Sins Brothers [1] Forgotten Sins (39 page)

“Yes,” he lied smoothly. “Hit a pothole and basically landed on my head. I was tired and not watching the road.”

Indecision crossed her classic face. She leaned forward to eye the tattoo on his arm. “You were in the marines?”

“Yes.” Yet another lie. He’d been undercover as a U.S. marshal, then as a marine, and the tat was temporary.

“Oh.” She exhaled. “My brother was a marine.”

“Was?”

“Yes. He didn’t make it home.”

Matt’s chest thumped. Hard. “I lost a brother, too.” Finally, a truth he could give her. “Hurts like hell and always will.” Of course, it was his fault Jory was dead, and he’d been paying for it since. Some souls were meant to be damned.

She sighed. “Well, I can’t just leave an ex-marine in the alley. Come in and we can get you cleaned up, but if you’re injured too badly, I’m calling an ambulance.” She levered under his arm, her slender shoulders straightening to assist him.

Intrigue and an odd irritation filtered through him. “You shouldn’t help strange men, sweetheart.”

“All men are strange.” The grin she flipped him warmed him in places he thought would always be frozen. “Besides, I’m armed.”

There wasn’t a place for a weapon in her little yoga outfit. But he nodded anyway, happy to be getting indoors. “Okay. Then I’ll behave.” Then he paused. Perhaps he should let her call for medical help, considering he was in town to find a doctor. The woman he’d been searching for the last five years. But he wanted to be on his game when he found the bitch. “What about Eugene?”

His rescuer bit her lip. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

Who the hell was Eugene? Matt tuned in his senses but failed to hear any footsteps. A couple argued several blocks away about who should drive home. They both slurred their words, so neither should drive.

Matt released the woman and forced his feet to move toward his bike. He’d lost too much blood. “Do you mind if I park my bike inside? I’d hate for anybody to steal my baby.”

She chuckled. “In Charmed, Idaho? Nobody will take your big motorcycle.” Yet she opened the doorway wide. “You can park just inside to the left.”

He rolled the bike inside a small storage room holding toiletries and cleaning supplies. “What’s your name?”

“Laney.” She locked the door and gestured him toward a doorway. “Let’s get you that aspirin.”

He stalked through another storage room that held all types of alcohol to a bar. A sports bar with widescreens, pool tables, and dart boards. He glanced down at Laney. “You work at a bar?”

He’d figured her for a yoga instructor or a teacher. Not a barmaid.

She gently pushed him onto a wooden chair by a worn table. “I own a bar.” Her pretty pink lips turned down as she glanced at his demolished T-shirt.

“Oh.” He frowned. The woman was much too delicate to be closing a bar by herself. Whoever the hell Eugene was, he needed a beating for leaving her alone at night like this.“By yourself?”

She lifted a shoulder while walking behind the bar and returning with a first-aid kit. “My brother and I owned it together.” Her eyes remained down.

He understood that kind of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Laney.”

She blinked and met his gaze with those amazing green eyes. “Me, too.” Taking a deep breath, she straightened. “Let’s see what you did to yourself.”

He gingerly tugged off his shirt.

Her cheeks slid from rosy to stark white in seconds. Emerald flashed when her eyes opened wide. “You’re really bleeding.” Then her eyelids fluttered, and she swayed.

He caught her one-handed before she hit the floor.

What the hell?

Easily picking her up, he glanced around the bar. The booths were circular at an odd angle, and the chairs were hard. He could either place her on the bar or on a pool table. Gently, he lay her on a pool table, warmed by how nicely she fit against him. Indulging himself, he removed her hair clip and allowed the curls to tumble free.

He’d been without a woman much too long.

Now was not the time. Yet he couldn’t help taking a moment to appreciate her classic features. Delicate and soft women were a mystery to him and something he’d only seen on television. He believed they existed but definitely steered clear.

This one? This one needed protection, and he’d have a nice talk with Eugene when the bastard finally showed up.

For now, he’d lost enough blood. Flipping open the lid of the medicine kit, he frowned. Not what he needed.

Prowling behind the bar, he searched the low shelves.
Ah ha.
A rusty tackle box rested in the back. Inside, he found thick fishing line and flies with hooks. Bending one, he threaded it like a needle after pouring whiskey over it to kill germs. Then he took a swig of the alcohol, allowing the potent brew to slam into his gut and center him.

Minutes later, he’d successfully sutured both wounds. The one on his upper chest took twice as long as the wide gash along his ribs. The guy who’d stabbed him knew how to use a blade.

So did he.

He glanced at the pretty woman on the pool table. How long did a faint last, anyway? Then the phone behind the bar caught his attention. He slapped long pads across his wounds and reached for the phone to dial in a series of numbers.

“Swippy’s Pool Hall,” a man answered.

“Deranged Duck 27650,” Matt said.

Several beeps echoed across the line as it was secured. Finally, silence ensued.

“Where the hell are you?” his brother growled.

Matt wiped a hand down his face. Shane sounded worried. “I’m in place. Had some trouble in Texas, however.”

“What kind of trouble?” Shane asked, computer keys clacking across the line.

“Jumped by four men—well trained. They found me in Dallas as I was heading out here.” How had the damn commander found him in Texas? He’d only been there a week to gather intel on the woman he’d been searching for.

“No mention of a problem on any police forces or news outlets.” Shane sighed. “They covered the scene up quickly.”

Which meant the commander had new resources in the government. Terrific. “Are you sure the woman is here?” Matt asked.

“Yes. We finally traced her to Charmed, but we don’t know who she is. I’ve narrowed it down to a surgeon at the hospital, a veterinarian, or the coroner’s assistant.” Shane clicked more keys. “My money is on the coroner.”

