Naughty Heroes

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Mitch wasn’t sure if he should fall on the floor and beg Sara for forgiveness or find her bastard ex and beat him to within an inch of his life. Her daddy was beyond his grasp now. And he’d learned a long time ago there was no use in yelling at the dead. They no longer cared.

“I went out to your place once to talk to your uncle. He ran me off with his rifle and wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

“Bastard never mentioned it when I called him.” Her family and his had both conspired to keep them apart. It would have been almost laughable the lengths they’d gone to if it involved anyone else. But it was about him and Sara. And it was tragic.

“Let’s get something to eat and we can talk some more.” He was more than a bit out of sorts and needed a few minutes to get himself back together. He imagined Sara was feeling the same. It was a lot to take in. He wasn’t surprised by his uncle’s betrayal. But he couldn’t imagine how she felt. Her daddy, her family, had all but sold her to Connor Richmond. They’d used her broken heart, guilt, and her sense of family to push her into it.

His first reaction was to take Sara back to bed and make love to her again. He’d used his only condom, but she might have some here. Not that he really wanted to think about the reason why she might have them. But they could both use some time to steady themselves. Making love to her had been explosive. It had also assured him he’d made the right decision in coming home. His place was with Sara. She was his now and he wasn’t letting her go. Not a second time.

“I’m going to get cleaned up.” Sara looked pale to him, but steady. “You go on out to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee,” she told him. “I won’t be long.” She padded barefoot out the door and down the hall. When the bathroom door closed, he stood and yanked on his socks and boots before pulling on his T-shirt.

He heard water running as he made his way to the kitchen. The space wasn’t fancy. The countertops and backsplash looked fairly new, but the appliances were at least thirty years old. The cupboards had been painted a light blue, but they too looked old, possibly original to the house. But everything was scrupulously clean, unlike what he knew he’d find at his old place when he finally got there.

Didn’t take him long to brew a pot of coffee and make some ham and cheese sandwiches with what was in the refrigerator. He thought long and hard while he waited for Sara. He had two choices. He could continue with his mission, keeping her in the dark until it was done. Or he could tell her everything and pray she’d keep his confidence.

It all came down to what he wanted. If he ever hoped for them to have any kind of a relationship, there was only one choice.

He was waiting by the counter when she walked into the room. Like him, she’d dressed, but her clothes were clean—yoga pants that clung to her curves and an oversized pink T-shirt with a sparkly unicorn on the front. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he was momentarily distracted by the gentle sway of her breasts as she walked toward him.

She seemed startled by the plate of sandwiches. “Hope I didn’t overstep?”

“No, that’s fine. I appreciate it.” She went to the counter and poured up two coffees. “Let’s sit at the table.”

When they were settled, she took a sip and smiled. “You make decent coffee.” Then she put the mug down, clasped her hands together, and looked down at them. “I thought I was doing the right thing, the only thing I could do. It wasn’t so bad. Not at first. I had clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs or from the Walmart. I got to try food I’d never eaten before. I could stop into the coffee shop whenever I wanted.”

Mitch understood what it was to grow up poor. Most of them in this part of Kentucky did. His family fit the stereotype—drunk and slovenly and violent. But Sara’s family were like most of the folks who lived here—decent, honest people just trying to get by the best they could. Sara had always kept up the garden her momma had started, growing as many vegetables as she could. Her daddy had hunted and worked wherever he could make a dollar.

As much as he wanted to hate her daddy, he couldn’t. He’d probably taken out a small loan on the land in a moment of desperation and had no way to repay it. Connor’s proposal would have been seen as a godsend. And the only thing in the way, the only one in the way had been Mitch.

“You did what you felt you had to.” He hated seeing her so sad, so hurt. When she raised her head, his heart almost broke at the unhappiness reflected there. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb. “Don’t cry, honey.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t believe in you, didn’t try harder.”

“We’re both to blame. I should have come home when I had leave, demanded you talk with me. We were young and stupid and prideful, and those around us used that to their advantage.”

She nodded. “I know you’re right. It just makes me sad.” She grabbed a sandwich and took a bite. “Where does that leave us?” she asked when she’d finished chewing the bite.

“That’s entirely up to you.” His task force contact would likely have his head for this, but he didn’t care. This was about his future, his life. That was more important to him than any drug bust. He’d still do the job, but he wouldn’t keep Sara in the dark.

* * * * *

Sara felt strangely empty. She’d carried around that baggage for a long, long time. It was good to finally unload it and let it go. It fit with the new life she was building. She would stand on her own two feet, make her own decisions, and earn her own money. Independence was what she wanted and needed.

As odd as it sounded, she couldn’t regret her experiences. She’d become a stronger person, a better one. Maybe she would have grown the same if she and Mitch had married. She’d have been alone while he’d been deployed and would have had to learn to stand on her own. There was no way to ever know. But they were both here now, and life had shaped them into the people they were. She liked herself. And from everything she’d seen, she liked Mitch, too.

