by Devlin Chase
And there he was; standing in a pool of shadows, barely visible in the poor light.
“Shit,” Cat muttered under her breath as she ducked around the tree, her back pressed painfully against the rough bark. Panic fluttered in her throat and her eyes darted around, trying to find a quick escape route in case he approached.
Had he seen her enter the Barnard’s property? Did he know they were away on holiday?
The questions tumbled around in her head as she raised a shaky hand to push her hair back from her forehead.
She waited for hands to reach around the tree and grab her; for the wail of a siren to announce that the cops had arrived.
But the night remained quiet and finally she hazarded a quick glance around the tree trunk.
He was standing in the same spot, still staring in her direction and from her new vantage point she could see him more clearly.
Dressed in black trousers and a long black coat, he looked more like an executive than a man out walking his neighborhood in the middle of the night. She couldn’t see much of his face, only smooth chiseled cheeks and dark shadowed eyes; eyes that appeared to be staring right at her. She ducked back around the tree.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
The expletives bubbled out of her as breathless panic flooded her veins.
The way he was standing there, staring at her, there was no way he lived in one of the houses that lined the street. And if he didn’t live in the neighborhood then he must have followed her from the restaurant.
And, if he’d followed her from the restaurant, then it meant he’d known what she’d been planning to do; which meant he had to be cop.
Breathing quickly Cat scanned around her once more. Her car was parked around the corner and the escape route she’d thought of earlier wouldn’t get her any closer to the vehicle. The only way to get to her car quickly would be simply to carry on down the street, trying to keep to any bushes or trees along the way and hope that he couldn’t make her out in the darkness. It was either that or step out from behind the tree and simply make a run for it.
She was still deciding what to do when his footsteps made the decision for her. As she heard him approach she took a deep breath and pushed away from the tree. It was time to go.
As she slipped around the tree she met the solid wall of his chest and instinctively raised her hands against the contact.
How the hell had he covered the distance between them so fast?
There was no time to think as his hands reached out and gripped her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if it was to contain her or simply to stop her from falling over. Either way, she resisted instantly, trying to pull back out of his hands; hands which burned through her clothing and seemed to sear her skin.
He pulled her closer and she caught the faint hint of cinnamon in the air between them. Then she was struggling in his grasp, using all of her weight to try and break his hold on her. But his strong hands wouldn’t budge although he seemed to be holding her with little effort. There was no pain in her arms where he had hold of her, but rather a warm numbness that was oddly comforting….
“Catherine.”
For a second Cat imagined that she could hear her name inside her head, rather than on the cold evening air. She was suddenly aware of his physical presence, overwhelmed by sheer masculinity.
God, he’s tall, she thought as all thought of fleeing suddenly left her and she felt an overwhelming urge to lean in toward him; to bring her hands up to the broad expanse of his chest…
What the hell was she thinking? The guy had just caught her red-handed and she was seriously wondering what it would feel like to touch him?
Straining against his hands, Cat finally managed to yank her arms out of his grasp; nearly stumbling onto her ass as he released her. Then she took a faltering step backward as they stared at each other. She became aware of the cold, pluming jets of white mist filling the space between them as she took another ragged breath. The night had chilled rapidly although he seemed untouched by the cold, the planes of his face hard and unyielding as he watched her with eyes that burned despite still being shadowed in darkness. Coiled tension radiated from him, an animal ready to pounce.
This is it, she thought as she glanced down either side of the street. Nobody seemed to have noticed the ruckus going on in the street and no lights had come on in any of the windows. This was going to be her only chance at escape.
Eying the man warily she took another quick step backward and, as he made no move to advance, she took it as a good sign as she pivoted and launched herself down the street.
There was no hiding or creeping among the line of bushes or trees this time, simply an all-out dash down the road, her boots hard against the tarred surface. Before she reached the corner she hazarded a glance over her shoulder, seeing that he’d made no move to follow her. Instead he’d moved to stand beneath a streetlight, his stance all the more menacing as the light hit the folds of his coat, making him appear even taller and darker.
“Catherine.”
This time she wasn’t even going to try and convince herself that his voice had carried all the way down the street. No, it sounded just the same as it had earlier; resounding gently in her head. This time she could even detect the hint of exasperation in his tone.
“Man, I’m freaking myself out here,” she muttered under her breath as she tore around the corner, cutting him from sight. She hurried toward her car, parked in the shadow offered by a large electrical maintenance shed surrounded by tall bushes. She slowed only to reach under her sweater and pull back the Velcro cover of the travel pouch strapped around her waist. Her fingers, numbed by the cold, fumbled until she found her car keys and she yanked them out, feeling them resist for a moment and causing the larger loot-filled pocket at her back to pull painfully tight. With a final tug they came free as, still running, she pushed the pouch around, moving the bulging pocket to her side as she reached the car.
