Dangerous Boys and Their Toy

“You’re welcome.” She set another plate down beside him. “Tell Cam this is his when he gets off the phone.”

Absently, he nodded and reached for a fork to dig in when he realized she was leaving the room. He grabbed her wrist instead. “Where you going, baby?”

“I don’t usually eat breakfast.” She wrinkled her lightly freckled nose. “I’m going to get the newspaper so I can read it while you eat.”

Reluctantly, he dropped her hand. She disappeared around the corner, and he dug into the food. She emerged a few mo

ments later with her hair hanging loose, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, no bra. With a smile, she walked past him, and Thorn heard the front door shut. He sighed. His appetite wasn’t really for breakfast, but there was no sense in letting good food go to waste.

He bit into a slice of crispy bacon and just about fell in love. Done but not burnt. The woman could cook—a valuable ability to a man who’d never known home cooking and couldn’t cook worth a damn for himself.

Cameron strolled in from the backyard a moment later, tucking his phone onto his belt. “Nothing new. No one has seen Lawton. They’ve widened the APB. He’s been gone long enough to put some serious mileage between himself and Tucson by now.”

“Agreed.” Thorn nodded to the plate. “I’m supposed to tell you that’s your breakfast.”

“I know better than to think you cooked.”

Thorn just snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Brenna?”

“Getting the paper.”

“What did you think of last night?” Cam sat and shoveled a bite of egg in his mouth.

Damn, just like it was casual conversation. How’s the weather? Good. How was the fuck?

Sneaky bastard.

“It was fine.”

Cam raised a dark brow. “Just fine?”

“Yep.”

“What about it wasn’t better than fine?”

Thorn dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. “Look, Oprah, I’m not talking about my ‘feelings’. We shared a woman. It was good. End of story.”

In response, Cam just smiled. Before he even spoke, Thorn just knew that whatever came out of the detective’s mouth was going to piss him off.

“I don’t think that’s the end of the story. I think you’re itching to do it again.”

He was, and the fact Cameron was right… It just added to his increasingly weird mood. First, Brenna had to cook a perfect breakfast and remind him of all he’d never had. Then the good detective had to add to his shit by rubbing his nose in the fact Thorn had liked sharing a woman.

But weird mood or not, the vision of Cameron’s dark hands gliding across Brenna’s fragile, pale skin while Thorn sank into the hot glove of her ass made him sweat. Remembering the feel of Cam on the other side of that thin membrane, deep in her pussy, rubbing his dick with every stroke just about killed him.

Fuck. This wasn’t good.

“I don’t do the same woman twice if it can be avoided.”

Cam finished off his bacon then shrugged. “Okay. We still have to tail her until we get some information about Curtis. But if you’re not interested in dipping from the well twice…I have no such qualms. I guess you can watch.”

Hell. “You’re a prick.”

Wiping his mouth, Cam tried to hide his smile with his napkin. He did a lousy job. Laughter danced in his dark eyes.

Thorn restrained the urge to punch him—barely. “What the hell is the matter with you, man? Why are you pushing for more?”

His smile dissolved. “Together, you and I gave Brenna something she’s never had and couldn’t even give herself. That was amazing for me. She gets to me, and I want to satisfy her even more.”

“I thought for sure it would bug the shit out of you that you couldn’t make her come all by yourself.”

“When we were both inside her, I felt as…close to her as I would if we were alone. Having you there didn’t detract from the experience. I felt a bond, and I want more of that.”

Thorn swallowed. Yeah, he’d felt that same closeness and bond—and not just with Brenna. God, had he really just admitted that? This whole fantasy was turning nightmare, and it scared the shit out of him.

The feelings reminded him of the time he’d wanted to keep a stray kitten he’d found just before his eleventh birthday. New, wonderful. The sense of caring and connection was something he’d never had. Unfortunately, it was short-lived, since his dad had drowned the kitten in the toilet. Thorn knew that if his father were here now, dear old Dad would find some equally loathsome way to squash these burgeoning feelings too. And probably with good reason. What the hell kind of pansy ass shared a woman with another guy and liked it? Much less admitted that sharing her made him feel closer, not just to her, but the other guy?

Thorn wasn’t gay, but being with Brenna had felt a bit like sharing sex with not just her, but Cam too. The shit part was, he’d really gotten into it.

This whole scene was too damn unsettling. Hard dick or not, he was folding.

“Knock yourself out,” Thorn said. “I’m done.”

“So you’re just going to watch and pretend that she isn’t important to you?”

“Pretty much.” And it was going to hurt like hell. Which bugged him even more.

“Why? Why not follow your instincts, your feelings—”

“Man, I’m not wired like you. I just don’t have feelings. I’m a heartless bastard with a drive-through sex life, remember? You said it yourself. Back the fuck off.”

Cam paused for the longest minute. Finally, he stood, grabbed his plate, and headed for the sink, something, no doubt, sage and clever perched on his tongue.

The squealing of tires, followed by gun fire and Brenna’s scream cut through everything. Thorn leapt up from his chair and set out at a flat run.

Chapter Seven

Thorn charged out the front door, .38 in hand, looking both poised and pissed as hell. Didn’t matter that he was without both shirt and shoes, his tangled hair hanging in pale strands to his shoulders. In leather pants and nothing else, he looked like a Viking warrior of old, big and bad and someone no one sane fucked with. That he was charging out half dressed… Didn’t that speak volumes about what he wasn’t willing to say out loud?

Of course, Cam was right behind him, weapon drawn, heart beating in a vicious pound. What had spooked Brenna? Was someone shooting at her, at their woman?

No time now to examine why he felt that way. Cam knew there’d be time later, after they put a stop to whatever threatened her, to think about the fact that, while this had been the first time he and Thorn had shared her, it wouldn’t be the last.

Running, his booted feet pounded concrete until he cleared the front courtyard. Tall strands of yucca plants blocked the slice of street visible from this angle.

Finally, he rounded the corner to the street, a half step behind Thorn.

“Fuck!” the bounty hunter growled.

Then he feinted left, planted and aimed his gun.

Cameron didn’t even wait to see the threat before he got in position. As he was steadying his weapon, he finally got a glimpse of the scene—and could barely contain his rage.

A tricked-out sports car had been slung haphazardly in the cottage’s driveway. A thug in a white tank top that hung loosely from his doubtless drug-addicted frame chased Brenna in a circle around the vehicle. As she neared the driver’s side window, another asshole rolled down the window and pointed a gun right at her chest. The second she saw it, she gasped and slapped a trembling hand over her mouth.