The Departed

by Shiloh Walker

  He rolled on top of her, his weight pinning her against the bed. His hands cupped her face, tilting her head back. “I missed you—fuck, why can’t I stop thinking about you?” he muttered, his voice low and harsh, demanding.

  Dez’s head was spinning. This—shit. This wasn’t happening. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribs so hard she could barely breathe. Tearing her mouth from his, she opened her eyes and glared at him as she shoved him back.

  “What the hell, Taylor?” she demanded, disgusted to realize she wanted to cry. Damn it all. She blinked back tears and glared at him. “What in the hell is this? First you push me away, then you refuse to even discuss anything remotely personal, and then you spend the night uninvited and now you’re pawing me. What the fuck is this?”

  A dull red flush spread across his cheekbones and if she hadn’t been so upset, so fucking aroused and confused, she just might have thought it was adorable—he was blushing.

  But she was aroused, she was confused, and she didn’t know what in the hell was going on. The tears clogged her throat and, staring up at him, she whispered, “What is this, Taylor?”

  He sighed, stroking one thumb over her cheek. “Would you believe it’s a wake-up call?” His gaze dropped to her lips again and then he groaned, pulling away from her and sitting on the bed with his back braced against the post. “You walked away last night, and I had the strangest damn feeling it was the last time—that if I didn’t do something, figure out some way to talk to you…I wouldn’t get any other chance. And I finally figured out that I needed it—needed…”

  He closed his eyes and averted his face.

  Dez felt her heart leap up into her throat. Easing upright in the bed, she stared at him, not daring to breathe, not daring to speak, to think. The tears were back, this time threatening to blind her and rob her of speech, but damn it, she wouldn’t let them. She started to wipe them away and that was when she looked down…and saw what she held in her hand. What he’d been holding when she woke up.

  Her necklace.

  This time, she couldn’t stop the sob, couldn’t stop the tears. She had nothing of her past, save for this necklace. It had come from her grandmother—a woman who’d died when Dez had been almost too young to remember her. But she knew the woman had loved her. The one person who had loved her.

  All this time, she’d thought it was lost—destroyed or tossed aside in the rush to save her life, maybe, the night she’d been hurt.

  Through her tears, she looked up and stared at Taylor. “Where…where did you find this?”

  “I’ve had it since that night.” He stared at the bit of gold swinging from her fist, his gaze rapt, like he couldn’t look away. “I…I kept telling myself I’d mail it to you. Then maybe I’d convince myself I’d bring it to you, and apologize. Make sure you were doing okay. But I couldn’t let it go.”

  “Couldn’t let it go?” She shook her head. “What is this? Damn it, what is going on?”

  “I finally let myself admit something,” he said, his voice raw and harsh. “I figured something out. Figured out what I need, Dez.”

  “Yeah?” She swallowed the tears clogging her throat. Hope tried to dance in her chest, but she didn’t want to believe in it. Didn’t dare. “What do you need, Jones? Do you even know how to let yourself need something?”

  “Not a what, not a thing,” Taylor said quietly. He looked back at her. “Who. You, damn it. And you’ve known it all along. Better than I did. I need you and I knew if I just let you walk last night, that was it. It was done.”

  “I did walk,” she pointed out, lowering her gaze to the necklace for a moment before looking back up at him.

  He gave her a faint grin. “But you didn’t get away. You’ve been stuck with me all night, even now.”

  She snorted. She managed a casual shrug as she inspected the chain of her necklace. It was damaged, but that was okay. The chain wasn’t the important part. She’d replaced it four or five times over the years. The cross was what mattered to her. “Circumstances, Jones. You can’t claim credit for circumstances.”

  Taylor reached up, scratching at the light golden stubble on his chin. “Actually…there were no circumstances. I had no reason to take you back to the kid’s house—I was just trying to stall and figure out how to make my brain and mouth cooperate.”

