Spectre

by Shiloh Walker

  “Aren’t you going to argue money with me?” I asked warily.

  “Nah. How about this—you’ll owe me a favor later down the road. Okay, I’m gone.” She disconnected the call.

  Lowering the phone, I looked down as Valkyrie sat on her haunches and stared at me for a long moment before her big, dark eyes moved over to the large window. Even before I looked back over my shoulder, I knew I’d find her watching me. The sun was breaching the horizon as I turned.

  Tia stood there, the first rays of dawn glinting off the glass to cast half her face in shadow. The skin on the back of my neck drew tighter as our gazes locked.

  After a moment, she looked down and studied my phone. When she shifted her attention back to me, there was a clear challenge in her eyes.

  Yeah, she hadn’t forgotten. Not that I’d expected her to.

  THE FOUR HOURS OF SLEEP I’d grabbed earlier was the most rest I’d gotten since the night I’d told Tommy I needed more time for surveillance. I’d grabbed four hours that night after finishing my research on Mackenzie Bailey, Tia’s older half-brother.

  Mac Bailey was as straight as an arrow, as far as cops went, had even saved a kid’s life in high school at a party. The reports I’d read hailed Bailey as a hero, although he refused to do any interviews. Some of his friends had, clearly not as camera-shy as the dark-haired man who had the same eyes as Tia.

  The boy, two years older than the then-seventeen-year-old Bailey, had been abusing cocaine for some time and was a person known to both local high schoolers and the cops, for the same reason. Chase McConnell had always been ready to sell a dime bag to kids looking to party, and from what I’d unearthed, he had enjoyed getting in on the party himself.

  That night, the party had been at the home of Bailey’s girlfriend, and neither Bailey nor the girlfriend had wanted McConnell around. McConnell had caused some hell and tried to start a fight with Bailey. From what I could piece together, the girlfriend had decided she’d rather the druggie hang around than have Bailey get into a fight, so she’d let it go. Bailey had backed down.

  Shortly thereafter, panic ensued out by the pool when McConnell collapsed.

  Bailey had apparently calmly approached and assessed, then started CPR while everybody else was panicking and screaming. He’d even managed to keep his girlfriend calm enough so she could call 9-1-1.

  He’d gone on to college on a track scholarship, and judging by the photos I’d seen of him, he’d stayed in shape. He was something of a celebrity in Atlanta, one who’d developed an avid female appreciation club, so there was no scarcity of photos. That would either amuse Tia or confound her. Probably both.

  Two of the men involved in the investigation surrounding Brian O’Halloran had been cops. Mac Bailey hadn’t swayed course. According to everything I’d been able to dig up, he’d gone above and beyond, reaching out to supervisors and internal affairs...and the FBI. The ensuing joint investigation between the police department and the federal government had ended with a near-ironclad case against those involved.

  How would a police detective, one apparently as clean as a whistle, handle the fact that his sister had been kidnapped by an assassin hired to kill her?

  I needed to contact him and let him know she was safe.

  Chapter 14

  Tia

  Casper came inside, bare chested, wearing a pair of cotton pants that rode low on his hips, giving me a view of a flat stomach that looked way too hard, way too muscled, to be real. The delineation of his chest, the sculpted set of his shoulders and arms, his entire body looked like he’d been crafted by a master artist.

  I had to lock my jaw to keep it from falling open and if not for the bite of my nails into my palms, I might have forgotten what I wanted to say.

  Fortunately, he held up the phone and my memory snapped into place.

  “Are you going to let me call my brother?” I demanded, taking a step toward him.

  He held out the phone.

  I grabbed it.

  He tightened his grip on it, not letting me take it out of his hand.

  “Let go.”

  “In a moment,” he said, voice cool. “Do not give him any indication of where you are.”

  I glared.

  “Agree or I won’t let you call.”

  “How do you know I won’t lie?” I demanded, glaring at him.

