The Gunny & The Jazz Singer (Birchwood Falls #1) (16 page)

He drove back down the road toward
town until he spotted the spinning blue lights of a police car. She was in the
midst of telling the cops what happened. He added that Butch had disappeared.
Then he took Phoebe in his arms and vowed never to let her go.

Chapter Fifteen

Marc insisted on driving Phoebe to
the hospital to be checked out, a squad car following. The cops wanted to talk
to both of them, but she was beaten up pretty badly. Tending her wounds took
priority. Because they were both soaking wet they were given scrubs to wear.

The doctor made him wait while
Phoebe was looked at. Meanwhile, he gave his statement. He doubted the police
would be happy that one of their own was a killer, but he didn't suspect the
whole force had gone bad.

"Did you put out an APB for
Wilcox's car?"

"Yes," Officer Carey
responded. "The car was found thirty miles out of town."

"But no Butch?"

"No, but he's being tracked.
We might have to wait until morning though."

"You realize he's dangerous,
don't you? He tried to kill Phoebe. You're not going to go easy on him because
he's a cop, are you?"

Carey speared him with an
almost-lethal flash. "No. And I don't appreciate that question. All I'll
say is that Wilcox isn't the most popular of our coworkers."

"His father is an important
man in this town."

"Mr. Rahn, you apparently don't
remember me, but I was three years behind you at school and was on the football
team."

"Oh yeah? So was Butch."

"And we underclassmen didn't
like him much then either," the officer snapped.

Just then Phoebe limped out to the
waiting room. "Shouldn't you be staying the night for observation?"
Marc drilled the question to the doctor behind her.

"Yes she should, but she
refuses," the doc replied.

"Phoebe, you look terrible,"
Marc said.

She chuckled, wincing a little. "Gee
thanks. I
feel
fine."

"Come on. You know what I
mean." He gingerly put his arm around her shoulders to support her. Through
the material of the scrubs he felt the gauze bandages and saw them on her arms
below the short sleeves. He suspected her legs were similarly bandaged. While
he'd done the chest compressions, he'd seen the scrapes and open wounds.

Damn.
I wish Butch had been up there. I would have killed him.
"Do you want
to go home?"

"We really need to interview
you while your memories are fresh, Ms. Barnes."

"You can do that at my house.
I'm taking you home, honey." Marc took charge and since she sagged against
him and didn't say no, he'd take advantage of that and get her to the safety of
his house.

She straightened up. "No. I'll
go to the police station then we'll go home. I want to get this over with as
soon as possible."

The radio hooked to Officer Carey's
epaulet squawked. He listened then responded. It sounded like Butch had been
apprehended.

"Crossman and Rayne, county
deputies out of Parkersburg, got him. They're bringing him into the station."
Carey looked at Phoebe. "Are you sure you want to go there now?"

Without even glancing at Marc she
growled, "Yes I do. And he'd better be behind bars, or I might give him a
taste of his own medicine."

Marc laughed. "That's my girl."
He drew her chin up and found a spot on her lips that didn't look like it hurt,
gently kissing it. He wanted to do more, but she was a mass of pain and
injuries.
God damn that fucking Butch.

The police station was a zoo. The
deputies had brought Butch in and put him in a holding cell out of sight of the
squad room. Marc heard his voice booming out that he wanted to see his lawyer,
then his father, then back to his lawyer.

Marc and Phoebe were ushered into
separate interview rooms. He was worried about her welfare, but since she
threatened to do bodily harm to Butch, it was obvious she hadn't lost any of
her spunk. He was still worried.

He quickly repeated his account of
what he knew, which was that he'd followed Butch's car, saw Phoebe fall into
the water, and he'd dived into the pool to pull her out. Only she knew for sure
what happened above the falls.

They soon found Marc a seat in the
squad room where he could hear Butch yelling like he'd gone out of his mind.
Phoebe joined him. He pulled their chairs together, his arm around her so she
could rest her head on his shoulder. She was still going home with him if they
could ever get out of here. He'd ask her what happened later, after she'd slept
and had something to eat.

