One Lucky Hero (21 page)

“You're ridiculous, you know that, right? I never said I needed you to save me. In fact, I believe I've told you the opposite over and over.”

Suddenly, he tugged her down onto his lap and, before she could squirm away, tangled his fingers in her hair. “Maybe I'm the one who needs saving.”

She stared into his eyes, captivated by their intensity. “From what?”

“From turning back into an angry, bitter asshole.” Grazing her lips with his, he whispered, “Haven't you noticed I'm a better man around you?”

“Better? If a pestering, overbearing guy with a penchant for surprise drop-bys is better than . . . ”

He kissed her, softly drawing on her lips until her stomach clenched with longing and she was gripping his biceps.

“Do you want me to go?” He nipped at her bottom lip. “If you aren't glad to see me, I'll walk out that door and you can keep the pizza.”

Her body was practically vibrating with desire, and he was asking her if she wanted him to leave? It was probably the smart move, but Violet didn't feel like being smart.

She just wanted to be with Dean.

Violet cupped the back of his neck and brought his mouth back to hers. “Don't go.”

As their lips clashed in another kiss, this one was less coaxing. It was filled with the pent-up wanting they'd both been holding back, and as his tongue pushed between her lips, she opened to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Violet was swiftly swept up in him, the scrape of his rough palm against the sensitive skin of her neck as his hands sought the front of her blouse. The press of his leg against her throbbing center, aching to get closer.

His mouth began leaving feathery light kisses along her jaw as he slipped each button from its hole, spreading her shirt with his hands.

“I could still smell the sweet scent of your skin in my bed, and it drove me insane. Even after I washed the sheets, it was as if you had left a piece of yourself behind to tease me.”

His words were sweet, romantic, and she wanted more of it. More of Dean. She was so tired of denying herself, of keeping him at a distance. Tomorrow she could worry. Tonight, she just wanted to feel what it was like to be with Dean. Not the guy at the concert, the gorgeous one-night stand she'd planned to never see again. She wanted Dean as she knew him now; the man who painted porches and cared too much and made her feel like she was alive for the first time.

Violet closed her eyes, tilting her head back as his lips traveled over her chest. When he pulled her breast from the cup of her bra and sucked the peak of her nipple into his mouth, she cried out, jerking against him, trying to soothe her arousal only to intensify it.

And then she was suddenly on her back, with Dean hovering over her on the couch. His hands covered her breasts, squeezing and manipulating them as his lips and tongue swept down the middle of her stomach. It was like being pulled in so many different directions she was afraid that any moment she would burst into a thousand pieces.

His hot breath warmed her through her slacks as he placed his mouth at the apex of her thighs, eliciting frustrated moans of desire as she raised her hips.

Dilbert broke out in a round of ferocious barks, startling her out of the moment.

“Shut up, Dil,” Dean murmured.

Violet closed her eyes, sinking once more into the abyss of pleasure, until she finally heard it. Raised voices. Angry shouts.

And Daisy's scream.

Sitting up so fast her knee connected with Dean's jaw, she hardly had time to apologize as she buttoned her shirt crookedly. All she could think of was getting out that door and rushing to her sister's aid.

“Daisy!” Violet shouted as she practically jumped over the couch. Throwing the door open, she was greeted with a sight that made her blood hit subzero.

Daisy lay on the ground in their front yard with Quinton standing over her. As the bastard drew back his leg to kick her sister, Violet ran down the steps in a blur of speed to bowl the bastard over. As they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, Violet lashed out like a mad woman. Biting, scratching, kicking.

“Fucking crazy bitch!”

Quinton managed to climb on top of her and draw his fist back. Violet brought her nails up, raking down his face as he swung.

The explosion of pain in her cheek made her head spin, but before she could get her bearings, Quinton was gone. Violet crawled to her knees, seeing double as Dean slammed Quinton into the ground and twisted his arms up behind his back.

“Stay down, asshole, or I'll break your fucking arm.”

The voice was Dean's, but it was darker, more guttural. Another sound drew her attention, and she crawled toward Daisy's sobs, pulling her sister into her arms and cradling her.

“It's okay, baby. It's okay.”