  Dez stared at him. “No circumstances. That’s bullshit. We found a trail.”

  “Dumb luck.” Taylor shrugged. “I wasn’t entirely surprised when you picked something up, but I wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen, either—like you said, you’re not one of my bloodhounds. It was just a last-ditch effort to keep you from holing up in here away from me.”

  “Ahhh. Hmmm.” She licked her lips and then, before she did anything else, she set the necklace down. Carefully. She couldn’t lose it again. That he’d cared for it all these months made it that much more precious, she realized. Even if she wouldn’t let herself acknowledge it. That done, she drew her knees to her chest and made herself think about what he’d just said.

  He’d lied to her. Hell, he’d also kept something she treasured for over a year. Yeah. She should be pissed off. He’d lied, after all, right? But somewhere inside, instead of fury, she felt something that just might have been hope. Or even glee.

  Pressing her face to her knees, she took a deep breath. She needed to think and focus. Think. Focus. And get the hell away from him. Yeah. That was a good plan. She should get out of the bed and walk away. Without looking at him. Because if she looked at him, she was lost. So lost, so screwed. She swallowed and tried to send the command to her body.

  Said body wasn’t in the mood to cooperate.

  Okay. So she’d tell him to leave. That would work, too, right?

  Sucking in a deep breath, she opened her mouth.

  But what came out wasn’t an order to leave. Instead, she blurted out, “What the hell does it matter if I hole up away from you now? When did things change all of a sudden?”

  And she made the mistake of looking at him. Her gaze locked with his and she fell into that steely blue—usually so cold, so flat and emotionless. But now…not cold. And while she couldn’t entirely understand the emotions she saw there, there was emotion—a whole hell of a lot of it.

  “Change?” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Oh, nothing changed exactly. Except for that wake-up call I mentioned.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as he rolled onto his knees and crawled across the bed. It should have looked awkward. Seriously, who could crawl and not look awkward? Obviously Taylor Jones. Caught in the blue of his eyes, she felt like she was being stalked and she couldn’t have moved for the life of her.

  He stopped only scant inches away and lifted a hand, stroking it down her cheek. “The past year has seriously sucked, Dez. I don’t know if I can do any sort of relationship and chances are I’m going to fuck it up something awful. I’m probably going to end up hurting you. But if there’s any chance at all that you and I might have something between us, I want it.”

  Shit. Her heart slammed against her ribs; her breath was trapped inside her lungs. This was happening—this was real. Staring at him, she swallowed back the dazed, delighted giggle that wanted to break free. No. She wasn’t going to fall for this so easily. Hell, no.

  “For how long?” she asked, clenching her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. “While we’re both here? Until you go back to D.C.? How long, Jones? If it’s just until you’re bored with it, then just get the fuck away from me.”

  With a featherlight touch, he stroked a finger over the scar on her neck. His eyes held hers. “Dez…I could live a thousand years and never be bored with you. And I don’t know how long. Probably until you’re fed up with me and boot me out on my ass.” He slid his hand back to curve around her nape, his thumb rubbing back and forth over her skin. “But I don’t have hard-and-fast answers. If you’re looking for them…well, I’m no genius at relation
ships, but I don’t think they come with hard-and-fast answers. We just do our best and see what happens.”

  Relationship. As his fingers slid up to tangle in her hair, Dez closed her eyes. She was sitting here, in bed, talking about a relationship with Taylor Jones.

  Hell had frozen over. That was the only logical explanation for this weirdness.

  His lips brushed over her forehead and she tipped her head back, looking at him. “You know how insane this is?” she asked, her voice soft. “I shouldn’t even want to see you, talk to you. I’ve spent the past year trying not to think about you at all.”

  “Same here.” A faint smile curled his lips. “Did you have better luck than I did?”

  Dez made a face. “Every time I slowed down more than five minutes, I’d find myself thinking about you. Thinking about you, cursing the ground you walked on in one breath, and missing you in the next.”

