HUNTER (The Corbin Brothers Book 1) (99 page)

“Not likely,” Tyler said. “I can’t leave you until I see that you’re safely back home. I have this vision of you struggling with the door to your apartment and then giving up, sleeping on the floor outside it.”

I shrugged. That didn’t sound so bad.

But Tyler insisted on accompanying me up to my apartment, opening the door and turning on the lights, which hurt my eyes. I sat heavily on the couch and put my face in my hands.

After some sounds from the kitchen and a few moments, a strong but gentle hand took me by the wrist and made me close my own hand on a cool glass of water. The thought of drinking anything else turned my stomach and I shook my head furiously.

“Try to drink a little bit,” Tyler urged me. “It’ll make all the difference in the world tomorrow. Believe me.”

I took the tiniest sip possible just to get him off my back, but it soured in my belly and came lurching back up. Somehow, instead of vomiting on my apartment floor, there was a trashcan right in front of me. I heaved and heaved, purging all the toxins I’d tried to numb myself with this evening. I knew now that it wasn’t the right thing to do. I had to stay clear headed for my son and to try to resolve this situation. Tonight I’d displayed nothing but weakness, and that was inexcusable.

“That’s it,” Tyler encouraged. “Get it all out.”

“I’m done,” I said, leaning back from the trash bin and feeling miserable. What a fantastic first impression I had to be making.

With incredible tenderness, I realized that Tyler was dabbing my lips and forehead with a cool, damp washcloth. The small gesture of kindness and care set me off, and I started weeping.

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking the washcloth from him and pressing it into my eyes to try to staunch the tears as if they were blood from an open wound. “What you must think of me.”

“I think you’re a woman who simply wants something desperately,” Tyler said. “That’s all. Now. Do you think you can hold down a little more water? What about some toast?”

I shook my head violently at the suggestion of anything solid. “I can do water.”

              This time, the liquid soothed instead of antagonized, and cooled my scorched throat.

“Here,” Tyler said, placing two pills in my palm. “Aspirin.”

I took the pills, feeling thankful that I could swallow them down without incident. Tyler wasn’t satisfied until I finished the entire glass of water, then insisted on filling it again and placing it by my bed.

Deft fingers took me out of my button down shirt and pencil skirt but went no further once I was down to my camisole and panties. I licked my lips a little, unable to see his face in the darkness. I’d let him do whatever he wanted. I was desperate for physical contact, and nuzzled his hand as he helped me to lie down beneath the covers.

“Mr. Marlowe.”

“Yes.”

“Tyler.”

“Yes.”

“You can—why don’t you—I’d like you to stay.”

I could hear his smile in the dark. “Ms. Crosby.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll never be far away,” he said. “Good night.”

I slipped into slumber almost grateful to not have a chance to make a fool of myself anymore than I already had. When I awoke the next morning, I felt a little fuzzy but not terrible. And the glass of water he’d insisted on placing on my bedside table was still cool and delicious, the perfect remedy to shake off the remainder of my funk.

              Tyler, however, was nowhere to be found.

He said he’d never be far, but that was obviously somewhere outside of my apartment.

I took a shower, trying to rinse the vestiges of last night off of me. I was so embarrassed that I could’ve curled up and died right on the spot. Trust me to hire a private investigator and try to sleep with him in the same night. I could only hope that the professional distance hadn’t been breached enough for him to decide not to take the case.

I didn’t hear anything for nearly two weeks, comforting myself with work. I hired two able assistants and immersed myself in training them. It was a good distraction from my real problems.

Then, when I was back at my apartment, eating a chicken breast over a bed of greens, my cell phone rang. I left the table to get it, thinking it was one of the assistants asking a question.

“Yes,” I greeted.

“Shimmy. Chuck Bloom.”

My attorney. I realized with a sharp inhalation that I hadn’t heard anything from the direction I’d given him to pursue.”

“Hi, Chuck,” I said. “What’s up?”

“You and I have a meeting with Ben Paxton and his lawyer tomorrow morning at nine,” he said. “Can you make it?”

