Sweet Revenge

by Rebecca Zanetti

  To his credit, the reporter kept his gaze. “We all have a job to do, Mr. Dean. This is my calling, and I do it well. Now, where is Miss Jacobs?”

  Matt stiffened. Good question. Where the hell were Laney and Smitty? They should’ve been back by now. “Stay here, Frant.” He turned and strode toward the back door.

  Laney shot Smitty a hard look over her shoulder as she lifted the lid to the nearest garbage can, allowing the rain fall on her face. The can was full. “Knock it off about the PMS.”

  Smitty shrugged and used another garbage can before loping back up the steps and under the awning. “Then stop being so cranky.”

  She shut the can and bit back a smart remark about bartenders being replaceable. Smitty was anything but replaceable. So, with a sigh, she lugged her heavy bag several yards up the alley to use Caffe Coffee’s garbage cans since they were rarely full. Rain smashed into her, dampening her clothing. At this time of night, she really didn’t care. Soon she’d be in a hot bath, soaking and relaxing. Dropping in the garbage, she turned and took a deep breath. Honeysuckle and angry nature. Yeah. Nothing like Idaho in the stormy season.

  Thunder bellowed overhead, and lightning illuminated the angry sky. She loved a good storm but would prefer to head inside to watch. Skirting a mud puddle, she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

  An ignition flared to life before a car door opened, and a body lunged for her.

  A gloved fist swung for her face, and with a cry, she ducked. Oh God. The commander had found her. Raw terror froze her for the slightest of moments.

  The night narrowed into pinpoint focus. She turned to run, and strong fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her back.

  Smitty bellowed and jumped the stairs.

  The attacker turned and fired a wild shot.

  God. He had a gun. But he’d failed with the shot. No way was this the commander or any of his soldiers.

  Focusing, Laney threw an elbow, and her attacker protested with a guttural oof. She glanced frantically toward Smitty to see him on the ground.

  Fire lanced through her along with panic. Struggling, she managed to throw another elbow. The guy yanked her hair, hard, and snapped back her head. Pain cascaded down her spine.

  The bar door opened and Matt leaped outside with a primal roar.

  The attacker turned and fired a volley of shots at him. With a cry, Laney jerked her head and shoved back, trying to dislodge the gun.

  Matt stalked forward through the storm, toward the shooter, no expression on his deadly face.

  The attacker shoved Laney at him and continued to fire.

  Laney hit Matt midcenter, and he immediately dropped them both behind a row of garbage cans.

  Tires squealed, and the blue SUV ripped down the alley. Black paint covered the windows, and the license plate had been removed.

  Matt rolled to his feet and ran after the car, his strides long and sure.

  Laney scrambled over to Smitty, who was groaning and sitting up. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Fine.” He pushed to his feet. “I ducked and hit my head. I’m fine.”

  Thank God. Laney stood and patted his arm. “Go inside and get dry.” She turned to follow Matt’s progress, her heart beating so hard it was difficult to breathe.

  At the end of the alley, the car zipped around a corner. Matt stopped and glanced back at her. Then, with a steeling of his shoulders, he stalked her way.

  The reporter shoved open the door. “Oh God. Did I hear shots?”

  “Yes.” Laney gently led Smitty over to the kid. “Please take him inside and call the FBI guys.” She had to yell to be heard over the rapidly strengthening storm.

  “Will you talk to me?” Franz said with a calculating glint in his eye.

  “Inside. Now.” She put as much authority into her voice as she could.

  Smitty grabbed the reporter’s arm and all but shoved him inside. “I’m calling the sheriff. He can call the feds.” The door shut with a hard bang.

  Laney’s knees gave out, and she dropped to sit on the bottom step, protected by the awning. She turned to watch Matt retrace his steps toward her. The serial killer had almost gotten her. Adrenaline shot through her veins, and her breath panted out. Safe. She was safe.

  Matt strode through the rain, his shoulders wide, fury on his face. A man deadlier than the storm raging around them.

  He’d saved her.

