by J. Kenner
It worked, I think as Liam tugs me back up and we start running again.
I expect him to take us to the street, but instead we go into the woods, following what I now realize is an overgrown path. There’s a hill, and we hurry down it, and I soon realize that we’re low enough now that no one in the house or around it can see us. I relax. Slightly.
I start to ask where we’re going, but then I see the huge bike parked by a woodpile. He came all the way from Vegas on a bike?
He hurries me onto the motorcycle before getting on in front of me. The guy in the back has stood up now, and I can see him from the saddle. Which means he can see me.
“Hold on,” Liam says, his voice tense. And before I’ve even locked my fingers around him, we’re rocketing forward, leaves flying around us as we bounce along the path, then hit the street’s asphalt. There’s a black car parked in front of the house, and on the porch, a lanky guy in a ball cap turns around, his mouth open in a ridiculous maw.
I see him raise a weapon, and I tense, then scream as a shot rings out, followed by another in quick succession. I breathe deep, expecting pain, then realize that it was Liam doing the shooting. The tires, I assume, but I don’t know if he hit them, because we’re already careening down twisting mountain roads, and I’m terrified that we’re going to wipe out and I’m going to end up dead in a fiery conflagration.
I turn around once, then twice, both times certain I’ll see my attackers gaining on us. But there’s nothing. No one. Just the dark road disappearing behind us.
We go for what feels like forever, turning down streets, backtracking up the mountain, then going down an alternate route. Circling and twisting until I’m both lost and dizzy and numb from the buzz of the cycle beneath me.
“Stop,” I finally shout, my mouth close to the back of his ear. “Please. Please, find a place to stop.”
My heart is pounding. My blood burning. I need to move. I need to—I don’t even know. But being on this bike is only making it worse.
Soon, he’s pulling onto a side road that dips down. I see a wooden sign with the name of a park, but I’m too frazzled to try to read it. He follows a gravel path for at least a quarter mile, then stops the bike in a patch of dirt near a battered picnic table. He gets off, then helps me off.
I tug the tissue from my ears, then bend over, my hands on my knees, and suck in air as he rubs my back and whispers soothing words. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe. There’s no way they followed us. Just breathe. We’re fine.”
I nod my head. He’s right, but it’s not enough. I stand, my pulse so loud I can barely hear my thoughts.
“Xen—”
I don’t let him finish. Instead, I pull myself up on my toes and capture his mouth in a kiss, long and deep and so wonderfully delicious I feel it reverberate all the way through me.
I pull back, breathing hard, my eyes never leaving his face. His expression is tight, like a spring about to explode. But whether he’s about to kiss me or push me away, I really can’t tell.
“We could have died,” I whisper, as I slide my hands down to cup his very fine ass. I press against him, his erection hard against me. “We could have died,” I repeat. “So don’t you dare say no.”
Chapter Nine
Xena wrapped herself around him before he could even react, her mouth hot against his. He knew they shouldn’t—that they’d regret it in the morning. That she’d regret it. But dear Christ, he wanted her. He’d wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her.
That slim body. Those innocent eyes. That kissable, fuckable mouth that even then was warm and wet against his own, her tongue teasing and tempting him, making his already heated blood burn hotter.
Good God, he should hold back. He needed to rein it in and exercise some of that control he was so famous for. But right then they were safe, and she was wild and hot in his arms, and he was breathless and hard and definitely not thinking straight.
She was right—they could have died. And now that the coast was clear, he needed this. They both did. Needed to burn this crazed lust out of their systems, to boil down the adrenaline so they could think again. To push through the fear and the pain.
All of which were just rationalizations to justify taking her right then, right there, on a damned park bench while her skin glowed in the moonlight.
He stumbled back, then collapsed onto the bench. She gasped, one hand going to the button on his jeans as she climbed onto his lap, her legs on either side of his.
He had one hand at her lower back and the other on her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just that sexy black tank top, and he stroked his thumb over her hard nipple as it strained against the material.
She moaned against his mouth, her tongue still warring with his as he hitched the shirt up in the back, then slid his fingers under the waistband of her yoga pants. Her body shook as she drew a shuddering breath, and he cupped one of her ass cheeks, then pulled her closer, so that her body stroked his erection.
Her low, sexy moan teased his senses, and she started to move her hips, the slow, grinding movement making him completely insane. At the same time, the fingers at his fly started tugging down his zipper, while her other hand closed over his, increasing the pressure to her breast as she arched back and ground harder against him.
As her fingers eased into his jeans, she lifted her hips up to free his cock. He shifted long enough to tug his jeans down a bit so that blood would continue to flow, then returned one hand to her breast and rolled that tight, perfect nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Their mouths were still locked, but she pulled back, her teeth tugging at his lower lip. “We shouldn’t do this,” she murmured, her voice low and breathy.
“No,” he agreed as her hips rose and he took advantage, finding her slick, wet core. “No, we shouldn’t,” he said, burying two fingers inside her. She bore down on his hand, her head tilted back as she bit her lip and moaned.