  “I just missed you.” His mouth brushed across her cheeks, first one, then the other. “Missed you, then I’d curse the ground I walked on. I’ve spent a lot of time wishing I could kick my own ass. Dez?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you’re going to kick me out, do it now, because if you don’t, I plan on having you naked in the next two minutes.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and her breathing hitched. Pulling back, she stared at him, while inside her head a war raged. Kicking him out was exactly what she should do. She knew that.

  But she wasn’t going to.

  “Two minutes, huh? Do I have time to brush my teeth?”

  “It’s closer to ninety seconds now.”

  She grinned at him. “You’re counting—”

  Before she could finish, he had her mouth under his. She shuddered and opened for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hauled her against him and twisted, rolling across the bed until he had her flat on her back and under him.

  His hands flew over her clothes and although she wasn’t counting, he had her clothes off pretty damn fast—it just might have been two minutes. As the last of her clothes went flying, she worked her hands between them and pushed him back when he would have covered her body with his.

  “Now you,” she demanded, grabbing the hem of his shirt in her hand and tugging on it. “I want you naked, too.”

  He scowled but pushed away, dealing with his clothes with the same speed and efficiency he’d used on hers. He came back to her, his body hard, strong, and warm, chasing away the cold that always seemed to linger. She groaned, all but wrapping herself around him.

  His mouth caught hers and she bit his lip, then sucked it into her mouth. When he shuddered against her, she smiled. Against her belly, she could feel him, hard and thick. She worked a hand between them and closed her fingers around his cock, stroking him.

  Taylor tore his mouth away. “Fuck, don’t do that. I’ll lose it right here.”

  “That’s fine with me.” She smiled up at him and continued to pump. The thought of making him shatter like that had her belly going hot and tight. He wanted her that much—this controlled, contained man wanted her that much.

  He reached down and caught her wrist, stilling her actions. “It’s not fine with me.”

  “Spoilsport.” She squeezed him and then let go, still grinning. A thought occurred to her. “I don’t have anything with me, Jones.”

  His lashes flickered. “Me, neither.”

  “I’m still on the pill.” A blush crept up her cheeks but she didn’t look away as she added, “I haven’t been with anybody since you.”

  “Me, neither.” He closed his eyes, pressed his brow to hers. “I can stop. Go to the store.”

  “Or…” She wiggled under him, stroking a hand down his back. “We can do something really stupid again.”

  “We could.” He nipped her lower lip and then lifted his head, staring down at her. “Something really fucking stupid. We both know better.”

  “Yeah.” She cupped his hips in her hands and met his gaze. Her heart, always so damned weak when it came to him, trembled and stuttered inside her chest. “Make love to me, Jones.”

  He braced one elbow on the bed by her head. “Say my name, Desiree. My name…” he muttered.

  “Taylor. Make love to me, Taylor.”

  His mouth captured hers as he shifted and positioned himself between her thighs. “Wrap your legs around me,” he rasped against her mouth.

  As she did, he pressed against her, the broad head of his cock nudging against her exposed, slick folds. She whimpered and arched, rubbing against him. “Damn it, Dez, be still…”

  She couldn’t, though. Aching, all but dying for him, she tightened her legs around him and arched up.

  Taylor swore and pushed, driving deep, burying himself inside with one hard, heavy thrust that tore a scream from her throat. Again, again…he shifted his body so that each thrust had his body stroking against her clit, a burning, taunting little tease—driving her insane.

  * * *

  HER eyes, so dark and deep, stared up at him, her gaze glassy. Drunk with need, drunk on her, Taylor cupped the back of her head and kissed her, dying for more. Bored with her? With this? Not in this lifetime. The little muscles in her sex clenched around him, milking him, clutching at him as he withdrew.

  So fucking sweet, so hot and so wet…He groaned out her name against her lips as she shuddered under him. Her body went rigid against his, tight with the need to come.

