Striking Distance

by Debra Webb

  “Why are you following me?”

  She took a moment to catch her breath. “Because I have to stop you.”

  He charged up to her, didn’t even bother to draw his weapon from his shoulder holster. But then, he was a lot bigger than her. She held her ground, refused to let him see her uneasiness.

  “That’s not going to happen. Don’t try to pretend you’re not afraid of me,” he murmured. “I know you are.”

  “I’ve had sufficient training to give you a run for your money if you want to go hand-to-hand,” she shot right back, hoping like hell she wouldn’t have to back that up.

  He laughed softly. “I can see your pulse fluttering. You’re definitely scared.”

  She touched her throat, had forgotten how well he could see in the dark. She parked her hands on her hips. “How do you know it’s fear?” She couldn’t be sure of the exact timing of Lucas’s and Victoria’s departure. Keeping him away from Victoria’s private residence for as long as possible was essential. Not to mention it would keep him alive. The last word she’d heard, Lucas’s men had been ordered to take him out.

  A beat of silence passed. Her tension escalated to an unbearable level in that one moment.

  “Your cover is blown, Agent North,” he taunted. “No need to keep up the pretense. You don’t have to pretend to be attracted to me any longer.”

  “Who says I was pretending?” Her heart was racing all over again, only this time it had nothing to do with having to run like hell to keep up with him. It was hard to believe that she’d just watched him kill a man—lowlife bastard though he was—and still he could make her respond to him this way.

  She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she knew she’d given him pause. She could sense his hesitation…his need to pursue the issue. But he never catered to his own needs.

  “Stay away from me,” he growled. “If you know what’s good for you, stay away from me.”

  She didn’t hesitate. When he walked away this time, she followed him again. How else was she supposed to get out of here, anyway?

  When they reached his SUV, he glared at her once more before climbing inside. Not about to back off now, she glared right back and climbed in herself.

  She stared at the vacant house while he shoved the keys into the ignition.

  “Last chance,” he said quietly. “Get out while you still can.”

  She looked at the digital clock on his dash—

  11:00 p.m. Surely Lucas and Victoria were gone by now. She could very well get out…she’d done the only thing necessary to fulfill her mission. She’d kept him out of the way while they escaped. Though she hadn’t been able to lead Lucas to…

  Leberman was dead.

  The realization penetrated the confusing layers of emotion that had wrapped around her good sense. He was dead. She had to get word to Lucas. That bastard was dead…would never bother them again.

  But then there was Seth. He was hell-bent on killing Victoria for her part in what happened to him. A part of Tasha understood what he felt…but she knew the truth. How could she make him see that truth? What could she do to ensure a safe conclusion to this assignment?

  Victoria’s son was alive.

  She should have the opportunity to know him…to make everything right.

  But if he had his way that would never happen.

  His mother would die.

  Somehow she had to keep that from happening.

  Since she made no move to get out, he started the vehicle and backed out into the street.

  He drove in silence until he pulled into the parking lot of a gas station not unlike the one Martin had lured her to. That felt like a lifetime ago. Would he want her back, knowing she’d screwed up so badly here? Then again, Lucas had told her she had a job. She pushed away the thoughts. All she could think about right now was the moment.

  The gas station was closed, ruling out the possibility of a fueling stop, since the pumps were the old-fashioned kind that didn’t accept credit cards.

  “Why are we stopping here?”

  He didn’t answer. He simply got out and walked around to her door. He opened it and barked an order. “Get out.”

  With a roll of her eyes and a huff of disgust, she obeyed. Somebody needed to teach this guy some manners. He opened the door to the men’s room and ushered her inside.

  Even in the dark she imagined the worst about the place. The smell wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, but bleach would camouflage most anything and the bleach smell was damn strong. He flipped on the light and she was relieved to see that the bathroom was actually halfway clean, which was so not what she needed to worry about right now.

  When he unzipped his jeans she cursed under her breath and gave him her back. He couldn’t have taken a leak in the woods where it was dark? She huffed in frustration. Maybe not…the police had been headed their way.

  He ignored her sounds of protest, simply did his business. She tried to block the sound of him taking a piss, but it just didn’t work.

  She knew this wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he just disposed of her? Gotten her out of his way? He knew her intentions and yet he allowed her to live. No matter how he denied it, there was some kind of weird connection between them, and it wasn’t just the sex. She wished she could understand it. The toilet flushed and the water in the basin came on. She turned around and watched as he washed the blood from his wrists and hands. The cuts her bindings had made were nasty, but he didn’t even flinch. She wondered if he’d learned to ignore the pain when Leberman punished him. Had he ignored all the other atrocities he’d suffered in much the same way?

  She blocked the vivid mental images the words echoing inside her head evoked. Just the thought of all that he’d suffered made her insides quake with emotion. Victoria would be devastated when she learned the truth. No matter how this ended, both of them would suffer. But there could be light at the end of the tunnel…if he’d only listen to her, open up fully to her. Trust her.

