Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (42 page)

She did.

He rested a hand on her cheek. “It’s alright. Neve, it’s going to be alright.”

She sucked in a breath. “Ian…”

“It’s alright.” He leaned in and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips.

She reached out and fisted her hand in his shirt.

Alright … it’s alright.
She hadn’t been able to believe
anything
could be alright for so long. Because of William.

He was gone now.

Gone because … “I killed him,” she whispered.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Ian brushed her hair back and rested a hand on her cheek.

“He’s dead.” She sucked in a breath and whispered it again, “He’s dead … and I killed him.”

The painful crack in her chest seemed to echo in the sob that tore out of her. Ian moved onto the bed and pulled her into his lap. She didn’t see the fulminating look Ian shot the doctor over her head.

She closed her eyes and blood spread across her mind. William’s blood. She could still feel it, hot on her hands, and she could still see it pulsing out of him in an arcing spray of red.

As the rest of the ice shattered and fell to pieces, Neve looked up at Ian. “I killed him. Shouldn’t…” She swallowed. “Shouldn’t I feel guilty?”

“That’s just shite.” Ian spoke against her temple, his brogue thickening, his voice so rough and low. And his arms around her were secure and strong. “You should feel what you feel—not what you
think
you should feel. He was a man who hurt you, love. He hurt you terribly and now he’s gone. You don’t have to feel guilty for that, or anything.” He tugged lightly on her hair, drawing her gaze to him as he leaned back. “Well, except maybe not leaving me a piece of him.”

For a moment, she just stared at him and then she started to giggle. Even to her own ears, the laughter seemed too close to hysteria. But she didn’t care.

She’d take hysteria over the numbness.

Ian rocked her, one hand tangling in her hair.

“He can’t hurt me anymore. It’s…” She sucked in a breath. “He can’t hurt me anymore. It’s over.”

It’s over.

*   *   *

As Gideon Marshall pulled his cruiser up in front of the police department, Clive Owings studied the camera he’d found. There were days when he could scrounge around and not find much more than loose change and empty Coke cans. But then he’d hit pay dirt.

Once he’d stumbled across a billfold with nearly two hundred dollars cash—and a license, but he didn’t see why he should be responsible for somebody else’s carelessness. He’d dumped the license in the trash outside the pub and used the cash to buy himself the best damn dinner he could: steak and a baked potato and green beans, plus the best damn whiskey that putz Campbell could afford. It had been one hell of a night.

Another time, he’d come across a gold Rolex. It had taken a jaunt into Baton Rouge to find a man to buy it—idiots these days had no idea what it meant to
lose
something. You
lost
it, it just ain’t yours anymore. Too many pawnshops asking nosy questions, so it wasn’t like he got top dollar for the thing—it was worth more than the three hundred he’d gotten for it, but he’d gotten that three hundred with no questions asked.

Everything was a trade-off.

He didn’t think he’d be able to do much with the camera. It wasn’t a bad model and he’d bet his eyeteeth it was fairly new, but the scratches on it were problematic.

Still, he might be able to do something with it.

He popped out the SD card and carefully put it in his wallet and then fiddled around with the settings until he found out how to reformat it. He’d hoped he’d find something that would get him another decent meal. Half his money from the factory, it seemed like it went to child support.

Support, his ass.

That money didn’t go to take care of his kids. His ex-wife Linda hadn’t
needed
his money, not with her working for the only decent-sized law firm in the area. She was a paralegal, but she made good money and she could have taken care of those kids just fine. Especially since her parents had left her the house.

But she’d taken him to the cleaners and now the only money he could call
his
was the money he made on his little field trips. People were always losing shit.

And Clive was a finder.

Too bad he hadn’t found much more than the camera today. He couldn’t even try to sell it around here.

Absently, he looked up as Chief Gideon Marshall slammed the door to his cruiser shut and headed up the walk to the police department. Clive put the camera down, keeping it out of sight of the chief. He was one of the idiots who didn’t get the
lost
thing, for sure.