  He’d wanted this to last…but there was no way it could. No way he could, not with her. Not with how much he wanted her, how much he needed her. Nobody else had ever done this to him, shattered his control like it was nothing.

  Taylor worked a hand between them and stroked his thumb over the erect little nub of her clit. Lifting his head, he stared at her, watched as a harsh, broken sob fell from her lips.

  Her nails bit into his skin as she started to come and he gritted his teeth, holding back until he saw her going over. Then, and only then, did he bury his face in her neck and start to move again, hard, fast.

  He muttered her name, blind to everything but her…completely and utterly lost in her.

  * * *

  “THAT was definitely something stupid,” Dez murmured once she could breathe again.

  “Yes.” Taylor had her tucked up against him, her back against his front, one arm wrapped around her waist. “I plan on doing it again later.”

  “I like that plan. But why later?”

  He nuzzled her neck before responding. “We have to go back out to Beau Donnelly’s place.”

  And with those words, reality came crashing back in. Sighing, she eased away from him and sat up, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed. “Yeah. There is that. Shit.”

  Behind her, she felt the bed shifting. Despite his apparent change of heart, she was still caught off guard when he came up to sit behind her, wrapping her in his arms. “We may not find anything. Probably won’t. But we owe it to that boy, to his family, to at least try.”

  “I know.” Brooding, she stared off into nothing, wishing she could use her gift in a little more active fashion. “Don’t suppose you’ve called any of the others out here, have you?”

  Several moments of silence passed before he answered. “No. I’ve considered it a few times, but my gut is telling me that isn’t the answer. You are.”

  Dez made a face. “Some answer I am.”

  “You’re more of an answer than you realize. For this…for me.”

  Her heart did a slow, lazy flip in her chest. Trying not to let it show, she chuckled and said, “Wow, Jones. You’ve gone and turned all poetical on me.”

  “And you’re still a smart-ass. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the answer here. Everything’s tying into you and you know it.” He rubbed his lips over her shoulder. “We’ll go out to the Donnelly place after you eat some breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she said, sighing and easing away from him. But before she could take a step
, he caught her wrist.

  Looking back at him, she arched a brow.

  “You’ll eat,” he said, his voice flat.

  Dez narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “You need to eat. Has it occurred to you that part of the reason your ghosts are affecting you so much is because you’re run-down and worn out, and stressed on top of that? Not eating isn’t going to help.”

  “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Dez. It makes sense—none of my team has ever been able to work as well after they’ve been sick or injured. Extreme physical exhaustion is pretty close to sick. If you can’t shield as well when you’re tired, then it makes sense that they are able to talk to you all the time now.”

  For the longest time, she just stared at him. Then, setting her jaw, she tugged away. “Fine. I’ll eat. But don’t be surprised if it doesn’t make a difference.”

  “It’s not going to be an overnight thing,” he pointed out. “You need regular, decent meals and regular, decent sleep.”

  “Fat chance,” she muttered with a snort. “Last night was the first decent night’s sleep I’ve had…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. She’d slept well. And Taylor had been there.

  Coincidence, she told herself. That was all it was.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE Donnelly house was silent. Nobody responded to Taylor’s knock and Dez was just fine with that. She’d rather not have to face the emotion of his distraught parents before she had to try to focus on some practically nonexistent trail. Finding that trail, assuming she could, was going to be hard enough.

  First, she went back to where she had been the previous night and just stood there. Back when she’d first started training for this job, she’d had an instructor who had taught her how to meditate. Dez had hated it. It was tedious, boring as hell…and useful.

  It was a way of blocking out everything but the one thing she needed to focus on. Right now, she needed to block out everything, and everybody. Including Taylor, including the fact that they were going to try out a relationship. Including the fact that they’d had mind-blowing sex not that long ago, including even the fact that she was almost positive she had bruises in the shape of his fingers on her ass.