Page 34 of Damned
Chapter Sixteen
Well, damn. That was a great question, one Kruze hadn’t considered. Popping into a child’s life and blurting, “Hey! I’m your dad!” wasn’t kind, nor smart. He wouldn’t do that. He’d hurt Bree enough. He could never hurt his little girl. Kee-rist, he had a daughter. And that child had a very smart mother. Kruze deferred to Bree’s better judgment. “You’re right, sorry. I’ll do whatever you think is best. My truck or your car?”
Bree was still mostly in his arms, one knee tucked under her. “The key’s in the ignition,” she replied tiredly. “You drive. I’ll call my parents and let them know I’m bringing a friend over.”
Kruze tugged Bree in tight and kissed her again, needing intimate contact with this woman. He remembered everything now. Who would’ve thought that carefree girl in Paris, the perky redhead, was the same woman he’d rescued in Turkey? In Paris, she’d been a lush, plump strawberry with fire in her eyes, not this gaunt stick of a nervous woman. Her sumptuous breasts had caught his attention first. They were still there, just not as remarkably luscious as then. She’d worn a blood-red push-up bra, that had all but offered them up to him for dessert, once he’d gotten her dress off. Even her dress, an airy piece of colorful fluff, had been a delightful feminine snare.
The Bree he’d known in Paris had been a bundle of overflowing sexuality and vibrant energy. Her zest for life and fun had changed everything in him. They’d danced, for the love of God, something he hadn’t done with any woman before or since. That Bree had him jitterbugging on the cobblestone streets on the way to her hotel. It had been, without a doubt, the most romantic night of his life. And Kruze didn’t do romance.
But the Bree he’d rescued in Turkey had been someone else entirely. Of course. Romance had made her sparkle in Paris, but the rebels had stolen everything he’d loved about that Bree, her sparkle, her overflowing love of life, her poor heart. How could a desperate woman who’d been kept in a gawddamned hole ever shine like the redhead he’d spent that night loving?
Kruze grinned like a damned fool as Bree eased out of his arms. Wouldn’t that be the best night of his life, making love again with this woman, dancing with her, making her smile and laugh again,andmeeting his daughter?
Bree was right. They’d played like long-lost lovers in that tiny hotel room the front desk had dared call a suite. They’d had fun, and they’d talked their heads off. Another thing he wasn’t prone to do.
She’d been so excited about her new job at some uppity media giant in NYC, that she couldn’t stop talking. He’d loved watching her and listening to her. Then, for some reason, he’d told her something personal about himself, another first. Then he’d talked about the Sin Boys first trip to the Big Apple as kids, how they’d toured New York Harbor and seen all the sights. The fantastic bridges over the Hudson. The 9-11 Memorial. The aircraft carrier Intrepid docked permanently at Westside Pier 86. The New York Stock Exchange. Chinatown. The Bronx. Apollo Theater in Harlem. Times Square. NYC’s famous hotdogs, bagels, pizza, and all those fantastic delis. Pagan had been in gluttony heaven.
The Bree Kruze rescued in Turkey had seemed vaguely familiar, but he never would’ve made the connection. Which stood to reason. She’d looked completely different, and, okay, she’d probably still been mad at him for leaving her that morning in Paris. Who could blame her? But a little girl… He had a little girl!
Bree sighed, her head under his chin again and his fingers in her hair. “We should get going.”
“Right,” he replied, eager to see his child. “You tell me where to go and—”
“Oh, you have no idea how many times I’ve already told you where to go.”
Kruze started the car’s engine, not sure if she was teasing. “Can’t say I blame you.”
Pulling up alongside his truck first, he grabbed his gear bag from the passenger seat. Bree gave him directions to her parents’ place. His need to see his daughter kept Kruze’s foot heavy on the accelerator. It’d sure be perfect if Robin were still up. What did she look like? Her mom? Maybe a little bit like him? He’d settle for some resemblance, but expected she was a tiny version of her redheaded mom. Wouldn’t that be perfect? He couldn’t wait!