The woman he hunted had been a top-rated surgeon before disappearing and hiding. Chances were she was still cutting into people. Most surgeons couldn’t let go of playing God. “I’ll boot up my laptop tonight and have you send me the files.” His gaze caught on a Help Wanted sign in the window. “I may have just found my cover while in town.”

“Good. Stay in touch, Mattie.” The line went dead.

Matt rubbed his chin, his gaze on Laney. Pouring a glass of water, he maneuvered over to her. Now all he had to do was get her to hire him.

* * *

Laney slowly opened her eyes and tried to ignore the pounding of her temples. What in the world?

A man stood over her, and her memories crashed back.

She shot to sit, her hand going to her aching head. “What happened?”

“You fainted.”

The low rumble of his voice matched the battle-scarred chest. Even with two pristine bandages, old wounds lived among the hard ridges and ripped muscles. And the guy was ripped.

A warning flutter rippled through her abdomen. She cleared her throat.

As if he could read her mind, he set a glass of water on the pool table and took several steps back. Giving her space.

“Drink,” he said.

Not a man of many words, was he? She took the glass and sipped, allowing the water to cool her heated throat. The pool table was surprisingly comfortable. “Who are you?”

“Matt Dean.” He rubbed a hand through his shaggy hair.

He still had dried blood on his impressive abs, and she shoved down panic. The mere sight of blood could make her pass out within seconds. She shook her head. “Why are you in town?”

“After the marines, I decided to tour the country for a while until I run out of money, then I work for a bit, and move on afterwards.”

Sad. The guy was obviously running from old horrors. “Is it working? I mean, the traveling?”

“Yes.”

The blood disappeared as his physique took center stage. Wow. The new warmth sliding through her veins had nothing to do with caution. Tension emanated around him with the promise of fire and passion.

The kind of guy who’d burn a girl, but it’d be worth it.

He tilted his head toward the sign in the window. “You need help?”

Always, and right now from her own libido. “Have you heard of the Rally in the Mountains?”

He nodded. “The motorcycle rally in southern Oregon? Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, the rally is in two weeks, and many of the bikers from the east head through town. We’re incredibly busy for those two weeks.” She eyed him. At several inches above six feet and broad, he’d be a deterrent to any problems. He’d seen war—the guy was definitely wounded.

And tough. He’d be able to handle any disputes that arose. In fact, with that hard gray gaze taking in the room, maybe the bikers wouldn’t mess around. Of course, with that thick black hair and strong-boned face, he’d draw in the women.

The man needed help, and she needed a tough guy in her corner. Plus, he’d served his country and was one of the good guys in a scary world. “I need a bartender/bouncer for two weeks.”

He smiled, flashing strong teeth.

She swallowed again. Wounded and scowling, the guy was handsome. Smiling and charming, he was downright devastating. Her heart rate picked up.

His smile widened. Why? It wasn’t like he could hear her heart.

Frowning, she scooted to the edge of the pool table. Strong hands instantly banded around her waist to lift.

She gasped, not having seen him move. “You move fast.”

He settled her on her feet and waited until she regained her balance.

She tilted her head way back to glance at his face. This close, a strong shadow covered his jaw.

His hands remained at her waist, warm and strong.

“No,” she murmured.

His eyelids creased. “Why not?”

“B-Because.” She couldn’t help but focus on his full lips.

“A woman who ventures into a darkened alley and helps a stranger is brave and likes to take chances.” Challenge and something darker lurked in his eyes.

He smelled like the forest; wild and free.

Heat washed down her torso, and she tried to breathe slowly. What in the world was going on? She liked safe, and she liked security. “I hate taking chances.”

His mouth pursed as he studied her. “Somehow I don’t think so.”

A yowling set up outside the entrance door. He pivoted, shielding her.

Her skin chilled from his removed hands, while her heart warmed at how quickly he’d moved into protector mode. “It’s all right,” she said, stepping around him as relief filled her.

One hand banded around her arm and tugged her back as the yowling increased in volume. “What is that?”

She chuckled. “Let me go.”

“No.” He released her and moved toward the door, gingerly unlocking it to open a crack. Then he stepped back, surprise lifting his dark eyebrows.

Matted brown fur came into view first before a battered face. Eugene meowed at seeing her. She dropped to her haunches. “There you are.” Thank God.

She rubbed his thick fur, careful not to touch his scars. He’d been wounded when she’d found him, and she was the only person he’d allow close. For a brief moment, she’d feared he’d been danger.

“Thank goodness you’re all right,” she crooned.

Matt locked the door and leaned against it, broad arms crossed. “I take it that’s Eugene?”

“Yes.” She smiled as Eugene purred like a diesel. “I thought maybe—” Oh. Too much information to the stranger.“Nothing.”

Matt frowned. “Maybe what?”

“Nothing.” She relaxed. “He’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” That gray gaze narrowed on her.

She cleared her throat, feeling suddenly like a specimen on a slide. “Life isn’t always smooth, even in a small town.” Life was also too short to spend time dumping her problems on a guy who had enough of his own.

“Are you in trouble, sweetheart?” he asked softly, pushing off from the door.

Yes. Definitely. Trouble with all capital letters stood before her like every dangerous fantasy a girl had about tattooed bad boys on motorcycles. “No. By the way, there’s a room upstairs you can rent by the week while you’re here.”

Matt stepped into her space, bringing warmth and the scent of male. One knuckle tipped up her chin. “Sounds perfect. You saved me in the alley, and I owe you. So while I’m here, you’re going to let me take care of whatever put that frightened look in your eyes.”

The absolute strength and determination across his face should scare her. Yet, lava burned through her veins instead of fear. While she had issues, no doubt the biggest threat stood before her with hard muscles and bloody jeans—because against all caution, she wanted to avoid reality and jump into the heat.

That’s how a woman already in danger got burned.

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