Texas Marine Mayhemn

by Cynthia D'Alba

  The building tide of energy was a hair’s breadth from pain and she loved it. She was on the edge, reaching for the golden ring. And then he bit gently on her clit, and she flew. Tidal wave after tidal wave of electricity shot through her veins and bounced between each cell. She cried out, every muscle jerking from the release of energy. With even the slightest ebb in her orgasm, he’d lick and nibble on that tender nub and set off another round of pleasure.

  Finally, she floated back to reality and opened her eyes. Craig watched her, a smug expression on his face.

  “Liked that, did you?”

  She sighed and stretched. “It was okay.”

  He laughed and crawled up her body until his full weight rested on her. “Okay, huh? I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

  She didn’t tell him this was a one-time deal. This was it. One and done. Instead, she met his mouth with hers and drew him into a long kiss.

  When she could get her mouth back, she asked, “Do you have a condom?”

  “We don’t need one,” he said, leaving kisses on her neck.

  “Yeah, we do. I might be almost forty, but I can still get pregnant.”

  “So what?” he said in a hot, breathy whisper in her ear. She shivered in response.

  “Condom,” she repeated.

  He sat back on his heels and looked at her. “I’m serious, Nessie. I’m clean. Aren’t you on the pill?”

  She nodded. “But to be on the safe side, I think we should use a condom.”

  He got off the bed and went into the adjacent en suite. In a minute, he was back, tossing a strip of condoms onto the bedside table. “There. Condoms. Happy?”

  “Not really. I hate them, but we’ve been apart for ten years. I don’t expect that you were monk during that time.” She threw out an arm, grabbed a foil packed, and brought it back. “Want me to do it?”

  He jerked the packet from her hand and unrolled the latex condom over his stiff cock. “I’m dressed for the party now,” he said with a resigned sigh, but added a wink, which she interpreted as he was okay with this.

  He settled himself back between her legs and pushed himself inside with a groan. “Damn, you are tight.”

  Her flesh stretched to accommodate his girth. Muscles long dominant were pulled and extended. The resulting burn was a delicious mix of pain and agony.

  “Complaining?” She pushed back.

  “Hell, no. Loving it.”

  “I probably won’t come again,” she warned.

  He groaned out a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

  He pulled out and sat back on his heels. Shoving his arms under her thighs, he lifted her hips and slammed into her canal.

  With a cry, she arched her back, leaving only her shoulders touching the sheet.

  He answered her cry with multiple thrusts, each one connecting with the most erotic and sensitive area inside. Tension and energy pulsed inside her. Muscles tightened as they prepared for another release.

  On the next thrust, he ground against her clit. The energy spiked and she came in a shower of sparks and spasms. In a minute, he pushed deep and held. His cock pulsed inside her as he found his release.

  With a deep groan, he lowered her legs to the bed. “Damn.”

  “I agree.” She pushed her hair off her face.

  After a quick stop in the en suite, he climbed back into the bed, threaded his arm under neck and pulled her to him. He kissed her gently.

  “I bet I only have great dreams the rest of the night.”

  He fell to sleep like someone flipped a switch.

  She, on the other hand, laid there thinking about the guy she was dating in Montana. This situation was going to be a total clusterfuck in the end and it’d all be her doing.

  Craig’s stalker gulped down the vodka and slammed the glass on the table. “Goddamnit.”

  “What happened?” her sister asked. “What’d you do? Where have you been?”

  “I did a little target practice tonight.” She refilled her glass and poured the vodka down her throat. “Did you know that hitting a moving target is so much harder than hitting a piece of paper with an outline of a man?”

  Chapter Four

  Vanessa woke before dawn and left Craig lying in bed, flat on his back, a snore rattling in his throat. Muscles that hadn’t been used in quite a while ached but in a good way. After dressing, she made her way downstairs. She could hear a cup of coffee calling her name.

