by Michele Hauf
Jamie, lass, when have you ever required a man to be good?
I have a theory about bad boys. They’re just misunderstood little boys who want to do the right thing, but, because of upbringing or a terrible life event, they never learned what right really is. Sacha might be one of those bad boys. His father had been a kidnapper, and Sacha had known nothing else. However, there was his mother’s influence. I knew little of her, but she sounded sane. And concerned. They talked once a week? Wow. I couldn’t even imagine.
I’m not making excuses for the man, but I’d yet to see evidence he’d done anything other than kidnap one woman (whom he no longer had in hand).
Of course, there was the other woman—me—whom he’d had stuffed into the boot of my car. Subtract points for that little adventure. And strike off a few more for my horrors with chloroform.
“You want me to carry you? I could—”
“Don’t even try it, Vital.” Yeah, I’d forgotten about that crazy chloroform hangover. And my cheek didn’t ache anymore, but that didn’t mean I was going to forget the slaps.
“Call me Sacha. When you use my last name, it’s so impersonal.”
“We are impersonal, Vital. Get that into your head.”
“You come like a goddess.”
“What?” I stopped walking. I had heard him perfectly clearly, but the astonishment overwhelmed even my aching blistered toes.
He joined my side, rubber boots scuffing tiny pebbles of gravel against my heels. “Just making a point. We’ve been very personal, Jamie. I know things about you.”
“Like what?” I regretted the question the instant it took shape.
“Like, you’re a very aggressive kisser.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
I resumed walking, and he stomped along in those sexy galoshes. Yes, they had reached sex appeal status. Right now, anything that could make the man’s legs look so tasty and serve as protective gear was sexy in my book.
“You’re a lazy kisser,” I replied.
“Lazy?”
“You know, slow, taking your time.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I enjoy tasting a woman, especially you. Vanilla!” he suddenly declared to the moonlight. Choirs of crickets sang hallelujah from the grasses.
“What?”
“Vanilla. That’s what you tasted like. And you sparkled.”
I laughed. I did have some vanilla body lotion I wore once in a while. When I wanted to sparkle. And attract a man’s eye.
“Your shoulders were sweet,” he said. “And your belly and your thighs. Man, so delicious.”
“Sacha.”
“And don’t even get me started on your breasts. Oh, man, I—” Suddenly Sacha ran a few steps ahead of me, his head bobbing as he searched the horizon. “What’s that?”
I spied what had captured his attention. “Hallelujah!”
Finding the energy to sprint, I set off for the abandoned car parked at the side of the road. I wasn’t about to get my hopes up. No one abandoned a car, bonnet propped open, for any reason other than that it had stopped by itself or it had run out of gas.
But I never looked a gift car in the grille.
Tromping through overgrown grasses intent on taking over the narrow country road, I slapped a palm on the boot. It was a banger, a rusted old Renault Fuego that had certainly seen its better days. Chipped blue paint conceded to gray and crumbly bits of rust here and there. The windows were rolled up and the doors locked. Must have taken a look under the bonnet. The owner obviously intended to return.
I scanned the gravel road. Tire tracks were still visible in the loose pebbles, so it may have been abandoned fairly recently.
Sacha kicked the bumper. “Out of gas?”
“Maybe.” I leaned against the rear quarter panel and shoved hard with my hip, letting the car swing back to position. “Hear that?” I said with a growing smile. “That is petrol sloshing around in the tank.”
I knew this car. It was a flaming piece of crap. Literally. The Fuego had a tendency to suddenly burst into flame due to a short-prone electrical system. Could be the problem. But I wouldn’t know until I checked under the bonnet.
“You got a flashlight, Vital?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked over the bonnet at him. He stood, highlighted by the gorgeous white moonlight, arms crossed, looking obstinate.
“What?”
“The name is Sacha.”
Rolling my eyes and hiding a smile behind the bonnet lid, I corrected, “Sacha, do you have a flashlight?”
