Author: Jaci Burton

“They didn’t feed you?”

“No.”

“How old were you?”

“I was twelve or so. Trevor was nine.”

A stab of pain knifed through Shadoe’s middle. What kind of parents neglected their children that way? “Did you have any other family? Anyone you could go to?”

He shook his head. “We lived out on the bayou. People keep to themselves and don’t get into anyone’s business.”

“What about school? The principal or counselor?”

He turned his gaze to her. “Did you think I was going to tell anyone? They’d take us away, split up Trevor and me. I couldn’t let that happen. At least at home we were together.”

She wanted to fold him in her arms and hug him, but knew a man like Spence would see that as her thinking he was weak. She thought him anything but. How could he survive a childhood like that? “How did you eat?”

“I started stealing money from my parents’ wallets. Just a bit here and there, not enough that they’d notice. Or so I thought.”

“They noticed.”

“Eventually. You don’t take a dollar’s worth of booze money from a drunk and have them not notice,” he replied with a grim smile. “My old man figured it out, then my mom mentioned she thought her wallet was short, too. All hell broke loose after that and I paid the price.”

Her eyes widened. “He beat you?”

Spence shrugged. “That was nothing new. By that age I was pretty used to it, so I could handle it.”

A child so used to beatings he shrugged them off at age twelve. Shadoe was horrified. “How bad was it?”

“He didn’t break anything that time. Just a few bruises and a cut lip. I survived.”

“Jesus, Spence. Why didn’t you—”

“Because of Trevor.” The look on his face was fierce. Angry. “It was my job to protect him, to take care of him. Because they sure as hell weren’t.”

She fought back tears at the thought of a twelve-year-old boy—a child himself—forced to become caregiver to his little brother. She was appalled and angry on his behalf. “What happened then?”

“I got smarter. No stealing from the drunk parents. I figured out another way.”

“Which was?”

“I stole from everyone else.”

His grin spoke of pride. “Who?”

“Other classmates. Neighbors. Merchants in the small town we lived in. Anywhere and everywhere I could. Money, food, whatever it took to feed my brother and me.”

How could he not be angry—still carry that anger with him? She would. “Your parents should have been arrested.”

“Trevor and I survived. It’s the only thing that mattered.”

“How long did this go on?”

He shifted, turning on his side and leaning his head against his hand. “The years went by; my parents lost their jobs. You can’t drink like they did and hold down a job. My dad eventually took off and Mom went on welfare. I hated that. Everyone knew it. I took shit for it.”

“From your friends.”

He let out a short laugh. “Friends don’t laugh at you when you’re down. I had no friends. Just Trevor. He and I were tight.”

“Did he steal, too?”

His brows winged. “Hell no. I wouldn’t let him, though he knew what I was doing. I didn’t want to ruin him. I wanted him straight. I had high hopes for him to make something of himself despite the shithole we grew up in. He was smart, ya know? Fucking awesome grades in school. Teachers loved him. By the time he was sixteen I knew he would go on to college. He had the stuff to get scholarships. I had to keep him on the right track, make sure that happened.”

She didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed.

“What did you do?”

“I got him the hell out of that house that always smelled like booze and failure. Set him up with foster parents. A really nice couple who had a son Trevor’s age and had always wanted more kids but couldn’t have them. They were always nice to us, fed us whenever we were over there. They contacted Social Services, petitioned the court, got Mom’s parental rights taken away.”

“How did you manage that?”

His devilish smile said everything. “I went around the system. I’d played it for years so I knew the ins and outs. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to walk into that filth that was our house and realize it was a shit environment for a kid.”

“What about you?”

“I was nineteen by then, and in trouble. I hightailed it out of there long before it all went down. I wanted to steer clear to pave the road for everything to go right for Trevor.”

“You abandoned him?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. His sharp frown made her feel two inches tall.

“I did what was best for my brother. I was a thief, a lowlife, and he was already way too close to me. I saw the writing on the wall. If I didn’t get out of there, I was going to taint him.”

She didn’t believe that, but she kept her mouth shut this time.

“I’d already had too many close calls with the law and I was skirting the edge. I had to go underground, and I wasn’t going to leave Trevor alone with a useless, drunk, out-of-her-mind mother who wouldn’t take care of him. So I . . . made arrangements.”

“How did Trevor take it?”

Spence shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he got over it. Last I heard he was in medical school.” His wistful smile made her heart ache.

“He’s going to be a doctor?”

“Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s amazing. You did a wonderful thing for your brother.”

He shrugged. “He was destined for good things anyway. I just shoved him in the right direction.”

“You saved his life, his future. He survived because of you. He became what he is today because of what you did for him, because of the sacrifices you made for him.”

