Lucan (Steele Protectors 6) Page 10

  “I think Pete was referring to the ferocity with which you took him down, not the length of your hair or your clothing.” She burst into fresh peals of laughter as Lucan continued to scowl his displeasure.

  “Let’s just eat our food and then get out of here,” he muttered when she finally sobered enough to listen.

  “Fine.” Becca nodded. “But don’t think I’m ever going to let you forget what just happened.”

  She immediately gave a pained wince. Because there would be no “ever” for her and Lucan. In fact, she doubted they would ever see each other again once it was safe for her to return to London and her own life.

  Becca watched Lucan out the kitchen window the following morning as he wielded an axe, easily chopping huge logs down to smaller pieces before throwing them onto the woodpile beneath the lean-to.

  It had been the thunking of that axe that had woken her earlier, after what had been a very restless night’s sleep. A night spent completely alone in her bed.

  Lucan had lapsed into silence yesterday on their drive back from town, and he had remained taciturn for the rest of the evening.

  There was no internet connection in the cottage, no television either. Instead, the two of them had spent the rest of the evening reading, each having chosen one of the many books Lucan kept in a bookcase in the corner of the room. The only respite had been when Lucan warmed soup and baked some bread for their supper. But they had even eaten that in silence. And not a companionable one either.

  By the time Becca’s wristwatch had crept round to ten o’clock, her nerves were frayed and all she wanted was to escape the tension in the room.

  Lucan made no demur when she excused herself and went upstairs to bed. She’d heard him come up the stairs himself half an hour later, her heart skipping several beats as she waited to see which bedroom he would choose. The closing of the door across the hallway seconds later gave her that answer.

  The fact Lucan had closed the door at all when he admitted to being claustrophobic was enough to tell her he’d closed it as a warning she wasn’t welcome to join him.

  Becca was pretty sure he’d chosen to go outside and chop wood this morning so that he could continue to ignore—or avoid—her. A distance which was going to make things even more strained between the two of them.

  Was that even possible?

  They couldn’t continue like this if they were going to be here long enough to need all that wood Lucan had chopped during the two hours she’d been watching him.

  Becca had no idea how long he had been out there, but his black T-shirt clung damply to all the hard and muscular contours of his chest and abdomen. And every time he bent over, his fitted jeans clung to and outlined the twin globes of his perfectly formed arse.

  Lucan was beautiful. A literal work of art. His face was hard and chiseled and devastatingly male. The scars she knew were on his back did absolutely nothing to detract from how hard and muscular his body was beneath that T-shirt.

  All Becca wanted to do was go outside and lick him all over before the two of them made love again.

  God, merely thinking about the two of them making love again was enough to make her feel warm all over.

  Admittedly, things had gotten a little strained between the two of them yesterday morning after they made love, and then later Lucan had behaved like some sort of caveman in the pub by pushing poor Pete up against the wall with his arm twisted behind his back.

  Because he’d thought Pete was one of Ernesto Silva’s men and had been protecting her.

  Maybe, but Lucan hadn’t looked any happier once he’d accepted Pete had only been flirting with her.

  Could Lucan have possibly been jealous of Pete? And if he had, was it because he cared for her in the same way Becca had realized she cared for him?

  Lucan had claimed not to do sleepovers, morning-after sex, or dates. And yet he had done all three of those things with her in a very short time. Protesting every minute, but he had still done them—

  “It’s good to meet you at last, Becca.”

  She gave a little squeak, and spun round so fast at the sound of that unfamiliar voice behind her, she almost lost her balance. She could definitely feel the color having drained from her face as she wondered if one of Silva’s men had found them after all.

  Her breath left her in a relieved gasp after one glance at the unarmed man quietly closing the front door of the cottage behind him told her he was related to Lucan. He had the same height and body build, along with the dark hair and eyes.

  Yes, she had no doubt Lucan and this man were related.

  Which meant he had to be one of the Steele brothers.

  But which one?

  Logan the pain.

  Rourke the charmer.

  Bryce the fighter.

  Haydn the nerd.

  Atticus the eldest.

  “You’re even more beautiful than your photographs,” he complimented smoothly.

  Rourke the charmer, then, and also her landlord.

  He was also the second Steele brother to call her Becca in as many days.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucan was aware of the exact moment Becca’s gaze was no longer on him. She’d been staring at him out the window so intently for the past couple of hours, he literally felt that shift in her attention.

  He rested the axe on the ground as he straightened before turning to look through the window where she’d been standing. He could still see Becca inside the kitchen, but she had turned away so that only the side of her face was visible rather than all of it.

  Even from this distance, he could see the tension in her body as she stared across the open-plan room toward the front of the cottage. Her jaw seemed to be moving, and her lips were parted—

  Dear sweet Jesus, Becca is talking to someone!

  After a very restless night’s sleep—but thankfully, no nightmares—at six o’clock this morning, Lucan had given up on sleeping any longer and instead gone downstairs for some coffee before going outside to the back of the cottage, and set about using some of his excess energy to chop wood he doubted they were going to need.

