by RC Boldt
“Have her call out to Daddy.”
There’s a shuffling sound again, like the person is jacking off while he watches. “Looks just like her, doesn’t she?”
Jesus Christ. I turn to Kennedy, who looks unnaturally stiff as she stops the video. Her other hand is clenched so tightly her knuckles have gone white.
She’s been a damn trooper through this entire process, but it’s only natural that she hit her threshold. Hell, I fucking despise having to go through this shit.
“Hey,” I say gently. Her head whips around so fast it startles me. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She clears her throat, turning back to face her laptop. Drumming her fingers along the table in a quick, staccato rhythm, she flattens those gorgeous lips in a punishing line. “We need a way to figure out who the hell that is in the background.”
I rake a hand down my face as I consider this. “We could compare it to Senator Bomer. He’s the one who said they were playing chess that night.”
Her fingers continue drumming, and she inclines her head. “I agree.”
“And we could compare it to anyone else he’s met with during that particular month,” I suggest.
Leaning forward, I scan the notes I logged pertaining to every politician the mayor met with in that time period. “There’s Attorney General Millingham, the Vice President—”
Abruptly, her fingers pause their drumming. When I dart a glance at her, her attention is focused on the still-shot on her laptop screen. A beat passes before she continues drumming her fingers. “Who else?”
I peer at the list. “No one else who’s applicable. Just the Vice President’s wife. But she’s a female, so we can rule her out.”
Kennedy’s fingers slow their rhythmic drumming against the table. “Interesting.” She doesn’t expand for a long beat. “Millingham, Bomer, and the VP are our lead prospects right now.”
It’s not the VP. I want to say this but can’t. Not without proof. I just know it’s true. He might’ve turned a little slimy over the years he’s been in politics, but I know the man—and well.
Millingham, though? That guy’s sketchy as fuck. I could see him pulling this kind of shit. As for Bomer, he tends to lie low, but who the hell knows…
Kennedy exhales slowly. “We can run the voice comparisons through software and get the speech recognition breakdown. See how the person normally pronounces individual sounds and see the algorithms for everything.”
“We just need samples.”
She speaks slowly, as if she’s mulling over the idea. “Which we can easily obtain from any recorded interviews or speeches.”
“Okay…but I’m not familiar with analyzing that kind of data.”
Her fingers abruptly stop drumming. “Leave that to me.”
Hours later, after combing through voice samples from speeches and press conferences, we’ve compiled a decent amount of sound clips to use as comparison.
We’re both exhausted, and Kennedy’s features are tense. She’s barely touched the salad I ran out and got her for lunch.
“I think we should call it a day.”
Exhaling slowly, she lets her eyes fall closed. She reaches back to massage her neck, a crease deepening between her brows.
This investigation is taking its toll on her and it fucking grates on me. I’m not even half as intelligent as she is and my eyes feel like they’ll cross at any moment.
Darting up from my chair, I shut my laptop with a soft click and stuff it in my briefcase. “Let’s get out of here.”
She drops her hands from her neck. “There’s still so much—”
I reach over and carefully shut her laptop. I know how neurotic she is about periodically saving her work, so I don’t have to worry she lost something crucial. Her gaze cuts to mine, and I soften my tone. “Let’s go, Doc. It’s been a day.”
With a sigh, she slides her notes and pen inside one zippered pocket of her bag before tucking her laptop inside the other. Exhaustion seems to plague her movements, making them slower, as she gathers her long hair and drapes it over one shoulder.
I help her slide on her coat, but the one side of her exposed neck taunts me. I have to force myself to step out of her space and give more attention to putting on my own coat and zipping up my briefcase than necessary. Resisting the urge to launch myself at her and kiss the long column of her neck is a goddamn struggle.
“I know if I give you a chance, you’ll veto the hell out of it, so I’m not asking. I’m telling you that I’m seeing you home to be sure you get there safely and making sure you actually eat dinner.”
Her lips part in protest. “That’s not—”
I advance a step and slide a hand to her nape, gently massaging her scalp. She tenses for a beat before her body softens under my touch. “I’m telling you that’s what’s happening.”
A myriad of expressions crosses her face, gone in a flash before settling into caution and amusement. “What’s made you so bossy?”
I drop a quick kiss on her forehead. “Because I’ve gotta look out for—” I stop myself in the nick of time.
Because I’ve gotta look out for my woman. That’s what I almost said. But I know she’s not ready for that.
Clearing my throat, I take a step back. “I’ve got to look out for you.” With a wink, I add, “It’s what partners do.”
The words taste rancid on my tongue, but I know if I told her the truth, she’d run in the opposite direction. It’s bad enough that I’m keeping shit from her, but I don’t have a choice.
I tip my head toward the door. “Let’s go, Doc. Time to woo you with my culinary skills.”
Chapter 55
Kennedy
“That was…a nice treat.” I stare down at my plate that holds the barest remnants of dinner before lifting my gaze to his. “Thank you.”
His mouth curves into a sexy smirk. “You doubted me.”
I bite my bottom lip to restrain a smile that feels awkward and unnatural, as if my mouth is composed of metal hinges that are rusted over and resistant to movement.