  As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee rolled through the kitchen, Vanessa grabbed the first mug directly from under the drip. She perched on a stool and cradled the hot cup between her hands, letting the scent of nirvana fill her nose. The smell of fresh brewed coffee was one of her favorite things.

  The first sip was just rolling down her throat when a knock at the front door echoed down the hall. She set the cup on the counter and picked up her gun. She eased toward the door, all her senses on heightened alert. As she got close, the knock came again. When she looked through the peephole, her mouth dropped in surprise and she lowered her gun.

  She opened the door, a frown pulling at her forehead. “What are you doing here?”

  Hank Patterson’s eyes were serious. The corners of his mouth were pulled down. None of his usual humor marked his expression. “You remember Agent Freeman of the FBI.”

  “I do.” She glanced toward the tall, African-American man to Hank’s left. “Come on in.”

  Both men were dressed in khaki slacks, polo shirts and wind jackets. Freeman stood straight and rigid, an imposing presence next to Hank’s more relaxed stance. The FBI agent carried himself and spoke with an air of confidence. From the day she’d been introduced to Agent Freeman, she’d been reassured that law enforcement was on top of Craig’s case

  She was not reassured to have him standing in front of her again.

  “Coffee?” she asked. “Just brewed a fresh pot.”

  Hank nodded. “That’d be good.”

  The men followed her back to the kitchen. Once they had coffee and were seated at the kitchen table, Vanessa folded her arms on the wooden top.

  “So, I know this isn’t a social visit. What’s up?”

  Hank nodded to Freeman to take the lead.

  “Sorry for the early visit,” he said. “Thanks for the report last night. That information got us wondering how Knue not only got to Texas, but where he would have obtained the truck and the gun used in the drive-by shooting. From everything we’d learned about him, he was not a gun guy, so why a drive-by? Frankly, the more we learned, the less the pieces fit.”

  “Okay,” she said. “So are you saying we were just lucky enough to be caught in a random shooting?”

  Freeman shook his head. “No. Craig, or maybe you, were definitely the target.”

  She frowned and slapped her hand flat to her chest. “Me? I don’t have any enemies.”

  “Let him finish, Britt,” Hank said.

  She flipped up her hands in surrender.

  “Late last night, we found Knue.”

  “Great,” she interrupted again.

  “Not so great.” Freeman shook his head. “He’s dead.”

  The news stunned her. She sat back in her chair. “How’d he die and how long ago?”

  “Where’d you go, babe?” a sleepy voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

  All three heads turned toward the door that lead to the hall.

  Dressed only in boxers, Craig scratched his chest when he walked in. He looked at the two men at the table and arched a brow. “Well, hello. Darling, you didn’t tell me we had company.”

  Vanessa shut her eyes with a sigh. “Go put on some clothes, Craig.”

  “Be right back.”

  Hank looked at Vanessa with one eyebrow raised. “Do we need to talk about boundaries?”

  She snorted. “Sure. We can talk about you and Sadie first. Then we can talk about me.”

  Hank lifted his mug of coffee and took a long drink.

  “I think we should wait until Mr. De
vlin can join us,” Freeman said.

  Vanessa nodded. “Anyone need a refill? I think we have doughnuts if you’re interested.”

  The FBI man grinned. “Who wouldn’t be interested in doughnuts?”

  She found the box of sweet pastries in the pantry and brought them to table, along with plates and napkins.

  Shortly after, Craig reentered, now appropriately dresses in shorts and a T-shirt. No shoes. He poured a cup of coffee, grabbed a doughnut, and sat next to Vanessa.

  “So, what’s happening Agent Freeman?” But before the FBI agent could speak, he looked at Hank. “You another agent?”

  Vanessa laid her hand on Craig’s arm. “This is Hank Patterson, my boss.”

  “Nice to meet you. Thanks for sending my Nessie back to me.”

  Hank’s eyebrows arched.

  Vanessa sighed. “Talk to us, Agent Freeman.”