  He tossed the paper towel he’d used to dry his hands into the trash, then gestured to the toilet. “It might be a while before we see another one.”

  “No, thanks.”

  She studied his eyes, his face. How could she get through to him? Could anything touch him at this point?

  He reached for the door but she snagged his hand, her pulse leaping at the contact. “Does it hurt?” She turned his hand over, inspecting the damage he’d done freeing himself. “Must have hurt like hell,” she murmured. If he hadn’t gotten free, Leberman might have killed her before she could kill him.

  He pulled his hand away. “Don’t start anything you’re not prepared to finish.”

  Did her touch have that effect on him? She definitely felt something when he touched her…. What difference did it make? She would never be able to get through to him. She definitely wasn’t qualified to analyze this guy. She had to stop thinking that way.

  She turned her back on him and reached for the door herself. There was nothing she could say to that remark. She wasn’t prepared to go there again…didn’t trust herself to hold on to any semblance of perspective and go there.

  “I guess reality dampened your case of the hots for me,” he accused. She didn’t miss the edge in his voice. She’d hurt him somehow by turning away.

  She did an immediate about-face. “Do you want to know the truth? Do you think you can handle the truth?” she challenged.

  Anger slashed across his face, but he tamped it down. “Don’t play with me, Tasha.”

  She couldn’t stop the shiver that trembled through her at the sound of her name on his lips. “The truth is that hearing about your past made me sad for the little boy you used to be. Made me wish I could do something to change it. But I can’t. Nothing I could say or do is going to change how twisted you are. But none of that has anything to
do with how I feel about the man standing in front of me.”

  She watched that wall go up as he went on guard.

  “I hate what you do,” she told him bluntly. “You’re a cold-blooded killer. But there’s still something decent inside you, and that part cries out to me. I can feel it.” She peered into those ice-cold eyes. “I can almost touch it. Don’t bother denying it, I know it’s there…just waiting to break free.”

  He forked the fingers of his left hand into her hair and pulled her close. “The only thing crying out for you is right here.” He pressed her hand against his crotch. “Can you handle that truth?”

  She lifted her chin in defiance of his challenge. He needed the contact. Had just killed his long-term caretaker. He needed her even if he would never admit it. “I can handle it, but we do it my way this time.” As much as she knew she shouldn’t let this happen, it would delay his discovery that Victoria was now out of his reach. It would… help him forget.

  He shrugged. “As long as your way is right now.” His mouth claimed hers. He kissed her so hard it hurt.

  She pushed him away and shook her head. “Not like that.” She tiptoed and kissed him softly. “Like this.” She kissed him again and again, feather-soft kisses. He resisted at first, hating the very idea of doing things her way. But then he relented, gave himself up to the temptation she offered.

  Forcing all else from her mind, she put everything she had into kissing him. She wanted him to know how it felt to really be kissed, sweetly, passionately…tenderly.

  He responded in kind, gentling the pressure of his lips, moving more slowly, mimicking her moves. His hands moved under her blouse…found her breasts and squeezed hard. She drew back and murmured, “Not so rough.”

  He tensed briefly, then lightened his touch. She let him hear how much his touching her that way pleased her. He released the buttons of her blouse quickly, fumbling once or twice, and then he laved her bare breasts with his mouth. She closed her eyes and groaned with the pleasure of it. He sucked urgently, but not to the point of pain as he had before. He dropped to his knees and unfastened her jeans and dragged them downward, along with her panties. She toed off her shoes and kicked free of the garments he’d peeled down to her ankles.

  He tongued her navel, then lapped her skin. Slowly, surely driving her out of her mind and making a path to her sex, spreading her legs until his mouth was centered where he could thrust his tongue inside. Every thrust grew stronger, more impatient as her legs quivered beneath her. She plunged her fingers into his hair and urged on his ministrations.

  Her whole body verged on climax. She couldn’t stop panting…couldn’t catch her breath… Then he stopped. Sat back on his heels and just looked at her.

  She made a desperate sound. “You can’t stop now,” she pleaded. She closed her eyes. Damn, she was so close. Her heart pounded even harder in protest.

  He dragged her hand to where she was burning up with slick heat for him. “Finish it. I want to watch you come.”

  She laughed, a breathless sound. “I…need you to—”

  “Finish it,” he ordered, his eyes aglow with blue heat.

  She flattened her spine against the cool metal of the door and groaned. She was so close…and he was watching her so intently. A ghost of a smile tipped one corner of his mouth, and victory claimed his expression. “Can’t do it, huh?”

  He thought he’d won…had turned the tide.

  No way.

  She touched herself and gasped at the sensitivity. He had her so close that any contact would likely set her off. Oh, yes, she could do this. She squeezed her eyes shut and slid her fingers into the heated flesh…lost herself to the rhythm. Her free hand fisted in the cotton of her blouse as she strained to reach that elusive pinnacle he’d brought her to the very crest of. And then she flew over the edge. Her body stiffened then quivered as wave after wave of sensation washed over her.

