by Debra Webb
He’d moved up behind her…too close. She could smell the soft clean scent of his skin and the soap he’d used. The idea that he was naked save for the towel affected her more than it should have.
“I talked to Merv,” she said without turning around. “Still nothing on the mayor or the assistant. I’m beginning to think that’s another dead end.”
“I agree.”
She couldn’t stand here with her back to him forever. Eventually she had to turn around, or he would know that she dreaded the full frontal encounter. And, God, she did. More than likely, he already sensed her trepidation. He read her entirely too well.
Steeling herself, she pivoted and looked up into his unshielded face. “How much longer do you suppose we should wait before we get started?” Dusk had begun to settle; a heavy blanket of darkness would follow. The cloud cover would ensure that there would be no light from the stars and perhaps even the moon. Spending too much time in the dark with Hunter was beginning to make her doubt her ability to remain objective where he was concerned, which meant this setting in particular was not a good idea.
Case in point: the way his gray eyes seemed to capture the sparse light and sparkle with it. Or the way the shadows played over the angles and planes of his handsome face. She’d dreamed of him, ached for him so many nights. It just wasn’t fair to be here with him like this now and not be able to touch him.
“Not much longer now,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips as he spoke. “We need the cover of total darkness.”
She licked her lips, bit down on the lower one to prevent the trembling that had started there. Coming in here like this had been a huge mistake. Why was it she hadn’t seen that until now? Her instincts always lagged behind when it came to assessing the threat Hunter presented. “Good,” she wrestled out around the lump of uncertainty in her throat. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”
There were things she could do, such as change into all-black clothing for stealth, locate her most comfortable and practical shoes for the occasion. She could even load a couple of clips into her utility belt. Anything to occupy the time until then.
She saw his hand reaching for her, but she couldn’t get the message from her brain to her body to move. Instead, she stood very, very still and let him touch her. His fingers traced her lips, she shivered, caught her breath.
“I’ve never forgotten how you taste,” he said softly.
This couldn’t happen. “Hunter, I—”
He shushed her with those fingers and she watched as he moved closer and closer, leaned down and slowly replaced the touch of his fingers with the brush of his lips.
Something shattered inside her when he kissed her. Something too fragile to survive this moment…to survive him.
His fingers threaded into her hair and he deepened the kiss. She told herself to resist…to fight the need, but she couldn’t do anything but get lost in the taste and smell of him…the feel of his lips moving over hers. The temptation of him was too sweet to resist.
He suddenly broke the seal, pressed his forehead against hers, his breath as ragged as if he’d run long and hard. She started to pull away, certain the kiss had been too much for him. She couldn’t imagine how he handled the deluge of feelings when it was all she could do herself to bear up.
“Wait,” he whispered harshly. “Just give me time.”
However badly he’d hurt her three years ago, she couldn’t stop the tears that rushed to her eyes. Tears for him, for how he’d suffered…still suffered. Even something as pleasant as the kiss they’d just shared was agony for him. She thought of all the hours they’d spent making love…of how skilled a lover he’d been. This was so unfair.
His fingers tightened where they cradled her head. “Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for me,” he said roughly. “I’m not beaten yet.”
And then he kissed her again. This time, his touch was hard and demanding. Rowen didn’t fight him…didn’t resist at all. Whoever he was punishing, her or himself, she didn’t care. She needed this as much as he seemed to.
With a savage growl, he jerked his lips from hers and moved on to her throat, tasting, teasing, kissing, rushing forward despite the obvious cost. Her head lolled back, giving him full access. Heat shimmered through her, melting every muscle and bone, forcing her to lean into him. Her hands found his bare chest, reveled in the feel of his damp skin as she relearned the man she’d loved what seemed like a lifetime ago now.
He shoved off her jacket and shoulder holster, his movements awkward, brutal. The buttons flew from her blouse as he ripped it from her body. The bra followed, freeing her breasts for his devouring. She whimpered, uncertain she could bear the thrill he incited inside her but craving it. He dragged her to the bed and lowered her there. Her shoes and slacks disappeared, then her panties. The towel fell away from his hips and she arched toward him as he lowered himself onto her. The feel of his weight atop her was like coming home. This was where she belonged…there had never been anyone else who made her feel the way Hunter did.
He kissed her hard, his fingers tangling with hers, restraining her roving hands. She wondered vaguely if her touching him was too much. She felt the press of him against her and she spread her legs in invitation.
Evan held very still, fought to catch his breath with the sensations crashing down on him so hard he couldn’t think, much less breathe. He had to slow down, had to stay in control.
She lifted her hips and rubbed intimately against him, and he almost lost his mind. He trembled beneath the onslaught of new sensations. The intensifying pleasure-pain made him light-headed…he couldn’t say where the pain ended and the pleasure began. But he couldn’t stop. He wanted her more than anything else…even more than his next breath.
Dying in her arms would be worth every second of exquisite agony.
Her fingers plowed into his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers. Her touch vibrated through him, setting him on fire all over again. She kissed him as if her life depended on that one kiss…as if her world would end tomorrow and tonight was all she had.