  “As I was saying, Joseph Knue’s body was discovered over a week ago in a deserted warehouse in Los Angeles. The body was in early stages of decomp, so he’d been dead at least a couple of weeks and hard to identify. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but his pockets were empty. No driver’s license, student ID or anything else that could be used to put a name with the body. For the past couple of weeks, he’s been in LA County morgue listed as a John Doe. The morgue finally got around to running his fingerprints and got a match to our BOLO.”

  “Wow,” Craig said. “Surprised but not.” He looked at Vanessa. “I told you I didn’t think those last notes sounded like him.”

  “Maybe they weren’t,” Freeman agreed. “He’d been dead for a while when you got those.”

  “Any chance he wrote them before he died?” Vanessa asked. “And how did he die? You didn’t say.”

  “Shot in the forehead. Dead before he hit the ground.”

  “Geez,” Craig said with a wince. “Here I was thinking possible suicide.”

  “So where are we?” Vanessa asked. The news concerned her. Knue had been the only suspect and with him dead, was the threat over? “Am I to stay on here, Hank? Is the threat to Craig over?”

  “Of course you’re staying on,” Craig answered before Hank could speak. “Where else would you go?”

  Hank nodded. “I spoke with our client today and—”

  “You mean my brother,” Craig interrupted. “I know he’s behind hiring your company. I actually thought this was a total set-up to get Vanessa and me in the same room.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think any of those threats were serious until last night. So maybe that drive-by was directed at me?”

  “We believe so,” Freeman said. He shifted in his chair and focus his gaze directly on Craig. “From what we know so far, there have no threats against the restaurant, the owner or any employee. Thus far, we’ve found no threats against anyone dining there last night.” He leaned over the table. “You were lucky you didn’t get shot last night.” The agent turned his gaze toward Vanessa. “Good job.”

  Hank cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we’ll keep Vanessa here. I understand from Chase Adams that you’ve met.”

  “We have.”

  “Great. He can give you backup if needed.”

  “But who’s doing this?” Craig demanded, slamming his coffee mug on the table.

  Hank and Agent Freeman exchanged looks before Freeman said, “We do have one lead to follow. You remember April Young?”

  Craig rubbed the raspy morning beard on his chin and frowned. “Ex-student from a couple of years back. Nothing exceptional about her work. Attractive girl but aggressive. Could be snarky toward other writers. Kind of a nasty attitude if anyone made any negative comments on her writing, which wasn’t all that great, best that I remember. Why?”

  “She and Knue were living together for the past six months. From what we got from the neighbors, she had some money, and Knue had nowhere to live, so he moved in with her.”

  “I can’t see them as a couple,” Craig observed. “He didn’t seem like her type.”

  “What was her type?” Hank leaned forward.

  “Older men. Someone who could wine and dine her, take her nice places and buy her expensive things. But mostly she was a people user. She buttered up to anyone, especially men, who would do her biding. I remember a couple of times thinking that the work she turned in didn’t sound like something a young twenty-something girl would write. The writing was too dark and too deep for any other assignment she’d turned in.”

  Vanessa didn’t say anything, but the description of the type of man this woman was looking for sound a whole lot like Craig Devlin. The hairs on the back of her neck stood.

  “What about girlfriends?” Freeman asked.

  “Never saw her with any other girls.” He shrugged. “Never saw her with Knue either, so what I saw or didn’t see doesn’t mean much.”

  Freeman flipped open a small notepad. “And what about you? Did you date her? Help her in some way?”

  Craig’s mouth pulled down and he huffed at the suggestion. “No.”

  “We spoke with your department head. She mentioned you’d asked that Ms. Young be removed from your class.”

  “That’s right, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with what’s going on now. That request had to be two, three years ago.”

  “Three,” Freeman said.

  “Sounds about right.”

  “So why did you ask for her to be transferred to another instructor?”

  Craig raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes. “It can’t have anything to do with this. It just can’t.”