  “You don’t do it very well,” he commented. “You try, but it’s obvious when you’re not telling the truth. If you agree but plan to pull one over on me, I’ll know. So don’t bother.”

  I’d never been good at lying, but it pissed me off that he’d already figured that out. His green eyes cut into me, so penetrating, so compelling, and I jerked my gaze away, unsettled.

  His bare chest and those muscles that didn’t even seem real caught my attention. My heart skittered in my chest. Heat crashed through me and even though it was such a bad idea, I kept looking...lower...lower, until I found myself staring at a massive erection. The hard, heavy length of his cock pressed against the thin cotton of the heather-gray pants he wore and even as I watched, the damn thing pulsed. I felt an answering pulse in my pussy as a hard burst of air exploded out of me.

  “Do you want to call your brother?” he asked, the words rough and raspy, almost foreign.

  I jerked my gaze up, cheeks flushed. The blank mask of his face was gone and I found myself staring at a hungry predator. It should have terrified me. I should have backed the hell up, found something, anything to put between us—anything more substantial than the fucking phone he still held out to me.

  “Answer the question, Tia.”

  “What the flying fuck does it matter to you? What does any of this matter to you?” I shouted.

  It was a dare, a challenge. To both of us and I needed some sort of answer before I did something crazy. Like reach out and press my hand to his cock. Just the mental image was enough to have me clenching my thighs in an effort to still that unnerving ache.

  “You don’t know me. So you didn’t take the job to kill me. Thank you. You could have gone merrily on your way. What’s the point of any of this?”

  I let go of the phone and moved closer, glaring at him.

  Something flickered in the depths of those hungry, hungry eyes and I wondered if maybe I had lost my mind completely. He closed his eyes for a brief second, then looked at me, the remote, severe expression firmly back in place. “I’ve already explained. I don’t have any intention of letting Tommy O’Halloran have you killed. If I didn’t take the job, somebody else would have.”

  “So? What does that matter to you?” I shoved my chin up and stared at him, frustration, fear, and all the insanely confusing sensations crashing through me so intensely, it made it hard to think. Why did he get to me like this? Why did his response matter?

  The noise, the rushing in my head, the crazed arousal I suddenly felt, none of it made sense and part of me wanted to run and hide from it, bury myself in my bedroom with a blanket and my sketchbooks and pencils and draw some logic into my life again.

  The other part of me...well, she just wanted. And she wanted what was right in front of her.

  “Do you want to call your brother?”

  “Stop it!” I shoved him but he didn’t even budge. The heat of him sank into me, feeding that hungry need burning within. “Answer the fucking question, you robot! What in the hell is this? Why do you care if I call my brother, if I live or die? Why did you drag me and my dog across the country?”

  He didn’t answer and I shoved him again, harder.

  This time, he moved. But not because of anything I did.

  He hurled the phone away, reached out and grabbed me. I collided against his chest. His hard, hot, naked chest. I sucked in a breath, shocked at the impact, at the solid feel of his body, the hot, smooth feel of his skin, the carved, sinewy play of muscles already imprinting on my hands as he shoved one arm around my waist.

  “What in the fuck do you want?” I shouted.

  That
frenzied, confusing lust inside me exploded. So did fury. The two emotions tangled and whirled together to form a maelstrom that threatened to consume me.

  Casper stared at me, eyes wide, the green of his irises nothing but slivers against the stark black pupils. The cool, calm, controlled man who’d responded to me so often was all but gone.

  Without thinking, I tightened my hand and didn’t realize what I was gripping at first. Then smooth, warm flesh gave way and his lids flickered.

  It was his shoulder. I had curled my hand into the flesh of his shoulder and now he stared at me, the bright green of his eyes skewering me.

  “Agree,” he said, his voice practically soundless. “Agree to what I asked, damn it, and call your fucking brother.”

  “I’m not here to do whatever the fuck you tell me, dumbass!”

  “That’s obvious.”