And maybe it was.
But not if he had anything to do with it.
He plunged inside her and his whole body tensed to the breaking point. His fingers fisted in the sheet. Heat rushed through his veins like liquid fire, made him tremble.
“Hunter,” she whispered as her hips began to undulate under his. “Please don’t stop now.”
His chest was too tight to allow breathing, much less speech. He couldn’t respond to her verbally, but he could do as she asked. He moved. The ensuing sensations flooded him, overloading his senses to the point he couldn’t think…could barely remain conscious. The feel of her slick, hot body as he thrust in and out, so slowly, so damned slowly, brought tears to his eyes. She pulled him deeper with a strategic arch of her hips, her tight muscles dragging along him creating a mind-blowing friction.
Sweat rose on his skin as he pounded harder, thrust faster, drawing them both toward that elusive peak that might very well kill him.
Her inner muscles contracted. Her entire body tensed and she cried out his name as release claimed her.
His body trembled violently, once, twice, but he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. Then his own climax grabbed him by the throat and hurled him into a crash and burn.
Feeling himself erupt inside her was his last conscious thought.
Chapter Twelve
“Hunter!” Fear detonated in her heart.
Rowen’s first thought was that she had surely killed him. She should never have allowed him to make love to her. His condition was too unstable…too fragile.
He groaned, reached up to cradle his head.
Thank God. He was moving.
She scrambled off the bed and grabbed a robe. Once she’d knotted the sash around her waist, she climbed back onto the disheveled linens to sit next to him.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly. Her heart pounded so hard she could scarcely hear herself
think, but she struggled to keep her voice quiet and calm. She didn’t want to add to his agony by becoming hysterical.
“The medicine,” he murmured. “Coat pocket.”
Rowen reached for the coat, dug through the pockets until she found the prescription bottle. She quickly opened it. “How many?”
“Two.”
He sounded weak, his voice reed-thin and shaky. His hand trembled when she placed the pills there. She bounded off the bed and brought him a glass of water from the bathroom. Careful not to hover, she eased a step away, gave him plenty of breathing room.
“How long will it take for the pills to give you any relief?” Her hand went to her mouth and she tried her level best not to allow the emotions tearing her apart inside to show on the outside. The damage left behind by that explosion had ruined his life. She could see that clearly now. No wonder he’d left the Bureau. Left her…
He managed to heft himself into a sitting position. “It usually works quickly.” His head hung between his shoulders as if the strength to hold it up right was too great. His hair fell forward, shielding his face from her view. For a man so strong, this show of weakness had to be extremely difficult for him.
But there was nothing weak about the way he looked otherwise. He still had the same lean, muscular body, the broad shoulders and sculpted torso that made her salivate just looking at him.
“Give me a few moments,” he murmured.
She glanced around the room, uncertain whether she should leave him alone or not. “I’ll…ah…get dressed.”
Rowen gathered clothes and the hiking boots she rarely wore and retreated to the bathroom down the hall. She didn’t want to chance that the running water or other sounds she made would aggravate his condition.
For a while, she stood in front of the mirror over the pedestal sink and stared at herself. How in the world had she let this happen?
He’d shown up in her life after three years, after breaking her heart, and she’d gone and fallen for him again.
“Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, huh?”
Definitely not.
She spent her days tracking down killers by processing the details she discovered logically and objectively. Why was it she couldn’t apply those same techniques to her personal life? The better question was, why Hunter? How could he hold this much power over her?
Shaking her head, she turned on the faucet. Five minutes later she’d washed up and donned her night camouflage. Black jeans, black long-sleeved T-shirt and hiking boots. She bundled her hair on top of her head and shouldered on her holster. All she had to do now was find the wool skullcap she’d had since her college days, when snowboarding and skiing were her favorite pastimes.
Downstairs coat closet, she decided. At least she hoped that’s where she’d stored it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken off work just to have fun. Too long. That was something else about her life she needed to change.
For now, the case had to be her main focus. The temporary lapse into self-indulgence she and Hunter had just shared couldn’t happen again until this case was resolved. And then…
Well, who knew.
Shuffling through the closet, she decided a light-weight black windbreaker would work for concealing her weapon and in case it rained. She found the cap stuffed into a coat pocket. Maybe luck was with her tonight.
Pulling it on, ensuring her hair was stuffed inside it, she elbowed the door closed and started for the stairs. She hoped Hunter was moving around by now. Anticipation had already kicked her heart rate into double time. She wanted to bring down the son of a bitch responsible for six murders.
As noiselessly as possible, she eased open her bedroom door. “Hunter?” she whispered softly.
The table lamp had been turned off, leaving the room pitch-dark. But she didn’t have to see to know.
He was gone.
EVAN LOOKED OUT over the Massachusetts Bay. The air was uncannily calm. The rain had stopped and though the cloud cover hid the stars, the moon hung full in the sky, providing ample light but not so much that it pained him.
