Hook

by Delilah Devlin

  “He’s moved from the living room into the den. He’s unhooking the laptop from the monitor—and it’s in his bag. We’ve got him! Hook, Reaper, you can enter the front. Max, take the rear. And I’m notifying the sheriff’s office, now.”

  Reaper jerked his chin, indicating Hook could enter first.

  Hook sped up the steps and turned the doorknob. He pushed open the door a few inches, glanced around then slipped inside.

  “Den’s behind the staircase, to your left, Hook,” Monica said.

  He kept close to the side of the staircase and approached the door to the den. From inside the room, he heard a sound like a hammer.

  “Jesus, he’s chiseling the safe out of the wall. Let’s nail this bastard before he does any more damage. Take him.”

  Hook stood beside the doorway and called out, “Cameron Burns, we’ve got you surrounded. Raise your hands above your head.” He peeked around the corner to see Burns drop his tools and his hand move toward the holster.

  “He’s going for his gun,” Monica bit out.

  “Fucker,” Hook said under her breath and launched himself through the doorway, rolling to the side and coming up on one knee with his weapon trained on the man before his gun even cleared its holster. “Don’t, or I will shoot.”

  Cameron Burns froze, and his hands went midway up his sides. His wild gaze went from Hook to the door, and then to the window.

  “You’re surrounded, dumbass,” Hook ground out. “Get your fucking hands up!”

  Cameron’s gaze locked on something behind Hook. Likely Reaper, because his already wide eyes bugged. “You’re not police,” Burns said, frowning now.

  “Nope.”

  “Then you can’t do this. You got no right.”

  “You really gonna argue with us?” Reaper asked, sounding amused.

  “You’re trespassing,” Burns said, pointing his finger.

  “We’ve got the owner’s permission to be here, and cops are on the way. You can complain to them.”

  Hook glanced to the side at Reaper. “Cover me.” Then he stood and holstered his weapon. “Put your hands behind your head and lace your fingers together. I’m going to come closer, and my buddy here is going to keep his weapon trained on you. So, no funny moves.”

  Burns slowly raised his hands, but when Hook took a step his way, he suddenly jerked his arm downward.

  “I’ve got him!” Hook shouted and dove for Burns.

  “Shit!” Reaper’s voice came through the speakers.

  But Felicity’s gaze was glued to the jumbled images from Hook’s helmet as he tackled Cameron. Sounds like a mallet beating meat, savage curses, grunts, came as the image changed from Cameron on the floor to Cameron with the ceiling behind him, and then he was back on the floor. More thuds sounded, and Hook’s claw entered the picture clamping on Cameron’s nose.

  If she hadn’t been so terrified, she might have laughed.

  “Hand off the gun, asshole!”

  Cameron made mewling sounds, and blood spurted from his nose, but at last, his hands came into view. He was raising them.

  Then Hook shot upwards, and his weapon appeared, pointing downward. “Get on your fucking belly.”

  “I’ll cuff him.”

  “Reap, get out of my way.”

  The weapon disappeared, and Hook lowered. Metal snapped once. Twice.

  “He’s secure,” Hook said, his voice tight.

  Felicity glanced at Monica.

  Monica put her hand over the mike. “Go.”

  Felicity burst out of the van and ran toward the house. In the distance, she heard sirens. She slammed inside the house and ran past RIP’s two burly operatives, who stood outside the den. Once inside, she pushed past Reaper, who was holstering his weapon, and approached Hook, who had his hand wrapped around Cameron’s upper arm and was turning him toward the door.

  She shot Hook a glance, and he halted. Then she circled around to face Cameron, but the moment she did the questions she’d wanted to ask him didn’t matter anymore. As she looked at his surly expression, the snarl that twisted his mouth, she realized she’d never known him at all, and that the man had no love for his family. No love for anyone but himself. Without saying a word, she stepped back.

  Hook led him out the door and out of sight.

