Power Play (Amanda Byrne Book 1)

by Kimberly Keane

  “Better?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “You find ways to deal with it.”

  “How?”

  “Distraction, mostly.”

  “With what? I can’t focus on anything long enough to distract myself.”

  He shrugged. “I guess it takes practice.”

  “What did you do before you had practice?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Worked out. Sparred. Did something physical.”

  “We could spar . . .” I looked around at the suite. We didn’t have any pads here. “Or we could practice some of the moves you were teaching me.”

  He glanced around the suite like I had and then said, “Working out would be better. Less chance for injury.”

  Made sense. It didn’t take me long to change into my workout clothes. Of course, the fact that I was frantic about it certainly made me faster than normal. Anything to make the time pass.

  I opened the bedroom door just as I remembered a towel I’d left on the bed. My head turned, but my forward momentum didn’t, and I slammed into Daniel. His arms wrapped around me, keeping me from ricocheting off him and falling into any number of pieces of furniture.

  My cheek pressed against his chest and I’d unknowingly clutched at his shirt, dragging the neckline low enough that my face was against his skin. Heat erupted, and I couldn’t tell where I ended and the electrical currents began. I rubbed my cheek against him and inhaled. He smelled of leather and gun oil. He always smelled that way, even out of the shower.

  I turned my face to him, my nose pressed against his chest, and inhaled again, drinking in his scent. My lips found his chest and I flicked my tongue on his skin. He tasted a bit sweet with a hint of salt. The perfect combination. I closed my eyes, falling into the taste of him on my tongue, his scent, and the warmth of his body against mine. I tasted him again before lightly scraping my teeth across his chest. I captured a bit of skin and held it for a moment before releasing him.

  When I’d first laid my lips on him, he’d frozen, as if movement would cost him his life. Now, he moved slowly, reaching up and taking a handful of hair at the base of my neck. He pulled, tilting my face upward.

  His eyes had gone amber again, but there was no distance or glassiness in them. They reflected the heat I was feeling.

  “Do you really want this?” he said.

  I nodded, feeling my hair still trapped in his hand tug at my scalp. “Yes.”

  The word had barely escaped before we came together, a clash of lips and tongues as if we could consume each other.

  I growled, wanting desperately to feel his skin against mine. I pulled at his T-shirt, tugging it over his head, and then pulled mine over my head quickly. I pressed my chest against him, the sports bra between us. I made an exasperated sound and struggled to get out of it. His hands smoothed mine away and slid it easily over my head.

  I stepped forward again, aching for the contact, but he stopped me. He looked into my eyes and cupped my face in his hand. He caressed my cheek, my neck, my collarbone, and slid his hand slowly around the outer edge of my breast. Oh, sweet lords. What blissful torture. My eyes fluttered and closed as I felt his hand touch me lightly, teasing me, touching my shoulders, my upper chest, my stomach, and the curve of my breast before he finally ran his thumb gently over my nipple.

  I gasped, arching toward him, and felt my knees buckle.

  He chuckled. That deep sound. The one you feel more than hear, and he swept me up in his arms. He laid me down on the bed, placing his hands on either side of my body and leaning over me. “Are you absolutely sure?” His voice was deep, low in his chest.

  My mouth went dry. Was I? Wasn’t this a terrible idea? Did I really care?

  I reached up, curling my hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in. I pressed my lips to his, feeling the exquisite weight of his body settle atop mine.

  He rolled off me and swept his arm around my waist, pulling us into a different position. I straddled him and looked down into his eyes, then watched my hand as I ran it over his chest, tracing his scars. The long thick one that started at his collarbone and moved across his chest to his waist fascinated me more than the others, and I returned to it after touching the three circular scars on the left side of his chest.

  “You’ve got scars,” I said.

  “Is that a problem?” he said.

  “Helheim, no,” I said. It meant there was more texture to explore with my hands and mouth. I swept my hair to one side, leaned down, and kissed him. I moved my face to his neck and inhaled; gods, the smell of him. I scraped my teeth lightly over his skin and I was rewarded with a delicious shudder that ran through his body. I moved down, hooked my fingers in his pants, and tingled at the thought of tasting him.

  He moved his hands up my back and into my hair, tugging me upward. His chest rose and fell with his breath. “None of that,” he said.

  I widened my eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”

  “Of course I like it,” he said. “But it’s been a little while and I want you to enjoy this as much as I will.” He held me easily and rolled us over again.

  He untangled his hand from my hair and brushed it from my face. When I squirmed out from beneath him and sat up to tame the unruly mess, he took the opportunity to move around behind me, placing his legs on either side of my hips. He leaned back against the headboard and tugged at my yoga pants.

  “We can do away with these,” he said.

  I took them off and the heat in his gaze intensified. He turned me and pulled my back up against him. We spooned in a seated position, which left his hands free to roam, and I reveled in his touch. Soft, teasing, always leaving me wanting more.

