Second Nature (When Seconds Count)

by D. L. Roan

Completely wrecked, his fingers trembled as they slid over her belly and clenched into the flesh at her hips. Drunk on the sight of her wrapping her hand around his cock, he held his breath as she positioned herself above him. Every muscle in his body pulled tight as she slipped over his sensitive head, the heat of her inner muscles tightening around his shaft with each inch she took. “Holy— Fucking hell that feels good.” His last breath spilled out as a tortured groan. Sweat blistered over his skin as she finally seated herself to the hilt, rubbing her clit against his pelvic bone before she slowly pulled back up again. He watched as, inch by inch, his cock slid out and back in, over and over, as she rocked slowly against him.

  He had to touch her. He loosened his grip on her hip and slid one hand between them. His thumb rolled over her clit as his fingers caressed the edge of her pussy where they joined. A raw, lustful groan rumbled past her lips as her hips canted and flexed against his hand, a rush of silk spilling over his fingers. He brought them to his mouth, licking her taste from one before bringing the other to her mouth and tracing her open lips.

  “Taste yourself, fossa.” He watched as her tongue snaked out and ran along her bottom lip. “Taste what I taste when you come with my mouth on you.” His arms folded around her as she leaned down and invaded his mouth with her tongue, sharing even more of her flavor with him.

  Any restraint he possessed frayed beyond a few bare threads, and he rolled her beneath him. She cradled him between her thighs, her hips rocking into his as he took over their rhythm, sliding inside her deeper and deeper with each long stroke. It wasn’t enough. He would never get enough. Hooking his arm beneath her knee, he lifted her uninjured leg, gaining the angle he needed to feel the head of his cock tap against the end of her womb.

  “Ahhh!” Hot air rushed from her lungs as her back arched beneath him.

  “Open your eyes, Thalia.” He had to see her, to watch as he touched the place inside her that made her such an intricate part of him. This was more than hot, sweaty sex. Something inside him burned for her. Holy hell, he was falling hard for this woman.

  Folding his forearms under her shoulders, he cradled her beneath him and watched as her eyes filled with the same passion that had suddenly gripped his soul. She felt it too. He could see it; this profound connection binding them together in a way he could never comprehend. On his next inward thrust he stilled, holding himself deep inside her as an overwhelming awareness washed over him. For the first time in his life he understood what it was to make love to a woman, to feel the essence of another being as it slipped inside you and cradled your aching soul. He never believed it was possible to feel this whole, this complete. Not him. Not like this. A lone tear fell from the corner of her eye and he dipped his head, tasting the salty offering as he sipped it from her temple. Unable to remain still he moved inside her, his hips rolling slowly against hers, giving himself completely to her with each tender stroke. He wanted her to have this. To have him in a way no other woman had.

  His rhythm faltered as he felt the first subtle flutters of her climax ripple around him, sending a flash of electricity racing down his spine, straight to his balls. The blood in his veins sang with an edgy need as it rushed through his cock, the muscles in his arms and legs catching fire as he pumped into her harder and faster, each thrust pushing him closer and closer to the edge as he stared into her eyes. Her mouth opened on a silent scream, her inner walls tightening around him over and over, her nails sinking into the skin on his back as time after time he emptied himself, heart and soul, inside her. She would forever hold a part of him inside her. No matter where he went or how long he lived, a piece of him would always remain with her. Always.

  Light from the afternoon sun faded into dusk as he listened to her breathing, now slow and even against his chest. Eternity wouldn’t have been long enough for Grant to get used the feel of their naked and sated bodies tangled together on the sweat soaked sheets. When he knew she had fallen fast asleep, he carefully untangled himself from her long limbs and quietly padded to the control room down the hall, grabbing his jeans from the floor along the way.