  Reaper approached her, but she shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse to her own ears.

  Outside, she watched as sheriff’s deputies took Cameron into custody. Monica stood outside the van, a tablet in her hand, while another deputy looked over her shoulder. No doubt she was showing him the feed from inside the house so there’d be no doubt about what had occurred.

  The flashing lights from the deputies’ cars lit up the night. Felicity watched everyone moving around, all with something to do. Someone to talk to. She crossed her arms and realized she was cold and shaking.

  It was over. The charges would be dropped against her and lodged against Cameron. She wasn’t going to jail again. She was free. But to do what? She didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

  A hand touched her shoulder—large, warm—and turned her. Without looking up, she walked into Hook’s open arms.

  Chapter 8

  Hook worried about Felicity the entire way back to Bear Lodge.

  Since he’d found her looking so lost, standing apart from everyone outside the mansion, she’d been quiet. After agreeing to report to the sheriff’s office the next morning to offer his statement, he’d walked Felicity back to his truck and bundled her into the passenger seat with a blanket he’d pulled from the back of his vehicle because she was shivering uncontrollably. And although it was a balmy night, he turned on the heat inside the SUV.

  He likely broke speed laws all the way back, because he was in a hurry to get her home and alone. To strip her of her clothing and pull her into bed, where he’d hold her, skin to skin, to give her comfort. Nothing more.

  At the hotel, he led her, her hand clasped inside his, to their rooms. Then he sat her on the side of the bed. He noted that her lips were a little blue. “Stay,” he said softly, and went to the bathroom to draw a bath.

  When the tub was full, he removed her clothes, working as efficiently as he could, no lingering touches, although the temptation was there. Once he helped her into the tub, he left and made her a cup of hot tea laced with three sugar packets. When he returned, he handed her the cup and sat on the floor beside the tub. Just to keep her company, so she’d know she wasn’t alone.

  She sat in the water for a long time, holding the cup between her hands, with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. He didn’t mind. Whatever she needed, he’d give.

  At last, she stirred and took several sips from the cup. In profile, her lips trembled. The sight almost broke his heart.

  “I thought I wanted to yell at him. Hit him. But when I stood in front of him, I just felt…empty.”

  “He isn’t worth your anger,” he murmured.

  She turned her head, and her deep green gaze met his. “I don’t know what’s next,” she whispered.

  “Do you mean, for us?”

  She nodded.

  “Everything, Felicity. The whole wide world. Whatever you want.”

  Her expression remained remote, but after a moment, she sat up and handed him the cup. Then she scooted toward the middle of the tub and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I want you to join me.”

  He drew a long, deep breath. Of course, he’d known that at some point they’d share a bath, a shower. That he’d have to shed his prosthetic. He’d hoped for more time, so that she didn’t see the arm, just…him.

  He stood and stripped, and when he was nude, he faced her and shrugged off the loop around his left shoulder, then pulled off the apparatus that allowed him to mimic being whole. Lastly, he tugged off the sock.

  Her gaze swept his stump, and then she patted the side of the tub. “Come.”

  With his belly churning, he stepped into the tub behind her and sank,
stretching his legs on either side of her body in the narrow space. When he settled against the back of the tub, she gripped the sides and lay back against his chest. “Hold me.”

  He put his left arm around her waist.

  “Both arms, Hook.”

  Feeling a little shaky inside, he placed his shortened limb beneath her arm and slid it slowly around her belly.

  She snuggled against him, turning slightly to her right side, and then lifted his stump in both hands. She cupped it between both of hers. When she traced the long, ugly scar across the bottom with her thumb, he couldn’t help letting out a trembling breath. When she bent closer to run her lips over the pocked scarring from the shrapnel that had torn off his forearm, the backs of his eyes burned.

  Felicity tilted her head toward his. “Dylan, I don’t care that you don’t have a hand. Sure, I’m sorry you went through so much pain, and that you face so many inconveniences. I simply and truly don’t care whether you have one hand or no hands. You aren’t any less a man.”

