Water Bound

by Christine Feehan

  "I'm taking them out to the garbage."

  She slammed the door and he took that as the final word. Smiling, he turned his face up to the water. He was beginning to love it as much as she did. He took his time, allowing her the space she needed to cry out her relief in privacy. His heart beat hard, though, at the thought that she'd been worried about him--that she cared enough to cry.

  He padded barefoot and naked from the bathroom, toweling off his shaggy hair. Over the last few weeks it had grown out from his military cut, spilling down around his eyes. He would have to get a trim, but he thought the longer hair added something to Levi Hammond's personality.

  "Where are you, Rikki?" He knew where she was. In her inevitable hammock swing on the back porch, but he'd wanted to give her the courtesy of a warning.

  "Out here," she called back.

  He heard the rustle as she slipped out of the chair and came to the door to watch him come toward her. She'd definitely been crying. Tears tangled and clung to her long lashes, leaving them spiky and glittering with liquid diamonds.

  "You all right, laskovaya moya?" His voice was tender as he wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck and drew him to her.

  Rikki wrapped her arms around Lev and buried her face against his chest. "I was so scared for you. Why did you go without me?"

  "I was perfectly safe."

  "You weren't safe. Don't lie to me. I could feel you were in trouble. I would have tried to touch your mind with mine, but I was afraid I would distract you and you'd get hurt."

  He stroked her hair, loving the way her body melted into his like liquid velvet. She would always remind him of the sea, stormy and gentle, welcoming and mysterious. Like the waves against rock, he could break into a million pieces, scatter into molecules, tiny particles, and fall whole into the warmth of her love.

  "Come lie down with me," he invited.

  "Lev, I was so afraid for you." She looked up at him and those dark eyes were drenched with tears. "I didn't know I could feel like that."

  "Now you know how I feel about you. You terrify me, Rikki, with the risks you take."

  He brushed back her hair and bent to coax kisses from her. Her lips were trembling, and he caught her full lower lip between his teeth and tugged gently. She opened her mouth to his, taking as much as she gave. Her slender arms circled his neck, holding his head to hers, her body pressing into his.

  "I don't take risks. I'm a safety diver," she whispered into his mouth. She kissed him with growing hunger, each kiss longer and more demanding.

  "Come to bed, Rikki." Lev took her hand and drew her into the house, locking the door and leading her through the rooms to the bedroom, pausing only to turn off the lights.

  There was little moonlight shining silver through the window, but enough to spill over her pale body as he tugged her shirt over her head. He kissed his way from the corner of her mouth to her breast, one hand cupping the soft weight in his palm while he fed. He trailed his other hand across her bare tummy, the pads of his fingers massaging gently. There was possession in those long, spread fingers as he teased the underside of her breast, enjoying her reaction, the shiver of excitement, the small tremor that ran through her body, and the small whimper that told him she was already wet for him.

  He tugged her jeans down over her slim hips, taking her panties with them as he slid them from her legs. She put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped out of them, leaving her completely naked. He walked around her, drinking her in. She didn't move as he circled her, his fingers caressing her waist, then her hip, rubbing her buttocks and the seam where thigh and bottom met. He loved stroking her soft skin, loved the way she simply gave herself so completely to him.

  Back in front of her, he skimmed his hand over her breasts and flicked her sensitive nipples on his way to the junction between her legs. His hand caressed, fingers sliding deep and then coming shallow to circle, so that her body flushed and her breathing changed. He felt the heat of her channel close tightly around his fingers, and her hips moved in an involuntary response.

  He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her silken heat. For him. A welcoming. Her hands came up to his chest as she rocked against him and she licked at his flat nipple. As if on an electrical wire, the sizzle ran from her tongue to his groin. His heavy erection grew even fuller and pulsed in anticipation.

  Lev bunched her hair in his hand and pulled her head back, indulging himself, kissing her over and over, devouring the sweet taste of her, reveling in the way she opened to him and took him in. He swallowed her moan, that soft sound that hardened him even more. He dreamt of that sound sometimes, and woke up hard and aching. When he turned to her, she always, always met him with eagerness.

