Night Thunder

by Jill Gregory

  Then his mouth closed over her nipple and she gasped. She plunged her hands through his hair and held on tight as he nipped and licked and suckled her.

  A fire built inside her as he moved to her other breast.

  More, more, more . . .

  She gave herself up to the storm of pleasure and when he scooped her into his arms and carried her naked into his bedroom as if she weighed no more than a wisp of silk, she was as flushed and hot as a peach split open on a grill.

  He kissed her lips as he lowered her onto the bed with its black and green comforter. Very gently he set her down and leaned over her, gazing into her brilliant eyes.

  “You all right, Josy?” He kissed the bruises Dolph had put on her arms. “I’d never want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. You won’t.” She drew him down to her, her fingers gripping his belt buckle.

  “Just don’t stop now, whatever you do,” she breathed as she loosened the belt.

  His stomach was so lean, so hard. All of him was hard. He took off his boots, and together they got rid of his pants, then she pulled him down on her, her soft mouth locking on his. A few hours ago she’d thought she was going to die. Now she had never felt more alive.

  “Make love to me, Ty,” she whispered as he nibbled at her shoulder. “Don’t stop here or I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Does it look like I’m stopping?” Grinning, he returned his attention to her swollen mouth and kissed her more deeply than she’d ever been kissed. He knew exactly how to drive her crazy and when his big hands finished tormenting her breasts some more and slid down her thighs, she quivered all over.

  His smile was deep and hungry, dark with the longing for her.

  “We don’t have to rush this, Josy. We have all night,” he said. His fingers stroked the soft curls between her legs, enjoying her quick intake of breath.

  But the words cost him. So did the waiting. He wanted her so badly it hurt. His muscles were clenched, his heart pounding, and he felt like a fever was rushing through his blood. She was exquisite and the touch of her fingers on his flesh burned his skin and made him taut with need. But he went slowly, deliberately, taking raw male pleasure in the touch and scent of her, in the arousal that glazed her eyes.

  “I don’t think . . . I can wait all night,” she gasped, as her fingertips rubbed his nipples, her body starting to arch against him.

  “Damn, I can’t either.” He grinned and gently chewed the corner of her mouth, then dropped his head once more to her throat.

  By the time he’d stroked a finger inside her and found her slick and ready, their bodies were both gleaming with sweat and Ty’s muscles were almost painful with built-up tension.

  Josy was utterly beautiful and deliciously sexy and it was all he could do to enter her slowly, to force himself to hold on awhile longer. He filled her slowly, watching her eyes turn a dark wild green, listening to her rushed breathing.

  He moved gently inside her, and made love to her slowly, until her back arched and her legs wrapped around him and her entire body strained against him. Then his thrusts intensified and a raging savage pleasure tore at him as they rocked together, panting and needy, their bodies joined in sweat and fire. Time spun away as they bucked and danced and galloped together, becoming one—one heart, one soul, one body, fused in a shattering, pounding heat.

  They climaxed togther in an explosion of senses almost beyond what they could bear.

  As the storm crashed and broke and ebbed, he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms. Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths, his heart still thundering.

  She was exquisite, both elegant and wild, turning him on in a way he’d almost forgotten. Making love to Josy had completed him in a way none of his casual emotion-free flings with women, or occasional nights with hookers, ever had.

  He’d almost forgotten how it felt to hold a woman he cared about, to watch her eyes as she came while he was inside her.

  He stroked Josy’s hair, pushed himself up, and leaned over to kiss her. Her face was flushed, glowing, but she looked exhausted. And yet, she was smiling up at him, more beautiful than ever.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, we’re never going to get any sleep,” he chuckled, and gently kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Promise?” She wound her arms behind his head and pulled him down to her.

  “Whoa, baby, careful what you wish for,” he chuckled, his hands stroking her beautiful breasts.

  “Forget it. I’m tired of being careful,” Josy whispered back. “I’m going to wish for the moon and the stars.”

  “Might as well add the sun while you’re at it. It’s going to be morning soon.”

