Wilde for Her (A Wilde Security Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (13 page)

She studied him from the corner of her eye, noting the strain at the front of his jeans. She let her fingers follow her gaze, trailing them lightly over the bulge.

Cam sucked in a sharp breath.

Yeah, naked would be really good. She made short work of his button, slid down his zipper, and freed his cock. He growled as she stroked him, helpless to do anything because he had to keep his hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. For once, he was completely in her control. She liked it.

“Eva,” he groaned.

“Betcha can’t make it until we get to Maguire’s.”

“You’re evil.”

“Nope. Told you, just horny.”

“What do I get if I make it?”

She licked her lips and leaned over the center console. “Me.”

…

Cam hit the gas, taking every shortcut he knew. Maguire’s wasn’t far from the police department, but with heaps of snow blocking some roads, the trip took twice as long. He whipped into the parking lot as the light suction of her mouth sent every muscle in his body into spasms. At six-thirty at night, the lot was mostly empty, and he parked as far back as possible, tucked in the shadow of a dark office building. He left the SUV running, but switched off the lights and shoved his seat back. Eva was already a step ahead of him, shimmying out of her pants, pulling aside her panties, and straddling his lap.

The first penetration made them both groan. Perfect. He had the oddest sense of coming home.

Then she fused her mouth over his and he held her hips steady as he pumped into her, the sex fast and dirty, more about release than connection. When she came, her body clamped down so hard, she squeezed his release from him.

Eva collapsed forward, her forehead resting on his shoulder as she trembled through the aftershocks. “Whew. I’ve been wanting to do that all week.”

“Me, too.” He raised a hand to stroke her hair and back, but caught himself. Friends with benefits. Not lovers. Right. To cover his gaffe, he instead ran his fingers through his own hair. “Why didn’t you call?”

Lifting her head, she smiled down at him. “I thought about it. More than once, but everything has been so crazy since the storm…” She trailed off and bit her lower lip in a way that was both vulnerable and insanely sexy. “I missed you, though.”

Throat suddenly thick with emotion, Cam nodded. “Same here.”

A buzzing phone broke the spell of cozy afterglow, and Eva winced. “Damn. Sometimes I hate technology.”

Cam had to agree, especially when she lifted herself off him and the slide of her slick, sensitized flesh hardened him for a round two. She scrambled into the passenger seat and searched through her pants pockets until she found the ringing phone.

She scowled. “Preston.”

The guy’s name registered like a punch.
Keep cool. Don’t let her see it.
“Does he call a lot?”

“Lately, yeah.” She replaced the phone in her pocket and slid her pants up her legs, lifting her ass off the seat to button them. “He says he wants a second chance.”

Cam’s stomach dropped into his pelvic cradle. Well, that deflated his hopes of a repeat. He tucked himself in and zipped his jeans. This was a conversation better had while dressed. And, possibly, drunk. “Let’s go inside.”

Cam waited until they settled at the bar and had their drinks before asking, “You’re not going to give in, are you?”

“I don’t know.”

Friends with benefits, he reminded himself when he discovered his hand tightening on his glass. Not lovers. He had no say whatsoever in who she dated. Goddammit. “How can you not know?”

“I just…” She traced the rim of her glass with one finger. “You remember me telling you the kind of life I want for any kids I have? The perfect sitcom family? Preston fits that mold.”

And Cam didn’t.

He took a swig of his beer to ease the tightness in his throat. He couldn’t be mad at her, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the sting of her rejection right down to his core. He was good enough for sex. Good enough to be her best friend. But not good enough to be a husband to her, a father to those future kids she so badly wanted. And fuck if it wasn’t his own fault. How many times had he told her over the years, whenever she tried to set him up with someone, that he wasn’t looking for marriage?

Obviously, enough times that she’d taken it to heart.

But who was he kidding? He didn’t believe in the kind of idyllic life she dreamed about and couldn’t give it to her. Even the idea of attempting it left him cold with a bone-deep kind of terror.