  "On the bed, laskovaya moya, before I have no control."

  Her eyes darkened and she lay back, beckoning with her finger. His hands parted her thighs and just the warmth of his breath made her cry out. Then he lapped at her, a cat after cream, using his tongue, driving her up hard and fast, taking her right to the edge and then pulling back again. He loved the way her body shuddered, the way her hips bucked and the way that soft, breathless music played in his ears. She tasted wild and free, and his need for her grew each time she writhed and moaned.

  He inhaled her scent, the fragrance of his woman, and rubbed his beard between her thighs, watching the ripples of arousal move up her legs to her channel and even her belly, where the muscles bunched tightly in reaction.

  Lev.

  The sobbing plea he'd been waiting for, signaling she was coming undone, that he'd pushed and stretched her limits just a little more. He caught her body and flipped her over, dragging her hips up and back to him, so she was on her hands and knees. He kept one hand on her back, forcing her head down so her hips were in the air.

  She gasped as he pressed the throbbing head of his cock into her entrance. She pushed back, trying to impale herself on his thick shaft. He stroked his fingernails gently down her back and over her buttocks. Again there was a ripple effect, her legs shaking, her body trembling. He gripped her hips and slammed home.

  Her body took his into her tight, hot haven, wrapping eagerly around him, stroking and caressing as she slowly, almost reluctantly allowed his invasion. There was always that exquisite moment when she was so tight he was uncertain if he could force his way into heaven, but the petals unfolded and allowed him entrance. Scorching hot. Velvet soft. Tight and constricting, gripping him, as he surged deep, withdrew and drove home again.

  He set a fast, hard rhythm, her position allowing him even deeper access so that it felt as if he'd welded them together for all time. His blood turned hot, flowing like liquid gold, rising from somewhere deep inside him, spreading like a firestorm of passion through his system. He bent forward to kiss her spine. The movement set off ripples in her body so that she clamped down on him like a vise.

  "Not yet, not yet," she chanted. "Not like this."

  He took a breath, set his jaw and stilled. "Tell me."

  "I want to see your face," she whispered. "I have to see your face."

  He clenched his teeth together as he obediently withdrew. She cried out as he left her, turning to sprawl across the bed, her thighs open for him, feet flat on the bed, knees wide. He caught her bottom with one hand, wrapped her hips with his arm and, gaze locked with hers, buried himself deep with one thrust, sinking to the hilt. Lights and colors seemed to burst behind his eyes, even as he watched her face, that miracle of beauty, the gaze, the breath, the flush as he took her higher.

  He trailed his free hand over her breasts, down her stomach to the soft mound where they were joined. She arched her back, her hips moving into the rhythm of his, time suspended. There was only the sound. The scent. The sensation. He let go, let himself drown, giving himself up to her soft music and the love in her eyes. Her body clamped down on his, held him as the ripples turned to swelling tides and his hot release washed inside of her. He felt the rush through his body, through hers, through
their joined bodies.

  He waited, locked inside her, fighting for breath. Waited. She just looked at him with a glazed, sexy, giving look that turned him inside out.

  "Say it. I have to hear you say it," he ordered, holding her beneath him.

  She didn't pretend to misunderstand. She smiled at him, that Rikki smile that could take his breath. "I love you, you goofball."

  He stared down at her for a few more seconds, and then rolled over laughing, gathering her close to him. "I've never been called a goofball before. There're just so many firsts with you." He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. "Go to sleep."

  "Already there," she murmured drowsily. Her hand moved over the top of his and they fell asleep together, bodies tight against one another.

  19

  LEV scowled as Jonas Harrington swung out of his truck, and Blythe slid out of the passenger side. Rikki, in her hammock swing, stiffened, but she covered it well, taking a sip of coffee and peering at their visitors over the rim of the steaming mug. Just to give her added confidence, Lev moved close behind her, dropping his hand casually on her shoulder.

  "I was hoping not to see you for a while," Lev greeted. He rubbed his jaw. "I'm a little stiff and not certain I want to go another round."

  Rikki glanced up at him, her dark eyes searching his face. He winked at her.