  “Bring it on.” She buried her lips in his neck as he snuggled down beside her. She felt wonderful and dreamy, almost drunk. She knew she should stop talking, but she couldn’t help it.

  A combination of sated satisfaction, pent-up tension, and exhaustion from the entire night seemed to loosen her tongue.

  “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be good to go again,” she murmured, vaguely aware that he laughed as if from a great distance, and that he was lightly fingering her hair, gently rubbing her shoulder . . .

  She dropped like a rock into sleep.

  Ty studied her face in repose. That fine-boned, elegant face, the long lashes sweeping against her skin. Silken hair spread on the pillow.

  His chest tightened. Josy Warner was in a lot of trouble. Someone was trying to kill her. She’d aided and abetted a fugitive.

  And what they’d done tonight might make things tougher than ever for her. At the very least, more complicated.

  His mouth twisted into a frown. Reality slammed him in the stomach.

  He should have kept his distance. He shouldn’t have given in to the chemistry between them. He cared about her, but something told him she cared more. More than he could give.

  Josy was a loving, giving woman, loyal to a fault, with a heart as big as the whole state of Wyoming. And for all her sophistication, she’d want more than just fantastic sex. A lot more.

  She’d want a relationship. A home, the kind she’d missed out on growing up. Children. The whole nine yards.

  Pain wrenched at him. He’d tried that once. If it had been going to work, it would’ve worked with Meg. He didn’t think he could risk it again, loving someone that much, wanting their child that much, losing everything . . .

  That part of him had died with Meg. Maybe he should have explained that to Josy before they’d slept together. But she was a big girl. He hadn’t made her any promies or declarations. He hadn’t once mentioned the L word.

  He just hoped she didn’t expect love.

  He could only love Meg. He hoped like hell she realized that. Maybe he ought to have spelled it out . . .

  He fell back on the pillow and forced himself to get some sleep while he could. Tomorrow he’d have to try to keep Josy alive—both of them alive. And then he’d have to deal with the rest. He’d back off subtly. Let her down as gently as he could.

  And hope to hell she saw it the same way he did.

  Chapter 23

  “YOU FOUND HER—AND YOU LET HER GET away?”

  The controlled fury in Oliver Tate’s voice was not lost on Dolph. He swore silently, clenching the cell phone tight against his ear.

  “She won’t get far, Mr. Tate. I’ve called in reinforcements—Len, Morley, and Armstrong will be here in an hour.” He didn’t want to get into exactly what had gone wrong last night. Mr. Tate loathed explanations every bit as much as he loathed mistakes. Tate wouldn’t be happy to know he’d stumbled into a bust while he was chasing the girl, and that some goddamned hick cop had nearly caught him.

  That guy who’d hit him had known what he was doing. Dolph had seen stars and his face still hurt. He’d barely had the wits to get away, but had known that in his dazed state, it wouldn’t be smart to stick around.

  Much better to attack in his own time, in his own way.

  That’s w
hat he’d do today.

  “The four of us will fan out to find the girl. We’ll have her and the diamond by noon.”

  “You sound quite confident.”

  “I am.” Dolph was sweating, though, as he sat inside his car on a steep, lonely road in the foothills. Tate didn’t give second chances too often. One slip-up and you were through.

  Like Hammer. Like Lyle Samuels.

  He held his breath, waiting for the verdict. “I’m going in fully loaded this time, Mr. Tate. I’ll be on a plane home tonight with your property.”

  “See that you are, Dolph. See that you are.”

  The phone clicked in his ear. Dead air. A reprieve.

  Dolph took a deep breath, opened the glove compartment. He grabbed a PowerBar from inside and a bottle of water from underneath his seat and made short work of both, tossing the wrapper and the bottle out the window when he was done.

  It was 7 A.M. In another hour he’d have Len, Morley, and Armstrong combing the town, foothills, and valley by helicopter, motorcycle, and automobile.

  They’d find the girl. They had to.

  If she wasn’t dead by tonight and the diamond wasn’t on its way back to Tate, he’d be the one buried.