  “I can’t do anything from this position,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  He ran his hands up my sides, cupped my breasts, and ran his thumbs lightly over my nipples again. I arched up toward his hands, wanting a firmer touch. He chuckled and pulled his hands away again. I settled back against him and he splayed his hands on my stomach. Then he moved them lower, his touch staying as maddeningly soft as ever. I wanted more. He moved up and down my body, alighting briefly on a spot before moving on to the next. I started to sit up so I could turn around and take what I ached for, but he caught my shoulders and pulled me back against him.

  His hands dipped low, teasing for just a moment, before increasing the pressure. Still teasing, but stronger, harder. I grabbed his hand and arched up into him. Reaching for it, reaching for it, but it was just outside of my grasp. He chuckled again, and I could feel the vibrations against my back. His fingers pressed slightly more, and the heat in me rose even higher.

  “Let go,” he whispered and let his lips caress my ear. His teeth found my neck. Heat. Electricity. Splendor. Euphoria. Bliss. Rapture.

  I lay for a few moments, catching my breath and reveling in the aftermath. Then I turned, straddling him once again. “My turn.” I tugged once again at the waist of his pants.

  He handed me a condom. “Oh no, I want to be inside you.”

  “I get to play first.”

  “Not for long.”

  “Just a taste.”

  The amber pulsed in his eyes and I briefly wondered if he was psychic and his ability allowed others to have no effect on him. Then he removed his boxers and my thoughts scattered.

  He was long and curved left. I closed my eyes and felt him, first with my hands and then with my mouth. I felt like I’d just started when he buried his hands in my hair and pulled me away from him, panting

  “Enough,” he said, his voice low and rough.

  I moved over him, straddling him again, and inched down onto him. I took him all, slowly, until I pressed against him. Deliciously full, I paused, closing my eyes and savoring the glorious connection between us. The pressure urged me to move, but I stayed still, relishing the feeling and delaying what was to come.

  He reached up and cupped both sides of my face, his fingers touching my neck. “L
ook at me.”

  I opened my eyes and fell into the amber depths of his. He pulled my face to his and pressed his mouth against mine. I moved and felt him slide inside me. Heat coiled deep within me. I moved faster, coaxing the heat to expand. Then my world exploded again.

  Pieces of me started to fall back into place when I felt Daniel’s hands run up my back and pull my shoulders downward. He brushed something deep inside me and then shuddered beneath me. We stayed there for some time and remembered how to breathe.

  Chapter Forty-four

  The call came in moments after Daniel and I had settled next to each other, his arm curled about my weight and my cheek resting against his chest. I’d been relaxing into the warmth of him. The safety of his arms. I’d closed my eyes, shutting off the sight of his legs stretched out, and reveled in the smell of gun oil and leather that seemed to be a part of him.

  I exploded out of bed on the first ring and damn near threw the phone across the room after I disconnected the call.

  “Fuck!” I said. “I should have known.”

  “There’s no way—”

  I cut Daniel off. “I still should have known. I don’t know what I’m going to do if . . .”

  “He’ll be okay.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “You talked to the doctors. They say there’s a good chance—”

  “They also said they couldn’t know for sure.”

  The boys were out, away from Mr. Bradley and his goons. And even though Sean was safe, Ethan wasn’t. He’d taken a bullet and was in surgery. So was Dillon, who’d been injured in the abduction. And I was about to take the longest flight of my life. I’d never packed and found my way onto a plane faster.

  An eternity later, I sat in a waiting room waiting to see my child, my other child’s hand grasped firmly in mine. I was grateful he didn’t seem to mind my constant touch, smoothing the hair back from his face, hugging him, holding his hand; I didn’t know if I’d be able to stop. It was my way of telling my brain that my other child was, indeed, okay. In body, if not in spirit.

  Daniel sat to my left, no longer my bodyguard. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew we’d head to Texas again, and Airmid would bring his daughter back to him. But I was too distraught at the thought of losing my child to pay it much mind. Somewhere inside I knew I should. I was being a selfish ass. But I just couldn’t, not until Ethan was safe.

  Sean squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. I looked into his face and saw the tension in his eyes, the fear and . . . yes, anger, draped over him. Some mother I was. I was so worried about Ethan, I hadn’t even thought about how Sean was. What all of this had done to him.

  “How are you doing?” I said.

  “I should . . . I can’t figure out how, but there must have been something I could have done.”

  “You were doing everything you could. Miriam just got it faster.”

  He glared at me. “I meant about Ethan.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” I wrapped my arms around him. “None of this is your fault.”

  “I know it’s not my fault. But I can’t figure out what I else I could have done. There must have been some way I could keep Ethan from being hurt.”

  I hugged him harder, smoothing his hair like I used to do when he was a boy. “I’m certain that you both did as much as you could have.”

  “But . . .”

  I turned his face to mine. “Sometimes there’s nothing more to be done. We do the best we can, and sometimes it’s not enough.”

  “I can’t accept that.”

  I smoothed the hair away from his face. “I know. I’ll keep telling you anyway.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on me. It was so clear to me when I said it to him, but I couldn’t accept it for myself. Maybe if I could convince him of my faith in him, I’d somehow find faith in myself.

