Harlequin Intrigue, Box Set 2 of 2 (17 page)

She could already hear the sirens in the distance. Others had probably reported the sounds of gunfire, too. A chill set in as the adrenaline started to wear off and Katie started to realize the full import of what had just happened. But as Trent straightened in the open triangle of the door and truck frame, she saw the deep rip in the sleeve of his coat and the blood soaking into the layers of insulation and cotton underneath. She grabbed him by the forearm and turned his shoulder toward the street lamp above them, on alert once more. “Trent.”

He pulled at the damp material to get a better look. “Oh, man, this was my favorite coat.”

Katie smacked the uninjured side of his chest. “Trent Dixon, you've been shot and you're griping about your coat?”

His leather glove was cold against her cheek. But there was nothing but heat in the quick kiss he gave her before whispering, “I'm okay. We'll fix it at home.”

She held on, looking up at him, and whispered back, “You're sure?”

“The shot grazed me when we were running.” He winced beneath the white clouds of his breath and glanced down at Tyler. “There's a first-aid kit in the glove compartment. Let's not worry you know who.”

“Then it
is
bad.” Katie instantly released him and dived inside the truck to retrieve the medical supplies.

“Barely a scratch, I promise.”

But she'd raised a smart kid who knew they were talking about him. Tyler swiped at the tears that were still falling, bravely taking control of his fear and confusion. “I can go to the hospital if we have to. I'll watch Mom.” He sniffed and rubbed at the red tip of his nose. Katie kissed his cheek and handed him a tissue before tearing open a box of gauze pads. “I'm not scared. But real guns are loud.”

Trent squeezed Tyler's knee. “They are, buddy, aren't they? Dangerous, too.”

Tyler touched the cuff of Trent's bloody sleeve. “Does it hurt?”

“It stings. It's raw skin and it burns. But like I told your mama, this isn't bad. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Like that man in the car?”

Katie's breath locked up in her chest and tears burned her eyes. No sense hiding the truth from him now. She hadn't been able to protect him from violence any more than her mother had been able to protect her. Trent glanced at Katie, then hunched down in front of Tyler for a man-to-man talk.

“Guns can do terrible things, Ty.” Trent held out his heavy black Glock where the boy could see it without touching it before sliding it safely back into his holster. “The safety's on now, so it can't hurt you. But when it's not...”

Tyler listened in rapt attention to every word while Katie went to work, cutting away the shreds of Trent's coat sleeve, along with the flannel and thermal cotton underneath. “But guns can save lives, too. Someday I'll teach you how to shoot one safely. Until then, you don't mess with any of them, okay?”

Tyler nodded his understanding.

“But don't worry, buddy. Tonight, they aren't going to hurt you or your mom. I'm glad you're here to back me up. You can help me keep an eye out for that silver car that drove away, in case it comes back, okay? At least until Uncle Max gets here to pick us up.”

“Okay.”

Before Trent could straighten, Tyler threw his arms around the big man's neck and held on as he stood. Trent wound his good arm around her son and pulled him onto his lap as he perched on the edge of the seat.

Katie let him cradle her son and reassure him that the nightmare had ended, at least for tonight. Seeing her friend being so tender and protective with Tyler allowed her to breathe a little easier, too. Trent was right—the bullet had only grazed him and hadn't ripped through muscle or bone. But it wasn't an injury that was going to stop bleeding on its own anytime soon, so she pulled out a wad of gauze and applied pressure to the wound, willing it to stop, willing this good, wonderful man who clearly meant the world to her son—and to her, she was discovering—to be safe.

By the time she'd tied a longer piece of gauze around his biceps to keep the pressure bandage in place, a campus police car was pulling up. She could see lights flashing off the buildings and trees as KCPD cars and, hopefully, an ambulance arrived on campus.

“You don't think the shooters are coming back, do you?” she asked. “Are we witnesses now?”

“They won't be back tonight,” Trent stated in a hushed, sure tone that inspired confidence. “My guess is that they wanted us disabled so they could make a getaway without me following them.”