The boat he’d hired for the night waited near Long Wharf. He glanced toward North Boston as a plane ascended from Logan Airport. The medication had dulled his senses to a tolerable degree, but the peace would not last long.
Making love to Rowen had provided the distraction he needed to give her the slip, but it had taken a significant toll on him.
He gritted his teeth against the emotions that instantly attempted to swell inside him. He would not let this happen a second time. When this was over, if he survived, he would walk away. There was no other option. Rowen deserved the kind of life he was no longer capable of offering.
If protecting her had not been crucial, he would never have returned to Boston or intruded in her life once more. It would have been far better for her to continue believing he was dead.
In reality, he had been dead for three years. The pain was his entire existence. It never really went away. Perhaps if he were not a coward, he would have ended his misery long ago. But, as Viktor said, fate had other plans for him. Fate had brought him back to this place…to the place he once knew.
Now he would finish it once and for all.
McGill, or whatever he called himself now, was the only one who remained. The others who’d been a part of the original team who came to investigate Viktor’s activities all those years ago knew nothing of his continued existence. To their knowledge, Viktor and his kind had been exterminated. The question now was what part did Viktor play in McGill’s entrepreneurial ventures.
Sick bastard. How could a top-notch agent fall victim to temptation? Money. It was the downfall of many.
Evan wasn’t entirely sure why McGill had started this, ultimately drawing Viktor, Rowen and Evan himself to this moment. He could only assume it had something to do with Viktor’s presence. That was the only connection that tied them all together.
Tonight, he would find out. Every instinct urged him to trust Viktor’s assessment that the answer would be found on Gallops Island. The place where Evan and Viktor had first encountered each other.
The beginning of a dangerous liaison.
Evan boarded the boat he’d rented, searched for the keys in the place where the owner had said they would be and prepared to pull out of the slip.
“Put your hands up.”
Evan’s fingers stilled on the key. All it would take was one flick of the ignition and he could be out of here in a few seconds. She wouldn’t shoot. He was certain of that. He’d sensed her feelings for him as she’d come apart in his arms. But she was here… She would only follow him.
He’d thought he would be well away from the shore before she made her way here. He’d taken her car keys, had cut the lines of her phone. But he hadn’t been able to locate her cellular. She’d called a cab or her partner.
He slowly turned around, keeping his hands in plain sight. “We both know you won’t shoot.”
She glared at him. “Maybe you’re not as sure as you’d like to be.”
One side of his mouth curled into a smile, something he rarely did these days. “Perhaps you have a point.”
“You want me to cuff him, Ro? Or maybe I should just shoot him.”
Just as Evan had suspected, her partner ambled up next to her, weapon drawn and aimed directly at him. Of course she would call her partner if she needed backup.
“Well, looks like the gang is all here.” They were wasting valuable time.
The idea that McGill could be anyone filtered through Evan’s mind. That possibility put a whole new slant on the situation.
“Get out of the boat, Hunter,” Rowen ordered. She looked madder than hell.
“Let’s not bother with idle chitchat,” he suggested. “Come aboard and we’ll be on our way.”
She blinked, hesitated a moment. She hadn’t expected him to surrender so easily.
Slowly she lowered the weapon. “You try anything funny and I will shoot yo
u,” she warned and, judging by the look in her eyes, she meant it.
Evan held up both hands. “You have my word. I won’t try anything funny.”
When Rowen and her partner had boarded, Evan started the engine and eased out of the slip.
Her partner took a seat, but Rowen was too fired up to relax to that degree. Instead, she moved up close to Evan at the helm.
“You’re a real bastard,” she snapped. “I should have known you were up to something.”
He flinched at the harsh sound of her voice. She was too angry to care what he felt.
“It’s true my goal was to distract you so that I could get away,” he admitted. Why lie? She wasn’t that naive. “But I didn’t plan what happened.”
Yes, he’d planned to seduce her, talk her into a long hot bath. Except things went too far.
“Well, I hope it was worth it,” she said hotly, “because any feelings I still had for you are definitely dead now.”
Nothing he hadn’t expected. Still, the words stabbed deep inside him.
As much as it would hurt both of them, he had to finish this once and for all now. “That’s good,” he said as he maneuvered through the dark water. “I wouldn’t want you to harbor any false hope.”
He didn’t have to look at her. He felt the way his words crushed her…shuddered beneath the jarring impact to her heart.
She turned away from him, stared out over the water. But she said nothing. No matter. He felt the tide of tension gaining momentum. His own eyes burned, but he clenched his jaw against the weakness. Better for her to hate him than for her to hope.
He’d planned to do this alone but if he’d left her on that wharf, she would have followed, increasing the risk that one or both of them would be spotted.
“We’ll approach from the Intertidal Zone, well away from the pier,” he told her. She didn’t comment.
They had both studied the map and his plan was the best way, though certainly not the easiest. Climbing those steep slopes to access the island would prove less than pleasant, but the element of surprise was the only real ammunition they possessed. He didn’t want to lose it.