But, damn.
Preston?

“
You can do better,” he told her.

Her sigh moved her shoulders. “I tell myself that, too, but what if I can’t?”

Christ, her mother had done a number on her self-esteem. “Eva, listen to me. Preston is no good for you. Not only can you do better, but you deserve better.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you hate him.”

“Yeah, but it’s also the truth.” He hesitated, and his next words felt like shards of glass ripping up his throat. “Someday, you’ll find the guy who’s perfect for you, who’ll give you that family you’ve always wanted.”

“Can we not talk about this?” She lifted her beer, indicating him with a tilt of the glass. “How about we discuss why you looked so worried earlier?”

No. As much as he trusted her, he didn’t feel comfortable airing out Greer’s problems in front of her. “How about we talk about the Dunphy case?”

“Ah, murder. What does it say about us that we find it easier than personal shit?”

He worked up a smile and tapped his glass to hers. “That we’re two peas from the same very fucked-up pod.”

“Amen to that.”

Chapter Seventeen

A rusted out pick-up truck sat in the driveway where Eva normally parked when she got home around eleven-thirty that night. After the amazing car sex and awkward personal conversation, she and Cam had commiserated over the failed Dunphy case, then settled into their usual routine of friendly bickering, which ended in a competitive game of darts. She’d won, of course. Someday, he’d learn not to bet against her when it came to darts—but until that day came, she’d have fun taking his twenty bucks.

By the time he dropped her by her car in the police station’s lot, every ounce of stress had seeped out of her spine, leaving her damn close to school girl giddy. They had decided to keep their plans for tomorrow night to go see
Thor 2
and already, she couldn’t wait.

But the tension returned, clamping a vice grip around her spine as she parked her car next to the unfamiliar truck and got out. Maryland plates. The color used to be green as far as she could tell, but a combination of age and neglect had faded it out to the same muddy brown of the Potomac after a storm. Debris filled the bed and a quick peek through the window showed piles of fast food wrappers and beer cans littering the cab.

Music blasted from her house so loud that the base thudded in her chest.

Dammit. She was going to kick her sister’s ass.

Fuming, Eva strode through the gate and up the steps, throwing open the front door hard enough to rattle the windows—if they weren’t already vibrating from the music. A skinny guy with a shock of greasy dreadlocks lay passed out on her couch, an open beer resting on his concave stomach and a joint burning down in his limp hand. The scent of pot filled the air in a cloyingly sweet cloud, and she started throwing open windows, heating bill be damned.

Pausing at the foot of the couch, she didn’t dare touch the guy to wake him. He looked—and smelled—as if he hadn’t bathed in months. But she did take the beer before it spilled and picked the joint out of his fingers because he was seconds from dropping it.

What the hell? This guy was not Shelby’s usual type. Yes, she vacillated wildly when it came to the men she’d dated, but they always fell somewhere on the scale between uber-geek hipster and punk rocker. Never drugged-out hippy. That was more like—

Oh, God.

Horror skittered across her skin as a slim figure appeared under the archway that separated kitchen from living room, and her worst fears came crashing into her home in the form of a woman-child who never understood the meaning of motherhood.

“Mom?”

“Honey!” Katrina breezed through the living room and pecked an air kiss on each of Eva’s cheeks. “So glad you’re home. I see you’ve already started without me.” She winked and hip-checked Eva hard enough to spill the beer she hadn’t set down yet. “At least one of my girls knows how to have a good time. Shel-Bear is being a party pooper.”

Eva looked toward the kitchen. Shelby hung back and lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug when Eva met her gaze with a question in her own. Yeah, thanks, Shelby. A lot of help she was.

Eva set down the beer and dropped the joint into the can. “Mom, who is that guy?”

“That’s Doug. We’ve been living together in Baltimore.” She lowered her voice and leaned in as if to divulge a state secret. “He’s perfectly wonderful.”

“Yeah. Looks like Prince Charming.”