  He’d never been one to count on fate to determine his next move, but he was no longer sure about his determination to investigate his suspicions about Thalia’s missing past. She was perfect the way she was. If he was right, he didn’t want her to relive something so vile. If he kept digging and found something, he was no longer sure he’d be able to tell her anyway. If Daniel hadn’t sent those files by the time he logged in, he would send him a message to hold off…for now. They had plenty of other problems to focus on.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grant stared at the single digit hovering above his inbox icon, unable to make his fingers click the button to open it. He didn’t need to open it to know the message was from Daniel. He should have known better than to trust fate with anything. She could be such a fucking bitch.

  He shoved the mouse away and slouched against the back of his chair. What were the odds he would find anything related to the branding mark he’d found on Thalia? Did he really want to spend the next few hours combing through countless vile pictures of helpless victims that probably had absolutely nothing to do with his suspicions, instead of holding the warm, incredibly naked woman in his bed? No. What right did he have to go picking through her personal life, digging up things best left buried? If she didn’t remember or care about it, why should he be the one to strip that away from her?

  None of the answers he gave himself numbed the nagging pull in his gut that eventually made him reach up and click on the box, opening the file Daniel had sent him. Different from the agency layout, it took him a few moments to navigate the files and find the victim profiles he’d been denied access to before. After opening the folder, what seemed like an infinite scroll of files popped up, each one labeled with an alphanumeric code. Christ, there must be hundreds.

  There was no way to tell which file contained the photos he was searching for, or if they contained any photos at all. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled his chair in closer as he prepared to dig in. It looked as if the next few hours were going to be spent looking through these victims’ own personal hell on earth while his idea of heaven was lying asleep just a few feet away.

  Fuck! His eyes drifted off the screen to the clock hanging on the wall above the bank of computers. Three fucking hours. Rubbing his eyes, he ignored the faint rumble in his stomach and opened yet another anonymous file. Three hours I’ve wasted combing through this filth. He’d seen and read about more carnage than any one human should be forced to endure.

  He’d been right about the press blowing smoke out of their collective asses. There wasn’t one picture or mention of branding in any of the files. That didn’t mean it hadn’t happened, just that they hadn’t yet found a victim with one. Of course, it could be Hector just hadn’t been into that kind of thing. Judging by some of the other shit he’d seen in the files, he was actually a bit surprised the sick bastard had stopped short of it. They would never know. Now that he was behind bars and Lucien was dead, the investigation was officially over and no one cared about finding the hundreds of kids that had fallen through the cracks. Case closed.

  He blindly clicked open the next file, scrubbing his hands over his face as he leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Why was he torturing himself with this? Thalia didn’t seem haunted by the things he imagined had been done to her...much. Dammit! His hands slapped the desk, knocking over a pile of file folders which had been stacked half-assed next to one of the computer towers. He reached to straighten the mess, the folders slipping from his fingers as his eyes locked onto the image displayed on the screen in front of him.

  What the fuck? The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and a chill raced along his arms as he reached out and touched the little freckle he knew so well. The dark, brown beauty mark rested a little lower on her cheek now, but there was no mistaking the bright, innocent, ice-blue eyes that stared back at him. Frantically cli
cking, Grant moved through the handful of pictures and clicked on the victim summary report…then froze. An eerie numbness slipped into his face and hands as he read the first line of information.

  Victim name: Natalie Janine Gregory. His heartbeat pounded against every pulse point in his body as his eyes devoured the rest of the missing person report. In all the time he’d spent with Daniel Gregory, he’d never once seen a picture of his missing daughter. He’d never even asked, and Daniel had never offered. The only time he’d ever given her a thought was when he repaid a favor by helping him protect the daughter of the man who had taken his.

  Is this really happening? How was it possible that the woman asleep not ten feet from where he stood, the woman he’d just made love to, the one woman in the world to wash up on his otherwise deserted island would be Daniel’s missing daughter? Holy fuck. His hands shook almost violently as he clicked through her profile and printed out each page. This was huge. If this was true, and as he watched the paper feed from the printer he knew without a doubt it was, then he was right. Son of a bitch! He couldn’t process the vile images that flashed through his thoughts of what she must have endured to have completely suppressed the memories of being taken and sold and…and…sonofabitch, I can’t even finish that thought.