  Tate might occasionally give one of his employees a second chance, but he’d never been known to grant a third.

  When I catch the bitch, she’s going to pay big-time for all the trouble she’s caused. I’ll make sure she dies little tiny bits at a time. Lots of pain, even more blood. That babe’s going to fade away like paint drying. She’s going down real slow.

  Chapter 24

  “ARE YOU SURE THIS IS THE SPOT?”

  Ty dropped down on one knee beside the tree stump and glanced up at Josy in the milky-gray morning light. “Right here?”

  “I’m positive.” She handed him a stick. “It’s down at least a foot.”

  As he started to dig, Josy hugged her arms around herself in the chilly morning air. The day had dawned cool and cloudy. There’d been a misty rain earlier. Now it was dry, but the air smelled of earth and damp grass and more rain on the way. She shivered in her tank top. But not only from the chill in the air.

  She was exhausted from the harrowing events of the previous night, and in the clear light of day, her fear was returning. She was afraid not only for herself, but for Ty and for Ricky. And there was a definite tension—an awkwardness—between her and Ty that had communicated itself to her the moment she woke up.

  He was already showered and dressed, and in the kitchen making a pot of coffee when she opened her eyes.

  She woke up alone in the big carved-oak bed.

  And he’d been in such a hurry to get started that they hadn’t even talked much. He’d kissed her once, a quick peck, after she’d made the bed and hung his robe back in the bathroom.

  But his mind had been elsewhere.

  On the diamond. On Ricky. Not on us, she’d realized as she’d gulped the coffee, grabbed her purse, and followed him out to his car.

  “Ah. Got it.”

  She stared in silence as he tugged the brown-wrapped package from the dirt hole. Those strong fingers swiftly unwrapped the layers of paper, and then he was holding the diamond in the palm of his hand.

  “Talk about a hot potato.”

  The diamond glinted with cool crystal fire even in the pallid daylight. “Whoa, baby.” Ty shook his head. “I can’t even begin to guess what this is worth.”

  He got to his feet, still studying the diamond. “But I’d bet my pension it’s a bundle. Something this size? It has to be a famous rock.”

  “Do you mean . . . like the Hope diamond?”

  “Exactly. When your pal Ricky turned thief he didn’t exactly do it in a small-time way, did he?”

  “I’m sure he has a good explanation.” She bit her lip. “Maybe it’s evidence or something.”

  He slanted her a skeptical glance. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Ty stuffed the diamond back into the wrapping and dropped it into his jacket pocket. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Dolph’s bound to be searching for you all through this area. We’ll be safer once we get into Albany County.”

  There was silence between them for nearly the entire first hour of the drive. Josy tried to concentrate on the scenery, the low hills that grew gradually steeper, the greasewood brush, the sky billowing with charcoal clouds. Ty had switched on the radio, perhaps, she thought, to forestall any conversation, and Willie Nelson was singing “Always on My Mind.”

  She refused to let herself dwell on what had happened between them last night. Today it seemed like a dream, a sensuous, wildly erotic dream, nothing at all like the cool, casual reality of them driving toward Laramie Peak, silent as strangers.

  Better to think about today—about handing over the diamond to Ricky, finishing this horrible business at last. There was one aspect of it that she hadn’t considered before, but as the silence dragged on and she cast a quick glance over at Ty, she realized she’d better deal with it now. She didn’t want any unpleasant surprises later.

  “I’m going to ask you to make me another promise.” Her voice sounded loud after such a long silence. She took a breath as Ty switched off the radio, his eyes still on the road.

  “Why do I think I’m not going to like this?”

  “You can’t arrest Ricky. Or hold him in any way. I’ll give him the diamond, and then we leave and he—”

  “Gets away with it? We hand him stolen merchandise and let him run? I don’t think so.”

  Josy heard the grimness in his tone and her stomach roiled. “You promised me you’d let me deliver it.”

  “And I will. But I never said I’d let him just walk away scot-free.”