  Jonas followed Blythe up onto the porch. "I think I got the worst of the deal, so don't complain. I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee, since no one's offering."

  Rikki flushed. "I'm sorry. I should have..."

  "Rikki," Jonas interrupted gently. "I was teasing. I grew up with the Drake girls and spent my younger years tormenting them. I have a tendency to do that with those I consider family. You and Blythe are family to me."

  "I'm getting the coffee," Blythe said.

  "There goes my morning," Lev muttered.

  Rikki sent him a reprimand from under her long lashes, just as he knew she would. He bent to whisper in her ear. "Little miss prim and proper."

  He felt her laughter in his mind, but she didn't laugh aloud. Beneath his hand, he felt some of the tension slip away. He took a swallow of coffee and waited for Jonas to tell him why he'd shown up again, this time with Blythe. The sheriff wouldn't have brought Blythe unless he thought Rikki would be upset by his visit.

  Jonas remained silent until Blythe returned, studying the blackened strip surrounding Rikki's house, while Lev studied him. Definitely, he was worried about Rikki's reaction to his news. His fingers slipped to the nape of Rikki's neck, gently massaging, wanting to keep contact.

  "Rikki," Blythe said, as she passed a coffee cup to the sheriff, "Jonas would like to talk to you about an official who wants to ask you some questions." She glanced up at Lev, her expression worried.

  Rikki went still. "About the fire?" Her voice was low, strangled. The fingers of one hand turned white as she gripped her coffee mug, while the other dug into her denim-clad thigh.

  Jonas shook his head. "No. There's a Russian making inquiries into the death of a man who was on board the yacht that sank off our coast a few weeks ago. Apparently he isn't entirely satisfied that the man drowned."

  Rikki didn't react as Lev expected. She actually relaxed a little, took a sip of her coffee and met Jonas's gaze steadily. "What has that got to do with me?"

  "You were diving that day. He apparently checked with the processing company and they had sent out a truck to collect your catch."

  She frowned, tilting her head to one side. "Sure. I remember. The wave came out of nowhere with no warning and threw me into the water. It was lucky I had my diving gear on."

  "He thinks this Russian survived."

  Jonas never looked at Lev. Not once. He didn't give away the fact that he knew Levi Hammond was Lev Prakenskii, the "dead" Russian. Lev had to tell Rikki the truth, that Jonas knew, but the night with her had been too perfect to mar it with worry over what Jonas might do. Right now, he seemed to be indicating that he had accepted Levi Hammond into his community. It might be an uneasy truce, but Lev could accept that.

  "The water is too cold," Rikki protested. "I doubt anyone could survive for long without a wet suit, especially under the conditions that day."

  She didn't exactly lie. No one could have survived without a wet suit, not for long. Lev suppressed the need to shiver, feeling the water close over his head as the yacht dropped into the cold water. No one had had a chance to scream, they simply went down into that cold abyss, the darkness settling around them. He'd fallen, sliding along an almost invisible bubble. The fall had seemed endless. A million faces, the wails of the dead, the cold, cold water.

  He'd tried to swim, going deeper, trying to find a way out. The wave took him, tumbling him over and over like a washing machine, slamming him into something until he was so disoriented and sick he didn't know where he was or how to get out of the situation. Her hands had been surprisingly strong, anchoring him, but it was her eyes that had saved him.

  He'd felt himself drifting toward the wails, the dead beckoning him closer. She had jerked him around, stared into his eyes. Her gaze was determined. Reassuring. He was safe with her. He could fall. He could break. He could live. He would live. She shared her breath, her air, the essence of life, all the while holding him to her with her eyes. He was no longer alone in the dark, deep cold. She was there, sharing her soul. There was forgiveness. Redemption. There was hope. It was all there in Rikki.

  He felt the pressure of her hand, her thumb sliding over the center of his palm. Blinking, he wrenched himself out of the deep cold and found himself looking into her eyes. She smiled at him. Slow. Tender. Love slid over him, warmed him. He bent his head, unable to stop himself and brushed a kiss over her upturned mouth. His heart contracted. When he looked up, Jonas was watching him closely and he immediately swept all expression from his face.

