Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sloan stared down at Seattle as the rain lashed the windows. She’d woken in Jude’s arms and the sheer joy that had suffused her at the realization that they were together and whole was staggering.

Carrigan’s words from last night echoed through her head. You’re in love with him.

Yes, she wanted a chance to see if they had a future together. Yes, the idea of being with anyone else left her cold. And, yes, she’d essentially chosen him over her family. But…love?

Love seemed a very large word in the face of such a short time of knowing each other.

He will leave. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but eventually he will leave.

She pressed a hand to her chest, hating the ache that blossomed there, an insidious weed she wanted nothing to do with. She couldn’t change Jude. She’d be the worst sort of fool to even try.

Then you have to be okay with him leaving.

An even more difficult task.

Was it better to have him for a finite amount of time? Or should she cut her losses now so he could continue his suicidal mission to eliminate Colm Sheridan? Doing so might honor his dead mother’s memory, but it would be a death sentence for Jude.

No. I won’t allow it.

She sighed. He’d been willing to give them the length of her pregnancy to figure things out. But now? Would things change once he woke up?

Make sure they don’t.

Fight for him.

There was only one way to reach him, the one thing they had in common beyond a shadow of a doubt. She turned back to the bed, padding across the carpet on silent feet.

His dark eyes opened the second her knee touched the bed. “What’s got that look on your face?”

“Don’t leave.” The words came out low, fierce. “Stay with me. Live. Be a father to our baby and be my man.”

His eyebrows rose. “I think I must be dreaming.”

“You’re not.” She climbed onto the bed and knelt between his thighs. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Jude. If you go after Colm, you’ll die.” Her breath came out in a sob. “Don’t you see? This never ends. They hurt you, you hurt them, and round and round it goes until the world ends.”

He reached for her, but she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her stomach. “This is what matters. Not them. Not the past. Not a war that will start another war and another and another. Us.”

She held her breath as he looked at her, giving nothing away. “It won’t stop. Even if I was willing to leave it all behind—and I’m getting to that point—there is another element in play.”

The pieces clicked together in her head. “Dmitri Romanov.”

He hesitated, and then said, “If I don’t honor the deal I made with him to take out Colm, he’ll just kill him—and Callista—anyway. And set me up to take the fall. It won’t take much to create a convincing frame job. Everyone will think it was me anyway.”

“No.” Horror wrapped around her, making her sick to her stomach. “He can’t do that.” She didn’t know how she was going to stop him, but she’d find a way.

“Fuck, you’re killing me.” He pulled her down and kissed her until her head spun. “I want to believe the fairy tale. I want to think that we can take off to some far corner of the world and they’ll leave us the fuck alone. But even if the Sheridans don’t know I exist, your family won’t stop coming after us. They think you’re brainwashed and that I’m your captor. Do you believe for one goddamn second that your brother will sit back and let you disappear?”

No, not when he put it like that. Teague would feel responsible that he didn’t protect her enough and he’d hunt her to the ends of the earth, thinking he was saving her.

She closed her eyes, but she couldn’t block out the truth. No easy answers, no easy outs.

Jude was right. But she was right, too. She didn’t think for a second that she could deal with the Romanov threat…but he could. That wouldn’t take care of the problem of her family, though.

She rubbed a hand over her face, hating the conclusion that arose. “We have to go back to Boston.”

“What?”

“You have to stop Dmitri.” She didn’t like him putting himself in danger, but if anyone could deal with that threat, it was Jude. And Carrigan would help…maybe. Which left the O’Malleys to her. “I’ll talk to Teague and Aiden. If I do that of my own free will, neither one of them can argue that you’re keeping me trapped.” As much as she’d like to keep the conversation to just her and Teague, she knew Aiden was looking for her, too.

Jude’s arms tightened around her. “What the fuck makes you think that your brothers will let you walk out of Boston once you’re back there?”

It was a gamble and, to be perfectly honest, not even a good one. If Teague didn’t lock her in a room and throw away the key, Aiden certainly would. “It’s worth the risk. And, really, you’re the one in more danger.” She didn’t like thinking about that. They were between a rock and a hard place, and were out of good options.

“I don’t fucking think so.”

She pressed her face against his neck and inhaled deeply. He smelled crisp and clean like the sea, something she could live her entire life and never get tired of. “We can’t live on the run indefinitely, Jude. They will catch up to us again and, this time, someone might die. You might die.” It made her shake simply thinking about it. “We can’t let Dmitri hurt Callie. If you think Teague is after us now, imagine what will happen if he thinks you killed his wife and unborn child.”

Jude cursed long and hard. “You crossed the country to get away from your family and now you’re willing to walk back into that vipers’ nest—”

“For you.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. “For us.”

*  *  *

Us.

Sloan kept saying that fucking word and, every time she did, it was a sucker punch Jude couldn’t avoid. Because it was the truth. Even before they’d found out for sure that she was pregnant, it had been them against their enemies. Them against the whole damn world.

And she wanted him to sit on his goddamn hands and let her put herself in certain danger. Not sit on your hands. Take out the enemy the way you’ve trained your whole life for. He just hadn’t anticipated the enemy being Romanov instead of Sheridan.

He held her as tightly as he dared, ignoring the flare of pain in his side. “I don’t like it, sunshine.”

