Chapter 5

John didn’t walk back to the Denali, he stomped. His heavy work boots pounded against the floating docks as he made his way back to dry land and the marina parking lot.

Her throat was still bruised. He could see the marks against her pale flesh.

His fists clenched at his side as he fought to breathe through the agonizing fury. It tore at his insides with a force that made him want to howl. Son of a bitch. He’d kill the bastard responsible if he ever had the chance.

She was tiny, so fucking petite. He could span her waist with his hands and likely have room left over. Large, marbled gray eyes stared back at the world with an innocence that made him wonder, considering the crowd she used to run with when she was younger and the rumors he heard, if his fantasy dreams of that night with her might be more reality than wishful dreaming. That long swath of blue-black ringlets that fell from her head only made her look more endearing, more fragile. So fragile he couldn’t believe the bastard that bruised her hadn’t managed to break her.

Sierra wasn’t a woman who could be handled with anything less than gentleness. A hard wind bruised her tender white skin, everyone who knew her, knew that. She often joked that she couldn’t walk through a room without marring her skin.

And it always hurt. She would pout if she bumped against something, rub the offended flesh, and glare at it as though the weakness irritated her.

She was strong-willed as hell though, so he’d always thought it evened out. She would stand up to anyone, nose to nose, and had on occasion, out argued even John’s father. That wasn’t easy to do.

John couldn’t handle the emotions rising inside him at the moment, the thought of the attempt that had been made to hurt her. To destroy her. The pure anger. The need to go to his knees before her and kiss every inch of bruised flesh, to beg for her forgiveness for not being there to protect her. The need to demand explanations, to beg that she stay, to simply hold her, was tearing him apart.

He’d never had so many emotions surging through him. For a man that prided himself on his control, he was growing close to losing it. Because despite the bruises, he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, kiss her from head to toe, show her all the gentleness he could find within himself, and he wanted to fuck her until they were both screaming from the pleasure.

She was too damned young, he kept telling himself. Her gentle twenty-four was a far cry from his thirty-two. But she was his.

The thought implanted itself in his brain and he refused to let it go. Sierra was his.

“Hey, John.” The sound of Rowdy Mackay’s voice calling out had him pausing, his jaw clenching before he turned back to the other man before stepping from the dock to the parking lot.

Rowdy loped from the entrance of the marina to the parking area, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses but John knew the other man was likely processing every telltale emotion John couldn’t keep from his face.

“Hey, man, you were out early this morning,” Rowdy stated as he pulled up to him.

“I was,” John agreed as he continued to the SUV.

“Dawg said he saw your rig out at Hickley’s, meeting an unscheduled landing. You have problems?”

There it was. The Mackays weren’t just notoriously nosy, but also notoriously protective of their friends. And they considered John and his sister Rogue, friends.

It wouldn’t do any good to keep the truth from the other man; John knew him. Dawg was likely already running the Lear’s call numbers, ownership, and flight plan.

Stepping to the SUV, he leaned against it wearily and gave the other man the information he knew Rowdy would come up with eventually.

Besides, letting the Mackay cousins in on the truth would provide Sierra with an added layer of protection.

As he explained the situation, Rowdy drew the sunglasses from his eyes, his gaze narrowing, lips thinning as tiny sparks of anger filled his sea green eyes.

The information would hit too close to home for Rowdy. His wife had suffered at the hands of a stalker, a man they had trusted. One who had nearly raped Kelly while Rowdy was in the Marines.

John knew the other man still blamed himself for being away, for not protecting her.

Just as John blamed himself now because he hadn’t been there to protect Sierra.

What the fuck was happening to the world, he wondered. A woman wasn’t safe, no matter where she went, no matter what she did. There were simply too many men determined to prey upon them.

“How close did the bastard come to raping her?” Rowdy’s voice edged with latent violence.

“Her roommate frightened him off before he actually raped her. Her thighs, breasts, and neck are bruised extensively. I can see her neck . . .” He turned away, his jaw tightening as the guilt threatened to eat him alive. “Hell, Rowdy, I shouldn’t have left. God her neck . . .” He swallowed tightly. “That bastard nearly killed her.”

“Hindsight, bro,” Rowdy sighed. “That guilt will always follow you. You have to find a way to cover it, to bury it, or you’ll never live with it. And make damned sure it never happens again.”

Livid pain gleamed in Rowdy’s deep green eyes as John turned back to him.

“Kelly doesn’t sleep well if I’m not there with her, at least in the house at night,” he stated, his voice rough. “I never forget how close I came to losing her, and I never forget how important her and our child are to me.”

“Dad did his best to ensure no one knows where she is,” he informed the other man. “We’re hoping that gives him the time to figure out who attacked her. But like Dad, I have this feeling . . .”

And it was in his gut. The first time he had ever had the feeling his father described. The sensation of a phantom blade across his gut.

John stared out over the marina, his gaze moving instinctively to the houseboat where Sierra was awaiting him.

“She’s still in danger, then.” Rowdy nodded. “You have it bad man, if you can sense that. The only woman that ever triggered that response in me was Kelly. She keeps me breathing. Be damned careful, because if she leaves you, I don’t imagine breathing would be easy.”

No, it wouldn’t be. He didn’t have to wait to know that. He could already sense it. He’d already experienced the feeling a year before when he’d left town, walked out of her life. Now that he was back, he realized exactly how hard breathing had been without her.