  Without a thought for his own safety, he’d run straight for a shooting gun.

  No fear. Only cold, deliberate intent lived in her savior.

  He reached her and dropped to his haunches. Then those hands that had been clenched into fists slipped beneath her arms and lifted her with a gentleness that sparked tears to her eyes.

  She swayed into him, grounded by his strength. Her hands slid up his chest, and she levered up to her tiptoes. Grasping his thick hair, she pulled his mouth down to hers.

  He stilled.

  She pressed her wet dress against his length. Heat washed along her front.

  With a growl, he slapped both hands against the building, caging her. His lips slid over hers, taking over, taking control.

  Fire flushed through her to pool between her legs. Her mind spun, and the world narrowed to razor-sharp focus on the mouth consuming hers. Heat and demand lived in his lips, in the sweep of his tongue through her mouth. He pressed her against the brick, his arm banding around her waist and dragging her closer.

  She moaned, and he lifted her, his free hand shoving up her wet dress and caressing her thigh.

  Her legs pressed his hips. A hard-as-rock erection pulsed against her panties. Need consumed her until all that mattered was quenching the fire.

  He jerked away from her mouth, his chest panting. Slowly, he closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to hers.

  His dick jumped against her, and she couldn’t help gyrating along his length.

  “Stop,” he whispered, his voice beyond guttural, his heated breath brushing her face. The muscles in his arms undulated as he held himself in check. “Hold still, for God’s sake.”

  “I don’t want to.” She tightened her grip in his hair. It felt too good to be alive.

  He lifted his head. Lust, need, and regret swirled in his stormy eyes. “It’s the emotion of the moment.”

  “No. I want you.” She might not know much, but she knew her own body, and her own heart. “It’s not fear, and it’s not gratitude. It’s you, Matt.”

  Sparks leaped through his eyes. Crimson spiraled across his rugged cheekbones as he searched her face. Finally, his lids dropped to half-mast. “Fine. We’re going to call the cops and report this. Afterward… it’s up to you.” Stepping back, he allowed her legs to drop.

  Chapter 21

  At the moment, Laney wanted nothing more than to get completely lost in the heat Matt created. She took his hand, needing to feel connected.

  He led her back inside the bar and to a seat by Smitty at a table. “You okay?” he asked.

  Smitty nodded. He’d already found a bag of frozen peas to press to his forehead. “I’m fine. When the guy shot at me, I fell and smacked my head on the stairs.”

  Laney kept hold of Matt’s hand, all but pulling him into the free seat. “Did you see the guy? My back was to him the whole time. Who was he?”

  Smitty lifted a shoulder. “He had on a ski mask that covered his entire head. In fact, the guy was in all black—heavy ski jacket, pants, and gloves. Maybe black boots?”

  Dread chilled through Laney. “He was strong and maybe six feet tall?” The guy had seemed really tall and strong, but maybe some of that was the surprise of the attack. “He didn’t say anything at all.” She glanced up to see Frant rapidly writing in a notebook. “Hey. This is off the record.”

  The reporter kept scribbling. “No, it isn’t.”

  Matt moved before Laney could argue, snatching the notebook and shoving the reporter into a chair. Matt leaned into him. “When she says it’s off the record, it’s off the
record. Got it?”

  The outside door opened, and the sheriff hustled inside followed by Agent Patterson. Todd hurried toward Laney and dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes. That was why she’d chosen a small town. “I am. Matt chased the guy away.”

  Matt stopped intimidating the reporter and retook his seat next to her, sliding a reassuring arm along her shoulders. He shook his head. “Laney fought well. The guy will have bruised ribs tomorrow, without a doubt.”

  Warmth filled her at his proud tone. Even now, she wanted be strong but couldn’t help leaning into his solid form.

  Agent name drew a notebook free of his jacket. “Describe the assailant.”

  They went through the list of what they’d noticed again. Unfortunately, the guy had been covered head to toe, and the car wasn’t familiar.

  Todd scratched his head. “Blue Jeep Cherokee?”