Her fingers were shaking as she fumbled the key in the lock, finally managing to open the door. She nearly fell into the driver’s seat with relief and then remembered to check for the man behind her. As she turned and stared out at the street corner she could see nothing out of the ordinary; no tall dark-clad figure coming around the corner into the light. Thankfully there were no voices in her head either.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached out to close the door behind her, keeping her eyes on the corner as she hit the auto lock button on the door. Still there was no sign of him and she barked out a nervous laugh as she started to turn back to the wheel, already reaching with the key for the ignition.
The laughter died on her lips as her throat seized up. Then it unlocked as a scream filled the car, reverberating painfully around the small space. It took her a moment to realize that she was the one screaming and she clamped a hand over her mouth, cutting off the sound as she stared out of the front windscreen, her eyes wide and unblinking.
He was standing directly in front of the car, long tapered fingers resting on the hood as he leaned forward to peer into the car at her. She could see his face properly for the first time and could only stare at his eyes; eyes such a vivid shade of blue that she knew could only be unnatural, especially at this time of night when they should look dark, no matter what color they were. The irrational thought came to her that they would look blindingly beautiful in the daylight, iridescent in sunlight. He looked only a few years older than herself, gorgeously sensual in the way that only great genes and a ton of money could provide. In fact he looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ.
Yeah, she thought irrationally, Keanu Reeves comes to Pretoria; just a bigger, more ripped version.
Then she blinked and found herself staring at nothing but the road ahead of her, her hand still clamped against her mouth. She blinked again and the empty road was still there; no sign of the man outside her car. Turning the rearview mirror frantically she scanned the back of the vehicle, finding nothing but deserted street behi
nd her. Unconvinced, she turned and peered over the headrest, breathing easier when there was still no sign of anyone around the car. The corner was as deserted as it had been before and she breathed deeply for a moment before she turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life and shattering the pervasive silence around her.
“I’m going mad,” she breathed as she strapped the seatbelt across her chest and slammed the car into gear.
She pulled away from the curb quickly, too quickly, and she winced as the tires squealed. But she gripped the wheel tightly and kept her eyes on the road as she high-tailed it out of the neighborhood, glancing only once in the mirror to check if he was following her. But the street remained dark and, as Cat turned the corner, she breathed a little easier.
He obviously hadn’t seen her license plate number, although that thought gave her little comfort as she drove home, taking the car along a circuitous route before reaching the highway.
If he knew her name then he knew more about her than just what type of car she drove. She was in deep shit and she had a feeling that her troubles were just beginning.
By the time she reached her apartment Cat was exhausted. The ride home had been tense, the car weaving down narrow roads in an erratic pattern she’d hardly been aware of; her hands clasped around the steering wheel while her eyes had stayed stubbornly on the road ahead.
As she closed the door behind her she collapsed against it, her breathing ragged. Without even being aware of what she was doing, she reached behind her and turned the key in the lock before slamming the deadbolts home on the intrusion barrier she’d had installed months before.
When she was sure she’d manage the walk across the room to the kitchen she pushed away from the door. A few minutes later she had a cold bottle of Valpre in her hand and was marching into the bedroom, heading for the bathroom.
Her legs suddenly buckled and she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, the plastic bottle rolling away from her across the carpet. Thankfully it was still closed; she didn’t think she had the strength to actually reach for it.
She sat there unmoving, not sure how much time had passed before she woke from her stupor and shakily climbed to her feet. Then she headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting until steam filled the room before dropping the lid on the toilet and sitting to strip off her boots. Reaching underneath her long-sleeved top she tore the travel pouch from her waist, hearing Velcro rip. She laid it gently on top of the cistern before shucking her clothes, dumping them in a heap on the floor before she opened the shower door and stepped inside.
As the water beat against her back she leaned against the tiled wall, her face blank as her mind took her back to the house she had robbed only…how long had it been? An hour? Less than two?
She was shocked to discover that too many events of the past few hours were hazy. She had vague recollections of the house, the cozy décor and the items she’d stolen and tucked into the travel pouch.
Instead, the only image that came to her clearly was that of the stranger who’d very nearly caught her. She saw him as clearly as if he were in front of her now; the gleam in his piercing eyes, the sensual curve of his mouth. She could still feel the warm grip of his hands on her arms and the heady desire she’d felt to simply step closer into what she knew would have turned into an embrace.
Behind her closed eyelids electric eyes bore into hers, backlit by a glow that had nothing to do with the streetlights. The image of him hung in front of her, never wavering in its detail.
He was tall. She’d noticed that about him before but now, in memory, she could fully appreciate him. And there was no doubt that what she was staring at was all male.
He was easily six feet four inches tall, his shoulders broad and his waist tapered. He had a muscular body, lean and firm.
Like a swimmer, she thought, not sure how she knew this; he’d been dressed in black in dark shadows and she’d only had a fleeting glimpse of him. But, as she studied him now she could almost see the hard muscles that rippled beneath the tight, long-sleeved black shirt he wore beneath the coat.