“Nope. I only had time to grab the most important thing—and run.”
The most important thing? What was that? Oh. Me. I remained behind the shield of the bonnet, unwilling to look at him. Did the charm naturally come to him, or did he have to work at it?
I think it was natural.
On the other hand, it was me who had done the grabbing. If he had intended to turn around that little rescue in his favor…
“I’ll take a look in the glove box.” He peered into the car and tried the door handle.
And I let out my held breath. Oh, what was I doing? It slipped out; he hadn’t meant anything with that remark. I was reading too much into it.
“Most important thing, my arse,” I hissed. He hadn’t bothered to offer me that important pair of boots, now, had he?
Drawing my dirty, achy toes up along the back of my opposite ankle, I leaned forward and gripped the edge of the car, stretching out the pulling muscles in the backs of my legs. I hadn’t fallen down any dangerous dirt drops, but I’d be feeling this walk in the morning just as much as if I had fallen.
The flashlight would expedite matters but wasn’t necessary. I poked around the engine. I could read an engine with my eyes closed, like Helen Keller reading a book in braille. I didn’t smell burned wiring or even notice the taint of leaking oil. Must be the battery. Just needed a boost?
“Locked.”
I straightened abruptly. Sacha stood right behind me. I hadn’t noticed him come around, hadn’t even heard the crunch of rubber soles on gravel. Man, when I had my head in an engine…
“Thanks. But I think I can boost it, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. No fire damage that I can remark. Could have just flooded the engine. If I can break the steering column, and jimmy the lock, we’re on our way.”
“How’d you get to be so good with cars? You in your sexy little skirts and T-shirts. You’re quite the dichotomy, Jamie MacAlister.”
Swiping my fingers across the hem of my white T-shirt left behind a trail of grease. I might be tired, smoke-riddled and a target, but now, I was in my element.
“I was born with a wrench in hand and greasy fingerprints on my bottle. My pa used to recondition classics. I drove in my first street race when I was fourteen.”
“I take it you weren’t fussing over your hair and picking out dresses for the prom like all the rest of the girls?”
Don’t I wish I’d had a mother to keep me from buying that idiot turquoise dress with flounces and to make a fuss over my curly hair and inexpertly applied makeup. The woman was out there somewhere…wandering.
“I went to the prom,” I said defensively, and then added as I wandered away from the car to scan the ditch, “I drove.”
His laughter twinkled like stars in the midnight sky. “Baby, you can drive me.”
“I have once.”
“I haven’t forgotten. You like the ride?”
“I did.”
“So, if I understand things right, you’re attracted to cars the same way men are?”
“If you mean because of the speed, gears and sex, yes.”
I bent and splayed my fingers through the grass edging the ditch. Found what I was looking for…
“Oh yeah,” Sacha said, “give it to me fast, and in a car.”
The huge rock I’d lifted from the ground smashed the driver’s side window with ease.
Pulling up the door lock, I then opened the door, pushed the particles of safety glass from the seat and slid in.
“I’ve got a key. Now just be quiet for a few. I need to concentrate. Hand me my bag.”
The duffel dangled from above the open car door. I grabbed it and shuffled blindly inside until my fingers curled about the torque wrench and the multitool. Jamming the heavy steel wrench hard against the lock cylinder, I torqued my grip and gritted my teeth.
“Come on, sweetie,” I coaxed the banger. “I don’t want to walk any further. Just give it up like a nice lass—” My fist smashed into the dash as the cylinder cracked. “Halfway there!”
“Now for the key.” Leaning forward to catch a little moonlight on the multitool, I tugged out the screwdriver, then shoved it into the mutilated lock cylinder and turned it like a key.
The engine hacked out a protesting growl, but it ran, and that was all that mattered. “Yes. Thank you, darling.”