He’d always known, in part, how important she was to him, but until that hazy night a year before, until she ran from him, he hadn’t realized how deep that importance ran.

“Let’s get this luggage to the Dreams,” the other man finally stated. “I’d say you can expect the family to descend on her soon, so save time somewhere, somehow while you’re convincing her to stay.” The snicker in Rowdy’s voice assured John that the fact that John was dying to touch her wasn’t lost on him.

Sierra hadn’t packed much. There were two suitcases, the briefcase, and a small box that he knew held all the family pictures she owned.

Sierra didn’t own much; since her father’s bankruptcy and death, there hadn’t been much for her to own. Getting back on her feet had been hard, and Sierra was a saver rather than a spender.

The small amount of furniture she owned was in storage, overseen by John’s father. The rest of her belongings had been packed and sent to her, as though John Sr. knew his son wasn’t going to allow her to leave easily.

And he wouldn’t.

Stepping back into the living area of the houseboat, he quirked his lips at the sight of her sleeping, stretched out on the couch. The second Rowdy stepped inside, she was awake.

Just that quickly she sat up, eyes wide, a hint of fear and pain glowing in the marbled gray depths until she caught sight of John once again.

“Sierra Lucas, Rowdy Mackay,” he introduced the two of them as he carried his half of the luggage to the steps leading to the master suite on the upper level.

“Ma’am.” Rowdy nodded as he passed her. “Just excuse me, John decided he needed a pack mule this morning.”

Laughter echoed in the other man’s voice as he followed John and they moved upstairs with the luggage.

Rowdy sat the luggage by the bed and turned to John. In the other man’s eyes Rowdy saw all the demons that had haunted him when he realized Kelly had been hurt while he was away from her.

He saw the torment and knew the agony his friend was feeling.

“Damn, she’s fucking tiny,” Rowdy hissed, anger flaring inside him. “She’s even smaller than Kelly, John. How the hell did she survive an attacker?”

“Sheer stubbornness,” John sighed as he shook his head and placed the items he carried on the floor. “Hell, Rowdy, I haven’t slept since Dad told me about it. The nightmares will haunt me.”

And they would, Rowdy knew that. There was no way for a man to ever go back once he realized he’d left his woman unprotected, and she had been harmed.

John had marked that woman for his own before he left Boston. A man who had left something important behind just had an air of loss around him. It was an air John no longer possessed. What he possessed instead was the pain of knowledge, the awareness that he hadn’t kept her from harm.

“You sleep better when she’s with you.” He slept better now that Kelly was in his arms than he had his entire life. “But I saw her eyes, bro. She doesn’t seem as smitten quite yet.”

John would have his work cut out for him. Rowdy had seen the look she gave John. She was angry. There was a glitter of stubbornness, of pure feminine determination to make this as hard as possible on the other man.

Whatever had happened before John moved to Lake Cumberland, it had to do with this woman. And she wasn’t in the least happy with him over it.

Once he couldn’t see the bruises on the girl’s throat, then Rowdy was certain he would find John’s predicament amusing.

“I’ll get out of here and let you take care of this then.” Rowdy nodded. “I’ll let the others know what’s going on and we’ll see what we can do to catch the bastard if he’s stupid enough to try to follow her.”

God help any man that tried to hurt Sierra Lucas where John Walker or one of the Mackays could get hold of him. Nothing but death awaited such stupidity.

As they returned downstairs, Sierra was still sitting on the couch, but watching the stairs warily.

“Later, Rowdy.” John all but ordered him off the houseboat. He couldn’t bear seeing that fear in her eyes for so much as a second longer.

“Catch you later, John, and remember what I told you.” Rowdy paused at the glass sliding door. “The family will be around soon. Babies and all.” With that, he slid open the door, stepped outside, and headed back to the marina.

“What was that all about?” she asked as he moved into the kitchen.

“That means to expect the Mackay horde to descend upon us at any time,” he grunted. “Rowdy’s parents, cousins, their wives and babies. It’s worse than Thanksgiving dinner at the grandparents’ house.” And she knew exactly what those were like, since she had attended enough of them.

“You didn’t make friends that easily in Boston,” she said softly. “I guess I thought you were playing hermit here in Kentucky as well.”

“Only when they let me.” John watched her intently, debating on breakfast or hauling her straight to bed. She looked exhausted. “What time did you get up this morning for the flight?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t sleep well, so I was up in plenty of time.”

Meaning nightmares had kept her awake.

John’s jaw clenched. Breakfast, then bed.

“Why did you agree to this, John?” she finally asked as he pulled eggs from the fridge. “I’m not your responsibility, you know.”

Not his responsibility? Fuck that. She belonged to him, she just didn’t know it yet. That made her fully his responsibility whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“We’ll discuss that later, Sierra.”

“I don’t want to discuss it later. I want to discuss it now.” She rose to her feet and he noticed the small wince she almost hid.

His lips quirked. He could hear the nervousness in her voice, but he could also detect the knowledge in it. She knew exactly what he wanted from her.

“Lollipop, now isn’t the time.”

“And why are you calling me that horrendous name?” Exasperation filled her voice.

This time, he couldn’t stop the grin that curled at his lips.

“Lollipop? Because you’re so damned sweet to lick and suck on. And I think I developed an addiction that night, lollipop. I want more. A whole lot more.”