Two deputies strolled through the
front door of the station, both tall, one blond and one with black hair.
"Phoebe Barnes? You're the woman that guy hurt?"

Phoebe lifted her head from his
shoulder and smiled. "Hank, how are you? It's been a while since I saw you
last. Congratulations on your marriage."

"Hey, Phoebs," the blond
said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "And a kid."

"I hadn't heard. That's
great."

"Thanks, Phoebe." Hank
shrugged, tipping his lips up in a smile.

Marc looked from deputy to Phoebe
to deputy. She obviously knew them from her hometown.

"When are you getting married,
Pete?"

"Boy, you know a lot for not
living in Parkersburg any more," replied Pete with a grin.

"I talk to my mom a lot, guys,
and you know it's hard to keep things quiet in a small town."

Okay,
enough of this chitchat.
"Carey," Marc called to the officer. "I'm
taking her home. She's been through hell and is exhausted. You know where you
can find us." With a nod from the cop, Marc steadied Phoebe, and they said
their goodbyes. He couldn't wait to get her in his car and go home.

***

"No arguments, Phoebe. You're
coming in with me so I can watch over you."

"Even with my injuries cleaned
up I still feel filthy. My hair—" She made a face as she fingered the
strands.

"You can't get wet with all
those bandages, but I can wash your hair." She didn't respond, which
proved how beat she was. He brought a kitchen chair into the bathroom, placed
it backward to the sink, and lowered her onto the seat. "Lean back."
Then he proceeded to wash her hair. Most of whatever dirt and rocks might have
gotten into it in her struggles with Butch had washed out in the pond.

She made a growling sound, her eyes
closed, and her face scrunched up.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No." She sighed. "It
feels great."

He massaged her scalp. Her sighs of
rapture sounded like sexual arousal which got him going and his erection
growing.
Control yourself, dude. She's in
no condition for it.

His cock ached though, not
accepting his reasoning. He rinsed her hair, wrapped a towel around it, and
then realized she'd dozed off. He liked seeing her so peaceful and safe with
him. He caught his breath in shock.
She's
mine, damn it.

She's
mine.

Placing her on his bed, he plumped
the pillow under her head, and pulled a quilt over her. All he took off her
were some socks she'd been given at the hospital. Either her shoes were
missing, or in the evidence locker. They were probably unwearable now anyway.

He was just going to lie down next
to her and close his eyes for a minute or two. Life had changed suddenly for
both of them. He wasn't sure what that meant to her, but he was coming to terms
with what it meant for him. He finally had the answers to the questions that
had been dogging him for almost a decade. He'd never before felt like he could
move forward into the future. Now maybe he could.

***

Phoebe woke slowly, and with her
first movement she winced. Even just turning her head made her neck twinge.
Ache upon ache and she seemed to be bandaged everywhere. Stifling her moans,
she slipped off the bed. She checked Marc. He slept soundly curled on his side,
one arm flung off the bed.

She smiled at his snores.
Romance-hero gorgeous, a real hero for saving her life—but he was just a man. A
snoring man.

She tiptoed to the bathroom. Her
bladder was bursting, for starters. After taking care of that business she
wanted a shower, which meant painstakingly removing all the bandages. The cuts
and bruises would benefit from some gentle washing.
God, the shower feels good.

The minute a stark-naked Phoebe
opened the bathroom door, she yelped in surprise. Marc towered over her, his
eyes wide, his nostrils flared. Phoebe stared back, her skin aflame as his gaze
swept her body from head to toe.

His jaw stiffened and shifted when
his eyes stopped on her breasts and her mound. She made no move to cover
herself. Heart pounding until it was all she could hear, she waited to see who
would make the first move. If he didn't do something in the next second, she
would.

"You're perfect." His
voice was as quiet and reverent as if he were in church even though his lips
were tipped in a devilish smile. "Even all beat up, it's like seeing you
the first time in all your naked glory." He still didn't make a move.

Oh
hell.
She stalked toward him, every sense, every pulse point, every
erogenous zone fluttering and filling, aching and wanting. The contrast of
being unclothed to his still being in scrubs was arousing. The thought made her
ache. She closed her eyes at the memory of the feel of his cock pushing inside
her, filling her.