His belly was lean and tapered, his thighs strong and muscled in his…Dear God, he’d been wearing black leather pants.
His complexion was bronzed and that surprised her somewhat. It was dark after all and nobody glowed golden in the dark unless….
“Catherine.”
Before she could ponder too much about why she was suddenly seeing him so clearly, his voice swept across the void between them and the scent of cinnamon came to her again. Her head felt fuzzy, like when you get a cold and felt the first flushes of fever rattling through your brain.
She knew this was just her mind rambling, fantasizing, but she wanted to lean into him, pull the scent of him deeper into herself. But even as she swayed forward he seemed to recede, the distance between them remaining constant.
She felt warmth at her back and knew he had his arm around her, slipping it under the hem of her leather jacket, his hand splayed across the small of her back and causing a tingle to race along her spine in both directions, spearing her mind and bringing a gasp to her lips even as the tingle reached the junction of her thighs, lodging in her core as a sudden warmth flooded her.
“Catherine.”
She swayed again, her throat arching back even as she moaned and leaned forward, seeking his warmth.
But a sudden wave of coolness reached her back and her eyes snapped open, seeking him.
All around her the stark white tiles stared back at her, their surface as wet and glistening as…
With a moan she realized that she had a hand wedged between her thighs, her fingers wet and slick with her own desire and the throbbing warmth at her core the only remains of the pleasure she’d brought to herself at the thought of the stranger. The cool at her back had merely been the absence of the water spray as she’d moved to brace herself against the wall of the shower stall.
She knew she should feel some disgust toward herself; some self-loathing for having gotten off at the thought of the stranger touching her but, as she washed the evidence of her lust away, she found she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but smile.
Hell, it had been a long time since anyone had pleasured her, even if the fumbling of the less than impressive guy from the pub last year counted. Had it really been that long ago?
She stepped from the shower and toweled herself dry, unable to bring herself to any level of disquiet about her unbidden fantasy. She had no hang-ups about sex and it had been so long….
No, let’s face it, she thought as she picked up her clothes and stepped into the bedroom, pausing to dump the pile inside the clothes hamper. It had felt pretty damn good, even if she might have embellished his good looks with a quick sketch of the fantasy-fantastic pencil.
Her dulled, sated mind snapped into a panic however, as she climbed into bed and lay beneath the velvety softness of the black comforter. Staring at the ceiling, all thoughts of where her mind had been playing earlier, with her hands along for moral support, suddenly gone; replaced by a dawning understanding that almost drove her from the bed to check the locks on the apartment door.
The stranger who’d been waiting for her outside the house she’d burgled wasn’t a cop. Cops arrested burglars; they didn’t just let them disappear into the dark. They didn’t whisper their targets names either, especially not in the seductive way he’d managed to breathe her name.
As she turned on her side and stared at the drapes across the only window in the room she tensed, listening for noises in the suddenly too quiet apartment.
The tingle that still lingered between her thighs evaporated, replaced by a churning in her lower abdomen. And the self-loathing was quick to follow as she lay alone in the dark, knowing that it would be a long wait for dawn to brighten the room and banish the shadows she could feel coiling around her…
…shadows which had always brought her comfort but which now seemed to signal the end of everything she’
d always taken for granted. Somehow, she had the feeling that the morning was going to bring more than just a new day and that her life was about to be irrevocably changed. For better or worse, she’d better be ready for whatever was coming.
Chapter 3
Brightness was hurting his eyes, even though his lids were closed. With a sigh, Darien turned his back to the source of the glare, sprawling his long length across the king sized bed and pulling the pillow beneath his head down and into his cheek.
He wanted to go back to his dream, the one which centered around him finally meeting Catherine for the first time. But his eyes were already opening and he turned to find that the source of the light was nothing more than the bedside lamp which he’d obviously left on.
Electric blue eyes scanned the room before he sat up, throwing aside the down duvet and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His tanned skin stood out against the white linens and, for an instant, he wished he was back in South America.
God, he’d had some fun there before he’d been called back to the Council’s mansion in Europe; the type of fun that eased all the tension out of his body but which had clearly not sat well with his superiors. And now he was here in South Africa with a new mission and a whole new culture to adapt to.
He ran his hand through his cropped black hair, wishing he hadn’t had to cut it for this job, but knowing that he would have stood out in a crowd. In Brazil things had been different, his tanned skin and long black hair invisible in a sea of other men with long hair and dusky complexions.
He stood, raising his arms above his head as he stretched, his movements languorous, his back muscles pulling into taut bunches. His smooth broad chest absorbed the faint heat radiating in through the vents in the ceiling and his cock stiffened. Absently his reached down and gripped himself, his hand sliding easily as he stroked. He wasn’t thinking of arousal, the gesture merely instinct as he brought himself fully awake.