  Her words stunned him. In that moment, he was incapable of replying. His jaw was too tense for him to open it.

  “Dylan…”

  She said it so softly, he had to lean closer. He swallowed the lump in his throat to rasp, “Yes, baby?”

  She drew a delicate breath, closed her eyes, then said, “I love you.”

  Hook’s chest expanded outward as he drew a deep breath. He cupped the side of her face with his palm and kissed her.

  She loves me. Joy so profound it left him shaken swept through him.

  He knew she needed a response. She kept her eyes closed, waiting, like she expected to be disappointed.

  “Fel…” He kissed her nose, her cheek, her chin, then he settled onto her mouth and stroked deep inside. When he pulled back, he said, “Look at me.”

  She shook her head and squeezed her eyelids tighter. A tear fell from one corner. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Baby, please.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze locked with his.

  “I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he said, stroking his thumb over her pretty mouth. “I didn’t want you to feel rushed, or…” he wrinkled his nose because he wasn’t sure he knew the right word, “…beholden…to me. Because I’ve been here, protecting you, looking over you. I knew you were scared.” Another tear fell, and he wiped it away. “But I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  He drew a deep breath then said the words he’d never said to another woman… “I love you, too.”

  She let out a small sob and turned fully in his arms, her knees digging into his thighs, but he didn’t care where they hit, not when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Later, they lay in the middle of the bed, their skin cooling after making love in the bath. He grinned in the darkness, because she’d said ‘I love you’ over and over as she’d come, and the sound had echoed around him, filling all the empty places inside him.

  Her hand moved slowly over his chest, up and down; her fingernails lightly scratched his skin. “I think Monica’s going to offer me a job.”

  “You can take your time, if you like, looking for work. I can support us.” He rather liked the idea of providing for her. He was also sure that Fetch would find little projects for her, if she wanted the work. Brian could certainly use the help. He was uncertain how he felt about her working for Monica and her mysterious organization.

  “I won’t take it if the commute’s too far.”

  Now, he felt a twinge of guilt. She assumed she’d be the one to have to make all the adjustments. “If it is far, and this is work you want to do, we’ll find a place closer to RIPs offices. I can commute.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Haven’t I proven I’d do anything for you?”

  “Hmmm.” Her hand made another swipe, this time lower on his belly.

  “You sound doubtful,” he said smiling, because he knew she was moving lower on purpose.

  “It’s just, you’ve given me everything. Shouldn’t you expect some sacrifice from me in return?”

  “I don’t expect sacrifices, babe.”

  “What do you expect?”

  Her fingers brushed the base of his cock, and his breaths deepened. “I expect you to be truthful with me, always.”

  “Do you expect obedience?”

  “If I did, sweetheart, you’d have been in trouble today,” he said wryly.

  “You were awfully angry…”

  He heard the smile in her voice and knew exactly what she was angling for…

  “You’re right, I was. And if today hadn’t been so important to you, I would have punished you for being so…disobedient.”

  “Oh…”

  She sounded disappointed.

  “However, on second thought, maybe I shouldn’t give you the impression I’ll be so easy going forward.”

  “I don’t know whether I like the sound of that,” she said, although she sounded breathless. “What do you consider a fitting punishment?”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know. It has to be something equal to the seriousness of your…crimes.”

  “I did escape Brian’s custody. And I stole your 4Runner.”

  “You came to a stakeout for a very dangerous criminal.”

  She gave a little snort.

  Okay, so maybe that one was a stretch. “The form of punishment should be something that leaves an impression.”

  “Or five…”

  She’d said that in a tiny, strained voice, and Hook nearly laughed. Oh, Felicity, be careful what you wish for...

  Felicity wondered if he had a clue how turned on she was. The tips of her nipples were as hard as little metal spikes, and she was so wet between her legs that moisture had leaked onto her inner thighs.