Clive had found a cell phone once—it had been one of the first things he’d found and he figured out how easy it was, making money off those things. Granted, he hadn’t earned the money because he sold the phone. Not after the pawnshop owner made sure to let Gideon know a phone belonging to one of the call-takers at the small dispatch center had been found—that asshole at the pawnshop had tried to get Clive arrested, all because he’d found something.

No, Clive had earned his money because he’d seen the pictures on said phone. Then he’d talked to the owner and … discussed a few things. He was entitled, he figured, to a finder’s fee. And he’d be happy to destroy the copies he’d made if she’d just pay him two hundred, cash.

Not that he’d made any copies, but the stupid woman hadn’t known that.

He’d take a look at the camera’s SD card later, see if he could find anything useful on it. Who knows? It might make him more money than he thought. Cheered by the thought, he turned back to the other items he’d found out on the path that led out to the river.

Runners were always dropping shit.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I’ll get you home.” Ian tucked Neve’s hair back behind her ear. “You’ll rest.”

She caught his hand before he could shut the door. Apparently he did have a car—something other than the bike. She wished he’d brought the bike, though. She’d rather ride pressed up against him. Sitting there in the passenger seat of his Jeep, she felt cold.

And tired.

Tired … but oddly enough, she felt easier now than she had in a while.

William was
gone
.

“I was coming to see you,” she said softly.

He leaned in, one arm braced on the car as he studied her. “Were you now?”

“Yeah.” Licking her lips, she tightened her fingers on his hand. “I’d figured something out. And I had to apologize.”

Ian sighed, looking away. “You don’t owe me an apology, Neve. I
was
rushing things.”

“No.” She tugged on his hand until he looked back at her. “I think … I got scared, because you feel too right to me, Ian. I don’t trust good things. I don’t believe in good things. But … I … I believe in you.”

“Neve.” He bent in, ducking his head to avoid the top of the car.

He didn’t kiss her though. He tangled a hand in her hair and pressed his brow to hers.

“I want to believe this isn’t going to blow up on me,” she said, forcing herself to go on. “Everything good that happens to me seems to not be so good after all. It started when my parents…”

He lifted his head and she looked away as she continued. “They were taking me out the night they died, you know. I’d gotten good grades and they always tried to treat each of us, by ourselves, from time to time. I’d gotten good grades and we were going to get tacos. They did. I still hate tacos.”

Ian rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

“You feel so right to me—you feel …
good,
” she said. Her heart slammed as he stared into her eyes and she managed a weak smile. “I panicked and I guess it’s because
good
things never last. Not for me.”

“I’ll last.”

Under the intense warmth of his gaze, she realized she was breathing fast. Hard and fast and her heart was racing. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe it.” He pressed his thumb to her mouth when she tried to say something.

Yielding to the silent request that she listen, she waited.

“I can’t promise that nothing bad will ever happen to me. Life can be a horrid bitch, Neve.” He leaned in, replacing his thumb with his lips, a quick, hard kiss. “But I can promise I won’t hurt you. I can promise I want nothing more than to see you smiling at me, day after day. I can promise that no woman has ever crawled inside me, gotten in my blood the way you have. I can promise you that for as long as you want me—and as long as life lets me—I’ll be here.”

“Talk about rushing it,” she said weakly.

“I…” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. See, I told you I was rushing—”

It was her turn to silence him, pressing her finger to his mouth. His beard was silky soft and she scraped her nails lightly through it before sliding her hand around to cradle the back of his neck. “I can promise you the same things. Maybe we are rushing it, Ian. But I can’t think of anybody who’s ever made me happy—not like this. Not like I am with you.”

*   *   *

His heart pounded.

His hands were shaking.

Without letting himself think it through, Ian tugged her out of the car. Oh, he wanted to get the hell out of here, but he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more in that moment than to pull her up against him and hold on tight.