But she saw that he kept his hand on the butt of his weapon, just in case.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Katie was clean and warm after her hot shower. But even in her flannel pajamas and robe and with a pair of socks she'd borrowed from Trent on her feet, she couldn't shake the chill that permeated her from the inside out.

“They doing okay?” Trent's voice was a deep-pitched whisper in the shadows of the hallway as he stepped out of the master suite and came up behind her to peek into the guest room where Tyler slept with Padre on the long twin bed.

Trent had towel dried his short hair without putting a comb through it and had the damp terry cloth hanging around his bare neck and shoulders above the fresh jeans he'd slipped on. She could feel the heat of his shower radiating off his skin, and breathed in the enticing smells of soap and man. But still, she hugged her arms around her waist and shivered. “They shot at my son.”

Trent laid his hand over her shoulder. “The EMT said he was just fine—nothing a good night's sleep and a sense of security can't fix.”

She turned her cheek in to the warmth and caring he offered. “You give him that.”

“I think that sense of security comes from a mom who's always been there for him.”

Katie grunted a small laugh of disagreement, and the tan-and-white collie mix lifted his head at the sound. She was the reason John Smith had become a part of their lives in the first place, although KCPD still wasn't certain who had hired him or why he'd been following Katie. For all she knew, Smith had been executed because he'd failed to break into her apartment and murder her, or retrieve whatever information she'd found that Leland Asher didn't want her to. Some security. More like the magnet for trouble she'd always been.

“Katie?” Perhaps sensing the guilty direction her thoughts had taken, Trent tightened his grip on her shoulder.

But she shushed him and walked into the room to pet the skinny dog that had been a blessing for Tyler to come home to. The two had eaten a snack together and played, and had separated only long enough for Tyler to take a bath and brush his teeth. She scratched the dog around his ears, then pressed a kiss to the soft fur on top of his head. “I'm counting on you to keep an eye on our boy, okay, Padre?” Then she lifted the covers and tucked Tyler's leg beneath the quilt and pulled it up to his chin. She brushed his dark hair off his forehead and kissed his sweet, velvety skin. It was a relief to see the tears had washed away and the frown mark had relaxed with sleep. “I love you, sweetie,” she whispered, then winked at the alert dog. “Good boy.”

As soon as Katie backed away from the bed, Padre laid his head down over Tyler's legs and she knew her son would be watched over through the night. If only she could let go of the uncertainty of these past few days and sleep so easily.

She looked up to see the big, half-dressed man filling the doorway. The gauze and tape on Trent's shoulder stood out like a beacon in the shadows cast by the lone night-light in Tyler's room, mocking his claim that she didn't screw up relationships, that the people around her didn't get hurt.

But it was too late and she was too raw to have that discussion again. So she grasped at the friendly banter and mutual support system that had always been there between them. “Okay, mister. You're next.” She nudged him out into the hallway and pulled the door partly shut behind her. “The doctor said I should replace your bandage after your shower.”

She stopped in her bedroom to retrieve her bag, where she'd stowed the extra supplies the doctor in the ER had given them, then followed him through the quiet house into the en suite off the master bedroom. While Trent hung up his towel, she filled a glass with water. “Antibiotics first.”

“Yes, ma'am.” With a weary grin on his unshaven face, he dutifully took the pill she handed him and swallowed it.

She got the distinct feeling he was humoring her when she closed the toilet lid and had him sit so she could peel the tape off the tanned skin of his upper arm and toss it and the soiled gauze beneath it into the trash. He only winced once and never complained about the pain he must be in as she made quick work of cleansing the open wound and applying a new layer of ointment before covering the injury with a clean gauze pad. But the tape twisted and fought her as she pulled it off the roll and tried to tear the pieces she needed.

“Where are those scissors?” After securing the gauze with one mangled piece of tape, Katie squatted down to open the bag and pull out the contents inside to retrieve the smaller items that had fallen to the bottom. “Just give me a sec.” Wallet. Sunglasses. Squashed breakfast bar. Laptop. Mini toy truck. “There they are...”