Kruze had never planned on marriage or having children. He wasn’t that kind of lucky. A guy in his line of work shouldn’t do relationships. Sure, Chance and Pagan had chosen the domestic life, but what if one of their enemies tracked them to Montana? Their wives and kids would be at risk, and that just wasn’t smart. Yet now Kruze was doing the same thing. He couldn’t help the excitement building in his chest. His heart burned with the need to see his daughter. His fingers itched to hold his little girl. He’d never been more driven to meet anyone in his life. He had a little girl! Who would’ve ever thought a guy like him could be that lucky?
Before long, he eased Bree’s antique Chevy into the double driveway of a well-kept, cottage-style, stone house. Complete with shuttered windows, coved shingles that hung low over the eaves, and a wide double entry with a wooden entry door, the quaint little home fit Bree to a T. He could almost see her sitting at one of the many multi-framed windows, the eraser end of a pencil at her mouth, staring into space, and dreaming. Maybe about him. Maybe waiting for him to come home after a hard day’s work, and‘two cats in the yard’…
Okay, no. Screech. Halt. Back that damned Crosby, Stills, and Nash hippie-bus the hell up. Kruze was not the marrying type. Love, he could do. Women were easy to love, but marriage was a different ballgame altogether. He’d never aspired to domestic life. So, yeah, cut that fairytale off at the knees. Marriage was Chance’s and Pagan’s thing. Not Kruze’s. He was a one-and-done kind of guy.
“We’re here,” Bree said. Her fingers were still clamped on his arm.
Kruze liked the mood between them. Her PTSD seemed to have disappeared after she’d revealed Robin. “Ready?”
“You bet. Let me out and I’ll introduce you to my folks.”
And Robin, he almost reminded her. Kruze shut the engine down, opened his door, then helped Bree slide across the seat to his side of the car. Helping her to her feet, Kruze handed Bree the keys. “You’ll have to drive me back to get my truck later.”
“No problem. Just so you know, I asked Mom if Robin was still awake. She is. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Ah, yeah, well… yeah. Did you tell your mom who you’re bringing home? That I’m Robin’s dad?”That I knocked you up, then dumped you?
Kruze didn’t want to tell her how hard his heart was pounding, or that his worst fear was that Robin would be afraid of him and reject him. That would make him look pathetic. Reaching over the front seat, he snagged his leather jacket from the back and prepared to be all he could be.
Bree shook her head. “I just told Mom you were someone from the meeting tonight. I thought I’d see how this plays out first. You’ll understand once you meet Robin.”
Kruze fully expected that Bree’s father might knock him on his ass for what he’d done with his daughter. But Kruze had it coming. Hehadused Bree in Paris, but he’d never led her on, not once. He was methodical like that. He never hinted his hook-ups were anything more than one-night affairs, a mutual need for physical pleasure and release. There were no mornings after, no intimate chit chats, or snuggles, although…
Now that he recalled that explosive night in Paris, they had definitely snuggled into the early morning hours, after they’d blessed every flat surface in that tiny ‘suite.’ Bree had been different then. She’d been an energetic lover and maybe a little tipsy. Which had made her entire body blush. Her gorgeous coloring had made her stand out, that crown of red silk and the way her skin and lips had seemed to echo the glow of her hair.
Despite her drawn appearance now and her dull, limp hair, Kruze remembered the vibrant, copper-hued woman he’d kissed into oblivion back then. She’d had cinnamon freckles sprinkled across her nose and shoulders. He’d kissed every last one of them, well, he’d tried. He adored her freckles, but they were gone now. What’d she do, erase them? Was that even possible?
He’d run into Bree that afternoon, on a side street near the Seine. She’d just come from touring the Cathedral of Notre Dame. He’d been on his way to a curbside café for dinner. He’d had two days off between operations, one in Egypt, the other in Belgium. That was his last night in France. She’d been on assignment for a story he couldn’t remember. He’d chalked their quick jump into bed to them being in the city of romance.