“Eee-va,” Katrina drew her name out on a whine. “Don’t be bitchy. You should be happy for your mama. I think I’ve finally found The One.”

“You said the same thing about my father. And Shel’s. And about Tony, the loan shark. Shane, the car thief. Jamal, the drug dealer. Oh, and who could forget Evander, the stripper? Or Aaron, doing time for double homicide?”

“Aaron was innocent.”

“Mom, he was caught with blood literally on his hands!”

“Well, this time it’s different. Doug and I are in love.”

Yeah, like Eva hadn’t heard that before. A headache began pounding in beat with the music, and she found the source—an actual boombox, straight out of the nineties, tape deck and everything. She yanked the cord out of the wall and Doug the One woke with a sputtered, “Hey!” Then after glancing around with droopy eyes, he added, “Where the fuck’s my joint?”

Uh-huh. Definitely another winner.

She faced her mother again. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you still in Baltimore?”

Katrina instantly bristled. “What, I can’t come visit my girls?”

“Mom.”

“Oh, all right.” She flapped her skinny arms and sighed like answering the question was somehow a huge favor. “We got evicted. But it wasn’t our fault! The fucking landlord…”

Something else Eva had heard before. Nothing was ever Katrina’s fault, and the world was out to get her, and blah, blah, blah.

Christ almighty, Eva was sick of it. Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose and focused on breathing until Katrina wound down the rant. Except, she was just getting started, and after about five minutes of increasingly frenetic and paranoid claims, Eva couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mom. Mom. Mom!”

Panting, wild eyed, Katrina spun on her. “What?”

“You can’t stay here.”

“Why not? Don’t you love me anymore?” Like that, her fanatical expression crumpled into a pout, and Eva caved. This was her mother, after all.

“All right,
you
can stay, but not that guy. I’m not supporting one of your deadbeat boyfriends.”

Katrina’s gaze cut to her one true love and tears welled in her blue eyes. “Eva, honey, you can’t possibly expect me to choose between my daughters and the man I love.”

Yes, she absolutely could. On this point, the pout wasn’t going to sway her. She stood her ground as tears trickled prettily down her mother’s cheeks.

“I can’t leave him.”

Eva nodded and only felt the tiniest pinch of regret. She’d been down this road one too many times to feel more than that. “Then you need to find someplace else to go.”

“We’ll freeze out there.”

Shelby, who had ghosted in from the kitchen, spoke up. “What about that place I told you about? I already called them and they’ll take you in. They’ll take you both.” There was so much hope in Shelby’s eyes and voice, so much longing for a relationship with their mother, and Eva’s heart ripped in two when Katrina whirled and spat in Shelby’s direction.

“You ungrateful little bitch. You want to lock me up and throw away the key.”

“No!” Shelby protested. “Mom, I swear, that’s not what I want. But this place…they’ll help you get off the drugs and—”

Katrina launched across the space separating them and slammed her fist so hard into Shelby’s face, they both staggered backwards.

Eva froze, staring in stunned horror at the woman who had birthed her. For all of their mother’s faults, she’d always protected them, never once raised a finger to intentionally hurt either of them. But now here she was, screaming nonsense, tearing at Shelby’s hair, raking her nails across Shelby’s face, and trying to freaking
bite
her daughter. Doug howled with a maniac kind of laughter from the couch.

Holy fuck.

Eva grabbed her handcuffs from her belt under her jacket and flattened her mother out with a tackle. Sobbing, Shelby scrambled away from Katrina’s still clawing hands until her back pressed against the wall.

Katrina had more strength in her five-foot, ninety-eight pound body than Eva anticipated and broke free, only to meet with the business end of Shelby’s Doc Martens. The kick stunned her long enough for Eva to yank her hands behind her back and slap the cuffs around her wrists.

“Call the police,” she ordered Shelby.

At those words, Doug stopped laughing. His eyes widened, and he dove for the front door. A second later, his truck sputtered to life.

Too bad for him, Eva had his plate number.