Violet closed her eyes against the spinning world. She heard Dean tell someone to call 911 and opened her eyes to find people on her lawn. A few she recognized, neighbors she'd seen but never spoken to.

It could have been several minutes or several hours, she wasn't quite sure, but her head finally started to clear as police sirens screamed up their street. Daisy clung to Violet as if hanging on for dear life as uniforms spilled into the yard around them.

And then strong arms wrapped around her and Daisy, protecting them from the world. Dean's hands were running over her face, her hair . . . even her arms.

“I've got you,” Dean whispered.

Violet would have smiled, but the muscles of her cheek were on fire. “My hero.”

D
EAN DROVE
V
IOLET
and Daisy home from the hospital, but neither said much. Daisy sat in the back with Dilbert, staring out the window while Violet rode up front, holding a cold pack to the left side of her face. Every time Dean saw her swollen, bruised cheek, he wanted to walk into the police station and get five minutes alone with the bastard.

But Dean had missed his chance to exact painful revenge on Daisy's ex-boyfriend, and besides, he didn't really think kicking the shit out of the worm would have made him feel any better.

Daisy had several cracked ribs, but those would heal in four to six weeks. Dean was more concerned about the psychological trauma she must have suffered.

Dean and Violet had been in the room with Daisy as she recounted what happened before they'd arrived. Daisy had met Quinton earlier in the parking lot of her work. She'd just planned on stopping in and grabbing a few things, figuring it was a pretty public place to break things off. When she'd told him that she didn't think she was up for a long-distance relationship, he had talked about moving with her to Oregon. Unable to get around it, she'd been honest and told him that she didn't want any kind of relationship with him. Period.

At first, he pleaded with her not to leave him, but when she told him nothing he said would change her mind, he'd started cussing and screaming at her. She'd rushed inside, and one of her coworkers had run interference until he left.

She hadn't realized he was following her until he pulled up behind her in the driveway.

His verbal abuse had escalated until she'd tried to walk away, and then he slapped her across the face. She's swung at him with her purse, but he'd knocked her to the ground and kicked her. And kept kicking her until Violet attacked him.

Dean had seen abusive relationships before. Hell, he'd seen a man knock a woman out with one hit. But he hadn't been prepared for the blinding rage that swept through his body when he saw Quinton strike Violet.

Dean reached across the console and laced his fingers through hers.

“You okay?”

“Yes, for the hundredth time.” There was no bite of irritation in her tone, just a bone-deep exhaustion that gave a slight slur to her words. He knew Violet was already tired from work, but after the stress and the adrenaline, he wasn't sure how she was still awake.

Dean pulled into their driveway and went around to get their doors. Daisy was moving slowly, although that could have been because of the pain meds she was on. He helped Violet down, and she put her arm gently around her sister's waist.

“I'll make sure you get in all right,” he said.

Violet just nodded as the two of them hobbled in front of him. Dean didn't try to interfere, except to reach past them to get the door.

They didn't even try to go up the stairs to Daisy's room, and Violet instead led her into her bedroom. Dean stood in the doorway as she pulled back the covers and had Daisy sit down on the bed. She took off one shoe at a time, undressing her the way you would a sleepy toddler, and a rush of warmth spread through him. How could she possibly think she wasn't meant to be a mom?

When Violet finally got Daisy situated, she walked softly across the room to where Dean stood and silently slipped her arms around him, leaning her good cheek against his chest.

He didn't ask if she was okay again, just held her in his arms and kissed the top of her head as they stood in the shadows.

“I could have lost her tonight,” Violet whispered.

“But you didn't. You were there for her.”

“I knew he was bad news, though, and still I did nothing. I didn't press her to end it or—”

“Hey, come on. She wised up and broke it off, but if you hadn't let her realize on her own that he was wrong for her, it might have pushed her to him.”

“Sounds like you have experience with that,” she murmured.

“I have younger sisters, and I've hated all of their boyfriends, except for Dotty's husband, but he's barely tolerable.” He'd been trying to make a joke, but she didn't laugh. “The minute I said something, it was like they couldn't get enough of the douche bag.”

“How did your sister get the name Dotty, anyway?”