She came to him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his neck.

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

The only thing that came to him was her name.

“Neve.”

She seemed to hear all the things he didn’t know how to articulate, clutching him tighter and tighter.

“Take me home, Ian.”

“Aye.” He nodded and went to pull back. “I’ll get you to Ferry, then.”

“No.” She made a face then and said, “Okay. We can go to Ferry for a little bit. I need to see Moira, talk to Brannon. But then I want to go back to your place. I just want to be with you right now.”

“Well.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I think I can do that easily enough.”

He straightened, and she smiled at him before turning back to the car.

Abruptly she stopped and looked back at him. “You know, I was expecting a lot of things when I came back to Treasure, Ian. But I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you. I half expected everybody I met to laugh at me. I was just Trouble, after all. That was what everybody called me.”

He leaned in, caught her lower lip between his teeth. “Is that a fact?” Ian lifted his head and nudged her into the car. “Just goes to show how stupid some people are, Neve. Don’t you know the best things in life are worth a little bit of trouble?”

Read on for an excerpt from the next book by
SHILOH WALKER

TROUBLE WITH TEMPTATION

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

His eyes strayed to Hannah’s and lingered and she felt her heart skip a few beats in that moment.

“Hell. That’s romantic,” Griffin said. Then he blew out a breath. His eyes narrowed on Brannon and he studied the other man for a long moment.

When he held out a hand, Hannah felt something in her chest knot up.

Watching the two men make some move toward friendship had her feeling all stupid and sappy and weepy.

She was going to claim pregnancy hormones.

She was almost a month along.

She could do that, right?

It took just a few more minutes for them to be alone and Hannah found herself more self-conscious than she could ever remember feeling. Of course, there was still plenty she didn’t remember, so that wasn’t saying much. Still, as Brannon finished locking up the door, she busied herself in the kitchen with stupid little things that didn’t need doing—like washing her hands, again, and wiping down a counter that didn’t need to be wiped down.

Her head was a muzzy, hazy mess and her body ached with fatigue. She was worn out.

Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that she was still struggling to recover from the crash, the coma … coming to grips with the baby, the amnesia. All of the above.

The reality of it all crashed into her and she turned, leaning back against the counter. Covering her belly with her hands, she lifted her gaze to Brannon’s and just stared at him.

“I don’t even know what’s going on with my life right now,” she said bluntly. “My head is spinning so fast, I don’t know what to make of anything.”

He came to her.

She held still as he cupped her face in long-fingered hands.

His touch made her want to shiver.

His touch made her want to sigh.

Then he brushed his lips across her forehead and she wanted to curl herself around him, cling tight and never, ever let him go.

“Six days ago, you were in a coma. A few weeks ago, you were in a wreck that could have killed you. I think you just need to tell your head to slow down so the rest of you can catch up.”

She laughed and the half-manic edge in it had her cringing. “You think that will work?”

Instead of answering, Brannon brought her in closer. “Just slow down,” he murmured against her brow. “Let yourself catch up.”

“I think…” She held onto his waist. “I’ll just stay right here.”

“That sounds good.”

Brannon closed his eyes and rested his head against the soft silk of her hair.

She relaxed against him and he was able to push the guilt away. She wanted him there. She’d said as much.

She seemed less … haunted.

Yeah.

That word fit.

She’d hidden it well, but during the day, as people came and went, she had been tense and on edge. But now as the quiet wrapped around the two of them, that tension began to drain away. Smoothing a hand up and down her back, he closed his eyes and turned his face into the softness of her hair.

How had he thought he didn’t want this?

He must have been crazy. Or stupid. Or both.

Her lips brushed against his neck as she sighed and it sent a rush of heat through him, but he shoved it down. He thought maybe he’d ask her if she wanted him to spend the night. On the couch, that was all. But she might feel better if he was there, right? Yeah, maybe—