“Of course I can make it,” I said. “Is this—is this a good thing or a bad thing?”

“We’ll see,” Chuck said in a tight voice that I didn’t like. “Would you like to meet at Sisters Together before heading over to court?”

“Court?” I repeated, my heart thumping. “Why is the meeting at court? Is this a hearing?”

“This is all preliminary,” Chuck said. “We’ll know more about what’s going on once we’re there.”

I felt like there was something he wasn’t telling me, but I hung up all the same. Well, the wheels were in motion, regardless. Even though I hadn’t heard from Tyler, my legal machinations were proceeding.

As soon as I sat back down with my dinner, there was a knock on the door. That was odd. I had to buzz someone in if they wanted to come up and see me. The only knocks I got on my actual door were from the super or other neighbors.

              But when I looked through the peephole of the door, the hallway was empty. There wasn’t movement at all. I stared for a long time, feeling uneasy, before I cracked the door open. There was no one in the hall that I could see, just a brown paper bag resting on my doormat.

There weren’t any markings on the outside, so I took it inside and shook it out onto the kitchen table.

And screamed.

I sat on the couch, a blanket around my shoulders as Tyler took a photo of my ruined kitchen table.

              “Are you okay?” he asked me again before taking another photo.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You won’t get vomit duty again. What—what is it?”

A terrible, bloody thing had come tumbling out of that brown paper bag, and I’d immediately dialed the first person I could think of to handle this: Tyler.

“It’s a dog head,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Why?”

“To scare you,” Tyler said, looking at me with those blue eyes. “And to make you think.”

“Well, whoever sent it can check off those two objectives,” I said sarcastically, rubbing my eyes.

“Whoever sent it?” Tyler asked. “Is there really a question?”

“That means that the Paxton’s know where I live,” I said dully.

“We’ll make a detective out of you yet,” Tyler said. “Now, tell me. Do you think that this has anything to do with the restraining order Ben Paxton is prepared to take out on you?”

“The what?” I rose to my feet, the blanket dropping forgotten to the couch. “What are you talking about?”

“You have a meeting at court with your attorney and Ben Paxton and his attorney,” Tyler said dispassionately. “I’m betting it has to do with the restraining order. Or the visit that CPS paid to the Paxton’s house last week.”

This was all news to me, and I shook my head slowly, trying to clear it.

“What exactly are you trying to do, Ms. Crosby?” Tyler asked me, his eyes cold.

“I’m trying to get my son back,” I whispered.

“You don’t get a child out of a dangerous place with bombs and machine guns,” he said, his voice dripping with something like incredulity. I hated it. “If the Paxton’s are as dangerous as you say they are, then you’re putting your son at risk by making all these moves out in the open.”

I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead. “I thought that going through the legal system was the right way,” I said. “I didn’t think that it would be dangerous.”

“Because you didn’t think,” Tyler said ruthlessly. “You’re going to have to stop and think now before you do anything else. The Paxton’s know you’re moving against them. They have infinitely more resources than you can ever hope of amassing. It would’ve been better if you’d kept your intentions in the dark.”

I felt like an idiot, like I’d blown everything. If I’d screwed up getting my son back, I would never forgive myself.

I gave a long sigh and looked at Tyler. “I’m a fucking grizzly bear mama,” I told him. “I will sloppily crash through whatever obstacle I may perceive stands in my way in order to get my baby back. I think—I think, though, that I might need a handler.”

“Ms. Crosby.”

“Mr. Marlowe.”

“Do you trust me?”

Did I trust this man? Two weeks prior, I hadn’t known he’d existed. I hadn’t heard from him in a full fourteen days and he still knew more about my life than I did. He obviously had secrets and quirks that I had no idea how to handle or even imagine.

But I remembered his tenderness, how carefully he’d taken care of me that first night we met, and I realized that I’d let him so totally into my life that I had no other choice but to trust him.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I said, nodding.

“Then let me do my job,” he implored. “I’m going to get your son back to you, Ms. Crosby. But you have to get out of the way and stay out of the way.”

“Tell me what I have to do.”