  * * * * * * *

  I paused at the door to the hospital room. Ethan was behind the curtain. The doctor said that they’d put him in a medically induced coma. It was safer. It would promote the healing he needed. Gods, I didn’t know if I could see him that way. And, I couldn’t not see him. I took a deep breath and walked past the purple divider.

  He was still, too still. Tubes everywhere. Machines beeping and whirring. I pulled the chair next to his bed, sat down, and took his hand in mine. I didn’t know when I’d started crying, but I let the tears flow. Please. Please don’t let him die. I can’t lose another child.

  I heard footsteps and felt Daniel’s hand squeeze my shoulder and stay there. Sean’s hand found my other shoulder, his free hand covering both mine and Ethan’s. The tears calmed and then stopped, falling away into the nothingness that had taken the place of the anxiety that had ridden me for days. I knew it would be a short respite, but the guilt over the relief of a moment’s peace was sharp.

  Chapter Forty-five

  “Mandy, your voice is as smooth as silk,” Harry said.

  “I just said hello.”

  “Say it again.”

  I stood at the window, looking at the plane Daniel and I were to board. It was time to bring his daughter home. While mine still lay in a hospital bed. I shook my head. I thought briefly about responding flirtatiously, but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t know if I could even find my heart.

  “Hello,” I said simply.

  “Mandie,” he said, “Ethan will pull through this one.”

  I nodded absentmindedly and then realized he couldn’t see me. “I hope so.”

  He fell silent for a few moments, and then continued, his voice sounding falsely upbeat. “Until then, I shall continue to call you to hear you say hello.”

  “And to charge me for your time.”

  “Not at all, why that would make me”—he paused for dramatic effect—“a private investigator.”

  He got a small chuckle out of me. “Did you finally lose the last marble rolling around your head?”

  “Darlin’, a bit of insanity keeps life interestin’.”

  “I’ll take a bit of boring at the moment.”

  “You have no sense of adventure.”

  “I had it surgically removed.”

  “Have them put it back.”

  “Are we going to quip all afternoon or is there a reason you called me?”

  “I vote for quip.”

  “I vote for information and I’m paying the bill.”

  “I’m goin’ to change your mind someday,” he said, “but now down to business. We’ve got three good candidates for the curse maker.”

  “And they are?”

  “I emailed the names to you. I’ve narrowed it down to two women from Mr. Bradley’s past.” He paused and took a drink of something. “Even though the two women are good candidates, your interest in what happened with Mr. Weston was on the mark. He may have been involved with the curse as retaliation. It appears Mr. Bradley blackmailed him to leave the company, forgo his severance package, and sign a gag order. So, he’s one of the three.”

  “How did Mr. Bradley manage that?”

  “His daughter and his wife mysteriously came down with serious medical conditions a month before Mr. Weston left the company.”

  “Someday you’re going to share with me how you get medical information so easily.”

  “I’ll consider it if you’ll play doctor with me.”

  “Your offers are losing their charming nature.”

  “I thought I might interest you in role-playin’.”

  “There are things much more appealing than role-playing.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “The medical condition Mr. Weston’s wife and daughter have, is it related in some way to Mr. Bradley?”

  “There is no direct evidence, but as you mentioned in an earlier conversation, it’s just too coincidental.”

  “So, what is this medical condition?”

  “They don’t know.”

  “Who doesn’t know?”

  “Everyone. The doctors have been
runnin’ tests. They have symptoms, but they have no diagnosis.”

  I was going to have to get in touch with Mr. Weston after the trial. Perhaps this was a situation Dian Cecht could help with. I had to find something he could heal sooner rather than later. I didn’t want another surprise visit.

  “I have it on pretty good authority the person who made the curse is female, so I’ll have to strike Mr. Weston off the list.”

  “On whose authority?”

  “I believe Linda referred to them as spirits of the divine.”

  “Who’s Linda?”

  “Linda Colt,” I said. “A friend of a friend. She attended a voodoo ceremony.”

  “Your source is indeed better than mine,” he said. “But Mr. Weston could have hired a woman.”

  “It’s personal for the curse maker,” I said. “What about the other two candidates?”

  “They are both mothers of women from Mr. Bradley’s past who died.”

  “There were, what, two lovers and two high school students?”

  “Two lovers and three high school students. One of the mothers divorced over the incident, remarried, and has five children. I won’t suggest she doesn’t suffer, but she appears to have been able to move on.”

  “Okay, that leaves four.”

  “Two passed away before Peter’s illnesses started.”

  “And we have two.”

  “One of Mr. Bradley’s lovers was briefly engaged. Maria Lopez. Neither family was thrilled about the engagement.”

  “And Mrs. Lopez?”

  “She still lives in New York and works as a maid for a house cleanin’ company. Her husband recently was shot in a drive-by. Maria was an only child. Her mother is quite vocal about how Mr. Bradley ruined her life.”

  “Wasn’t he cleared of all charges?”

  “Yet another thing she is angry about. The NYPD hasn’t solved her daughter’s death and didn’t get anywhere near an arrest on the drive-by that killed her husband.”

  “And the other woman?”