“Then let’s do it fast. Before we change our minds.”
Laughter bubbled up out of him, and she took her hands off him, then started to tug down her yoga pants. “Get these off me.”
“Off?”
She grabbed her top and pulled it over her head, then tossed it onto the picnic table behind him.
“Christ, Xena, what are you doing?”
“What I want. Please, please, for the first time in forever, just let me do this.”
He didn’t understand what she meant, but the question evaporated quickly enough as she wriggled out of the pants, managing the whole thing more efficiently than he could have, most likely because he half-believed he was dreaming.
“Touch me,” she begged, and when he hesitated, she added, “We’re safe. You said so. And if you didn’t believe it one hundred percent you never would have let it get this far.”
She was right, and he didn’t protest when she took his hand and stroked his fingers over her clit. He was so damn hard, and he cupped his hands on her ass as she grabbed his shoulders, using the leverage to lift her hips, then wriggling until she was right over his cock. She settled there, teasing him mercilessly as she looked in his eyes, taking him in bit by bit, making them both crazy, until finally he was buried inside her, and she arched back, begging him to touch her as she rode him like a wild thing.
He cupped one breast and stroked her clit, but he didn’t kiss her. He wanted to watch her. The way the moonlight cast shadows on her face. The way her lips parted with passion. The tremors in the tight muscles of her abdomen. And then, when release finally came, the way her entire body trembled and shook as she cried out and pounded a fist against his shoulder.
She was the most alive thing he’d ever held in his arms, and as her core spasmed around him, he exploded inside her. His moans joined hers, their loud cries sending a flock of birds rising out of the trees, their wings black against the night sky.
She collapsed against him, breathing hard. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. And thank yo
u.”
“Sorry?” He cupped her face and gazed into those shining blue eyes. “Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
A wry smile played at her mouth. “I think I used you.”
“I think I liked it.” Hell yes, he’d liked it. The way she’d taken control, and the way he’d completely surrendered to the live wire in his arms. It had been beyond delicious, and utterly unexpected.
“Are you okay?”
He realized that he’d closed his eyes, his forehead pressed against hers. He pulled back so that he could see her—then kissed her gently. “I’m fine. You do some crazy things to me.”
“Crazy good? Or crazy bad?”
He grinned. “Maybe a little of both,” he said, and as he’d hoped, she laughed.
And then he remembered. “Fuck.”
Her eyes widened. “What? What’s wrong?”
“No condom. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Her brow furrowed, and he wished he could kick himself in the balls. Idiot.
“But you’re okay, right? You’re clean?
“Yes. God, yes. Of course.” He ran his hand over his scalp, still cursing his own stupidity. “I swear.”
“I believe you.” She brushed her thumb over his lower lip. “You have such a fabulous mouth. You know that, right?”
He caught her hand, then kissed the pad of her thumb. “I’m glad you believe me, but it was still unprotected sex.”
“It’s okay. I promise. I’m clean, too. Tested and everything.” Her voice sliced the air. “And if it’s pregnancy you’re worried about, well, that won’t be a problem either.”
“Xena…” He wanted to ask about the knife edge in her tone, but something stopped him. That wasn’t a question for now. Not when he was still inhaling her scent and she was still naked in his lap.
She blinked at him, obviously waiting for him to continue.
“Get dressed,” he said gently. “We need to find someplace safe for the night. And then tomorrow, we’re heading for LA.”
Chapter Ten
By the time they left the park, found a crappy motel, and checked in, it was past four in the morning and they had officially crossed the line into a Very Long Day.
Even so, Liam was still wired when he slipped the key into the scuffed lock and pushed open the dingy gray door. The faint scent of mildew lingered under the stronger odor of bleach. He grimaced, but even the tacky room and the unappealing smell couldn’t shake the happy out of him. Maybe it was a mistake and maybe it wasn’t, but right then, Liam wouldn’t have traded the last hour for anything.
The attack before, sure. That he could have lived without. But to hold Xena’s naked body in his arms—to feel her shatter around him as her orgasm exploded through her—Christ, he wouldn’t trade that memory or that moment for anything. And all he wished right then was that they could have gone to the fucking Ritz instead of the Inland Motor Inn, the sign for which must have been designed in the fifties. And from what he saw as he stepped into the room, neither the furniture nor the carpet had been changed since then.
He said a silent prayer that someone had washed the sheets.
“Welcome to our suite,” he said, holding the door open so she could enter.
He saw her nose wrinkle, but when she looked at him, she was smiling. “It’s perfect.”
“Our definitions of perfect are wildly disparate. But it’ll do.”
“We paid cash, there’s a bed, and there’s a door in front of the toilet. Trust me when I say I’ve seen worse. Much worse.”
“Then I pity you,” he quipped, then immediately regretted the words. He knew she’d been a runaway. Undoubtedly she really had slept in much worse conditions than this.
“Sorry,” he said, but she just laughed.
“It’s okay.” She took his hand and pulled him the rest of the way in so the door swung shut behind them. She stumbled a little as she headed to the queen size bed.