I never had much of a reason to smile in happiness or amusement before Landon.
He rises from the small table and carries our plates to the sink, his sleeves rolled up at his elbows. I drink in the sight of those corded forearms covered in swirls of ink and the play of his muscles as he quickly washes everything.
I should offer to help, but he told me to let him take care of everything from the moment we arrived here. Oddly enough, I acquiesced. Not because he commanded it, but because it’s been so long since someone actually wanted to take care of me without expecting something in return.
His easy movements in my small kitchen indicate he’s no stranger to fending for himself. I bet his mother instilled this in him long before he joined the Marines. Eyes slowly skimming down the back of him, past his belted slacks, I can’t help but pause. That tailored fabric fails to disguise the firm ass and lean, muscled legs beneath.
My fingers tingle as I recall gripping those very thighs when I’d taken him in my mouth. My nipples bead, and a pulsing ache grows between my thighs. I only planned on one night with him. Nothing more.
But now…it’s as though an insatiable hunger has taken me over.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” His grumble has my eyes lifting to his face, but he’s not looking at me. When I follow his line of sight, my heart stutters in my chest, lungs seizing.
Oh, fuck. His eyes rest on my mini greenhouse terrarium. It sits on a small table in the far corner of the living room, housing one of my special rhododendron plants. I’d had it shipped here, unsure of how long this investigation would take.
“You mean to tell me you’ve got a green thumb on top of everything else?” His good-natured complaint is paired with eyes crinkling at the edges when he turns to face me, drying his hands on a dish towel.
I swallow hard and force composure. “It’s the only thing I’m able to grow.” The only one I need to grow.
�
�Is there anything you’re not good at?” he teases.
I stare at the flowers. My answer is hushed but truthful. “I’m not good at a lot of things.”
Like being a good, normal person.
Like simply being enough…and not lacking.
His gaze weighs heavy on me while he hangs the towel over the oven handle to dry. When he heads toward me, I lift my eyes to his and accept his extended palm. Warily, I let him help me from my chair.
Eyes darkening with affection, he leans closer, bringing his lips to the shell of my ear. His warm breath kisses my skin, and a shiver tiptoes down the length of my spine. “You’re really great at a lot of things.”
Landon’s teeth capture my earlobe, and I suck in a sharp breath. He releases my flesh and murmurs, “Like being the most intelligent woman I know.” He drops a feather-soft kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath my ear. “Like driving me out of my mind all day.” His groan reverberates along my skin when he gently plants another kiss before withdrawing and stepping back.
Brown eyes gloss over me from head to toe in a gentle, affectionate caress. “Lock up after me, okay?” Then he turns and heads to the door where his coat, briefcase, and shoes await him.
I blink. Then I blink again. What just happened? By the time I snap myself out of it and stride toward the door, he already has his shoes on and is about to slide on his coat.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My question is laced with anger and disbelief.
His head whips around, body going still, forehead creasing with confusion. “I’m heading home.”
I advance, my feet soundless across the carpeted floor, until I reach him. Splaying my hands flat on his chest, I press him back against the door, the heat of his body singeing my palms. He lets his coat drop to the floor, attention laser-focused on me.
“You’re just going to feed me and leave?”
A mix of emotions flutters across his face before his brows slant sharply, jaw going tight. His words are forced from between gritted teeth. “I cooked for you because I care. Not because I wanted something out of it.”
I’ve offended him by insinuating he only fed me in exchange for sex. Throat tightening as if held in a vise grip, I avert my eyes to the base of his throat, my tone muted. “I know that, Landon.”
And I do. Goddammit, the universe must really enjoy fucking with me. It’s the only excuse as to why it would lead me to a man like him. A man who has so much to offer.
He covers my hand with his own, lowering his attention to my bruised knuckles, voice guttural. “Today just about fucking gutted me. I’m not saying I don’t think you can handle yourself, but I…” He goes quiet for so long, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he’s trying to find the words.
My curiosity gets the best of me, and I find myself prompting him. “You…?”
His eyes fly to mine, flashing dangerously. “I want to do everything in my goddamn power to protect you.”
My breath suspends painfully in my chest. His words, spoken so vehemently, sear a path to the center of my chest, where the remnants of my heart lie shriveled and worthless.
Words forced through a constricted throat, I offer gently, “What if I don’t want you to head home just yet?” Then, ever so gradually, I skim my other hand down his chest, molding my fingers over his hard cock. Lifting to my toes, I trail kisses over his jaw and down his neck.
When I stroke him through the fabric, he cinches my wrist in his hand, lifting it to his lips. Pressing a kiss to my fingertips before releasing me to gently frame my face, he traces his thumb along my cheekbone.
Eyes burning bright with heated lust, he murmurs, “Not that I regret anything from the other night, but if it’s okay with you, I’d like to show you my skills in a bed, too.”
My breath stutters. He must catch sight of something on my face because his features cloud. Lifting his hands away, he holds them up as if in surrender before lowering them to his sides, and studies me carefully.