“It was short for Doris.”

“Oh, God, poor thing. Why would your mother do that?” she asked.

“She named us after the stars of some of her favorite movies. Mom used to sneak off to this theater in Queens that played all these old movies from the fifties and sixties. It was her favorite pastime before she married my dad. So I was Dean, for Dean Martin; Freddy was for Fred Astaire; Dotty for Doris Day; Audrey for Audrey Hepburn; Natalie for Natalie Wood; and James for James Dean.”

Violet laughed, her breath puffing against his chest warmly. “What did your dad say?”

“Not much. I think he'd have named us all Hairball if it would have made her happy.”

“You're lucky. My father was a jerk, even before my mom died. Before the drugs got really bad. My mother used to cry a lot, and when I asked what was wrong, she would always tell me it was nothing.”

Dean led her over to the couch and pulled her up against his side as they sat.

“She never talked about it, never yelled back or stood up for herself. She'd just cry.” She sat up and wiped at her wet cheeks with a laugh. “I hate crying, but I'm just like her. Any little thing and I turn into a water fountain.”

“There is nothing wrong with crying. Everybody does it,” he said.

“Really? Even you, Mr. Tough Guy?”

Dean swallowed, stroking his hand over her cheek. “I'm not so tough.”

Violet covered his hand on her face. “Why do you say that? You are so brave.”

Dean shook his head. “You are brave. Running out there and tackling that guy . . . ” He kissed her forehead and gave her what he hoped was a fierce look. “Don't ever do that again, by the way. It took ten years off my life seeing that guy winding up to hit you.”

“I had to. She's my sister. You can't tell me that if one of your brothers in arms was in trouble, you wouldn't do everything you could to save him.”

Dean shook his head grimly. “I can tell you for a fact that I didn't.”

Violet turned her head and kissed his palm. “You can tell me, if you want. If you think it would help.”

Dean laughed bitterly. “I don't know if it will help, but you should know who you're getting.” What a week for him. Telling Rita about his nightmares, and now he was about to tell Violet about
that day
. Would she look at him differently? Rita had said that he was in shock, that what had happened wasn't his fault, but he still wasn't sure. But he trusted Violet. And if he wanted to get closer to her, he was going to have to share the hardest parts of himself.

“The day my unit was killed, I cried. We were just doing a basic patrol of the area, and it was hot. So hot. And the sun was fucking blinding. I was covering the rear. Suddenly, Kent, who was on point, starts shouting about a kid. That there was a kid with a bomb.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“And then there's this boom, and I'm flying through the air. I end up on my back with the wind knocked out of me, one of my men pinning me to the ground. I can't move, and there's this drumbeat in my ears, muffling everything else. But as that fades, I can hear screaming and calls for help. I finally managed to get . . . ” he paused, swallowing hard. It was hard to say his name aloud. “Private Joel Hendrickson's body off me. I roll onto my side and see that my guys are everywhere, some still alive. Some in pieces. I freeze.”

Violet's arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she held him hard against her. “It must have been terrifying.”

“Yeah, it was. I finally got it together and called it in, but most of the guys were gone before help arrived. And that night, when it finally hit me, I cried. I cried like a damn baby.”

Her arms held him tighter, and it felt so damn good to have her there, surrounding him, comforting him, that for a moment he gave in. He took the care she offered and basked in it.

Finally, laughing bitterly at himself, he pulled away enough to kiss her lips. “I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you.”

When Violet put her hand to his cheek, he leaned into her touch.

“We can take care of each other,” she whispered. “Will you stay and hold me?”

He kissed her so softly it was like the brush of a butterfly's wing.

“As long as you need me to.”

V
IOLET LAY IN
the warmth of Dean's arms on the couch, listening to his heavy breathing. The early morning light streamed in through the curtains. How long had she slept? An hour? She listened for any stirrings from her open bedroom door, but Daisy was sleeping soundly. It was only Violet who couldn't quiet her mind.

Dean's words haunted her.
As long as you need me to.
She'd almost said
forever. I need you to stay with me forever.

But it wasn't fair to ask, so she'd stayed silent.

