Why lie? “Yep.”
“Why the hell did you get involved? I had the situation under control. I’d been talking to Richard for hours. I was just getting him to the point of admitting his impulsive plan wouldn’t work and surrendering.”
“Well, it didn’t look that way when he pressed his barrel against your skull.”
He rolled his eyes. “He hadn’t yet pulled the trigger. I was less than three minutes from getting him to surrender.”
“Or being dead, because he didn’t look ready to raise a white flag to me. So stop bitching. It’s done. He’s dead. If you’d rather, next time I won’t save your life. Hell, I wouldn’t have this time except Brea begged me.”
“What?” Cutter looked like his head was about to spin off into another dimension.
“She asked me to make sure you came home in one piece. I did. Now I’m leaving.”
The colonel approached and clapped him on the back. “I’ll take care of the red tape from here. We’ll call you if we need anything, but Gaines and I both saw the whole thing. There shouldn’t be too many questions.”
One-Mile nodded. “Thanks.”
Cutter was still sputtering. “Where is she?”
“My place.” He just smiled. Yeah, it was a petty jab, but one that seemed to bug the hell out of Bryant.
“I’m coming with you to take her home.”
“That’s not a good idea.” The colonel stepped in when the nearby EMT shook her head stubbornly. “Word is, you probably have a concussion. I think you should get checked out.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Caleb’s affable expression fell away. “You’re going to the hospital. My sons will insist. So am I. You won’t be cleared to work until you do.”
“Fine,” Cutter muttered, then turned his back on the older man and glared One-Mile’s way. “Why did Brea come to you for help?”
“You’ll have to take that up with her.” And One-Mile was done talking.
With a wave at the colonel, he turned and headed for his Jeep. Time to get back to the pretty preacher’s daughter. Now that he’d done as she’d pleaded, was she expecting he’d demand her to pay up?
Brea paced the open length of Pierce’s house from the kitchen to the front door and back again. As soon as she’d received his text that the gunman had been vanquished and Cutter had survived, she’d broken down and cried. Then she gathered herself and called Cutter’s family to tell them he was alive. After his initial rush of relief, Cage began asking pointed questions about how she’d gotten that information and what exactly she had done to intervene. Brea forced a smile in her voice, then she did something she hadn’t done since she was a child.
She lied.
“Nothing much.”
Pierce had kept his end of their bargain. Now she had to be brave enough to repay him—with her body.
As she passed the kitchen table again, she grabbed the glass of water she’d poured herself hours ago and swallowed it down. She didn’t drink alcohol much, but in that moment, she wished she’d sought out something stronger to fill her glass.
Still, intoxication wouldn’t change the truth. She had promised Pierce Walker sex.
So tonight, she would give herself to him without regret. Tomorrow, she would repent for her sins. Afterward, their paths would never cross again.
The buzz of the automatic garage door snagged her attention, followed by the purr of an engine, signaling Pierce’s return. Suddenly, Brea felt like a bunny trapped in a wolf’s lair. Her hands went clammy. Her breath rattled in and out of her lungs. Her heart pounded like a wild thing.
She should have been terrified of crawling between the sheets with a man she barely knew. Sickened that he’d agreed to accept sex in exchange for a human life. Ashamed that she’d bartered away her virginity instead of saving it for a man she loved.
But when she thought of Pierce touching her, stripping her down, and covering her body with his, the flesh between her legs twisted with a shameful ache. She might lie to Cage about tonight to save face or to Cutter to spare him guilt, but she wouldn’t lie to herself. She wanted Pierce Walker. Everything about him as a man that should repel her instead tempted the woman inside her.
Brea eased her empty glass onto the table and took a deep breath before she forced herself to approach the garage door. She folded her hands to steady herself, hoping Pierce wouldn’t see her tremble.
The engine cut off. A car door slammed. Then he stepped inside the house—all six and a half feet of him—his big shoulders filling the doorway.
His black eyes fell on her immediately. “You’re still here.”
She nodded. “You told me to be.”
Something passed across his face. Approval? Desire? Whatever it was, she felt the answering ping inside her.
“You okay?” he asked.
He had been the one to run headlong into danger. And unlike Cutter, Pierce hadn’t ridden to the rescue out of the goodness of his heart. He’d done it because he wanted her—desperately enough to risk his safety, intensely enough to take another’s life just to have her.