His voice holds a tender yet gruff quality. “I know something still haunts you, but I’d die before ever forcing you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Brows creased with a fierce expression, he appears as if he’s prepared to slay my demons.
If only he could. But that’s not his cross to bear.
It’s mine and mine alone.
“I won’t hurt you, Kennedy.” His vow is spoken with a certainty that I feel down to my bones, and it catches me by surprise.
When did I become so sure of this man? Perhaps it was spending my workdays with him, watching him in action beside me. The way he shoves food at me when I become immersed in my work and forget to eat.
The way he treats others like Sonya. The rapport he has with Ian from the restaurant and the pregnant woman who dropped her purse.
The way he spoke with Jodi, treating her like a human and not a victim. The way he never pries but seems to accept me as I am.
But he’s only been granted a partial view of me—the one I permit him to see.
My words escape in a tortured whispered rush before I can clamp my mouth shut. “Maybe I’m afraid of hurting you.” As soon as they’re out, I pinch my eyes closed in a horrified wince.
Cloaked in silence, I don’t open my eyes when he draws me closer, guiding me to rest my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat sounds in a soothing rhythm beneath my ear. Steady. Reliable. Just like him. His large palm rests at the base of my spine, thumb gliding over me in a lazy motion.
He lets out a rough exhale, his voice husky and deep, muted as if we’re trading secrets. “I know you’re only here for this job—that this is only a temporary stop for you. But I’d be lying to myself—and you—if I said I don’t wish there were a chance for more.”
I stiffen, and he feels it, letting out a rough laugh. “Don’t worry, Doc. You already laid out the rules. And I respect that. I respect that you’re upfront about things.”
His tone grows resolute, awash with his own brand of stubbornness. “But I won’t pretend and say you’re not perfect for me. That you’re not everything I’ve ever fucking wanted.
“You’re brave, smart as hell, and you’ve got morals. You’re a good person who believes in right and wrong and defending those who don’t have a voice.”
Each one of his words acts as a fiery hot sword lancing straight through me. Because he’s wrong.
He’s so very wrong.
“I won’t lie to you and say I don’t plan to do everything in my power to show you what you’ll be leaving behind when you go. But I don’t believe in regrets.”
Gently, he eases me away from him and lowers his mouth to the side of my neck. Dropping a light kiss to my skin, he stays poised there. “I’ve told you my master plan,” he whispers. “Now, it’s up to you to decide where we go from here.”
With my stomach coiled in knots, my breathing has accelerated, both from his nearness and his words. His bold confession.
Landon Lattimer wants more from me than I could ever give. Regardless of his link to the Vice President, I know that he’s inherently a good man. He hasn’t proven otherwise.
“I don’t believe in regrets.” His declaration echoes in my mind. If I turn him away, I know with certainty I’ll regret it till my last dying breath.
He hovers, lips at my neck, waiting for my answer. The instant I lean back to meet his gaze, his features draw tight, as if he’s preparing for my rejection.
Those brown eyes showcase more raw vulnerability than I’ve ever witnessed, and I can practically hear the sound of my invisible armor dropping at my feet.
This could be a mistake, allowing myself to open up even the slightest fraction to him. If I permit myself to have this time with Landon while I’m here, I’ll do so knowing that I let him believe I’m something I’m not.
But I want to—I want to grab hold tight of this opportunity with both hands and experience what it might be like to be with a man who believes I’m good. Who thinks I operate like he does—on the right side
of the law. Who cares for me and wants more than just a quick fuck.
Stepping back, I reach for the hem of my dress and tug it off, leaving me in my panties and bra.
His eyes burn hot, singeing my skin as if I’ve stepped too close to a raging fire, as they sweep over me from head to toe. But he doesn’t move toward me.
Confusion edges its way in. “What…are you waiting for? Is there something else you need?”
He lets out a rough, strangled breath, eyes gleaming with blatant affection. A faint smile touches his lips. “The only thing I need is you.”
Chapter 56
Landon
I pounce on her. That’s the only way to describe it. It’s not classy or smooth, but I’ve been hanging on by a thread all this time, and it’s officially severed.
Tossing her over my shoulder, I stride down the hallway. “Which one?” I’m like a fucking Neanderthal, grunting out short spurts of words. It can’t be helped. I need her.
I fucking need her.
She directs me to the first door on the left, and I slap the light switch before easing her onto the bed. Hastily, I toe off my shoes and practically tear off my clothes. She quickly removes her bra and panties, and even though I’d prefer to do that myself, at this rate, I’d be more likely to rip them to shreds in my haste.
She lies flat, blond hair fanning against the dark gray sheets, and I let my eyes skim over each curve of her body. My hand finds my cock, and I grip it tight, my eyes never leaving hers.
Staying true to my words of not having regrets, I tell her the truth whether she wants to hear it or not. “You ruined me from the moment I met you.” I stroke my cock, the tip weeping, and I smooth my thumb over the moisture, spreading it. “The only person I think about when I do this is you.”
Her lips part on a breath, golden eyes burning bright with arousal.
“Now that I know how you taste and how fucking tight your pussy gets around my cock, I’m a goner.”