  He had to get her out of there. How was he going to tell Daniel? Jesus Christ! He was a complete virgin to the kind of panic that ran like ice through his veins. How am I going to tell her? She was so hell bent and determined to get revenge for Issa… He froze as another wicked thought landed in front of all the others. Did Issa buy her? Every detail she had ever shared about her uncle replayed on fast forward as he paced the tiny room, desperate for some sort of life preserver to grab ahold of in order to keep from drowning in the sea of shit he suddenly found himself in. Everything she’d told him about the man seemed straight-up as far as him caring about her. Why would he tell her such an elaborate lie about her family? It didn’t make sense. Was it possible she had made it all up? Christ! Anything is possible at this point. But he didn’t think so. He was damn good at reading people, and she practically projected her every emotion and thought for the entire world to see. If she was knowingly lying about something like that he would know it.

  What a fucking mess. He gathered the printed file and rolled the papers into a tube, stuffing then into the waistband of his jeans. Too worked up to sit, he hovered over the desk as he downloaded the entire Morganti file onto another flash drive then wiped any traces from the computer before he shut it down.

  Dammit. He didn’t know which direction to go first. Did he try to sit Thalia down and…wait…Thalia…Nathalia…Natalie. I’m such a fucking idiot. He raised his hand, pulling his punch just before he slammed his fist through the control room door. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her before he had a plan in place. He wasn’t actually running on all ten cylinders at the moment, and he knew he had to be in command of every molecule in his body if he was going to keep her from bolting. No way in hell was this going to be easy for her to swallow. Fuck, he was practically gagging on it, and other than the fact he was pretty sure he was in love with her, it had nothing to do with him.

  Jauhar. It all came down to Jauhar. The odds were very much in favor of him being involved in her kidnapping, or at the very least the people who ran his trafficking organization. He had to get her as far away from that evil son of a bitch as possible. I’ll send her to Daniel’s. How much farther away could you get than Montana? Regardless of him being her father, he trusted Daniel. He and his spook friend Cade would protect her. With her safe and out of the way, he could deal with that scumbag himself without worrying about her. He shook his head and paced to the other side of the room. Getting her past customs would be easy enough with a private plane, but how the hell was he supposed to get her onto a plane to Montana without telling her what the hell was going on?

  Should he tell her, or should he tell Daniel first and let him tell her? They were strangers to each other. Maybe she would remember him once she saw him. He could pull up an old photo ID of Daniel and test her memory. He shook his head. That was a bad idea. He was probably the least equipped person on the planet to deal with the mental meltdown she could have if she did suddenly remember something.

  Fuck. He could stay there all night and torture himself trying to figure out the right way to do this, but no matter which way he decided to go it was going to suck all the way around. He might as well wake her up. The sooner he got her the hell out of there, the sooner he could put an end to this. They had the rest of their lives to figure out what came next.

  He opened the door and was headed to the bedroom when he saw the light from the kitchen shining into the other end of the hall. Had she gotten hungry and gone in search of dinner without him? He passed the bedroom door and crept toward the kitchen, an uneasy feeling churning in his gut. When he reached the end of the hall he peered around the corner. His shoulders fell as he took in the empty space. Where the hell is she?

  “Thalia?” He turned and paced back to the bedroom, finding both it and the bathroom empty. “Thalia? Where are you?” He ran back toward the other end of the house, that unfamiliar feeling of panic thrashing through his system. “Fossa, you’re scaring me. Where the…?” He stopped and turned back toward the small table where his laptop sat open. Fuck, no. He punched a button and the screen blipped on. Sonofabitch. The backpack was gone, along with his sat phone. He turned to see that her boots weren’t next to the back door where she’d taken them off earlier.