  And while he’d been outside protecting himself and his emotions, he’d left Becca completely unprotected, and now someone was inside the cottage with her. Lucan very much doubted Becca’s sarcasm or feistiness would be much protection if Silva’s man had a gun.

  Lucan dropped the axe before jumping over the pile of logs waiting to be stacked and ran toward and then wrenched open the back door of the cottage before hurrying inside. Every muscle and sinew in his body was on high alert.

  He skidded to a halt when he saw his brother Rourke, totally relaxed and smiling as he stood inside the closed front door. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded harshly.

  Becca turned to look at him with icy green eyes. “I would have thought it was obvious your brother is here to see you.”

  Lucan continued to look at Rourke through narrowed lids. “He shouldn’t even know this cottage exists.”

  “Oh, please,” Rourke drawled, completely unperturbed by Lucan’s aggression. “None of us can keep any secrets from Haydn, but after you disappeared the last time, we made sure to know all your hideaways. This was the only one that’s had any movement during the last twenty-four hours.”

  “You have motion sensors in here?” Lucan scowled his displeasure as he looked around for anything that might remotely resemble a sensor.

  “Not inside the cabin,” Rourke dismissed. “That would be an invasion of your privacy.” He ignored Lucan’s snort of disgust. “But there’s one on the woodshed outside. We have no intention of losing you again,” he added firmly when Lucan looked set to continue arguing.

  He breathed out noisily through his nose. “Why are you here?” he demanded again.

  “I wouldn’t need to be if you stopped destroying your cell phones and didn’t cut my wife off midsentence during a telephone conversation.”

  Lucan eyes narrowed. “Rourke,” he war
ned.

  “Before I say anything else, I think you should introduce the two of us.” His brother turned the warmth of his smile on Becca. “Or I can introduce myself,” he drawled as his suggestion was met by Lucan’s glowering silence. “I’m Rourke Steele.” He held out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Rebecca Snow.”

  She gave an inclination of her head as the two of them briefly shook hands. “I hope you’ve come to tell us that the danger of Ernesto Silva is over and we can leave here.”

  Lucan felt a jolt in his chest at Becca’s obvious eagerness to have this situation over and done with.

  Mainly so she could get away from him?

  No doubt.

  But who could blame her.

  He’d acted like a jealous idiot in the pub yesterday, then completely kept his distance yesterday evening and last night. This was the first time he’d even seen Becca this morning when it wasn’t through a window and with all those previous hours of silence between them.

  “The danger of Ernesto Silva is over, and you can leave here,” Rourke confirmed.

  “Oh, thank God.” Becca reached out to grip one of the worktops as she felt her knees threatening to buckle in her relief. “Did he walk into your trap? Is he still alive?” she added anxiously. The last thing she wanted was for any of the Steele family to put themselves in a position of danger because of her.

  Rourke shot his brother a questioning glance before answering. “Hailey is our sniper, and she managed to disarm him before he could hurt anyone. We were able to capture him after that with no further bloodshed.”

  “Hailey?” Becca had heard the other woman’s name mentioned before.

  Rourke nodded abruptly. “She works for us and is engaged to marry Haydn.”

  “When the hell did that happen?” Lucan murmured ruefully.

  Rourke chuckled. “Haydn called this morning to tell us the good news.”

  “He didn’t come back with you?”

  “I think Haydn wanted to spend a few hours alone with Hailey.”

  “What will happen to Bianca?” Becca prompted when the two men fell silent.

  Rourke shrugged. “She’s wisely decided to step down from her current position and concentrate on her family.”

  “And where’s Silva right now?” Lucan demanded.

  “On his way back to New York, courtesy of Gregori Markovic,” Rourke drawled.

  Lucan had told Becca who Gregori Markovic was: the head of the London Russian bratva. The same man Lucan had also told Becca was a friend of the family, and that his second, Nikolai Volkov, was their brother Bryce’s best friend.

  “Does Silva still want to kill me?” she prompted anxiously.

  Rourke chuckled. “We managed to persuade him that wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “How? Please, tell me,” she insisted as Rourke shot Lucan another enigmatic glance.

  Rourke shrugged. “We offered him the flight back to the US before his parole officer realizes he broke that parole by leaving the country and he’s subsequently thrown back in jail. But also by explaining you aren’t responsible for his brother having kidnapped your sister and that same brother being killed during her rescue.”

  Becca frowned. “But he already knew that.”

  “Well…yes,” Rourke acknowledged. “But it never does any harm to reinforce something by repeating it.”

  Becca looked from Rourke to Lucan and then back again. The wariness of their expressions was enough to set alarm bells ringing inside her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Because Becca was pretty sure there was something else going on here. She could sense that something beneath Rourke’s charm and Lucan’s surliness.

  “Nothing to say?” she dismissed impatiently when her question was met with silence from both men. “Fine. I’ll go and collect my things from upstairs, and we can be on our way. I just want to return to London and my own life as soon as possible.” She strode across the room and then up the stairs.