Elated at the simple boost, I jumped out onto the gravel and grabbed the first thing to hand. Which was a half naked man. Pressing close, and pulling down his head with my hand, I kissed Sacha like I drove, with determination, drive and intention. Eyes on the prize, and don’t stop until you’ve made it home.
He felt incredible. Muscles tensed and hardened under my fingers. Hot flesh. Sounds of satisfaction blended with the rumble of the engine behind me, like an angel’s song. At this moment, the world became very right.
Snaking my left leg up and around the man’s thigh, I drew him closer, so he had to lean in and press his palms to the roof of the car. The crazy reaction part of me wasn’t about to free him.
The taste of freedom and darkness and utter abandon filled my mouth with his urgent kiss. I wanted more, more. Give it all to me, baby. This man had been born bad, but he wasn’t bad to the bone. It would be so easy to let him into my life; a life that craved companionship. I just wanted someone to care and not wander off.
“You’re good,” I muttered blissfully against his mouth.
Sacha abruptly loosened our embrace and pulled away. With moonlight flashing across his face, I could easily read his strange look. And it wasn’t a happy one. “Don’t even think about it, Jamie. I’m a nasty son of a bitch, and you know it.”
Where had that come from? I knew he wasn’t citizen of the year, but for him to suddenly push me away? After all the flirtation?
“Jamie?”
And then it hit me like a zap from a cracked spark plug wire. He was being more adult about this “relationship” than I could ever be.
“Right. Not playing on my team. I got it. Sorry. I was just happy about getting the car started. You know how things are.”
“Sure. Sex, death, the rumble of a car engine. It’s all the same, right?”
“You know it. Let’s get out of here.”
I slammed the bonnet shut, then strode to the driver’s side, but the door was now jammed in place. Could be from the rock through the window; must have bent the frame. I could go around to the passenger side, but Sacha had already climbed in. So I dusted out the broken glass bits, and climbed through the window.
“Wish you were still wearing that skirt for that climb,” Sacha commented.
“It’s dark. You can’t see a damn thing anyway.”
“I know, but I have to wonder after admiring that short little skirt—”
“About what?”
“Bikini or thong.”
I sat there, smirking and tapping the steering wheel. “Nasty son of a bitch.”
“That’s me.” Yep, he had definitely changed colors after that kiss. “So, we off?”
Palming the stick, it rattled in my grasp—the linkage must be worn. I knew we should speed right on out of here, but something nagged at me.
The unknown.
The need to have just a bit more.
The only nasty thing in the vicinity was this car, not Sacha. And I wasn’t about to let him play the bad-boy card after all I’d learned about him.
Twisting, I slid smoothly across the console, avoiding the shift, and landed in Sacha’s lap, one knee to either side of his thigh. Before he could come up with another pitiful excuse for me not to kiss him, I laid another one on him.
His mouth was irresistibly soft and open. This time, his hands snaked up my thighs and caressed my arse. Sliding one finger inside the waistband, he toyed with the lacy trim of my panties.
“Bikini?” he whispered.
“Yep.”
I wanted him to go further. I wanted him to touch me however he pleased, and then I’d see what reaction would come. It might be an affront. How dare he touch me so boldly? Or it might be a wanting moan, encouragement to continue toward the climax I knew he could bring me to.
I wouldn’t push him away. I didn’t want to. Pulling him closer was the only thought I had. Nestling into him, I sat in his lap. Striking out across his bare chest, my fingers skated over hard muscle.
“What the hell are you doing?” he murmured, but kissed me again, deeper, longer.
“Just play this game,” I said. “You might win, you might lose, but you’ll never know unless you get in the game.”
He touched me at my nape, sliding his fingers through my hair and easing them up my scalp. I arched my back, responding involuntarily. Subtly, he controlled, with touch, taste and breath. I felt his fingers trace my jaw, and he drew back to show me his thumb. A smear of dark grease coated it.
I shrugged. “You don’t like my perfume?”
Wiping the grease off on his robe, he pulled me back into the kiss.