  No, fossa. Christ, they were in the middle of fucking safari land. She wouldn’t survive until dawn out there on her own. Shit! He sprinted back toward the bedroom and threw open a set of metal locker doors before he reached for the landline phone. He punched the speaker button and hit redial. Grabbing another backpack, he turned back to the lockers and began tossing in the things he knew he would need.

  “You know, calling me from the same number…”

  “Fuck it, D. I need you to run a GPS trace on my sat phone and link the coordinates to this receiver.” He grabbed another sat phone from the bank of chargers inside the locker and flipped it on. Rattling off the number, he tossed it in the pack. “Cancel the data search on the woman, but I still need everything you can get me on the tango.”

  “I take it you found another way into those files?” A series of beeps sounded over the line and he knew the trace had gone through. God help her if she’d made that call to Jauhar.

  “I got what I needed.” He spun the lock on his trunk and grabbed a case from the bottom. He’d have to leave the rest of his shit there and come back for it after he got her stashed away. The only way he was going to get her on that plane, outside of drugging her, was to spill everything and make her understand she didn’t have any other options. “I need you to book a private flight from Billings to Chennai, India, and email the itinerary details to this address.”

  After rattling off Daniel’s email address, he punched the speaker button and disconnected the call, not bothering to wait for Diver’s reply. His finger paused above the call button and he looked up at the clock. This was going to be one hell of a wake-up call. He hit the speaker button again and dialed his friend. As it rang through a series of sub-secure connections he laid the case on the desk and opened it up, pulling out his sniper rifle.

  “Gregory.” His friend’s raspy voice filled the room and Grant’s greeting froze on his tongue. This was it. There was no taking this back once it was out there.

  “What’s going on? Did you get the file?”

  He sunk into the chair as he stared at the phone, wishing there was an easier way to say it. There wasn’t, so he let the words slip past his lips. “I found her.” Silence rang loud through their connection and he could almost hear the doubt buzzing in his friend’s thoughts. “Daniel, did you hear me? I don’t have a lot of time. I found Natalie.”

  “Is—” Daniel cleared his throat, surprise and disbelief echoing in his voice. “Is she aliv
e?”

  “Yes.” Grant nodded as he loaded a full mag into his rifle and grabbed the extra magazines from the case. “Yes, she’s alive.”

  “I want to talk to her. Where is she?”

  He stuffed the magazines in his pack and stood, throwing the rifle sling over his shoulder. “It’s complicated.” He let the pack drop to the floor as he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. “She doesn’t remember anything, Daniel. She has no idea who she is. There’s a lot going on and she’s in a lot of trouble. I need you to get on a plane and get the hell over here. It’s not a good idea to go into too much detail on this line. I’ve already booked a private flight out of Billings. The travel details should already be in your inbox.”

  Grant waited as another long moment of silence passed. “Daniel, snap the fuck out of it. Do you understand? I need you to get on that fucking plane if you want to see her again.” He understood Daniel’s shock, but he didn’t have time for him to piece it together. She was out there in the dark on foot, surrounded by some of the most dangerous creatures on earth. No matter how good she was with a gun, she didn’t have enough bullets to stop even the smallest of them. Stubborn, foolish woman.

  “Is she there with you?”

  “No,” Grant barked and held back the groan of frustration that clawed at his insides. “But I know where she’s going. Daniel, I have to go!”

  “I’m on my way,” Daniel snapped into the phone before the line went dead.

  Thank fuck! Grant slammed the receiver down and swiped up the backpack. He made a short detour to the bedroom for a shirt and his boots before digging out the sat phone. Judging by her location, she had about a two hour head start. Shoving his pistol into his waistband, he rushed through the back door and slammed it closed behind him. He should be able to cut that time in half and hopefully get to her before she became a fresh meal for some other predator. Her ass is damn sure going to be mincemeat when I get my hands on her again.