wedding plans coming?”

Hayden looked at her blankly. “What?”

“If I know my brother, he probably wants a Mets theme. Blue and orange all the way. Hot dogs and beer at the reception…” Lucy took a bracing sip. “Instead of a priest, you can have an announcer pronounce you man and wife through a loudspeaker. Then Brent can throw out the first pitch.”

Hayden burst into tears.

“Shit.” She set down her mug of tequila and led Hayden toward the couch. “He’s going to be fine. Have you seen the guy? If a meteor fell out of the sky, it would bounce right off him.”

That got a watery laugh. “He didn’t eat breakfast this morning. I don’t know why that bothers me so much. Maybe because I’m the one who distracted him.” She swiped at her eyes. “He must have been starving right before it happened. That’s all I keep thinking.”

Lucy understood more than she knew. The scene with Matt played itself out in her head nonstop, ending the same way each time. His whispered denial when she tried to leave, that now-familiar haunted expression she still didn’t fully understand. Had she put him off his game, right before he headed into a dangerous situation? The possibility continued to gnaw at her gut until she couldn’t sit still any longer.

“Why don’t we go make Brent something to eat, so it’s ready when he gets here?”

Hayden nodded purposefully. “Yes.”

“What’s he eating these days?”

“What’s he
not
eating?”

They worked for a while in the kitchen until Lucy gently suggested an exhausted-looking Hayden go lie down. To Lucy’s surprise, she hadn’t protested, sweeping from the kitchen without another word. Lucy wandered back out to the living room, muting the television before it drove her insane. The silence and lack of distraction were a bad idea, because she had more time to think about Matt. Earlier today, she’d realized her feelings for him ran deeper than she’d expected. She hadn’t known the half. Losing him before she had that chance to peel away his layers. Oh God, if something happened to him…

A car pulled up in the driveway. Before she even knew her feet were moving, Lucy had flung the door open. Brent. He stood in the driveway looking weary and covered in filth, two butterfly bandages over his right eye and a white wrap circling his left forearm. Relief poured over her head like a bucket of sand that his injuries weren’t worse.

He dragged a bag of gear from the back seat and shut the door. “Hey, Luce.”

She swallowed hard. “Something wrong with your phone?”

“Actually, yeah. It exploded.”

“Oh.” She sniffed. “I hate it when that happens.”

Brent smirked, but his expression turned serious. “Could have been a lot worse. If we’d been inside a few seconds longer, they’d be fitting me for size extra-large wings about now.” He rubbed his forehead. “Only a handful of men injured, none dead.”

The pressure returned to her chest. “How did you get out in time?”

He sighed. “Let’s just say Matt picked a good time to start speaking up.”

“So he’s…okay?”

“Yeah. He was in the stairwell at the time…the safest place he could have been. Lucky fucker escaped with a couple of cuts.” Her brother glanced at her funny. Before he could say more, his eyes caught on something behind her. Or someone, rather. Lucy turned to find Hayden standing in the doorframe, wearing nothing but one of Brent’s king-size T-shirts that ended below her knees. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

“Duchess, what did we say about going pants-less in public?”

“I’m wearing shorts.”

“Now there’s a shame.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Brent dropped his bag on the driveway. “What?”

“I’m pregnant and you almost got blown up, you ass,” Hayden said shakily. “I’m never speaking to you again.”

He went toward her slowly, laying a reverent hand on her belly. “There could be a mini-duchess in here?” His exhale sounded shaky. “Holy shit.”

Lucy shifted beside them, feeling like an interloper. This was a private moment and she didn’t belong there. She was starting to wonder if she belonged anywhere. Quietly, she slipped into the house to retrieve her purse, intending to take the train back to Manhattan. As she turned to leave, Brent walked through the door, carrying Hayden in his arms.

“Are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

“That’s your first question?”

“It got you talking to me, didn’t it?”

Hayden halted their progress by patting Brent on the shoulder. “Lucy, don’t go.”

“You heard the woman, I almost got blown up. That calls for a beer.” He drew Hayden a little closer. “Not for you. You get water.”

Lucy shook her head, suddenly choking with the need to get out of there. It didn’t matter that she loved her brother and suspected Hayden would eventually be one of her favorite people in the world, she didn’t want to be there. Seeing them so happily wrapped up in each other…it was somehow painful when it should fill her with joy. She knew the reason, too, making it even worse. She shouldn’t be craving the same thing with Matt. Not when he didn’t want it with her. But she couldn’t help wishing he would look at her the way Brent looked at Hayden. With so much love it could barely be contained.

“I have to go.” She forced a smile onto her face. “I’m really glad you didn’t explode.”

He didn’t laugh as she expected. Instead, both of them were watching her with concern. She couldn’t get to the door fast enough. No way would she spoil their moment with her own problems. With a wave, she slipped out of the house and into the evening.

The subway ride back to Manhattan seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, the car rattling around her, dim lights flickering occasionally. Feeling restless, she considered going somewhere to eat, but found herself walking to the town house at a brisk pace instead. When she reached the address and saw Matt sitting on the top step, waiting for her, she didn’t feel an ounce of surprise. Instead, she felt instantly calm. The edginess she’d had since leaving Queens subsided, like white noise being cut off.