Christmas Justice

by Robin Perini

  Garrett walked down the steps and picked up a large stone, tossing it toward the animal. The cat scampered off into the trees. “We need to keep Molly inside,” he said. “That cat’s learned people are a source of food. Probably eating after some of the border crossers left provisions behind.”

  He shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and escorted her inside the house. “How’s Molly?”

  “I’d guess out for the night, though she’ll probably be up before dawn.”

  “Which reminds me.” Garrett flicked the dead bolt in place, then shoved a chair underneath the doorknob before activating the sensors.

  “You think that will stop her?”

  “She’ll make a lot of noise trying to get that chair out. I’ll hear the little Houdini.”

  Laurel couldn’t help but smile. “She’s just like Ivy. When we were kids—”

  “I would imagine she got you into a lot of trouble.”

  “Dad would get so furious at us. I tried to take the fall a time or two, but Ivy wouldn’t let me. She was so much fun. I would have never had all those adventures if not for her.” Laurel sighed. “I’ll always miss her, won’t I?”

  Garrett double-checked the chair then faced her, his expression solemn. “I won’t tell you it gets better. The scab may get a little tougher.”

  She chanced a glance at him under her lashes. His stance was a bit awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say either. Maybe she’d been wrong. She should have just turned in with Molly.

  “We’d better check on the computer—” he started.

  “I guess I’ll turn in—” she said at the same time.

  She shifted from one foot to the other. “I just looked at the program’s status,” Laurel said. “Still running. No answers.”

  “I see. Then I guess it’s good-night.”

  Something solemn and painful had settled behind his eyes. And vulnerable. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. She crossed to him, her heart rate escalating with each step. She knew exactly what she was inviting. So did he.

  She stopped inches away from him, still staring into his eyes. They darkened into a deep mahogany flaring with want, maybe with need.

  “What are you doing, Laurel?” His voice had grown deep, husky.

  Her touch tentative, she placed her hand on his chest. She needed him. “We’re safe for a while,” she said. “Aren’t we?”

  “That’s debatable,” he said softly.

  He covered the hand resting on his chest with his and lifted her palm to his lips. He nipped at the pad then threaded his fingers through hers. “You know this is a mistake,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You don’t know me. Not really.”

  A shiver skated down her spine at his words, but the naked longing in his eyes shoved aside her doubts.

  She knew him.

  “I’ve watched you. You gave up your safe existence to help me and Molly. You calmed her fears tonight. I know everything I need to know.”

  “Even though the world thinks I’m a traitor.”

  “I know the truth.” She shook her head, leaning closer, wanting more than anything for him to stop talking and kiss her.

  “What if you’re wrong, Laurel?” He cupped her cheek and held her gaze captive. Her heart fluttered in response. His thumb grazed her cheek. “What if I’m a man who would do anything to get what he wants? I’m good at keeping secrets. And I’m very good at telling lies.”

  She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. “I can tell when you’re lying, Garrett. Your eyes grow dark, and the right corner of your mouth tightens just a bit.”

  Would his mouth be hard or soft, passionate or gentle against hers when they kissed?

  “I don’t want you,” he said softly, his breath whispering against her cheek as he moved closer to her lips.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “You’re too trusting.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “But I don’t have the strength to pull away.”

  She smiled. “Now you’re telling the truth.”

  With a groan he fastened his lips to hers and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t hesitate. She clung to him and let his mouth drive away the memories of the past week. For this wonderful moment all she could think about was his touch, his mouth exploring hers, the taste of him.

  He lifted his head. “Be very sure, because I won’t let you go all night long.”

  She didn’t answer, just pulled his mouth to hers once more. He groaned and swept her into his arms. With a long stride he carried her into the smaller bedroom, closing the door behind them. She didn’t notice the Spartan furniture; her only focus was on Garrett. She used the name of the sheriff she’d come to know, not the name of the man he used to be.

  “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know what I want right now,” Laurel said. “I need you, Garrett.”

  “Not more than I need you.” Gently he laid her on the bed, following her down, covering her with his weight.

  She didn’t resist, but relished the feel of him on top of her. With a groan, he buried his lips against her neck, exploring the pulse points at the base of her throat. Laurel threaded her hands through his hair. Every kiss made her belly tingle with need. She wanted more.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”

  “I am,” he said softly, nipping at the delicate skin just below her ear.

  “Garrett.” She couldn’t stop the frustration from lacing her voice.

  “How about here?” He nibbled the lobe of her ear. “Or here?” He worked his way down, shifting her shirt aside, and tasted the skin just above her collarbone.

  Laurel stirred beneath him until finally he raised his head. He tugged at her lower lip. “Or how about here?”

  His mouth swooped down and captured hers. He pressed her lips open and she moaned in relief that she could finally taste him. She returned his kiss for kiss. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, exploring the strength of his back through his shirt. She hated the barrier between them. She wanted to touch him, skin to skin. She wedged her hands between them, unbuttoning his shirt and shoving the material off his shoulders.

  He stilled above her, looking at her, his gaze intense, hesitant, full of warning. Her fingertips paused when she encountered roughened skin.