“You don’t have to like it…but you have to trust me to do this—just like I’m trusting you to walk away from Romanov alive.” She took a shuddering breath. “Don’t think for a second I like that you’ll be in danger, too. But we don’t have another choice.”

It had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with wanting to keep her safe. He wanted to haul her ass out of here, hop the first flight to anywhere but Boston, and set up a little house for them. Maybe it would be enough. It wouldn’t be easy to set his shit aside and tear his gaze from the past wrongs done to him, but he could give it a shot. They’d have…

A window. Not a future. Maybe a day or maybe a couple years, but eventually that window will close and she’s right—someone will die.

It would likely be him this time.

The thought of death had never bothered him quite as much as it did now. Everyone died. He hadn’t thought about a life after his vendetta was finished because he hadn’t really thought he’d get out alive. The odds had been against him even before the Sheridans knew he existed.

And if Dmitri Romanov framed him for Colm Sheridan’s hit, the odds would be even worse.

He didn’t like the thought of not being around to see Sloan get big with child. Of not being there to hold her hand and see if she’d actually curse at him during the labor. Of missing out on the rest of her fucking life and seeing what new curveballs she’d throw once she had six months, a year, five years away from her shitty-ass family.

And the kid. There were so many firsts that he never had considered until now. First steps, first words, first day of school, watching the baby grow into a real person. Seeing what kind of adult he or she would be. He’d miss all that.

Would that kid grow up wanting revenge for my death? Would it start the cycle all over again?

No. Sloan was too smart for that. She’d raise their kid right.

She wouldn’t be alone forever, either. She’s too fucking special not to attract other men like flies to honey. Eventually, she’d let one close enough to capture her heart. She’d let another man into her bed and into her life, and he’d be the lucky bastard who got to wake up every morning to her, who got to raise my child.

No fucking way.

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to each knuckle, not taking his eyes from hers. “We’ll go back to Boston.” He kissed her wrist. “I will take care of Romanov, one way or another, and you’ll convince your brothers to call off their dogs. But if one of them hurts you, I will kill every last one of them.”

“Jude—”

“It’s the truth.” He brushed his lips against hers. “I wasn’t shitting you when I started calling you sunshine. You’re my sunshine, and my world is fucking bleak without you. So yeah, if something goes sideways in Boston, I’ll make Colm Sheridan look like a fucking amateur.”

He felt her sigh more than he heard it. “Is that a twisted way of you trying to convince me not to go?”

“No.” He stroked a hand down her side, wanting her despite his pain. Needing her. “That’s the God’s-honest truth.”

She caught his wrist as he moved to her thigh. “You were shot. Yesterday.”

“It’d take a whole hell of a lot more than being shot to keep me from wanting you.” He shifted fully onto his back. “But if you’re so concerned, you can ride my cock so I don’t move too much.”

She laughed softly. “You just want to watch me.”

“Guilty.” The rain muted the light, giving the whole room a dreamlike quality. “I’ll never get enough of you, sunshine. Never.”

She straddled him, casting a suspicious look at his bandage. “You’ll tell me if it hurts.”

No, he fucking wouldn’t, and they both knew it. Jude stroked her lightly between her thighs. “You had a look of intent on your face when I woke up. Tell me why.”

“I…” She hissed out a breath when he pushed two fingers into her, sliding them lazily in and out. “I was going to convince you to let me go to Boston and to not kill Colm.”

“How?”

She rolled her hips, her eyes slitted. “I was going to give you head.”

Jude’s cock strained at her words said in that desperate voice. He withdrew his fingers, sliding his hands down her thighs to spread them farther. “You can do that when we get back from Boston. The second we come through the door, hit your fucking knees and take my cock out for your pleasure. Do you like the picture I’m painting, sunshine? Because your face says you do.”

“Yes.” She reached between them and stroked him, dragging his cock across her clit the same way he’d done before.

“But not today. Today you’re going to sink that tight little pussy onto me.”

She notched him at her entrance and did exactly as he’d commanded, her eyes never once leaving his while she did. Only when she was impaled to the hilt did she lean back, propping her hands on his thighs, and start to move. She rolled her body, slow and sensuous, her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Jude gripped her hips, allowing her to lead. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, sunshine. Nothing—no one—compares to you.”

“You’re mine, Jude MacNamara, and don’t you forget it.” She leaned forward and shifted up to grip the headboard over his head, picking up her pace, fucking him the way she knew he liked. He captured one of her nipples in his mouth and she let go of the headboard to cup the back of his head, pulling on his hair a little.

“Take what’s yours, sunshine.” She swiveled her hips in a move that made his eyes damn near cross. “Fuck.”

“God, Jude, I’m never going to get enough of you.” She grabbed his hand and pressed it between her legs, waiting until he gave her clit a stroke to let go. “Touch me.”

“You don’t have to ask twice.” He made a V of his fingers and positioned his hand so her clit would ride up against him with every move. It didn’t take long for her strokes to become wild, frantic.

He loved that. He loved seeing the calm mask she wore to face the rest of the world go up in smoke, replaced by wanton need that she looked to him to provide. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for, stronger than he’d given her credit for at first, but hell if she didn’t keep surprising him.

Her orgasm hit her, her pussy milking him, her mouth parting in a gasp that hit him right in the chest. Fuck, he loved that sound. He let her carry him over the edge, pounding into her until he couldn’t take the pleasure or the pressure anymore. “Sloan.”