  “Yes. Why?” Matt asked, studying the sheriff.

  “Had one reported stolen earlier today.” The sheriff shook his head. “So we don’t really have much more to go on except that the guy is willing to kidnap people now.”

  “Actually”—Frant spoke up from where he’d leaned against the wall, away from Matt—“the killer kidnapped a woman in Faith, Washington, from outside of an ATM machine. They found her later in the forest, and not at her home.”

  Agent Patterson turned his full attention on Frant. “Who the hell are you?”

  Matt frowned. “Who did you think he was?”

  “Somebody who worked here.” Patterson flipped back several pages in his notebook. “According to the background information my partner picked up, you have several part-time workers through the year.”

  Frant slipped a business card from his back pocket. “Zeke Frant. I’m a reporter with ATW News Source out of Seattle, and I’ve been covering the Sleepy Town Serial Killer since the beginning.”

  Patterson took the card. “Sleepy Town Serial Killer? Are you serious?”

  “Yes. All famous killers have monikers.” Frant revealed his perfect set of teeth. “Any chance the FBI would agree to an interview in this case?”

  “No,” Patterson barked. “What did you see tonight?”

  “Nothing.” Frant actually looked disappointed at the thought. “I heard the shots and ran outside in time to see this guy running after a speeding vehicle. The car was a dark blue, and there was no license plate, as they’ve already said.”

  “How many shots?” Agent asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe six?” Frant pushed his glasses up his nose. “It all happened so fast. So, maybe your partner will consent to an interview?”

  “My partner is currently trying to track down a witness from the Peaceful Valley crime scene. When he gets back, I’ll get you two in the same room.” Patterson flashed a hard grin. “He’ll shoot you before he talks to you. I’m the nice one.”

  Frant’s lips turned down. “The people have a right to know if there’s a serial killer stalking them.”

  Patterson sighed. “When are you going to print?”

  “Tomorrow is the first installment.” Frant eyed Matt warily. “All I mentioned about the most recent crime is the location and that the FBI is in town investigating. I haven’t written a word about Miss Jacobs. Yet.”

  Matt’s low growl reminded Laney of a jaguar about to strike. She slipped her hand beneath his. “I appreciate that. Thanks,” she said.

  “Sure.” Frant kept his gaze on Matt.

  Yeah. Laney had learned the same lesson eons ago—to keep one’s eye on the biggest threat. Matt was definitely the biggest threat in the room. Thank God he was on her side. Well, mostly.

  Matt turned toward the agent. “Tell me you have some idea who this guy is.”

  “No clue.” The circles under Patterson’s eyes spoke volumes. “The guy seems to get better with each town he hits. Hopefully our profiler will get here tomorrow. We’ve been stretched thin.”

  Laney shivered in her wet dress.

  Matt instantly stood. “We’re done here, gentlemen. The second you hear anything, please call.” He nodded at the sheriff. “I’d like to talk to you tomorrow about safety arrangements for Laney.”

  The sheriff stood. “You got it.”

  Smitty escorted the men out the front door. “Sheriff, give me a ride home, will ya? My head aches a bit.”

  “Me, too,” Frant piped up. “The cabbie never showed.”

  Laney snorted. Mario was well known to hate calls after ten at night. She turned and tried to smooth down her wet dress. “Thanks, Matt.”

  He flipped off the lights and strode forward to take her hand to lead her through the bar and up the steps to the living quarters. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You saved me.”

  He stopped outside her door. “If I had saved you, the guy would be dead right now.”

  The harsh words rippled chills down her spine. She leaned back against the door, her head finally going quiet. “Why are you meeting with the sheriff tomorrow?” No way would Matt want anybody else to protect them.

  “I’m hoping to get to his computer.” Matt sighed. “Sorry I didn’t catch that guy tonight.”

  “Why are you so hard on yourself?”

  “I’m not.”

  Lightning arced outside the hallway window, illuminating the harsh planes of his face. The memory of him coming for her through the storm, walking toward spraying bullets as if they couldn’t harm him, filtered through her memories. He’d been focusing on her and nothing else.

