Luscious (Topped #1)(14)

The street kid inside her told her to run, to hide, to protect herself. She’d spent those first years of her life in survival mode. She’d not known anything else until she’d been taken in by her mom and Ronnie. It would be easy to slip back into it. Hell, she’d been in it since her mother died. The child she’d been had taken over and she looked out for herself. That child urged her to take the radio and the flashlight and hide. No one would blame her.

But she wasn’t a child any longer. She’d indulged that piece of herself for too long. She couldn’t leave him. She stood up and grasped his hands in hers. Maybe she could make it to the storage closet. It was reinforced. It might be their best bet. She took a deep breath and started to pull him.

Tried to pull him and didn’t get far.

“You had to be all muscular, didn’t you?” She tried again, but he wouldn’t move.

There was a terrible sound that filled her whole world. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought a train was coming her way. It wasn’t a train. Tears filled her eyes and panic made her want to flee, but she dropped back down and did the only thing she could.

She covered his body with hers and prayed they survived.





CHAPTER THREE





“And they’re sure his hands are going to work? It’s just his brain that was bashed in? Wait, he needs his brain to cook, right? I know you don’t but what he does is so much more important.” A deep voice disturbed Macon’s sleep.

“Have I ever told you what an * you are?” Another voice. This one was very familiar, but Macon kind of wanted all of the voices to go away.

They seemed intent on tormenting him. “Maybe a couple of times, but this is serious, Sean. He’s an artist. If he dies, the world loses. Why couldn’t I have met him when I was in the Army instead of his brother? Adam is utterly useless unless you need someone to make sarcastic comments at inopportune times.”

“Yeah, and we all know that’s your job.”

His head ached. What the hell had happened? He didn’t remember dipping into the whiskey. He hadn’t done that for a while. He had work so he couldn’t drink all night and moan the loss of his leg. Not when there were pies to prep. Why had he started in again?

“Fuck you, Big Tag. And the next time you piss off some fifth grade hacker and your e-mail gets inundated with ads for erectile dysfunction and tractors, you’re on your own.” His brother was here? Why was his brother present at his hangover?

“That was Chelsea. She gets pissy from time to time.”

“Oh, and my sarcasm is so much smarter than your sarcasm,” his brother announced.

“Could your sarcasm be a little quieter?” He managed to get his eyes to open up. He closed them immediately. The world was way too bright. He started to stretch and found himself tethered to an IV. Shit. He was in the hospital. How many damn times was he going to wake up in a hospital?

He reached down and touched his good leg.

Adam leaned over. “It’s still there. You’re good. You’re at Parkland Hospital in Dallas.”

It was stupid but he was deeply grateful to his brother in that moment. Adam didn’t make fun of him for worrying. He simply explained.

“I’ll get Daley,” a deep voice said. He was fairly certain he was dealing with both Taggarts, plus Adam. And he’d gotten a glimpse of something pink. Had Ian Taggart been wearing a pink shirt?

“Hey, brother. Way to survive a tornado.” Adam’s hand clasped his forearm. “I’ve been here for years and never actually seen one of the f*ckers. You’re here for a few months and get caught in one. You are one unlucky son of a bitch.”

Yep. That was him. He groaned as he tried to open his eyes again. The last year had been one gut punch after another. IED and then fighting off insurgents with one leg. Watching Ronnie…no. He wasn’t going there. It was so much easier to think about how his ex-wife had screwed him over and taken everything.

The only good thing to happen to him in that last year was…

He forced his eyes open. “Ally? Ally was with me.” He gripped his brother’s arm. “Ally was in the bathroom.”

Sean Taggart shook his head. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Oh, god, what happened?” Ally couldn’t be dead. He’d told her where to go, how to protect herself. Memories came flooding back. He’d grabbed the flashlight right before the lights went out. And then everything had gone dark and he tripped over something with his stupid non-leg and he’d fallen. He’d bashed his head and right before he’d gone out he’d been happy that Ally was safe.

Ally hadn’t been safe?

His boss looked across the bed to grin at his brother. “Told you.” He glanced down toward Macon. “Ally disobeyed and you’re lucky she’s a brat. They found her covering your body with hers. She protected your head with her back and it was a good thing. When the tornado hit all the pots we had hanging overhead fell and they would have come right down on your noggin.”

“Or your hands.” Ian Taggart strode back into the room. There was a pink blanket wrapped over his massive chest. It was a weird fashion statement for a former Green Beret to make. “They could have crushed your hands. She’s a goddamn hero.”