  Vanessa knew Craig well enough to feel his agitation at the questions. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him no one felt he’d done anything wrong.

  On the other hand, these questions about a student were making her anxious. Some of the rumors that’d floated back to her had involved students. Was it possible her ex had stepped over the professor-student relationship line?

  “Were you having an affair with her?” Freeman asked.

  The question socked Vanessa in her stomach and she gasped.

  “God, no!” Craig jumped to his feet and stomped to the coffee pot to pour a refill. He stood with his back to the group. “She wanted to,” he said and then turned toward them. “The honest truth is I don’t know if she was really wanting to have an affair, or if she just wanted to sleep with me so I would help her with her book.”

  The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional dump of ice cubes in the freezer. The three people at the table sat still and watched as Craig walked around the kitchen, his mouth moving in a silent debate with himself.

  Finally, he retook his seat. “I don’t know a whole lot about her. I know she came from money. I think, and I’m not sure about this, but she might have been from Texas. She had the long, southern drawl when she spoke. The kind of drawl that most men find sexy.”

  “So how did she convey what she wanted from you?” Freeman asked.

  “First time, she bought me drinks. Tried to pick me up in a bar, but I was meeting my agent, so I passed.” He shot Vanessa a sideways glance. “Even if I hadn’t had a meeting, I would have declined. She isn’t my type. Later, after my agent left, she came over and took his seat. We had a couple of drinks, but that was the extent of it. When she suggested we move the party to her house, I declined again and went home.”

  Craig coughed and took a couple of gulps of coffee. He shifted in his chair and brushed his hair off his brow before he continued.

  “A couple of days later, she came to my office and offered to give me a blow job to change her midterm exam from a C to an A. Needless to say, I rejected that offer. My job was on the line here and I was getting quite uncomfortable being around her. I asked her to leave.”

  He shot a glance at Vanessa and then dropped his gaze to his coffee mug. “God, this is hard.” He sighed. “She flipped up the back of her skirt and sat on my desk. She let her legs hang open,
not spread, but wide enough to give me a preview of her goods—not that I looked because I didn’t. She smiled and said we could fuck for her grade, in any way, any style or any kink I wanted.”

  Vanessa’s heart sank. Her head swam with nausea.

  He raised his gaze from his mug to look at Freeman. “I’m sorry. I must be slow on the uptake. What does this have to do with Knue’s threats?”

  “Did you know that April Young was from Big Branch when you came here? Is that why you’re here?” Freeman stared hard at Craig.

  Craig’s eyes shot wide. He shoved back his chair and stood. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Did you know April Young’s grandparents owned this house you’re renting? What kind of deal did you make with her? Did you pay her to get rid of Knue and his threats?”

  The acid in Vanessa’s stomach bubbled. She felt nauseous. What had Craig done?

  Craig’s mind whirled but the fog didn’t clear. Acid in his stomach lapped up the sides of his stomach.

  He looked at Vanessa. Surely she didn’t think he’d done anything with a student. But the look she gave him was hard. Her eyes were narrowed. Her lips pulled tight against her teeth. Her arms folded across her chest.

  He dragged his thoughts back to his ex-student, April Young. This was her grandparents’ place? How?

  “Mr. Devlin,” the FBI agent said. “Sit down.”

  “Do I need to call a lawyer?” he asked, nervous tension pulling at the corners of his eyes.

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  He paced the kitchen and back, all the while not meeting Vanessa’s gaze. This was crazy. He felt like he was living someone else’s life.

  “Mr. Devlin. How did you find this house to rent?” Freeman asked.

  Craig ran his hands through his hair again. “This is insane,” he said fiercely. “I’m the victim here. I don’t have anything to do with what is going on.”

  Vanessa stood and walked over to him. “Come on back to the table.” She took his hand. “Sit down. Let’s talk this through. I’m sure that’s not what the agent thinks. Right?”