More than that, she still had feelings for him. She wasn’t quite ready to call it love. Not yet. There were still too many unknowns. Everything had happened so quickly. He’d only rolled back into town hours ago and they’d already been to bed together.

“What do you mean?” There was something else on Mitch’s mind. The thing about knowing someone for so long and so well was that he couldn’t hide things from her. Of course, that went both ways.

His mouth was pulled into a thin line, his face was grim. Whatever he was going to tell her, she probably wasn’t going to like.

“I came back for three reasons,” he began. “First of all, I needed to see you.” He reached out and took her hand. “No matter what happens, or what you think, you need to believe me.”

“Okay.” A shiver went down her spine. He was starting to scare here. “The other two reasons?”

“You know I inherited the old house after my uncle died. I need to clean it out and see if there’s anything there I want.”

“You’re not staying.” That’s what she got from that. When she would have tugged her hand from his, he held on tight.

“I’m honestly not sure.” He gave her fingers a squeeze and then released them. He rubbed his face and rolled his shoulders. “A lot depends on what happens.”

“The third reason you mentioned.”

“Yeah.” He pinned her with his steady gaze. “You know drugs are a problem here?”

“Sure.” It was no secret that there were some folks who made their money from drugs. Prescription drugs had become a huge problem over the past few years. She stayed away from all of that. She wasn’t quite sure where he was going. Was he involved with drugs? As soon as she thought it, she dismissed the idea. Mitch was too straight, too honest to consider selling drugs.

“Sheriff Billings doesn’t see what he doesn’t want to see. And if he does, he tends to look the other way.”

Her heart began to pound, and when she picked up her mug, her hands were shaking. “Why does it matter?” The law had been involved, either pursuing or helping drug runners and moonshiners, for decades.

Mitch took a deep breath. “There’s a state police drug task force involved.”

Sara was shocked. “A task force?” she repeated. “But why? We’ve always been too small time for them to bother.” Everyone knew about the illegal activities that went on, but most ignored it and went about their own business.

“I was trying to decide what to do about my career while I was in rehab for my leg. Then Uncle Cyrus died. Not long after, a buddy of mine walked into my hospital room with several other men and asked for my help. When he left the service, he joined the Kentucky State Police and is part of the drug enforcement branch.”

She was desperately trying to wrap her head around all of this. It was totally unexpected. She’d assumed he’d come home to see about his family house and land. And that was the point. Everyone else would assume the same. It gave Mitch a legitimate reason to be in Mission Creek. His buddy with the task force would have known that. With his military background, he was the perfect person to nose around and see what he could find out.

“And us?” Her voice was surprisingly steady when her insides were trembling.

He frowned. “Us?”

“Was coming on to me at the bar all a part of your cover?” It tainted what they’d shared. Made her feel cheap and used.

He surged to his feet, the chair toppling behind him. He came around the table, a big, strong man, one who knew how to kill. But she wasn’t afraid, only hurt. Mitch went down on his knees beside her and turned her chair so she was facing him.

“No. I was told to stay away from you.” He hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t,” he repeated.

Now she was even more confused. “Why were you told to stay away from me?” That didn’t make sense. It would only give more authenticity to his cover. Then it hit her. “They think I’m involved.”

“f**k them. I know better. I know you.” He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her lightly. “I would never believe that about you.”

“You don’t know me. Not anymore,” she pointed out. It was a shock to realize anyone would think such a thing about her. Even scarier to know the state police task force had been looking at her life, maybe even watching her.

Mitch placed his hand over her heart. “I know you.” The heat from his palm penetrated the thin material of her shirt. Her n*****s pebbled and a slow heat began to seep through her blood, distracting her from their conversation.

She licked her lips. His gaze followed her tongue. When she glanced down, she noticed the bulge in the front of his jeans. He was as aroused as she was.

“So you came back home to do a job.” Not for her. Even though she knew it shouldn’t, it hurt.

“No.” he ran his hands up and down her arms. “The job gave me an excuse to come back, to finally face you. When I heard about your divorce…”

Okay, that made sense. She might not like it, but it made sense. “Where do you even begin to figure out who is involved selling drugs?” It seemed like a needle in a haystack to her. The people who lived here knew where to hide things.

“They already know where the main distribution center is.”

She might only have a high school education but she wasn’t stupid. “The bar. That’s why you were there.” It made sense. Nearly everyone was in and out of the place at least once a week and most of them more often. With the heavy turnover of people, it would be impossible to tell who was involved and who wasn’t. Except that someone who worked there would have to be a part of it. “Who?” She had to know.

Mitch shrugged and sat back on his heels, his jaw tightening. She wondered if his leg was hurting but knew better than to ask. Pride was a powerful thing. It was strange to have him sitting at her feet, but it in no way diminished his presence.