Shadoe had been wrong about Spence. What he must have endured all those years. The suffering he went through. He was right. Between her life and his, there was no comparison. She was ashamed for feeling like she’d had it bad. He’d lived a childhood of hell, without love and warmth. Except for his brother.

“Why don’t you look him up now?”

He shook his head. “No point in that. We cut our ties. He has his life and I have mine.”

“But look what you’ve done with yours. You have an amazing life—”

He shot her a glare. “That I can’t tell him about. You know that.”

She nodded, understood, hated that he couldn’t share his success with his brother, show him what he’d become. For all Trevor knew, Spence could be in prison. Or dead.

That annoyed her. But it wasn’t her place to object, or frankly, to even care. She wasn’t involved with him other than as his partner on this case.

The problem was she did care. More than she should. She felt his pain, even though he tried hard to mask it under shrugs and grins and nonchalance. She reached over and laid her hand on his arm, offering the only support she could.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that.”

His tone was harsh.

“Why not?”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“You think I pity you?” She laughed. “I don’t pity you at all, Spence. I admire you.”

He looked appalled. “For what?”

“For what you’ve done with your life, for the sacrifices you’ve made. The amazing strength to endure what you did. Most guys growing up like you did wouldn’t have done what you did for your brother. Many would have ended up just like your parents.”

“That was the last thing I wanted.”

“Obviously. Which is why I admire you. You set a good example for your brother.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Lying, cheating, and stealing are great examples.”

“You did what you had to do since you had no other resources. I’m sure he understood that you did all those things because you loved him.”

“I’m no hero, Shadoe. Don’t think of me that way.”

She smiled, refusing to let him denigrate himself. “You’re not a bad guy either.”

“You still don’t know me at all.”

“I know more about you now than I did an hour ago.”

“I’m not a nice guy.”

He stood and she did, too, bending down to grab her boots.

“I think you’re a really nice guy.” She didn’t care that he didn’t think so. She needed him to hear it, to understand it. He probably never heard it often enough.

“I’m really not a nice guy, Shadoe,” he said again.

She was about to argue, but she didn’t expect the lightning quick move he made, sweeping one arm under her, using the other to jerk her against him. Shocked, she dropped her boots and gasped.

She had only a fraction of a second to see the need, the anger flash in his sharp blue eyes before he bent down and slashed his mouth over hers. She didn’t have time to ponder why he was doing this. Her mind went utterly blank and she forgot everything but the feel of him against her, the taste of his mouth, and the full blast of awakening inside her body.

EIGHT

SPENCE’S KISS WAS ANGRY. IN THE BACK OF HER PASSION-MUDDLED mind, Shadoe recognized that he wasn’t kissing her because of any sudden urge to make out. He wanted to punish her. He was striking out at her, trying to prove to her that he was anything but a nice guy.

She didn’t care, because his kiss was mind melting, toe curling, and everything she’d always wanted out of a kiss. To be swept off her feet, rendered senseless by a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew his way around a woman’s body.

The way he touched her—not tentative in the least, but bold, with no hesitation, grabbing her ass to haul her up against his rock-hard erection—was anything but nice. Did he think she was going to push him away because he was rough with her? Anything but. Her nipples tightened at the fierceness of his passion, the hungry need evidenced by the way he dug his fingers into her arm, swept his hand along her ribs to lift her shirt so he could feel her bare skin. And all the while his lips moved over hers in this driving, claiming way, his tongue a velvet torture device that made her weak in the knees. Her pussy wept with joy at the way he devoured her.

She wanted more, and let him know by clutching his arms and drawing closer to him, moaning against his lips, rocking her hips against him. He answered by growling, and, oh man, did that excite her. She’d never been with a man who was so amazingly animalistic like Spence. Hell, she’d never been with a man who was so much like a man. So primal, even in the way he smelled—earthy, sexy, potent. She wanted to strip him down right there, push him onto the grassy slope and fuck him hard.

Instead, he pulled away from her and dropped to his knees, using his hands to stroke her hips, her thighs.

She held her breath as he stopped there, his fingers teasing the hem of her skirt before sliding up inside. He began to lift her skirt, inch by slow, torturous inch. Every touch of his fingers against her legs made her pussy swell, her clit quiver in anticipation.

“Spread your legs for me, Shadoe,” he said, keeping his gaze focused on her legs—between her legs.

She parted her legs, and he continued the slow rise of her skirt, raising it over her hips to reveal her black thong panties. He removed her hidden sheath and knife and laid them on the ground next to him, then leaned forward, spread his fingers wide over her ass cheeks and buried his face into the vee of her crotch.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. Her knees went weak and she laid her hand on the top of his head. His breath was hot against her sex, making her wonder if she’d be able to keep standing if he was going to continue doing this to her.