Katie gasped. She'd been so intent on fixing up Trent and getting back to her own bed, where she prayed a dreamless sleep would claim her, that the damage done to the cover of her laptop almost didn't register. But then she trailed her finger over the small, perfectly round dent in the metal cover. A frightening realization swept through her with such force that it made her light-headed. She wobbled and sank onto her knees. She set the laptop on the tile floor and dug into her purse again. Not for scissors this time. It was...
Oh, my God.
There. Perfectly round and just big enough to slip her finger through. A bullet hole.

“Is something broken?”

Turning, she held up her bag with her finger still sticking through the hole. “I could have been killed. Tyler could have been killed. You could have...” Her voice faded with every sentence until there was barely a breath of sound. “I don't understand why this is happening.'

“Ah, Katie.” Trent tossed the bag aside and pulled her onto his lap. “Sunshine, come here.”

Dressing the wound was forgotten as she curled up on top of his thighs and leaned into him. His arms came around her and wrapped her up with the heat of his body.

With her ear pressed to the strong beat of his heart, Katie shivered. “I'm so cold.”

His big hands moved up and down her back and arms, creating static friction as he rubbed flannel against flannel. But even that electricity couldn't seem to pierce the shroud of despair closing in around her. “You're going into a little bit of shock. Let's get you warmed up.”

When he lifted her into the air, she remembered herself. “Your arm. What if it starts bleeding again?”

“Screw that.”

“I need to finish dressing it.”

He carried her out of the bathroom to the king-size bed where he slept. “Right now, you just need to let me take care of you.” Her toes touched the floor only long enough for Trent to pull back the covers. Then he swung her up into his arms again and set her near the middle of the bed. Before she could think to protest, he'd stretched out beside her and pulled the sheet and thick comforter up over them both. He gathered her into his arms and threw one leg over both of hers, aligning them chest to hip, with her head tucked beneath his chin and their legs tangled together. “Think of it as doing me a favor.” With her arms caught between them, he pulled her impossibly closer, wrapping her up in the furnace of his body. “I need a break, sunshine. This whole investigation is wearing me out. It'd be nice to not have to worry about you getting into trouble for a little while.”

She almost giggled at the teasing remark, but she was too caught up in the drugging effect of his body heat seeping into hers. The tightness in her chest eased, and the shivering abated. The longer Trent held her, the longer he whispered those deeply pitched assurances in her ear, the stronger she felt. The panic lessened. Her jumbled thoughts cleared.

He stroked his fingers through her hair, pressed a kiss to the crown. “You're safe. You're fine. Tyler's fine. And I'm too big to bring down with a piddly-ass shot like this wound.”

His wound. It needed to be properly tended. Katie stiffened her arms and pushed against his chest. “Trent—”

“I'm fine, too. You stay right here. This is what
I
need, remember?”

Katie wasn't sure if she'd dozed for a little while or if lying with Trent, bundled beneath the covers to chase away the wintry chill that had derailed her for a few moments, was all the healing she needed to feel more like her normal self again. To believe again that she and her son were safe. To feel as though the mistakes of her past couldn't touch her tonight. Not in Trent's bed. Not in his arms.

It was sometime later, when the wind of a winter storm outside rattled the windowpanes and startled her awake, that Katie realized she'd never returned to her own bed. And now that she was feeling rested and warm—and she couldn't hear any sounds of a boy or dog stirring—she admitted that she didn't want to leave.

“Better?” The drowsy male voice greeted her from the pillow beside her.

Katie smiled. “Much.”

“This is nice, Katie Lee Rinaldi.” Trent's fingers were stroking lazy circles along her back and hip, and Katie discovered her fingers taking similar liberties across the warm skin and ticklish curls of his chest. “But you know what else I need?”

Her hand stilled and she pushed herself up onto her elbow. Did he want her to finish taping his bandage? Did he need one of the painkillers the doctor had prescribed? “What is it? Anything I can do—”

“I need you to trust me.”

“I do.” She leaned over him, trying to assess the message in those gunmetal eyes.

“I need you to trust us—even if it's just for tonight.”