“You know something?” I murmured. “Anything good that has ever happened to me has happened in a car.”
“Is that why you spend so much time in cars?”
“Maybe.”
Eating him like a rich dessert, I gorged myself on his masculine shape, his urgency, and the feel of him hard against my groin. I began to rock against him, rubbing him, coaxing him…I could bring him to climax, and take satisfaction in the moans of his orgasm. I wanted this. It was so close…
Did I trust this man?
Yes, I thought I did.
Whoa. Me and my reactive need to always jump into the fray.
I sat back and licked my lips. The loss of connection felt bold and final. Sacha slipped his hand down my neck and over my breast—the nipple was so damn hard—but didn’t give me the strokes I desired, only rested his hand on my thigh.
“Let me guess,” he said in a husky, kiss-drained whisper. “That was one of those kisses a woman gives a man to see if he’s—” he did a wobbling gesture with his fingers “—the right one.”
“Of course it was.”
Feeling suddenly lost, and way off course, I navigated my way back behind the steering wheel. Safe here behind the wheel. This is where I belong.
Tucking a hair behind my ear, I tapped the accelerator, readying to drive.
“Well,” he asked. “Did you feel anything?”
Gripping the steering wheel hard, I shifted with my right hand, and revved the engine. “No.”
I owed the man the truth, but right now it wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped.
Chapter 21
No sooner had the Fuego rolled into motion than one of my phones rang. I fumbled for it, and Sacha reached into the duffel to retrieve it for me.
“Where’s the other?” I asked as he handed it to me.
He just shrugged. “That’s the only one I see in there.”
Hmm. I checked the screen. Unidentified caller. This was the phone Kevin had given me. I think.
“I think it’s Eight.”
Sacha laid a hand on my thigh. The heat of that connection rocketed directly to my groin. Something about escaping death and running for your life tipped my sexual desire scales to overload. And I was craving some skin on skin action.
He said, “If you answer it, you are alive, still in the game. And the Faction plays fo
r keeps. If you let it ring…you’re dead, free to start over.”
Wrinkling my mouth, I stared hard at the cell phone as it jingled a third time. Not only would I be dead, but Sacha neglected to mention he’d gain freedom from the Faction if I chose to let them believe I was a goner. We could both begin over without having to constantly look over our shoulders.
The entire reason I sat here right now in this banger car with a man I hated as much as I desired was because of the Faction. And that mysterious princess that everyone wanted to get their hands on. The Faction still had her. Likely they would torture her to get any information about the Network from her that they could.
They should have taken me into custody that morning of the pickup. Not that I could tell them anything more than I’d told Sacha about the Network, but it was likely more than the innocent princess knew. Why hadn’t they?
And Kevin, he had had me in his apartment. Some things still didn’t make sense. But others did.
I had been responsible for placing the princess in the hands of the Faction. Me. And while I hadn’t a clue at the time, I couldn’t step back from responsibility now.
There was no denying the truth. If I began to require more of myself—like obtaining all the information I could get for a job—then I’d start taking a more active role in the blame.
The poor lass. I could be her.
But I wasn’t. And she needed a voice.
After six rings I clicked on. I glanced to Sacha as I said, “La lapine.”
“Jamie?”
“Eight.” A ruby sunrise highlighted Sacha’s dour stare.
“I’ve been trying to contact you for hours. What happened to me watching your back?”
“You’ve been tracking me, but as for watching my back—”
“Do you have Vital?”
“Maybe.”
“Jamie, don’t beat around the bush. Vital is a very dangerous man.”
“Dangerous? What about the Faction? They’re the ones who tried to blow me up. Not once, but twice. Don’t deny it, Eight. Your men tracked us to Vital’s home.”
Kevin’s heavy sigh carried over the crackling airwaves. “So you don’t burn easily. Gotta give me credit for trying.”
If I’d had lingering doubts about the man, he’d just blown them all out of the water.