  I sneered at him, a reply forming but it never made it past my lips. His hand curled around the back of my neck and I felt the impact all the way down to my toes. But there was nothing cruel or domineering about—it was...gentle. Protective, even.

  But then he moved and his next action wasn’t even close to gentle or protective. He pressed me back against the wall and wedged himself between my thighs, let me feel, up close and personal, that big cock I’d noticed moments earlier.

  I sucked in a startled gasp, then let out a hungry mewl before I could stop it.

  “Keep pushing,” he whispered against my ear. “Just...keep pushing, Tia.”

  He moved against me and I shuddered as his cock dragged over me—thick, heavy, demanding.

  “Keep pushing.” He bit my earlobe. “You’re not in your nice, safe world right now with some nice, safe guy you met for drinks at the bar near the aquarium.”

  He moved against me a second time, then a third.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation. Sensation too intense, too consuming.

  I’d never felt anything like it.

  “Those nice boys will walk away, Tia.” He reached between us then, cupping me.

  I sucked in a breath as he ground the heel of his hand against me.

  I tried. I tried to brace myself against the impact of what was coming. His fingers slid lower. Defenseless, I clamped my thighs around his hand and dragged my lids up, staring at him.

  “I’m not a nice boy. I’m not nice at all.”

  He went to pull away.

  And that greedy, needy part of me wailed in denial.

  Curling one leg around his hips, I moved my hips against his. “If you’re so fucking not nice...then do it already.”

  Casper went rigid.

  Before he could pull back, I curled my free arm around his neck and glared at him.

  “Stop it,” he said.

  “No.” I leaned in and kissed him. I wasn’t very good at kissing. At least, I didn’t think I was. I’d never enjoyed it before. The only time I had enjoyed it had been in the SUV with him—just hours earlier—when he’d been distracting a trucker. I wanted to pretend it was something other than what it was, but I was a lousy liar.

  Not even to myself. He was right about that.

  I kissed Casper the way he’d kissed me, tracing the line of his mouth with my tongue, catching his lower lip between mine and sucking it between my teeth, then biting down when I felt him shudder.

  The heat between us sparked, grew, flamed. He thrust against me again and again and I was starving for more, to have him naked inside me, fucking me hard and deep.

  He lifted his head and watched me, withdrawing before rocking against me again, slow and steady, letting me feel the full, heavy weight of his cock dragging over me, the folds of my pussy, my clitoris, all of me, making it clear he knew exactly how to bring me to climax.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game,” Casper said, one hand palming my ass, lifting me, adjusting the angle so that when he passed over me again, the sensations were that much more intense.

  I might have bit my lip bloody to keep from responding...except I realized that was what he wanted. He didn’t want the response. He didn’t want the reaction. It was safer, for him, if he could pretend I didn’t react. Not to him. Not to this. Which made it that much more laughable. I’d never felt such a strong reaction to a man before, and everything about him made it harder to control my response.

  He slid over me again and the cotton material of my leggings dragged over my wet, engorged clitoris. I sank my nails into his shoulders and shoved closer.

  Fuck safety.

  Fuck logic.

  Fuck everything.

  I wanted to come.

  He tensed.

  “Tia...”

  I dragged my lids open and stared at him, lashes heavy, body lax. “I want to come. Stop telling me what kind of game I’m playing when you have your cock wedged up against my pussy, Casper. Stop talking about...whatever it is you’re talking about unless you’re going to do something about it. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a mess right now. I can handle it by myself but it will be a lot easier if you’re not fussing at me.”

  A hard breath shuddered from him.

  He shoved a hand into my hair.

  Then, even as I tried to center myself, he shoved his other hand into my panties and cupped me, the heel massaging my clit while his fingers thrust deep. “You want to come?”

  I sucked in a breath. I should be able to answer, right?

  Casper screwed his wrist, flicked his thumb.