  Burns. The car bomb.

  He let out a slow sigh then moved off of her, lying on his back. “I should have warned you.” His shirt fell open and she pulled away. His chest was mostly unmarred, except for a long surgical scar down his midline.

  “You think what happened changes anything? It makes me want you even more.” She didn’t hesitate, but straddled his hips and traced the scar.

  He looked up at her and caught her fingertip. “My entire back was turned when the car exploded. There was a lot of damage. I had several rounds of skin grafts. During surgery my heart stopped. I died on the operating table and they cracked me open.” His voice was detached, his jaw tight, holding back emotion. “It’s not pretty,” he said. “It will never be pretty.”

  “And if I could have Ivy back, you think the scars would make me love her less? You earned these badges of courage.” Laurel moved her hands up to his shoulders, venturing a tentative touch on the puckered skin. “Does it hurt?”

  “I can’t always feel when you touch me. And in some places the nerve endings go a little haywire, but mostly no. It’s healed as much as it’s going to.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t try to pull her to him, didn’t try to kiss her. He simply lay there gazing up at her. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Neither do you, but you’re the bravest man I know and I don’t think you’ll chicken out now,” she said and leaned forward, gently, tenderly pressing her lips to his. “I want this. Now. With you. Tell me if I hurt you.”

  She lifted her shirt over her head and removed her bra. His eyes hooded as he cupped her breast in his hand and drew his thumb across her nipple. It beaded in response and a sharp tingle li
t in her belly. A small whimper escaped her and she gripped his shirt.

  He smiled, the defensive expression in his eyes darkening to desire once again. “I can’t believe you want me.” Garrett tugged her down to him, his palm against the small of her back, rocking her hips against his, his desire evident.

  “Can you feel me now?” she whispered, shifting her body, evoking a groan from him.

  “Definitely.” He flipped her over and threw his shirt off the side of the bed. “You’re an amazing woman, Laurel McCallister.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, blinking back the hurt for him when she encountered the mottling of scars down his back and a few strips of unblemished skin. She yanked him down closer and wrapped her legs around his hips. “Show me how amazing you think I am. I don’t want to wait another second.”

  * * *

  THEY WERE IN the middle of nowhere. Still.

  Strickland peered out the front window. The SUV’s headlights broke through the early evening, but a cluster of trees and an avalanche of rocks blocked the path. They’d reached the end of the road.

  “Damn it.” He hit the steering wheel. “How far is Bradley from here?”

  Krauss studied the screen. The red dot was immobile. “Couple of miles, according to this. He’s not moving.”

  Strickland rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Give me the city any day of the week. I hate the West. Too much godforsaken territory to cover.”

  “We going back to Trouble?”

  “Not a chance. Get your canteen,” Strickland ordered. “We’re going after him. He won’t expect us to track him out here.”

  “We’re really heading out at night?”

  “You want to tell the boss we’re taking the evening off?” Strickland asked.

  Krauss muttered to himself as he grabbed the water and his weapon. “This is a mistake. Weren’t you a Cub Scout or something? We don’t know the country. Anything could be out there. It’s easy to get turned around in the darkness.”

  Strickland tapped the glowing red light on Krauss’s monitor. “We’ve got a beacon to light the way. Besides, we don’t have a choice. Now come on.”

  They exited the SUV and Strickland grabbed an M16, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m not hauling those bodies down this mountain. Once we kill them, we leave them to rot.”

  * * *

  GARRETT COULDN’T BELIEVE Laurel was here, in his bed, beneath him, with her long, lean legs wrapped around him. His body surged in response to her arch.

  She grasped his shoulders and her hands moved to his back.

  He couldn’t believe she hadn’t politely said good-night and walked away. Garrett didn’t think about the scars on his back that often. Just when he’d rub against something the wrong way and the nerves fired, as if a thousand pins were stabbing him.

  Laurel nipped at his ear. “I want you,” she whispered. “Now.”

  No more than he wanted her.

  He rubbed his chest against her, reveling in the feeling of their skin touching. With each caress of his chest against her budded nipples, she let out a low moan, shivering against him. He moved again, and this time, she hugged him close, tilting her pelvis into his hardness. God, she was so responsive. She didn’t hold anything back. He’d never been with a woman who was so honest about what she wanted.

  Her hands worked their way between them to the waist of his pants, tugging at his stubborn belt in frustration.

  He lifted away, forcing her legs to release him. He hated she no longer held him captive, but he wanted her wild for him. He wanted to drive them both so crazy that the past and the past week would vanish...at least for a moment.

  With a quick flick, he removed the leather belt and threw it to the side of the bed before unbuttoning the waist. She shoved at his hand, but he gripped her fingers. “Not yet.”

  He lifted her hands above her head, pinning them down with one of his own. He gazed at the rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing quickened beneath his gaze, her blue eyes transformed into cobalt pools. That she trusted him enough to give him control caused his body to throb in response. He let his fingers stroke her cheek and drew her lip down. Her tongue snaked out to taste his finger. He smiled at her and let her suckle for a moment before taking his hand around her jawline, down her throat, where the pulse raced.