Oh. Her body tingled in anticipation. “Trent, are you asking me to—”

He silenced her question with a sweetly lingering kiss. His patience with her was as maddening as it was exquisite. His lips ignited a slow burn that seemed to travel from her mouth to every point of her body where his hips and thigh and roaming hand touched her, creating a network of pathways that crisscrossed inside her, filling her with heat and an edgy sort of desire that demanded more than easygoing kisses and tender caresses.

“I know you need me to take things slow.” He combed his fingers into the dark waves of her hair that brushed against his chest and tucked them behind her ear, cupping the side of her neck. “I need your brain to help me put Leland Asher away for good, but I need something else from you, too. I need to touch you to believe I didn't almost lose you tonight. I need to feel your confidence and caring to keep me strong. I need to feel your strength, holding me, accepting everything I want to give you and be for you. I'm not just asking for sex, sunshine. I need that closeness we've always shared. I—”

She shushed him with a finger over his mouth. “I think I need that, too. I want all the things I think you can give me. For tonight.”

“It'll change everything between us.”

Sliding her arms around his neck, Katie fell back onto the pillow, pulling him to her. “I think it already has changed.”

And then there was no more conversation. There were only hungry lips and greedy hands and Trent's muscular body moving over hers.

He unwrapped her like a gift, untying her robe, unbuttoning her pajama top. He slipped his hands inside, searing her skin with every sweeping touch, every squeeze of a breast. With his thumb, he teased the sensitive tips to tiny pebbles, generating little frissons of electricity beneath every touch, feeding the current of heat and pressure stirring deep in her womb.

Carefully avoiding his injury, Katie swept her hands over the smooth skin of his back, felt the muscles of his chest quiver and jump beneath her exploring fingers. She sampled the sandpapery line of his chin and jaw, and smiled at the responsive cord of muscle at the side of his neck that made him groan deep in his throat each time she took a nip.

True to his word, he seemed to touch every inch of her body while his wicked mouth worked its magic on hers. He tugged her pajama pants down to claim her hip with the palm of his hand and pull the most feverish part of her body into the bulge thrusting behind his zipper. When he kissed his way down her neck, Katie thrust her fingers into the damp muss of his hair, releasing a spicy scent that filled her nose. She guided his mouth to the straining peak of her breast and whimpered at the bolt of heat that arced through her.

Every kiss was a temptation. Every touch a torment. “Trent,” she gasped. “Now. Please.”

He threw back the covers to shuck off his jeans and shorts and sheathe himself. The chill of the night had barely cooled her skin before Trent was back, tossing aside the flannel pants she'd kicked off and settling between her legs. “There's no turning back from this,” he reminded her, stealing another kiss from her swollen lips.

Katie nodded and pulled at his hips, demanding he complete what he'd started. “I've made some bad choices in my life, Trent. This isn't one of them.”

She lifted her knees and he slipped inside, slowly filling her with his length. His dark gray eyes locked on to hers as he began to move. She tried to hold his loving gaze, tried to memorize every second of this stolen time together, but soon the sensation was too much. She could only feel. He slipped his hand beneath her bottom and lifted her into his final thrust. Katie closed her eyes and surrendered to the heat bursting inside her. Seconds later, Trent gasped her name against her hair and followed her over the edge into the fiery inferno.

* * *

T
RENT
AWOKE
TO
the sound of a phone ringing and an empty bed.

He swung his feet to the floor, trying to orient himself to the long night and the early hour. He scratched his fingers through his hair, instantly remembering how Katie had played with it—and how her fingers had tightened against his scalp, holding his mouth to a sweet, round breast as she gasped for breath and squirmed with delight beneath him. Hell. Even remembering how she'd put her hands all over him with such hungry abandon was enough to make things stir down south this morning.

With a groan of resignation, he scooped up his shorts and jeans, fishing his ringing cell out of the back pocket and checking the number. Olivia Watson. She'd hold for a couple more rings, giving him time to go into the john to splash some cold water on his face and try to get his head on straight before taking a work call.