  I convulsed before I realized what was happening and his mouth, always there, swooped down on mine to swallow the sobs. But he wasn’t happy with one climax. He spun me around and jerked my leggings and panties off before bending me over the table near the door. I grabbed on, clutching for dear life. “You want to come, Tia?”

  I whimpered and clamped my thighs together.

  It was a waste of time.

  He pushed two fingers into my cunt and twisted them, then withdrew, surging back inside while he bent low over me. “Tell me when you’ve had enough, love. But you’ll have to speak up. Because when it comes to your sweet cunt, I don’t think I can have enough...there...” He grunted and twisted his fingers again. “You feel that? That’s your G-spot. I can make you come endlessly. Just playing...right...here!”

  He repeated the action and I came again, hard.

  I’d thought I’d learned the cues of my own body, because it sure as hell seemed like nobody else was going to. But in moments, he’d done it. I scrabbled against the table, not certain if I wanted to cling tightly and beg for more or twist away from him...if I could.

  Insanely enough, the utter helplessness of the last part was so arousing, I grew even wetter.

  I was helpless, completely helpless...and yet I knew—I knew—in the very deepest part of my soul that he wouldn’t hurt me.

  Casper bit my shoulder, and behind me, I felt him straighten, then...oh, fuck...he’d shoved his pants down and I whimpered as he rubbed the swollen head of his cock through my slick folds.

  “I’m two seconds away from fucking you, Tia. Right like this. Your chance to tell me to stop is now.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my pulse echoing through me in a way that it seemed like I felt every heartbeat with every second that passed by...more. How did I respond to this?

  A wild, wanton woman I’d never realized existed rose inside me and she whispered, How do you feel like responding?

  Well, that was easy. I wanted to tell him to fuck me, to even beg him to please fuck me and see if maybe, oh, maybe, some of the fantasies were real, that maybe the shit I read about was possible.

  If anybody could make those daydreams come to life, it had to be him, right? This enigmatic man who turned my insides to lava and made me wonder what was real and what wasn’t? But at the same time...how could I trust it? How could I trust anything I felt around him?

  He shifted away and when he returned, I felt the brush of his clothing again. He’d dragged his pants back up, the bastard. He smoothed a han
d over my ass, then before I had any idea what was coming, he spanked me. Hard.

  “This isn’t what you want, Tia,” he said, voice cool and incisive. He took my wrists, using his free hand to stretch them over my head. “It’s not even close.”

  But he was wrong.

  So, so, so wrong.

  “Fuck me,” I said, the words spilling out of me without any conscious decision on my part.

  Behind me, Casper stiffened.

  “What?” he demanded, one hand gripping my hip in a near-punishing grip.

  “Fuck me, damn it. That is what I want and fuck you for thinking otherwise.”

  Chapter 15

  Spectre

  Her words were like a dream. Gossamer in the rain. But even when I tightened my grip, demanded she repeat herself, Tia was calm...resolute, even. “Fuck me.”

  This was wrong. So, so, so wrong.

  I sputtered out...something, my hand tightening on her hip. I barely even realized I’d spoken, much less understood the words. But I heard hers.

  “Fuck me, damn it. That is what I want and fuck you for thinking otherwise.”

  I looked down at her, at the flushed imprint of my hand on the soft, pale-brown of her skin, the full curve of her hips. She still wore her T-shirt, another one with comic book characters on it—this one a blond man with a hammer—emblazoned over her braless breasts.

  Idly, I slid my hand from her hip to the mark I’d left on her skin, stroking. She shivered. “Have you ever had a man spank you before?”

  She went stiff, then in a tight voice, she said, “No.”

  “You liked it.”

  I’d heard the broken sob she hadn’t been able to control, one of sheer, feminine passion.

  “I think it’s pretty clear I’m liking a lot of stuff right now.” She twisted against the hold I had on her wrists. “Just not the talking.”

  “Too bad.” I let her go and watched as she straightened slowly, turning to face me. Her lower lip was swollen and I could see teeth marks where she’d bitten it.