He turned his head and stared out the window, watching the fence posts pass them by. As they made their way out of Aylesford and into the surrounding county, the area became more and more rural. He spotted cows and horses in pastures along with corn, tobacco, and soybeans growing in fields. It was the best of both worlds—Aylesford and Tyler less than an hour away, Baltimore and DC not too much further, but the greenness, the life of the fields and forests soothed him, and was the exact opposite of the dust of the Middle East. He thunked his head against the glass. He didn't need to think about Iraq right now, he needed to focus on Cassie, on keeping her safe and neutralizing the threat against her. He needed her to give him some names so he could run them... Shit. His computer was gone. Fucking gone. How the hell was he supposed to run his business without his fucking computer? “Fuck.”
She turned her head to shoot him a look. “What?”
“My fuckin' computer is gone and it fuckin' had all my fuckin' software on it.”
“My fucking computer is gone, too,” she echoed in her not nearly as southern sounding voice. He liked that she sounded proper even when tossing the word “fucking” back at him.
“I know, and I'm sorry, but my computer might've been able to help me figure out who's after you.”
“How would your computer figure out who's after you?” she asked, once again trying to make this about him.
“No one is after me, Cassie. I'm not a big enough fish. Someone is after you.”
“I'm still not convinced. You have not fulfilled your burden of proof, Ranger-boy.”
Ranger-boy? “I know it, Cassie.”
“You know you need more proof?”
She was pushing his buttons on purpose, and it was working. He shoved his left hand through his hair. “I know someone is after you. I just do.”
“I still think it's you.” She jerked the wheel as her eyes widened and her mouth opened. “What if it's both of us? What if we have someone in common who wants to screw with us both?”
Hadn't they already had this discussion? He started to say just that when it dawned on him that saying something like that would effectively close the door on any chance of sleeping with Cassidy in the near future. Abandoning the question, he said, “We need to cross-reference.”
“Surely you have back-ups at your house.”
She said it like he would have a vault of flash drives and she was right. “I do.”
“So why the 'fuck' earlier?”
Because that laptop was only three months old and faster than greased lightning. “It was my favorite.”
She stuck out a lip. “Poor baby.”
Yeah, he'd be a poor baby if he rose to the bait. Instead, he changed the subject completely. “Careful with those lips, Cassie. I want to bite them, taste them, suck them...” he deliberately trailed off, letting her fill in the blanks.
She emitted a soft sigh. “Dammit.”
Yeah, he had her. They'd deal with computers and cross-references in the morning. Tonight he was going to unwrap a pale green gift and indulge.
~*~
Cassidy went from worrying about her home, her computer, her files, and her cases to rubbing her thighs together while driving. Not an easy feat, and completely ineffective with the object of her lust exuding raw sexiness not even three feet away from her. She took a deep breath and played the game with him. If he could make her wet and aching with almost a half hour left on their drive, she could return the favor. “I want to take you in my mouth and down my throat. I want to swirl my tongue around the tip and lick your essence, I want to feel you explode.” She swallowed. She was supposed to be torturing him, but she was doing a fine job of arousing the hell of out herself. “I want to feel you inside me, hot and hard and huge, I want—”
She cut herself off when he groaned, his left hand cupping his more than impressive package. “Stop, Cassie, or I'm gonna make you pull over.”
This was a threat? She directed the Bronco to the shoulder of the winding two-lane road that led to his home. She knew in twenty minutes they could be at his place, but she wasn't sure she could wait that long.
“Cassie,” he rasped.
She put the truck in park and turned her head to look at him. His jaw had been clenched most of the day, first in lust, then in anger, and now there was no question why that muscle was ticking. She wanted to soothe it with her tongue, she wanted to open his tuxedo shirt and follow the path down his neck to his chest. She wanted to mount him, to feel his hard length fill her again and again until she screamed his name. Her gaze swept up his body, finally connecting to his golden eyes, the lust and heat she saw there completely ensnaring her. She blew out a breath. She could straddle him in less than a minute and be calling his name in five, but that wouldn't be satisfying. Not for what she had in mind. Before she could talk herself out of it, she slammed the truck back in drive and sped down the road. She wanted him, but she wanted him in a bed this time.
