Page 53 of Lucky's Trouble

“Lucky and the Sons are protecting me for now. Let’s see how it plays out. If it goes bad, I’ll let you know, and we’ll be on the first plane to Aspen.”

“Aspen? Why Aspen?”

“It’s beautiful there, and we love to snowboard.” Memories of Dad taking us snowboarding as kids flood my mind. While we lived in the desert and didn’t get much of a winter, the drive to the mountains was short and something I looked forward to each year.

It wasn’t all bad growing up with parents like ours. There were good times. But no matter whether it was a vacation, a shopping trip, a movie, or a holiday with family, religion always tainted it. We couldn’t stay a full weekend snowboarding because we had to be back for church on Sunday. We couldn’t buy trendy clothes because they were too risqué. We walked out of more than one movie because the language was vulgar. And our favorite uncle wasn’t invited to Christmas after he finally came out to the family.

It never made sense to me.

“Okay. Aspen it is.”

“If things go bad,” I say.

“Right. If things go bad.”

The keypad to the front door beeps, signaling Lucky’s return. I smile to greet him, but it falls as quickly as it appeared when I see he’s covered in blood.

“My? I gotta go. Lucky just got here.”

“Wait. That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I end the call before she can argue more and rush over to Lucky, looking him up and down, trying to find the source of the blood. “What the hell happened? Is Bones here? Let me go get him.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Not your what?”

“Not my blood.” He kicks off his boots and hangs his cut by the door.

“Whose is it?” I ask, not knowing if I want to know the answer.

“Neal’s.”

His name stops my heart completely. I involuntarily sway and feel the blood drain from my face, a whirring sound filling my ears.

“Tinleigh?” He reaches for me, gripping me by the arms. “Come sit down.” He guides me over to the sofa, and I lower slowly. “Is it the blood? You have a weak stomach or something?”

When I don’t answer, he strips off his white tee and wipes his face and arms with it, which does next to nothing to help the situation since it’s dried on, but I do get a good look at his bare chest. He has a thick patch of hair on it that starts just under his Adam’s apple and goes past his pecs, where it thins and tapers to a happy trail that disappears into his pants.

He has abs, a lot of them, all stacked on top of each other like rungs on a ladder. He also has two shallow grooves running down and in from his hip bones. What is that called? An Adonis belt? Whatever it’s called, it’s sexy. Continuing my perusal, I’m forced back to reality when my eyes catch the blood splatters on his jeans.

“What did you do?” I ask.

“To Neal?”

“Don’t play dumb. Yes, to Neal.”

“I paid him a visit and told him what would happen if he ever came near you again.”

“Why would you do that?”

“The fake answer is because I didn’t want you to be afraid of him anymore.”

“And the real one?” I ask.

“I wanted to punish him for what he did to you,” he says with his jaw clenching and his lips pressed tight, punctuating each word so there is no question about the truth behind them.

How many times have I wanted someone to step in and protect me? Ten? Twenty? More? When I was twelve, I had a dream about a knight rescuing me. I’m sure it had something to do with the fact that I watched A Knight’s Tale at a sleepover and had a crush on Heath Ledger, but that dream sparked a fantasy, one I would cling to in my darkest moments.

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