“Go to the meeting tomorrow,” he said. “There’s no way out of that. But don’t give Ben the satisfaction of knowing that you’re scared. Or shaken. Be as emotionless as possible.”

“I can do that,” I said, nodding.

              “You can do that because you must do that,” he impressed upon me.

“Mr. Marlowe.”

“Ms. Crosby.”

I crossed the room until I stood right in front of him. He’d put the dog head back in the paper bag, and I tried not to look at it. I was so close to Tyler that I could’ve stuck my tongue out and touched his chin with it, but I didn’t. Instead, I stood on my toes and kissed him lightly on the lips.

I leaned back to gauge his reaction. He had closed his eyes and was touching his lips with the very tips of his fingers.

“I know that might violate professional distance,” I said. “But I wanted to show you how grateful I am for you working on this case.”

Tyler slit his eyes open at me. “I only take cash as payment for services rendered, Ms. Crosby, and I don’t discuss that until the case is solved to your satisfaction.”

“I think you can take tips,” I said, and kissed him again. “Can’t you?”

“There’s not a policy on it yet,” he said.

I kissed him again. “How about now?”

“I’ll work on something,” he said, kissing me back so ferociously that it took my breath away.

We kissed each other as we crossed the room, coming up only for air and to negotiate our path around furniture. It was easy enough to find my bed and fall in it, twisting our fingers together and kissing passionately, pressing our bodies against each other.

“Wait,” I said, putting my fingers against his hungry lips.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, giggling a little bit at the situation and everything that had come before it. “But the dog’s head.”

“Oh, Christ,” he said. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll go take care of it.”

I heard the snapping of a cell phone camera in the kitchen, then the front door opened and shut. I was afraid I’d screwed up my chances of being with Tyler, that his passion would cool by the time he found his way back up into my bed, but I was delightfully wrong.

              “Just so you know, Ms. Crosby, this completely violates professional distance,” he said, jumping back into bed, working his hand beneath my shirt,and giving my breast a squeeze.

“You’d better start calling me Shimmy, then,” I said. “And I like hearing my name.”

Tyler laughed at me and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of my skirt. He teased my pussy through the thin material of my panties, then hooked the fabric to the side to explore me even further. I arched my back into his touch, encouraging him to delve deeper, to find just exactly what I wanted him to find.

“There,” I breathed. “There, there.”

He kissed me, his lips hungry and bruising, swallowing the moans of pleasure I was making at the twisting of his fingers. He handled one of my breasts roughly with his free hand and the painful pinch at my nipple added enough dimension to my pleasure to send me straight into an orgasm.

It was more relief than ecstasy, more comfort than completion. It had been so long since I’d had any physical contact whatsoever that my body had come incredibly quickly.

              I held onto Tyler as the last throes of my climax left me. He kissed my temple and smoothed my curls. I liked seeing my fingers twined in his, his tan playing nicely on my mahogany skin.

              “Ready?” he asked, and I realized I was daydreaming.

“I’m always ready,” I said, reaching for him.

We took pleasure in undressing each other. It was like unwrapping the gift you wanted the most out of all of them, revealing it bit by sweet bit.

Tyler was as cut as I’d imagined him beneath that black T-shirt two weeks ago at the Braxton Speakeasy. This was a man who took care of himself, who honed his body into an absolute weapon. And his cock, once I’d relieved him of his boxers, was impressive. I took it in my hand, pressed my thumb over the slit, and was rewarded with a shining bead of moisture.

Making sure he saw me, I raised my hand to my mouth and licked my thumb clean, savoring the tiny essence of him on my tongue.

His reaction was deep and instantaneous, kissing me hard, using the hand in my hair to push my head back to accommodate his demanding tongue and strangely soft lips. Everything about the man was hard except for those lips.

He guided his cock to my very willing pussy. As big as he was, it slid easily in, helped by his earlier finger acrobatics. I gasped anyways, the feeling of him inside my body arousing and comforting at the same time.

Tyler waited for a few minutes, letting me adjust to his length and girth, holding his weight up on his bulging arms, and kissing my jaw and neck.