  The thought of him spanking her tantalized. She’d never been spanked. Not even as a child. He was such a sweet man. She knew the only reason he considered doing it was because he cared about her. And while the feminist part of her, the ex-soldier who’d never let a man look down on her because of her size or gender, was appalled at the idea—the sex-kitten he’d awakened was ready to give a very loud meow.

  “We should probably get this over with,” he said, his voice gruffer than before.

  She rolled away. “I’m ready,” she said in a very small voice, as though she was dreading this.

  He coughed, and then sat on the side of the bed. He flicked on the lamp.

  When he patted his thigh, as though calling a dog, her instinctive reaction was to hiss.

  “No stalling. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can put this past us.”

  For some reason, his voice sounded a little garbled.

  She rose from her side of the bed and walked around to him. His expression was set, but his laser eyes were sharp as they watched her approach. Feeling awkward, she crouched then stretched herself over his thighs. She steadied herself by reaching out for the nightstand and the side of the mattress.

  His large, hot hand settled on her bottom. She couldn’t help the quiver that worked its way through her body. Anticipation, she knew. “Like I said, I’m ready.” She winced because she sounded impatient.

  She felt his cock bob against her belly. It was hard. Where it touched felt cool, as though he’d left moisture on her skin. She glanced over her shoulder and discovered that his expression was no longer stony. His skin was reddened. His chest rose and fell quickly. Was he aroused at the thought of punishing her? Should she be worried about that?

  But before she had a chance to follow that particular thought, he lifted his hand and swatted her bottom. Not hard, although by the sound of the slap it should have stung.

  “How guilty are you feeling?”

  His voice was almost a purr. A deep rasp that excited her more than it should have. “Not particularly,” she said, her tone defiant.

  Another slap landed, this one harder, and she gasped. The sting
was exquisite. She braced apart her legs because her sex was hot and swelling, and she needed to cool it in the air.

  Another and another smack landed. Different spots, and this time, afterward, he rubbed her skin with his palm, soothing her. “Now, Fel, are you sorry for what you did?”

  “So, sorry!” she blurted, because her back was arching, and her nipples tingled.

  His palm slid down the center of her buttocks and below. “Baby, you’re wet.” Fingers traced her slit and sank inside her.

  She arched harder and flung back her head. “Dylan!”

  Hook moved her off his thighs then stood. His hand guided her to bend over the mattress. His feet nudged hers farther apart, widening her stance, and forcing her to rise on her toes.

  The next sensation had her reaching out to fist the bedding. His tongue stroked through her folds. This was punishment? She rubbed her breasts against the coverlet while he latched his mouth around her clitoris and sank two thick digits inside her. Lord, what she would have given to see this, a spectator to her own ravishment. No other word could describe what he was doing.

  He held her open and exposed. He penetrated with his tongue.

  When his teeth grazed her clit, she sobbed.

  “Are you sorry, Fel?” he whispered.

  “Yes, yes,” she cried out.

  He withdrew and urged her onto the mattress. She crawled forward then went still when he caught her hips. She braced herself on her arms and widened her knees. When he prodded her with his cock, she bucked backward to meet him.

  But he evaded her, smacking her bottom in warning.

  She froze as he slid his cock along the center of her folds. She bit her lip to keep from complaining as he teased. When he drew backward, she held her breath, not letting it go until he nudged her center, once, then twice, and then pushed slowly against her slick flesh until the head submerged.

  Her arms trembled, and she dropped to her elbows.

  His hold wasn’t particularly gentle as he gripped the side of her hip and plunged inside her.

  Felicity was sure she bleated when he rushed inside. Then she pressed her forehead against the bed as he stroked deeper and harder, his grip adjusting, pulling her backward, pushing her forward. She rocked, captured in his rough embrace, glorying in the fact he was losing control, and his movements were quickening.