  Her legs shifted but he trapped her beneath him. With a butterfly-light touch he teased her breasts, circling one nipple, then the other. Her chest flushed; her back arched. He followed a trail, teasing her, relishing in the soft sounds of pleasure coming from her lips.

  “Garrett,” she finally pleaded. She didn’t tug her hands away, though. She wanted more. And he wanted to give her more than she’d dreamed of.

  Ever so slowly he explored each delectable inch of skin, first with his fingertips, then with his lips and finally with his tongue. When he reached her waist, tasting the sweetness just above her belly button, she sucked in her stomach. He flicked open the button of her jeans.

  Prolonging her pleasure, and his painful desire, he slid down the zipper and eased her pants over her hips. Simple white bikini panties hid her from his gaze.

  Garrett tugged at the elastic, swallowing. He throbbed against his zipper. He was going to lose control. He’d been determined to drive her mad, but he was losing his mind.

  And his heart.

  He rose to his knees and tugged at the elastic waist.

  She wrenched her hands from his grip and sat up. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said. She shoved her jeans and the small scrap of cloth down her legs, leaving her bare to his view.

  God, she was beautiful.

  Without hesitation she pushed against his zipper. His body surged.

  “I’m too close,” he said, his voice tight.

  “So am I,” she countered. “Make love to me, Garrett.”

  He gritted against the sensitivity of his body as he shucked off the rest of his clothes. He reached into the bedside table and grabbed a condom.

  Her legs parted for him and she pulled him to her. She didn’t play coy or hesitate. “Make love to me, Garrett. Now.”

  Unable to resist, with one thrust, he sank deep inside her.

  She was ready for him, welcoming, hot and needy. He lost himself in her. The past disappeared, the uncertainty.

  She cocooned him in her warmth. With each stroke, she sighed, and then the rhythm built, slowly at first, then stronger, faster, more intense.

  His heart raced; his body trembled. He wanted to feel her fall apart in his arms. She tightened around him and he couldn’t hold off. He thrust against her and his body pulsed in release. He sagged on top of her, the rhythmic quivering of her body gripping him.

  She’d fallen over the edge with him.

  For a moment he couldn’t move, letting his heart slow, feeling her heartbeat calm.

  “Wow,” she mumbled, stroking his hair.

  He moved off of her, disposed of the condom and spooned her. She felt so good, so right lying against him. He kissed her temple, wrapping one leg around hers, unwilling to let her escape from his embrace.

  “Yeah. Wow about covers it.”

  She wiggled her back end against him before settling down. She gripped one of his hands between hers.

  “I feel like a boneless jellyfish,” she said. “I never want to move from here.”

  He didn’t either. He stared at the wall, just listening to her breathe. In and out, soft and steady. He hadn’t planned this. But he couldn’t find it inside him to regret.

  That in itself made him wince. What had he done?

  He toyed with a small curl of hair against her cheek. She was so soft and yet so strong. And so smart. Her fingers had flown across that keyboard and he had seen her analyzing the problem, creating a solution and acting on it.

  More than that, she was brave. She hadn’t hesitated to protect Molly.

  “I can feel you thinking,” she said softly. She turned in his arms and looked
at him. “What about? Regrets?”

  A hesitant expression had settled on her face. He kissed her nose. “No regrets, even though—”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to think about what’s happening. Not yet. Can’t we just be, with nothing between us? Just for a few minutes.”

  “Of course.” He wrapped his leg over her hip, pulling her against him, saying nothing.

  She played with the smattering of hair on his chest for a moment, then sighed. “But it won’t go away. They’re coming.”

  Her hands slowed then stilled. “Do you think Dad is okay?”

  “Do you want lies or truth?”

  “Truth.”

  He twirled a strand of her hair. “I don’t know. I’d have hoped he’d get word to me by now. Somehow.”

  “You’re worried.”

  “James has kept himself alive a long time.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Laurel asked, her voice laced with sadness.

  “Both, maybe.”

  She huddled into him and he wrapped his arms around her. She went quiet for several minutes, and Garrett wondered if she’d fallen asleep. He hoped so. She could use the rest.

  “How do we catch them, Garrett?” Her breath kissed his bare chest. “They haven’t made a mistake.”

  The despair in her words touched his very soul. More because he couldn’t guarantee anything. Not even her safety. All he knew was he’d do his damnedest to keep her and Molly alive.

  His arms gripped her tighter. “Actually, they have made a mistake. Your sister was killed because she identified evidence. Which means—”

  “They left a trail,” Laurel finished.

  “Once you find a way into that file, we could have the answer.” Garrett closed his eyes and stroked her hair. An answer to the revenge that had eaten away at his gut since he’d woken up from that coma with his life changed forever.

  Lisa and Ella might finally be able to rest in peace. Maybe he would, too. He moved away from Laurel. He unwrapped himself from her and sat on the side of the bed, his head in his hands.

  Laurel sucked in a breath from behind him. He’d forgotten about his back. He grabbed for his shirt. “I’m sorry.”