“I need you to fuck me,” I said raggedly, lifting my legs until we had them propped up against his shoulders. “Please, Tyler. Please. I just want to feel good.”

“You don’t have to beg me for anything,” he said, angling his hips outward and then down into me. The force of his thrust made me exhale with a tiny scream, my moans and whimpers growing in volume and intensity with each subsequent movement.

There had been nothing as good as this, not ever. I was fully convinced of this fact. Tyler was a sexual god and I was lucky enough to worship him. His set a perfect pace that challenged and stimulated me. And the angle of his cock, the sparks he kept striking, my earlier preparation, just the joy at being intimate with someone again made everything boil over again.

I tensed up, crying out and clawing at Tyler’s arms as I came again, this orgasm blinding me with its ferocity. My first climax had been something to help me maintain myself, to steel my courage and tell me that I was strong enough to keep going.

This climax gave me something to live for, something that was clearer and immediate and wonderful.

Tyler crushed me to his strong chest and groaned softly in my ear, his muscles tight and hard, his cock pulsating inside my body. A stickiness between my legs and his flagging thrusts told me that he’d come, too. Good. That was good. Everything was good.

I fell asleep wrapped around his body, but I woke up sometime during the night to an empty bed, the apartment silent. My phone was by the bed, and I tapped it to see that the alarm had been set to allow myself plenty of time for tomorrow’s meeting.

There was also a glass of water. I drank deeply, gratefully from it and fell back into blissful sleep.

I felt calm and confident the next morning, getting dressed in a nice dress and blazer and taking my time while doing my makeup. I got a coffee on my way to Sisters Together and met Chuck Bloom there.

“Are you ready?” he asked as we caught another cab to the courthouse.

“I am,” I said, nodding and smiling at him. “Whatever happens, I’m ready.”

It was still hard to see Ben there for many different reasons. I couldn’t help but think about how this could’ve been different. What if Ben and I had raised Trevor together? That was an impossibility, but still a pretty thought. However, when Ben raised his eyes to meet mine briefly, it was a reminder that I didn’t know the person sitting across from me. It made me wish that there was more than a table between us, but I doubted he would do anything in the presence of two lawyers.

“Please begin and tell us the reason we’re meeting this morning,” Chuck said stiffly, and I was suddenly positive that he knew about the restraining order. Why hadn’t he told me earlier?

“My client has asked for a restraining order against your client,” Ben’s lawyer said coolly.

Maybe if Tyler hadn’t warned me, I would’ve been shocked. Maybe I would’ve tried to argue or voice my disbelief. I didn’t give anyone at that table the satisfaction of seeing me come apart at the seams. I watched the lawyer politely, waiting for him to say something else, but he seemed surprised that I wasn’t at the very least tearing my hair out.

I didn’t give them the satisfaction, and knew that Tyler would be proud.

Chuck looked impressed, then cleared his throat.

“My client had concerns about her son,” he said. “Any good mother would want to ensure her child’s safety.”

“Ms. Crosby is an absent mother,” Ben’s lawyer said. “Her unannounced presence at his home stunned my client, as did her resistance when he asked her to leave.”

When he asked me to leave? More like when he threw me bodily out the door. I could bring up the pictures of the bruises on my phone right now, but I stayed impassive. Getting upset would only delight Ben and hurt my cause.

“Let’s go over the findings from CPS,” Chuck suggested. “What were the results from the home visit?”

Ben’s lawyer shrugged. “All they found was a happy and healthy little boy whose intelligence is advanced for his age, proving that he’s been well cared for while his mother was too busy to be with him.”

              I bit my tongue so hard that it bled.

“We’d like to explore custody arrangements,” Chuck said, tapping his pen against the table. “My client has every right to see her son.”

Ben’s lawyer shook his head. “She deferred her rights when she gave up her baby to his father’s family,” he said. “The Paxton’s have been solely responsible for the boy and are prepared to raise him into adulthood and beyond. Your client simply can’t provide the same quality of life that the child has become accustomed to.”

“We’ll let the judge decide that,” Chuck said brightly. “Is that everything?”