He lingered to flip the bolt and add the chain, then unholstered his Glock and put it on the bedside table. He placed her Ruger there, too; he’d put it in the bike’s storage compartment after they’d bolted from the house, then retrieved it when they’d arrived here.
“Sleep,” he ordered. “You’re dead on your feet.”
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and now she yawned, as if his words had given her permission. With drooping eyes, she started to wriggle out of her yoga pants, then stopped. “Oh. Sorry. I usually don’t sleep in my clothes.”
He chuckled. “Fine by me, but don’t expect me to keep my hands to myself.”
She met his eyes, hers bloodshot with heavy lids, but the corner of her mouth curved up and she held his gaze as she pulled off the pants, then the tank. Then she held them out to him. “I was going to drop them on the floor, but…” She trailed off, her nose wrinkling with disgust as she looked down at the stained carpet.
He nodded. “Right,” he said, then laid her clothes over the back of a chair. By the time he turned to face her again, she was under the covers, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and even. She was either asleep or doing a damn good job of faking it.
He took off his jacket and shirt, then followed with his jeans, leaving only his boxer briefs on. He considered adding them to the chair’s decoration, but there was only one bed, and it was going to be hard enough to let her sleep peacefully, even as tired as he was. Because the truth was, their wild coupling in the park had been running in a continuous loop through his mind.
He slid carefully into the bed, his eyes never leaving her. She’d been incredible. Hot. Dangerous. Fabulous. And, yes, he wanted more. He wanted to push her to the limit, to go wild with her. He wanted to take control and see all that heat and sensuality bound up in a beautiful package for him. To immerse her in inescapable pleasure even while he pushed himself to his own limits, crossing lines he hadn’t stepped over in years.
He’d take her—them both—to the edge. And only when he was certain that she couldn’t stand it any longer, would he let the full force of passion consume her, as pure, undiluted pleasure exploded inside her.
Slowly, he brushed his fingertips over her skin, so pale she looked like a doll asleep beside him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so much…or met a woman who matched him so well. And he wondered if maybe—just maybe—this woman might—
He slammed a door on those thoughts as he felt the tightening in his chest. A low burn of anger and self-loathing. Fear, too, which was ironic considering everything he’d faced in his life. But it was real. And it was inescapable.
With a sigh, he rolled to his back, his head on the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He was so damn tired, and he was letting his mind go into forbidden corners. He needed to stay on course. He had a job to do, after all, and sex really wasn’t part of it.
His phone was on the table beside his gun, and he reached for it, needing to do one last thing before he could finally sleep. The text to Ella was short: He’d reached Xena, and Ella should call when she got the message. Considering it wasn’t yet dawn, he figured he’d get at least an hour of sleep before she replied.
To his surprise, the phone buzzed immediately in his hands.
He stood up, taking the call with a soft, “Ella. I wasn’t expecting to hear back so soon.”
“I do yoga and meditate before dawn. It’s the only time I have. I’d hoped to hear from you last night. You found the cabin okay?”
“Xena and I are safe,” he said, to which she replied, “Oh, fuck.”
He almost laughed. He’d known from the minute he met her that she was a sharp woman.
“What happened?”
“We had visitors. Not long after I arrived.” He gave her the quick version, ending with the motel and skipping the park.
“They followed you.” The accusation was clear in her voice.
“I don’t think so.
“Xena, then?”
“But you’re okay now? They didn’t follow you to the motel?”
“No.” That much, he was certain of.
“Okay. Good. Shit.”
He let her get it out of her system. After a moment, he heard her take a breath. “How’s my cabin?”
“I’m going to guess they searched the interior. And you need to send your caretaker—with the cops, just in case, though I doubt they’re still around. The bathroom wall is wide open.”
“Right. Okay.” He gave her props for not asking for more details.
“Do you have front porch cams?”
“Do I—what?”
“Remote security cameras. Sometimes mounted in the doorbell?”
“Oh, yes. Both doors.”
“Ella, you just made my morning.” He was about to ask her to send him the access information when she texted that exact thing. “You’re fabulous. I’ll get this to Mario. With any luck, he can pull both faces off those feeds. The image from the fitness center doesn’t seem too promising.”
“How’s Xena doing? Can I talk to her? She must be so scared.”
“She’s sleeping right now. I’d rather not wake her.”
“Oh, God no. She’s had a hell of an ordeal.” A thickness had entered her voice, and he realized that she’d started to cry. “Do you know what she told me before she left? That she hated being a thorn in my side. That girl has worked for me for over four years now. She’s become one of my closest friends. How can she not know that?”
“I think she does. I think that’s why it bothers her so much that you’re involved in all this.”
“I don’t even know what all this is. Not really. All this time … why would her past come back to haunt her after so many years?”
“I don’t know either,” he said, though he had some ideas. At the core, there had to be something very, very bad. Murder, maybe. Or worse. Because otherwise, Tweedledee and Tweedledum would have stayed hidden. The only reason to come out of the woodwork was if it was very, very important to them that Xena could never, ever cause any trouble.