…

After dropping Eva off at her car, Cam went home, but found he couldn’t settle and decided to make a quick trip to the office to grab some papers on the browbeaten cheater case. He’d gathered enough evidence that his client should have no trouble making a solid case for divorce, but he wanted to put it all together in a presentable report before he met with her again tomorrow. So he threw on his coat and trekked back out into the cold.

Reece’s Escalade sat in the Wilde Security lot—he must have retired his sports cars until spring—and the lights blazed from behind the front door as Cam used his key to get in. Damn. He’d hoped none of his brothers would be here this time of night. And he hadn’t been as careful about checking his surroundings since he and Eva left for Maguire’s, too distracted by sex and her call from Preston to worry about the hitman lurking somewhere in the city, waiting for a shot at him. But that worry came roaring back now. He set a hand on his gun under his coat and scanned the parking lot. Nothing moved, no cars drove by on the street.

Jesus. If the hitman didn’t get to him, this creeping sense of paranoia would.

Exhaling with relief, he pushed through the door. Reece stood by the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which was about as relaxed as the second oldest Wilde brother ever got. The only sounds in the office were the bubbling of the coffee as it percolated and the police scanner, a low static hum in the background. Cam hated having the thing on, because the cop in him couldn’t tune it out like his brothers could.

“Hey, bro,” Cam said and locked the door again before he crossed to his desk. “Didn’t know you’d be back tonight.”

Reece glanced over his shoulder as he poured himself a mug from the fresh pot, his eyes red-rimmed. “You’re in a disgustingly good mood for midnight.”

Okay, yeah, there was a distinct bounce in his step, but hot car sex did that to a guy. “Eh, I’m a night owl. How was Philly?”

“A headache.”

“Then why aren’t you home?”

“Because I picked up three more home security jobs while there, and I have to put together option packages for each.”

Why that was so urgent it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, Cam had no idea, but he didn’t bother arguing. When it came to business or computers, Reece was a machine. Hell, the guy was a freaking Terminator and people in the city quaked at the thought of ending up on the wrong side of a boardroom table from him. Before Greer brought him in on the idea of starting Wilde Security, Reece had founded a corporation that created computer simulations for military use, and he held the kinds of security clearances that most people had no clue even existed. He had more money than he could spend in two lifetimes, and Cam often suspected it was his sole financial support that kept Wilde Security afloat.

So, yeah, not a guy to argue with when it came to work.

Cam gathered what he needed from his desk, then headed toward the door. “Don’t work too hard.”

“Cam.”

Shit. That tone didn’t bode well for the coming conversation. Maybe he could still escape and preserve his good mood for a little while longer. He eyed the door, but decided against making a run for it. Wilde men didn’t run.

He blew out a breath and faced his brother. “If you’re gonna start in on me about the supposed contract that’s on my head, don’t. I already talked to Greer about it.”

“Yes, I know. And then you turned the conversation to Greer’s problems.”

“Rightfully so. Have you looked at him lately? There’s something fucked up going on with him.”

“I’m aware.” Reece perched on the edge of Jude’s desk and crossed his feet at the ankles. Several beats of silence slipped by as he sipped his coffee.

“And…?” Cam prompted.

“And Greer’s not the issue right now. We need to focus on this problem of yours first.”

Jesus Christ. Why wouldn’t his brothers get off his back about this? He had it handled, and for their own sakes, they didn’t need to be involved. “It’s not a problem, Reece. Nothing has happened to me. Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m telling you, this whole thing about a hit was just Soup’s way of prying money out of me. So, drop it.”

Reece heaved a sigh. “You know, you have a really bad habit of deflecting—”

Cam held up a hand as buzz from the scanner caught his attention. Domestic dispute between a mother and her daughters. Drugs possibly involved. Injuries reported. A detective already at the scene…

Reece’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that—”

“Eva’s house. Fuck.” As his heart lodged like a rock in his throat, he dropped the files he was holding and bolted for the door, but Reece caught his arm.

“Whoa, I’ll drive. You work on getting a hold of Eva.”