  She dug both hands into his wet shirt, leaned up on her toes, and pressed her mouth against his.

  He inhaled sharply and wrapped both large hands over her shoulders to push her back against the door.

  She blinked.

  Raw hunger glittered in his eyes. “Wait.” Low, guttural, his tone licked right down her skin to part her thighs.

  Her eyelids dropped to half-mast as need washed under her flesh. Breathing became unnecessary. “No. No waiting.”

  “Laney—”

  “I want you, Matt. The real you… all of you.” There were no more secrets between them.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” His tone dropped to gravel in a cement mixer… rough and ready.

  “I do.” She struggled against his hold until he loosened enough that she could reach up and tangle her fingers through his hair. “We don’t have forever, and I know it. Hell, we may not have more than tonight. But I want it. Just you and me—the real us.” When was the last time she’d let somebody know her? The good and the bad?

  The idea that they were so temporary lent an urgency to the moment. To her need. Something flared to life inside her, filling those empty places she hadn’t realized she’d had… until she’d met Matt. Until he’d filled them.

  He licked his lips, and her knees weakened. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, the darker flecks in his gray eyes becoming almost black. “I’m better at pretending. The real me? I’m not pretty, and I’m sure as hell not gentle.”

  “I don’t want gentle.” Taking the risk, she broke free of his restraining hands and plastered her wet dress against his heated front. “I just want you.”

  His hard body shuddered as he fought the desire she could read on his face. “No—”

  “Yes.” Tightening her hold, she pulled his hair and took his mouth.

  He fought her for all of one second. With a groan, he shook her grip and flipped her around to face the door.

  One arm snaked around her waist and slid up to draw back her chin. She pressed both palms against the smooth wood. His erection pressed against her buttocks, while his hold arched her back.

  She couldn’t move.

  Fire flushed through her so quickly she gasped.

  “You want real?” His heated breath whispered against her ear, the tone dark and real. An offering… a surrender.

  “Yes,” she breathed. She wanted all of him with a desperation that
had her nails curving into the door.

  His fingers gripped her leg, skimming her dress up her thigh. She moved her butt restlessly against him, seeking any hint of relief.

  “No.” His other hand manacled around her hip, holding her still, his tone full of need. His hand continued up, over her belly, between her breasts, taking the material with him. “Arms up.”

  She faltered, her mind swimming, the words barely making sense. “B-but, we’re in the hall.”

  “Now.” The order held unrelenting command.

  An erotic shudder wound down her back. Slowly, she inched her palms up the doorway, and he slipped the dress over her head. Her breasts sprang free.

  “No bra?” he asked, his lips dipping to her ear, his hands covering hers above her head and holding tight.

  She swallowed and bit back a whimper. “Shelf bra—in dress.”

  “Ah.” His fingers curled over hers as he stepped into her, capturing her length with heat and unyielding muscle. There was nothing gentle about him—and he’d warned her. His hold on her was firm, controlling.

  And she knew, with every instinct she owned, that he was just getting started. She’d unleashed something within him, and she’d done so on purpose. “Matt, please—”

  “No, baby. You’ll beg when you’re on your knees. Later.” His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath her ear in a full assault demanding her compliance. Her surrender.

  His words permeated the fog in her brain even as she tilted her neck to grant better access. “I. Won’t. Be. On. My. Knees.” She panted the words out.

  The male chuckle at her ear almost threw her into an instant orgasm. “You know not to challenge me.”

  Oh yeah? She rolled her hips against the hard ridge pressing into her.

  His sharp intake of breath filled her with triumph.

  “You wanna play?” he murmured.

  “Yes.” She did it again.

  “You ever been taken from behind?” he asked, nipping her earlobe with enough of a bite to catch her breath in her throat.

  “No.” Sex had been merely been a quick stress reliever while she was in school, and she hadn’t been with anybody since fleeing the organization. “Not going to happen, Matt.” Yes, she wanted him to change her mind. If he wanted such trust, he’d have to earn it.