  “So this is a trap?” Dismay swept through her. “You’re setting him up, aren’t you? You called your friend on the NYPD this morning and arranged for the police to be there—”

  “You ought to be a writer, Josy. You have a vivid imagination.” He shot her a tight smile. “Relax. It’s only going to be you and me. I’m not planning to arrest him—I just want to persuade him to do the right thing. He needs to turn himself in and let me help him get this straightened out. According to my friend in New York, your old pal Ricky’s in shit up to his shirtsleeves. It’ll go a lot better for him if he faces it and quits running.”

  “Ricky doesn’t run from things,” she protested sharply. “Not unless there’s no other way. We don’t know the whole story, and when we do, you’ll see that he’s been framed, just as he said.”

  “Maybe he was.” Ty switched on the windshield wipers as a slow rain began to drip from the sky. The day had grown increasingly gray, the air whistling past the windows was thick with dust and grit.

  She turned in her seat and stared at him. “You believe he was framed too? Tell me,” she said quickly. “What did you find out?”

  “I spoke with Tommy Berger while you were still asleep. Ricky’s a wanted man in New York, all right. Big-time. The national media hasn’t picked up on the story yet—but the suits in the city want him back. Do you know why he was being investigated?”

  “I know what the newspapers said about him. They said he was working undercover on a case involving some crime boss.”

  “Not just some crime boss. Julius Caventini.”

  “Yes—Caventini.” She nodded. “But the police accused him of going over to Caventini’s side. They said there was evidence he’d done a hit for Caventini and taken money for it. And that he’d accepted a payoff for tipping Caventini off to the investigation and helping him conceal evidence.”

  “Right. Actually it was a precinct captain, a twenty-fiveyear veteran named Wallace Becker, who made the accusations and had Ricky arrested. According to Tommy, Ricky claimed to have evidence implicating not only Caventini but Becker and some cops in two other precincts, and—get this—he also pointed the finger at a big-shot businessman for being part of the organization. The businessman, Oliver Tate, has a squeaky-clean rep. He gives to all the right charities,
is active in New York social circles, and is rumored to be on a short list of potential candidates for governor down the road.”

  “Oliver Tate? That part wasn’t in the papers,” she said, feeling slightly dazed. “I know who he is. I’ve never met him,” she added, “but his wife attended some of Francesca’s runway shows. She always has a front-row seat. She was a former Miss World and is absolutely stunning. And I saw them once at a party one of Reese’s ex-husbands threw at the Rainbow Room. They’re one of the city’s power couples.”

  “Well, according to Tommy’s sources, your pal Ricky thinks Tate is in bed with Caventini and Becker. So to speak. Married to the mob.”

  “I wonder which one of them hired Dolph to find me.”

  “Could be any of the three. And you were probably right when you said there might be others coming after you too. If Ricky’s telling the truth, all three of these men have a lot to lose. They’re playing for very high stakes, Josy.”

  “But Ricky had evidence, right? It wasn’t only his word against Tate and Becker—”

  “A funny thing happened on the way to internal investigations,” Ty said drily. “The evidence he turned over somehow disappeared.”

  Josy’s mouth dropped. “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “There was a theft from the evidence room.”

  “How convenient.” Anger darkened her eyes. “Don’t tell me that didn’t send up a red flag for the guys doing the internal investigation,” she exclaimed.

  “Tommy didn’t have any scuttlebutt on that end of it. Though I’d think it would—if internal affairs is paying attention. But Josy”—he paused, choosing his words with care—“that still doesn’t explain why Ricky had this rock. Or where he got it—and how.”

  “There has to be a good reason,” she insisted. “We’ll get all those answers today.”

  “Yeah, if we make it that far.” Ty slowed for a sharp curve in the road. “Have you noticed that chopper?”

  She hadn’t. But now that he mentioned it, she became aware of the steady whirring hum of a helicopter in the distance. Glancing through the windshield she saw a helicopter flying low in the sky ahead, coming right toward the car. As it glided overhead it changed direction, circling away to the east.