  "Rikki doesn't need to be talking to any official from Russia. There's no reason for her to go through that."

  "He's not going away," Jonas stated. "Not until he's satisfied."

  "Bring him here," Rikki said. "I don't have anything to tell him, but if it helps him to close his case and maybe bring resolution to that man's family and friends, then I don't mind."

  "Rikki..." Lev warned.

  "If you'd like, Rikki," Blythe said, "I can stay with you while Jonas gets him and brings him back. Levi, I know you have things to do today, but I'll stay with her."

  Jonas made a single sound of annoyance. Lev knew the sheriff had recognized Lev because he'd been expecting the missing Russian to be Ilya's brother. He'd known a Prakenskii was on the yacht and Prakenskiis didn't die so easily. He didn't like the situation with Blythe and Rikki not being honest with him, but he was going to allow Levi Hammond to exist.

  Lev shook his head. "If Rikki talks to him, I'm staying."

  "Don't be an ass," Jonas snapped, scowling.

  Lev stared him down. "I didn't say out in the open."

  Jonas held up his hand. "Don't say another word. And Levi Hammond had better have his gun permit up-to-date and able to stand up to scrutiny."

  Lev shrugged casually. "Be my guest." There was absolute confidence in his voice. Already, his ID was in place and every document had already arrived in Rikki's post office box. He had enough paper to convince the world that Levi Hammond did in fact exist and had a long and memorable but very varied career.

  "Blythe can't stay," Rikki said. When Blythe tried to protest, she shook her head. "No way. The sheriff will be here and that's enough. I need to know that you're safe. I don't want attention called to any of you."

  Blythe started to protest, but Jonas put his hand on her arm. "I agree this time, Blythe. Let's just get this done." He leveled his gaze at Lev. "Make yourself scarce. I'll be back in a half hour."

  "I'll be sitting right here," Rikki said with a small, secret smile.

  Jonas frowned and then nodded. "One other thing. Does the name Gerald Pratt mean anything to you? There were fingerprints o
n the dock and we got a hit almost immediately. We checked the prints against jobs working with fire, such as firemen. Gerald Pratt works for the forestry department in the Big Sur area. He happens to have grown up in the same city as you, Rikki. He would have been about sixteen when you were thirteen."

  She frowned, obviously trying to remember. "I swear, I've never heard the name before. I might have gone to school with him, but if I did, school was so difficult, I wouldn't have remembered anyway. I was the weird girl, always losing her mind. Kids made fun of me a lot, but I can't remember specific names."

  "He didn't go to any of the same schools with you," Jonas said. "So far I can't find the connection--or him, but I'm still digging. I haven't had a lot of time. Pratt was working this last week, but he's off at the moment and no one has any idea of where he might have gone. He took two weeks off."

  "Gerald Pratt," Rikki repeated aloud. She shook her head and looked helplessly at Lev and then Blythe. "I don't know him."

  She sounded so lost. Blythe put her arms around Rikki and held her, murmuring soft reassurances. "We'll sort this out, Rikki," she assured.

  When she straightened, Rikki shook her head. "How could I have upset someone so much that they would want to kill not just me but everyone I care about, yet I can't remember them?"

  Jonas crouched in front of her, looking up into the eyes that studiously avoided his. "Rikki, sometimes people are ill. You don't know what sets them off. If they live in another reality, whatever they believe becomes true. Nothing a thirteen-year-old girl could ever do would be justification for this man's actions."

  "Are you certain it's him?" Lev asked.

  Jonas shook his head. "He's a suspect. We've got the blood and he left his DNA on the cigarette butts, but that doesn't mean he started the fire. It means he was on her property. Also, the accelerant used was Jet A, a higher octane fuel that burns hot and fast. This guy knows what he's doing."

  Lev said nothing. If Pratt had his face ripped open by the owls, there would be no question. He'd be coming at Rikki soon. He didn't have that much vacation time left and he needed to finish her off now. Pratt had a taste for killing with fire as his chosen weapon. Now that he knew where Rikki was, he'd be back.