Handcuffed by Her Hero by Angel Payne Read Free Book Online Page A

more than him.
    And in this
perfect, warm moment of now, all he wanted was her.
    His brain
finally relented. As soon as Rayna’s breathing evened, he felt his
consciousness slipping, too. With the sound of the rain echoing in his head, he
plunged into the deepest sleep he’d had in months.
    *
* * * *
    It was still
raining. But he wasn’t warm anymore. He let a slow smile curl his lips. His
little bird would help with that challenge. He reached through the sheets for
her. She had to be around here somewhere…
    He realized the
bed was empty when he heard her talking in the other room.
    Revision. Rayna
wasn’t talking. She was arguing. And trying to be quiet about it, likely due to
concern about waking him, which was hilarious. Since his normal “alarm clock” was
usually Hawk or T-Bomb sticking their socks—or worse—in his face, this was a
welcome change.
    Maybe not that welcome.
    Trevor was still
here. He heard the guy biting out his name like a piece of lousy fish. Didn’t
the fucker have a deposition to be at or some sap to carve up in court? It was
ten in the morning. Trevor always had people to see and places to—
    Wait.
    “Huh?” he
gasped, gaping at the clock again. Sure enough, the digits blared a one, a pair
of zeroes then a two. Holy hell. Half the day was gone.
    He dug through
the linens for his pants and underwear before ramming his legs back into both.
As he got into his boots, he visually searched the room for his T-shirt.
    The whap of a slammed cabinet whipped his stare back toward at the door.
    “You know what,
Trevor? Maybe I should go get myself kidnapped in Asia again. Those pirates
gave me more leash than you do.”
    The shirt would
wait. He was out the door and down the hall in the space of a half-dozen
strides.
    The scene in the
kitchen was about what he expected. The bright lighting and rustic French décor,
down to a plate of homemade croissants and hand-iced cupcakes, did little to
eclipse the dismal atmosphere between Rayna and her oldest brother. The guy
looked like hell. His hair was more a haystack rolled in rust and his eyes were
rimmed in exhaustion. Zeke actually felt a twinge of empathy for Trev.
    It vanished as
soon as the asshat opened his mouth.
    “Well, if it
isn’t Sleeping fucking Beauty.”
    He decided to
ignore the comment, crossing to Rayna instead. She looked like an elf immersed
in Santa’s smoking jacket, wrapped in a crimson sweater with long collars that
was six sizes too big for her, with grey leggings underneath. She’d likely
pilfered the covering off one of her brothers. One of his pullovers
would look a hell of a lot better.
    He ripped that
fantasy up before it could get started. Focusing instead on the real-life
sprite in front of him, he pressed an affectionate buss to her forehead. “Good
morning.”
    “Hi.” She tilted
her head back, clearly expecting a more intimate greeting. So much for keeping
his thoughts or his bloodstream in the realm of chaste. Still, he held back.
Kissing her like that couldn’t happen anymore. It didn’t matter how tight his
gut twisted as he watched her disappointed wince—or that damn wobble in her
chin. “I—I’m so sorry, Z. We woke you, didn’t we?”
    He was grateful
for the chance to lighten the air with a chuckle. “I haven’t slept past five
for at least a year, honey. Believe me, it was time for Sleeping fucking Beauty
to get up.”
    Maybe the
self-deprecation would inject a little helium to Trev’s happiness balloon now.
    “‘Honey,’ huh?
What, you’re Mike stinkin’ Brady for her now?”
    Or maybe not.
    Zeke forced down
a deep breath as he fished a coffee mug out of the cupboard. He set it on the
counter with a thunk that wasn’t exactly the stuff of guy bonding
commercials. As he filled it, he tossed a calculated glance over his shoulder, one
brow raised.
    “Sleeping
Beauty. Mike Brady. You’re giving me quite a range there, pal.”
    Trevor huffed. “On
the contrary, Hayes. I don’t think