The worst part was that the closer they got, the more she wanted to tell him all of it. When he'd talked about his unit, she'd wanted to share, to unburden her own pain, but saying her fears out loud was harder than she'd ever imagined.

How do you tell someone about your mother's suicide? That you found her bathing in a tub of red water, gashes on her wrist that she'd made with a razor. How do you explain that the image is always there, the peaceful look on your mother's face now that she was free?

Free of you.

And no matter how hard she tried, Violet couldn't shake the fear that she was just like her. That when life got to be too much, she would just check out. Leave the people who loved her behind to pick up the pieces.

It was why she'd chosen a psychology major and taken the job at the hotline. She'd wanted to help people with no one to turn to, but lately it had almost seemed like torture going in there and listening to them tell her how hopeless they felt.

And then the calls from the women with children, who regretted ever having them . . . Was that how her mother had felt? Had they just been a mistake to her?

Since meeting Dean, though, she'd been questioning everything and realized how unhappy she was. Her jobs, her major . . . All the things she'd chosen for herself didn't make her feel complete.

The only times she'd been happy at all in the last few years were when Casey, Daisy, and she did things as a family, without any of the drama. Or times she spent with Tracy, during their one-on-one chats or girls' nights. Baking. Cooking. Creating food always gave her a sense of peaceful bliss.

And Dean. When she was with Dean, even when he was driving her crazy, the warmth in her heart could only be described as joy.

The only issue with Dean was he always seemed to be around when she was feeling weak. He'd discovered so many of her secrets in just a few weeks; no one besides Tracy had ever known so much about her. And he was still here, wrapped around her back like a security blanket. Giving her the false promise that as long as he was with her, she was safe and sound.

A loud ringtone blared behind her, and Dean stirred. His lips brushed the back of her neck as his arms tightened. “I've got to go to work.”

“Okay,” she said. But when she tried to get up, he pulled her back down.

“I really, really don't want to leave.”

His admission warmed her from the inside out. “But you have to.”

“Yeah. In the army they don't fire you. They throw you in the stockade.”

“Isn't that like jail?” She kept her mouth turned from his, positive that her breath was definitely lethal.

“Yep.” He climbed up over the top of her, grinning as he stared into her eyes. “I love the way you look in the morning.”

“What, like a mess?”

He took her closed mouth with a smacking kiss. “A beautiful mess.”

“Just because you add flattering words does not change the fact that you called me a mess.”

“You called yourself a mess. I just didn't disagree.”

Violet climbed to her feet and winced at the pinch in her back. “Sleeping on the couch was a bad idea.”

“Is this you angling for another back rub?” he asked as he slid his shoes on.

“Well, if you're offering . . . ”

Laughing, he finished tying his shoes and stood up. “Tell you what. You teach me how to make an amazing meal, and I'll give you a deep-tissue massage that will turn your bones to jelly.”

“That's a tall order you're trying to serve me. How do I know you can deliver?”

“Hey, I've only ever had your breakfast. How do I know you can really cook?” he asked.

“Well, I guess I can show you my skills tonight. Casey is getting out today. Anything in particular you want to eat?”

“I'll eat anything you put in front of me.”

“Yes, I remember your fridge contents. How about Dr. Pepper pulled-pork tacos? It's Casey's favorite,” she said.

“I'm drooling already, but are you sure you wouldn't like to be alone with him?”

“Actually, I was hoping maybe you'd bring him home for me. I'm afraid to leave Daisy.”

He seemed surprised but pleased. “Sure, I can do that. What do you want me to tell him?”

“Just that Daisy was hurt but she's okay, and I'll explain everything later.”

“All right.” He grabbed Dilbert's leash from the floor, and when the dog stood up, he immediately leaned against Violet's legs, and she jumped.

The soft, short hairs of his fur tickled her palm as she found his ear, rubbing it in her hand tentatively. Dilbert leaned harder into the love, moaning, and Violet laughed.

“See, I told you that you were going to like my dog. He's a lot like me.”

“Pushy? Tenacious? A pain in my—”

“You know, I was gonna kiss you, but now you're just hurting my feelings,” he said. Then, with a shrug, he laid one on her anyway. “What the hell, right?”