When they pulled up to his beautiful log home, she couldn't get out of the truck fast enough, almost breaking the heel of her sandal on the gravel driveway. The faster they got in the house, the faster they could get into bed. She glanced at Dylan as he made his way to the door.
“Keys,” he demanded without turning.
Why wouldn't he look at her? She handed him the keys and grabbed his elbow. “What? You don't want me anymore?”
His chuckle was deep and rough. “Cassie, if I look at you, I'm going to strip you. Don't you want to be inside first?”
Yes, please. She wished his body were healed and he could be the savage lover she knew he would be. She wasn't worried he would hurt her, but she knew he would dominate, would possess, and she wanted that. She bit her lip. She wanted that? She had never wanted that before. She stared at his tight ass in his black pants. This man was more protective, more possessive than any she had dated before. Maybe that's why those other relationships fizzled. She needed to be owned, possessed, ravaged. She shook her head. This was sex, this was fucking, this was mutual enjoyment of each other's bodies. This was not a relationship, they were not dating. They were... What were they exactly?
~*~
Dylan watched her face go from “take me” to “oh shit,” and knew he had to do something. He didn't want to push her—Lord knew he didn't—but she had picked a helluva time to change her mind. He would stop if she wanted him to, but he might keel over dead because of it. He took a breath, let it out slowly. “Cassie, are you thinking too much again?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, that cascade of reddish-brown hair falling over her shoulder. He wanted to pull her to him, make whatever problem had entered her mind go away, but he waited. She was a thinker, and a talker. He just had to let her do both.
“What are we doing, Dylan?” she asked.
“I was hopin' we were about to make love,” he answered. He had a boner from the depths of hell, her husky voice almost making him come in his pants earlier, but he had to say the next part. “We don't have to if you don't want to.” She stared at him, her chocolate eyes wide, her pupils dilated. She still wanted him, but her brain was fighting her. Taking a guess, he assured, “I really am much better than I was a couple weeks ago.” He clenched and unclenched his right hand in the sling. “I can move this arm, and grip items in this hand. I just have to keep it in the sling between PT sessions to insure I don't do anythin' stupid.”
“Like injure yourself when having sex?”
Shit. That was an opening he wished he hadn't made. “We'll be careful.”
“Are you sure?”
He held back a groan. Was he sure? “I wanted to toss you on the floor before we left, pin you to the wall at your parents house, have you ride me in the truck. I am not the one who has to be sure, Cassie. It's you.”
“I.” She closed her mouth, her eyes tracking the lights in the ceiling, and he prayed the rest of the sentence was “want you.”
She spun away from him, walking down the hallway toward the bedrooms. He held
his breath to see where she went, and almost let out a whoop when she walked into his room. “Throw me down and have your way with me, Dylan.”
There was a God and He was good. “Gladly.”
~*~
He took her invitation to heart, catching her around the waist and pulling her close to him. “Make me forget everything but you,” she asked. It might sound weak, but she wanted to ignore the world and drown in him.
His lips covered hers, his tongue invading her mouth, stealing her breath. She was crushed by the strength of his left arm, teased by the texture of his beard against her skin, lost in the need to hold on and never let go. She kissed him harder, pushing that thought from her mind. Forever wasn't on the table, but right now, oh, right now she was vibrating with the need to have him inside her. She slid a hand beneath the waistband of his pants, snaking it into his boxers until her hand was full of the hot, hard length of him. The memory of how he filled nearly made her crazy with wanting. “Now.”
He pulled away from her, his eyes blazing. “No,” he said with a shake of his head, “I need to taste you this time.”
She heard herself whimper and almost laughed. She wasn't normally such a lusty woman, but Dylan made her crazy. She pulled the strap off her shoulder, letting the dress fall to the floor. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath.