  When the last of the release had shuddered through her, her eyes opened to find him still watching.

  She sighed and shook her head. “You bastard, now you’re going to pay.”

  He pushed upward to his full height, going for intimidation, but she was way past being intimidated.

  She unbuttoned his shirt, revealed his scarred chest and relished the feel of his warm flesh beneath her palms. “Sit down,” she ordered. She pushed him back toward the toilet.

  He sat without much persuasion, his curiosity piqued.

  She straddled his lap and pressed herself intimately to him. The bulge in his jeans told her he was doing a little suffering of his own.

  Carefully tracing every line and mark on his flesh, she kissed him repeatedly. His mouth, his eyes, his chiseled jaw. Too many places to remember, all the while she rocked against his hardened sex. Finally, when he’d had all he could take, he drew her back to look him in the eyes.

  “This isn’t enough,” he said breathlessly.

  “It’ll have to be enough,” she threatened. “Or maybe you want to finish it yourself.”

  Those blue eyes closed as she pressed against him yet again. “No,” he growled, the sound strangled. He reached beneath her and unfastened his jeans, pulled his throbbing penis from its confines. “I need…” He lost his voice…groaned as she lightly rubbed herself against his tip.

  “You need what?”

  “You,” he confessed in desperation.

  She smiled. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

  That hot, hard flesh touched her, and a ripple of pleasure went through her. She lifted her hips slightly, while he positioned himself. She let her weight down just a fraction, bringing him inside an inch or two. She moaned with the exquisite feel of him, but she held on to control, resisting the urge to sink down fully onto that incredibly hot length.

  He arched upward but she reacted too quickly, not allowing him additional penetration. A ragged breath hissed from between his clenched teeth.

  She kept up the game a while longer, easing down an inch, then lifting until she couldn’t stand it any longer…until he visibly shook with need. Then she plunged downward, sheathing him fully inside her. His startled gasp almost sent her over the edge again.

  She kissed him…softly, as she set a slow, steady pace of rising and falling…of squeezing and tugging. When he came, his whole body jerked with the force of it and he cried out her name. She followed him over that edge, her climax so powerful her chest ached with the gravity of it.

  He held her for a long while after that, the feel of his heart beating bringing a new rush of tears to her eyes.

  Somehow she knew that this moment was a first for him. The way he held her…awkwardly almost. He didn’t know how to do this…how to relate on this level.

  It would be morning soon, and then he’d know that Victoria and Lucas were gone.

  That moment was one she had no idea how to control.

  She just hoped they all survived it.

  CHAPTER 37

  Tasha watched the sun rise from the darkness of the SUV. Seth had parked in a position where he could watch Victoria Colby’s private residence from the neighboring residential area. A few more minutes, an hour tops, and he would realize that something was wrong. How fitting that it was Halloween. A holiday celebrating the dead. A group they would both likely join before the day was up.

  She glanced at his profile now. A fresh wave of emotion flooded her. Each time she thought of what he’d experienced as a child she wanted to weep.

  Lucas had shown her that grainy photograph in the beginning, had estimated his age at thirty, but that was wrong. Seth, James Colby Jr., was a mere twenty-five years old. But he looked several years older. The cruelty Leberman had dealt him was engrained in his very flesh. The scars, the memories he carried of each one, the damage to his state of mind were unfathomable. There were ways, she knew, to deal w
ith that kind of damage, but it would be a long, drawn-out process. Leberman had likely used a form of intensive brainwashing. He’d instilled a certainty in Seth that his parents didn’t love or want him. That they were evil. The little boy had forgotten any memories he’d made with his family; those memories had been replaced with sheer hatred and terror. He’d been punished every day of his life for his parents’ perceived sins.

  Was it possible to overcome such abuse? Years and years of physical and mental torture that accumulated like the dust on an air filter, eventually, if unchecked, clogging the system, shutting it down. She now understood why he had killed Leberman. Though the man had held immense power over him as a child and even to some extent as he became a man, Seth reached a point where Leberman no longer controlled him. The two men had simply shared a common goal—the destruction of the Colbys. That common goal had dragged out the relationship when it would have otherwise ended.

  If the house at Oak Park was, as she suspected, the one Leberman had used to hold him hostage as a child, the memories it evoked in Seth might have pushed him closer to the edge. Might have given him the necessary determination to end Leberman’s control once and for all.

  The part she couldn’t begin to comprehend was how to awaken those old memories of his seven years with his family before Leberman. If she could just reach that place somehow. Make him see how much they’d loved him, maybe—just maybe—some emotion would surface and strike a chord of recognition…alter his course.

  Every bit of it was nothing but speculation. She was not a psychiatrist just a psychology major. She understood to a degree the workings of the human psyche, but there was a lot more involved than her minimal understanding could encompass. What she did know with complete certainty was that she had to find a way to let Lucas know that Leberman was dead. To make sure he knew who Seth really was.

  The police. She suddenly remembered the sirens at the lake house. They would have found Leberman’s body. Lucas would know by now, she felt certain.