“You must suspect someone working there?” she pushed. “I have a right to know.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t want you to start acting strange around anyone. If they thought for a second you knew something, they might hurt you.” His eyes were fierce. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He was right, to a point. “If I don’t know, I can’t protect myself,” she pointed out.

He shook his head. “Right now, they suspect everyone.”

Johnny was the most likely candidate, she reasoned. Her boss owned the place and seemed to have money. Of course, it could come legitimately from the bar. There were bartenders and waitresses, three cooks who ran the kitchen, a dishwasher, and a janitor.

“Including me?” It was strange to be considered a possible criminal.

“I don’t care what they think. I know better. But whoever is running an operation this big had to have money backing them from the beginning. This is more than selling weed you grew in a patch in the woods. This is big time. And the bar is a distribution center. Folks can come from anywhere, stop in for a drink, and leave with product to sell.”

He stood and walked over to the window, staring out into the dark. It was odd how knowing something like this changed her perception of her hometown. This was more than just selling some shine or weed to make a few extra bucks. As the mines closed down and the jobs disappeared, the county had become poorer. People were struggling to stay alive. While she couldn’t blame them for wanting to feed their families, drugs hurt other people’s families. That was wrong.

But it was up to the law to stop them. Not her and not Mitch.

“You need to walk away from this.” She went to him but didn’t touch him. Not sure if she should. He seemed standoffish. Alone.

“I can’t. I gave my word.”

And his word meant something to him. She knew that. “I don’t want you hurt.” He’d already given up eight years of his life to protect his country and been injured. It was someone else’s turn to do the job.

“Then you aren’t protecting anyone?” When he faced her, his gaze was flat.

Shocked, she took a step back. “The only one I’m worried about is you, but I can see you don’t care about that.” She started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.

“Sara Leigh.” She hated when he said her name like that. It made her insides all soft and mushy.

“You should go now.” They both had a lot to think about.

He shook his head and tugged her closer. “Not while you’re mad with me.”

Her laugh tinged with bitterness. “Mitch, I’ve been mad with you for eight years. That’s not new.”

“I’ve been mad at you for just as long,” he reminded her. He eased her back up against the wall and pressed his hands beside her head. “But I don’t want to be mad. Not anymore. Life is too damn short.”

He had to be thinking about his own injuries. He’d been in an explosion, could have been killed. Life was too damn short. Her family was gone and so was his.

He leaned down and kissed her. She didn’t resist, hating the distance that had arisen between them after such closeness earlier. s*x didn’t make a relationship. She, more than anyone, understood that. But there’d always been a connection between her and Mitch. Something that distance, time, and a whole lot of mad couldn’t change.

His lips were soft and warm. She made a sound in the back of her throat and locked her arms around his neck, wanting to get closer. Being with him, kissing him, made her understand that she’d only been half alive, merely existing for years.

He angled his head and deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth, claiming it. Her kiss was just as fierce. Mitch was hers. He’d always been hers. But that didn’t mean she could keep him, that he would stay. She was no longer the optimistic wide-eyed girl who believed love could conquer all.

No, she was a woman who was more than ready to take what she wanted. And what she wanted was Mitch. She wanted to be with him for as long as he was here. There would be time enough for regrets when he was gone.

The kiss went on and on, playful at times, at others hard and desperate. Mitch didn’t touch her anywhere else, keeping his hands solidly on the wall. She on the other hand, didn’t want to let go. But they both needed some space.

Slowly, she unlocked her arms and let them slip back down his chest before falling to her sides. He raised his head and stared at her, so familiar, yet different in subtle ways.

“Can I come back later?” he asked.

She nodded. “I have to work at six, but I can make an early supper, around four.” She hesitated and plunged in with both feet before she could talk herself out of it. “Do you want some help at the house?”

“How bad is it?” He pushed away from the wall and picked up the chair that toppled over earlier.

“Bad.” There’d been no one there for months now and Mitch’s uncle hadn’t been big on housekeeping. “I haven’t been inside but the yard is full of junk.”

“I’ve got a garbage bin being delivered tomorrow.” He looked at his watch. “Today. In a couple of hours.”

It was past three in the morning. She was tired. He had to be exhausted. “You want some breakfast?”

He shook his head. “Probably best I don’t before I tackle that mess. I’ll eat later.”

“You want to stay?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not a good idea. If I stay, we’ll end up back in bed, and I don’t have any more condoms.”

“I don’t have any either.” There’d been no need since her separation and divorce.

His smile deepened and her heart fluttered. “Glad to hear it.”

It took her a second and then she scowled. “It’s not that I haven’t been asked out. I’m just discriminating about who I let in my bed.”

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Glad to hear it,” he repeated.

All she could do was laugh. “Go on. But be careful, Mitch.”

“I will,” he promised. He left then and her home, the place she’d grown up, felt emptier than it ever had. She went to the front window, eased back the curtain, and watched him drive away, already counting the hours until she saw him again.