“You've spent the whole day in that dress with only a tiny thong underneath?” His voice was thick with lust, and she loved it.
Instead of answering him, she slid the white lace underwear down her legs. Before they had even hit the floor, she was pushed to the bed, two hundred plus pounds of Army Ranger on her. “The things you do to me,” he growled. “I have been hard all fuckin' day, wantin' to do this.” He shouldered her thighs apart and buried his face in the heart of her. He worked her with his tongue, teasing her relentlessly for what seemed like hours until finally sucking her into his mouth. She heard herself scream as her body convulsed in a powerful orgasm. “Please,” she choked. “Please love me.”
He pulled away from her for a moment to drop his pants, his long, strong cock standing at attention. She knew he would need help to dislodge the sling and get himself out of his shirt, but right now she was so desperate to have him, she didn't care he was half-dressed. “Please, Dylan, I can't wait anymore.”
He let out a grunt when he covered her, bracing himself on his good arm and thrusting home. He had been inside her before, but she was still surprised by the slight burn as she stretched to take his entire length. Last time he had given her the reins, but this time he took her with long strokes, filling her fully before pulling out and filling her again. He claimed her mouth as well, sharing her taste and smell with her with every thrust of his tongue. She wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist as he pounded into her, her nails scraping over the crisp cotton of his dress shirt, and she felt her body clench in anticipation of another mind-bending orgasm. He didn't slow his pace when she shattered around him, finally groaning into her mouth when he found his own release, his cock pulsing within her.
~*~
His cell began to ring at the same time hers started to vibrate and Cassidy groaned. “Go away,” she said when she answered.
“Where are you?” J.D. demanded.
In bed after being thoroughly fucked. “Dylan's.”
“Oh my God, I was so worried,” the other prosecutor said in a rush. “I mean, your car was blown up a little while ago, and now—”
“And now what, J.D.?” she cut him off as she propped herself against the carved oak headboard. She shot a look at Dylan having a similar conversation on the other side of the bed as she listened to J.D. blow out a breath into her ear.
“Judge Simmons is dead.”
“That's terrible! What happened?” Robert Simmons was in his sixties, healthy and relatively fit. Her mind spun with the implications.
“He was poisoned,” J.D. told her. Ignoring her gasp, he went on to explain, “They're looking into his cases, his wives, anyone who might have reason to murder him.”
“He was only a judge for a few years, but Commonwealth's Attorney for twenty, and a prosecutor long before that, not to mention the three ex-wives.” The suspect list would be long, but poison was a personal weapon. “Who's on it? Monroe and Delmonico?”
“Got it in one,” he agreed. “After the threat to you, I was so worried when I couldn't find you.”
She felt her eyebrows knit, but knew the expression was lost on the phone. “You called me on my cell.” It wasn't like she was hard to find, she was never without her phone.
“This is my twelfth call, Cass.”
Twelfth? “We couldn't hear the phone earlier,” she apologized, fully aware the excuse was a weak one. J.D. wasn't blind nor stupid, and had been at the wedding with them just a a few short hours ago. She knew her friend had seen Dylan press her against a wall and kiss her senseless. She braced herself for the inevitable snark J.D. would throw at her.
“So, what were you doing to keep you from answering your phone, I wonder? Maybe your heroic roommate?” She could clearly envision J.D. with his lips curved in a smile, his green eyes sparkling as he teased her.
“Maybe,” she answered without elaborating. Turning the conversation away from herself and Dylan and back to the horrible loss of life, she said, “Keep me apprised of the investigation, and let me know when the funeral is scheduled, please. I don't mean to sound cold, or harsh, but this may not have anything to do with me.”
“Right. Why would the murder of a judge be related in any way to a bomb planted in the car of an Assistant Commonwealth's Attorney?”
“Dammit, it's been two weeks since the explosion and nothing has happened. Maybe Dylan was right and it was just a warning.”
“A warning that you'll be next?” J.D. snapped. She heard him take a deep breath, and she knew he was trying to curb another sarcastic comment. “Just be careful, Cass.” He paused, a slight chuckle vibrating the phone against her ear. “Next time you disappear, I won't worry, I'll just assume all is good in Hotsexlandia.”