"Thank you for everything."
His eyes—the beautiful light-blue, warmest eyes she'd ever seen—locked onto
hers.
What's taking him so long? Do I
have to do all the seduc—

He took her hands, lifting them to
his chest. Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her into a tight embrace—her
completely naked body against his clothed one. The smooth material was cool on
her thighs and belly. She moaned and her nipples tightened. She rubbed them on
his shirt to heighten the feeling.

His hands slid over her bottom,
covered her cheeks, pulling her roughly to him, grinding his erection over her
belly. She rolled her hips, loving the proof that he was as aroused as she was.

Arching, she molded her softness
against his muscular chest. He whispered her name in a husky voice and hungrily
covered her lips. He consumed her, eating and nipping at her lips, thrusting
his tongue against hers, massaging it, drawing it into his mouth until she didn't
know where she ended and he began.

Sliding her arms over his
shoulders, she cupped his head with both hands, imprisoning it as a fire roared
in her ears.
Alive. I'm alive and safe.

He picked her up, carried her back
to the bed and dumped her in a flurry of arms and legs. Hurriedly, he tore off his
clothing, releasing his magnificent cock, its thick, dark-red veins engorged
fully and a white essence weeping from the tip. He knelt over her, his gaze
roving searingly where his hands caressed.

Cupping her breasts, he rolled and
squeezed her nipples, tugging the ring. He dragged his thumbs down her middle,
massaging all the way until he reached her mound. They slipped between her
folds and toyed there. She cried out, arching, desire streaking through her,
heat blooming and then exploding.

They both could have died last
night. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "Marc." She sighed
his name. Her legs were trapped between his knees and she longed to open them
wide, longed to offer all of herself in love and gratitude. Holding onto her
sanity by a thread, her teeth clamped shut. Breathing in sharply through her
nose, she rose on her elbows to watch him caress her.

His fingers moved lower on her
lips, rubbing in maddening circles but avoiding her clit. She held on. As much
as she wanted his mouth and his cock, she let the glorious sensations streak
through her, loving the buildup as much as she'd love the culmination.

Culmination,
hell!
"Yes, yes…"

"Tell me what you want,
sweetheart."

"You inside me. I want your
weight on me. I want to feel your bare skin on mine."

He thrust a finger inside her. She
gasped, sucked in a breath, and lost her train of thought. A second finger,
twisting and rubbing, found her G-spot. She whimpered, lifting her gaze to his.

He grinned at her, his eyes
gleaming with lust and heat. "You have something to say to me?"

She bore down on the fingers
stroking deep inside her. "You do that, I forget…ah…everything." She
reached out, needing to put her hands on him. "You're so beautiful."
Spreading the fingers of both hands over his pecs, she traced the ridges of
muscles down his chest to his carved belly.

He groaned his pleasure. His
fingers stopped moving inside her and his teeny nipples stood out. She flicked
them with sharp nails. She needed to suckle him. Before she could attempt it, he
widened her thighs, donned a condom, and positioned himself at her entrance.

His eyes squeezed shut in
anticipation as he circled his cock, massaging it into her folds, slicking its
head with her moisture.

She moaned as he made short forays
inside her and brushed over her very sensitive clit. Her hips rose in response,
begging for his full cock. "Marc, oh God, that feels so good."

His light-blue eyes had darkened in
desire, his nostrils flared. She could see how much his teasing of her was
inciting him, his face holding a dreamy, concentrated expression. Lifting her
legs, she locked them around his hips. "Please. Fuck me, Marc," she
cried as she pulled him home. "Yes!"

He plunged fully inside her and let
out a long, satisfied groan. Then he stilled, his eyes glazed, ruddy splotches
on his cheekbones. Besides the pure physical rapture of being filled by him, he
tugged at her heart. This man had saved her life at the risk of his own.

But she couldn't stay still one
more second and tightened her vaginal muscles around him. "Please."
She whimpered when he pulled out almost all the way before stroking back in and
staying, his hips making little pulsing movements.