  “Well, that went well,” Rourke drawled once the two men could hear Becca moving about in the bedroom above them.

  “Your timing sucks,” Lucan scowled.

  His brother shot him a mocking glance. “That isn’t what Sophie says about my timing or my sucking.”

  Lucan gave a weary sigh, too tired and angry with himself to even attempt to hide his frustration. “So not funny.”

  Rourke moved into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot keeping warm on the percolator. He took an appreciative sip before speaking again. “So why did my timing suck?”

  He avoided meeting his brother’s gaze as he tidied up the kitchen, readying for them to leave. “It isn’t important.”

  “No?”

  “No!”

  Rourke was silent for only a couple of heartbeats. “Becca is a very beautiful woman.”

  “Zero points for stating the obvious,” he scorned.

  “Lucan—”

  “Can we just get out of here so we can get on with the next phase of this fiasco?” Lucan snapped tensely before narrowing his gaze on Rourke. “I take it there is going to be a next stage?”

  His brother nodded. “Haydn and Hailey are on their way back to London now. If we leave shortly, we should all arrive at Haydn’s apartment at about the same time.”

  Which, Lucan recognized, was when all hell was going to break loose.

  If he wanted to make his peace with Becca, then he’d better do it before they left here.

  “You go on ahead of us,” Lucan told Rourke. “Becca and I will follow shortly.”

  “Lucan— Whoa!” Rourke leaned back as Lucan got in his face, his expression fierce. “What the hell, Lucan?”

  “Don’t argue with me or say something clever. Just fucking do it,” he warned from between gritted teeth.

  Rourke gave a rueful shake of his head. “I was only going to say that you deserve to be happy too, bro.”

  Lucan eased back slightly. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means we all have things in our past that either haunt us or we’re not proud of. All of us, Lucan,” he added firmly. “August loves Logan anyway. Bella loves Bryce. Hailey loves Haydn. Jenna loves Atticus. And Sophie loves me,” he added with certainty. “I can see by the way you and Becca are avoiding even looking at each other that there’s something between the two of you. An intimate connection. Don’t deny it,” he warned as Lucan would have spoken. “Even more importantly, don’t allow anything or anyone to screw that up for you.”

  Lucan had told Becca all there was to know about his past. She had seen his scars and made love with him after one of his nightmares.

  It wasn’t the past that bothered him. It was what was going to happen when they returned to London and Becca met Hailey.

  “And who do you think she’s going to be most angry with once she knows the truth?” Lucan had absolutely no doubt who that was going to be.

  “You were asked to protect her, and that’s what you’ve done,” Rourke reasoned. “If things have progressed on from that, and I believe they have, then I’m pleased for both of you. But the important thing now is for you to be there for Becca. Because once this breaks, she’s going to need someone standing beside her holding her hand.”

  “Once what breaks?”

  Both men turned to look at Becca as she walked slowly down to the bottom of the stairs.

  She’d been able to hear the murmur of the two men talking below as she packed her things. There really wasn’t that much, despite the shopping spree yesterday.

  The brothers’ voices were loud enough for her to understand what was being said by the time she stood at the top of the stairs.

  She’d wanted to agree when Rourke told Lucan nothing that had happened in his past should prevent him from finding the same happiness his brothers had.

  She’d tensed and then stilled completely when Lucan talked of her being angry with him when she learned the truth.

  The truth about what?

&nb
sp; “Time I was leaving.” Rourke straightened. “I’ll see the two of you back in London.”

  “Don’t bother,” Lucan warned Becca.

  Her chin rose. “Don’t bother with what?”

  “Don’t bother asking Rourke if you can travel back to London with him, because you’re driving back with me,” he stated firmly.

  How the hell had he known she was going to suggest that…?

  Becca’s eyes narrowed as she threw her collection of bags onto one of the armchairs. “Don’t tell me what I am or am not going to do,” she snapped.

  “Arse, smacked,” he reminded grimly.

  “Balls, kicked,” she came back instantly.

  “And on that note, I think it’s time for me to leave…” Rourke chuckled as he strode over to the door. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you again soon, Becca.”

  She couldn’t think why or when that would ever happen after Lucan dropped her off at her apartment. Her apartment… Of course, Rourke was her landlord. “I really appreciate you driving all the way down here to let us know Ernesto Silva is no longer a threat.”

  “You’re welcome.” He gave her another one of those warm and charming smiles before sobering as he turned to Lucan. “You can carry on fighting this for as long as you want, bro, but in the end it’s a waste of the time and energy you could spend doing much pleasanter things.”

  Lucan shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do,” Rourke said knowingly. “And once you stop fighting yourself and your conscience, you’ll feel so much better. I know we all did,” he added ruefully.

  “I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucan maintained stubbornly.

  “Of course you don’t,” his brother drawled. “Drive safe.” He closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

  Chapter Thirteen

  If Lucan had thought the silence in the cottage the previous evening was uncomfortable then the tension between himself and Becca on the drive back to London was excruciating.

  Probably because each mile brought them closer to saying goodbye.