“Really, J.D.? Hotsexlandia? You graduated top of your class from Harvard Law, yet you say things like that?
His chuckle gave way to a full laugh. “Harvard Law does not a comedian make.” He took a breath, his tone somber when he went on to reiterate his earlier caution, “Just be careful, Cass.”
“I will,” she promised. “You don't have to worry about me.”
“Somehow, I don't believe you.”
~*~
“She's here with me,” Dylan assured Caleb, surprised by the call. “Why did you call me anyway?”
“I tried calling her, she didn't answer.”
He knew Caleb was fully aware Dylan was sleeping with his sister, but chose not to address their relationship directly. “I won't let anythin' happen to her.”
“I know, but that doesn't make me worry any less,” the doctor said. “She's my sister, and until we know who did this and put them behind bars, I won't stop worrying.” He paused. “My brother was nearly killed a month ago because Priscilla was obsessed with him, and now Cassidy is in danger.”
He was there a month ago and had the scars to prove it. “If anyone knows about the danger your brother faced, it's me, Caleb,” Dylan reminded him.
“Shit, how could I forget?” He paused, his steady breathing the only sound for long beats. “I still worry about her, have for years with what she does.”
He knew the feeling, but chose to treat it lightly. Forcing a chuckle, he asked, “Who'd've pegged you a worrywart, Doctor Everett?”
The other man laughed along with him. “You'd never guess, would ya?” He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Judge Simmons was murdered tonight. He came into the ER unresponsive and I determined he was poisoned. Doctor Marquette ordered toxicology, but there's no way this is accidental.”
“That explains the panic,” Dylan said unnecessarily as he chewed on Caleb's news. He'd been sure Cassidy had been the target all along,
and this sealed it for him. They needed to look at cases she'd tried in Judge Simmons' court room, those that were on his docket, and anything else that could lead him to the murderer. A murderer was after his Cassie. He would die before he let anything happen to her. “She's safe with me.”
“I know she is, Dylan. She cares about you.”
“She's special,” he said instead of voicing the thoughts swirling in his head. She cared about him, but she wouldn't acknowledge their relationship as anything but casual fucking, no matter that she screamed his name when she came. He gritted his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about making Cassie come when talking to her brother.
“I saw you at the wedding,” Caleb went on, his tone knowing.
He and Cassie had made eyes at each other throughout the ceremony, and he'd been anything but discrete when he'd pinned her to the wall and nearly made love to her right there. “I can't deny anythin'.”
“Wouldn't want you to, anyway. Take care of her, Dylan.”
“Is this where you remind me that if I hurt her you can kill me in any number of untraceable ways?”
“Yes.”
“I will protect her with my life.”
“I know.”
Chapter Five
Brandon threw himself into his chair. Judge Simmons was dead, but he'd been murdered in Aylesford and not Tyler, so he couldn't legitimately investigate until he tied it to Cassidy Everett's break-in. “Tiffany, what do we know?” he asked the perky young officer.
She bounced on her toes, her tits struggling to break from the confines of her uniform and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. He was getting more than a blow job tonight. “The judge was poisoned, but that's all I know. Doctor Everett wasn't sure what the agent was, just that it was poison.”
“Wow, helpful.”
“He's an ER doctor, Brandon. Doctor Marquette will figure out what's going on.”
“Before or after she fucks Monroe?” he said under his breath. He respected Adrienne Marquette's expertise, but her choice in men was greatly lacking. Jason Monroe was a hothead who rushed to the rescue with no regard for regulations. He laughed aloud, causing Tiffany to raise her blonde eyebrows at him. “Nothing,” he assured. “I was just thinking of something funny.” He was indeed. He himself viewed regulations and laws as guidelines, yet he was judging Jason Monroe as a hothead. The irony was not lost on him, but he didn't particularly care. “So, Miss Morgan, what do we think about the break-in at ACA Everett's?”
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