To Hunt a Sainte

by Marie Harte

  “No shit.” Instead of the fear he assumed he’d face, the woman had the nerve to step out of the tub right in front of him. No more than three inches remained between him and her delectable body draped with a thin towel. “You can’t just barge into private property whenever you feel like it, Greye. Now get the hell out of my bathroom. Get the hell out of my apartment!”

  “I don’t think you understand me, angel. I’m here to talk. All you need to do is listen.” He stepped closer and inhaled her scent—feminine, floral and damned arousing. Pressed so close, she had to notice his reaction. When her eyes widened, he gave her a grim smile and leaned closer, caught by her tremulous gaze. “I didn’t want to do it this way,” he said darkly. “But you keep playing your games.”

  “Games?” she parroted, her gaze glued to his mouth.

  Disturbingly pleased he wasn’t the only one affected, Hunter strove to focus on the topic at hand. “The coffee? The chocolate? The feel of your soft skin under my hands? Projecting your bullshit is only distracting me from the mission at hand.”

  She blinked up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know.” He couldn’t help himself and latched onto the firm strength of her shoulders. His thumb brushed the side of her breast, and she gasped. “You’re a beautiful woman, and you know it. You don’t need to play games to get my attention. Just let me handle this job, and I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been asking for.”

  Her apparent anger stirred him past reason. Alexandra Sainte in nothing but a towel was bad enough, but in a passionate temper, her energy seethed and drew him like a moth to flame.

  “Why you arrogant—”

  The little witch thought to challenge him even now? The hell she did.

  He kissed past her denial, knowing she didn’t mean it. He could all but sense her arousal as it pulsed through him. Feminine need and anger warred until her rage surrendered to the attraction between them. Everything she felt, Hunter felt as well, until he regained control once more, taking charge of his emotions.

  Licking his way past her lips, he plunged his tongue inside and groaned. She tasted like candy, sweet and fresh. Angling closer, he ravaged her mouth, not satisfied until she panted, her taut breasts heaving against his chest.

  Yanking the towel from her, he immediately cupped her firm globes, taken with the full swells and hard peaks beading for him. Reason lost to madness as he gave in to the instinctive need to take more.

  Breaking from her lips, he leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth. He wanted to purr with satisfaction when she gasped his name and tugged his hair. Instead of pulling him away, she pressed him closer, shifting hungrily beneath him.

  “God, Hunter. What are you doing to me?” She moaned again, soft and pliant under his hands.

  “You feel like silk,” he murmured, tending to her other breast. He ran a hand over her hip and belly, seeking the heat between her legs. Thrilled when he found what he sought, he thrust one finger deep.

  Alex let go of his head to grip his shoulders. “Hunter, please.”

  He didn’t know if she pleaded for more or for him to stop, but he didn’t care. He would stop after he’d made his point...just as soon as he could remember what that was.

  “You’re hot and wet, angel. So pretty under my hands,” he whispered, chancing a glance into her eyes. They darkened, gleaming like emerald green pools, slumberous yet lit with sexual energy. “Yes, that’s it. Follow my lead. Let me take you.”

  “No, I...” She broke off when he shifted his thumb and began stroking that tight bundle of nerves at her core. “Oh, Hunter. Oh, yes. Please,” she begged.

  Yes. Please her. Rip away the clothing separating you and please yourself as well.

  He pushed at Alex’s will until she crumbled under his touch, helpless to stop the desire exploding throughout her body. She cried his name as she came, stirring his temper anew. God, he hurt. The need to possess her was animalistic, an intuitive need to conquer, the way he used to feel during his days in the military...and during his courtship of Anna.

  Not liking this lack of control where she was concerned, Hunter strove to find distance. He withdrew his hand from between her legs and took a step back. Reaching down for her towel, he found it and wrapped it around her.

  He made his second big mistake of the night when he looked into her eyes, because he saw not just an erotic playmate, but a vulnerable woman staring out at him. Not liking this need to offer comfort, he strengthened his inner defense with a harsh offense.

  “Think that can tide you over until we’ve found Rebecca?” he asked. “Or do I need to fuck you to get the job done?”

  The hurt on her face made him feel as if he’d kicked a kitten. But he should have remembered kittens have claws.

  Lightning fast, Alex slapped him hard across the face. She fisted her hand by her side, and he wondered if she meant to hit him again, and if he should let her. “I didn’t ask you here. I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Sure you did. Tell me you didn’t want it.”

  She paled.

  “That’s what I thought. Now listen up, angel, and listen good. I don’t have time for your petty mind games. Quit screwing with me. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

  “I don’t.” Yet she sounded less certain than she’d been before.

  “Yes, you do.” Dammit. Did she think he was playing? “There’s a time and a place for fun. But not during a mission. I had the impression your uncle feels the same way. You put this case in jeopardy, and you’ll answer to more than me.” Unable to stop himself, he pinned her fists to her sides and kissed her again, a hard reminder that, as much as he might wish it, he wasn’t immune to her charms. “You’re good, but a piece of ass isn’t worth some innocent woman’s life. Rebecca is all that matters right now. You get me, angel?”

  Alex tried to break free, but couldn’t under his firm grip. She scowled like a thundercloud. “Oh, I get you.”

  Hunter’s pulse raced. He couldn’t have explained why, but Alex in a fury turned him on like nothing else. Which made no sense and had no place in his life, especially not now.

  The plan he and Jurek had concocted would work, but only if the players kept strict attention on the game. Hunter wouldn’t allow anyone, not even Max Buchanan’s sexy niece, to endanger the mission.

  With regret that he couldn’t ease his present sexual frustration, he let her go and stepped back. When she made no move to follow, he nodded. “Glad to see we’re on the same page.”

  She didn’t say anything and continued to stare holes through him. Even annoyed, she captivated him, and she wasn’t even trying.

  He sighed. “Let the big boys do what we do best. You find anything we might need, let us know.” He paused, realizing he might have been overly harsh. It wasn’t all her fault he couldn’t control his dick. “Don’t worry, angel. When I’m done, we’ll pick up where we left off. Count on it.”

  Hunter turned and left without a backwards glance, knowing that if he looked at her again, he might not have the willpower to leave. And God knew, someone needed to think with more than their hormones on this case. The Bureau hadn’t been able to pin a thing on Wraith in more than a decade. Omaney was squeaky clean. And in two more weeks, seven innocent women would be sold off like cattle. For Hunter and the others to succeed, they needed to be at the top of their game. Not pawns on someone else’s board, no matter how much his body might want otherwise.

  Chapter Four

  Cole kept his grin in place even as he seethed inwardly. This had to be the most asinine thing his sister had ever done. He still couldn’t believe his uncle had sanctioned it. And Luc, that little prick, had managed to avoid him for days. What a perfect time to embrace the curse he’d always hated and thrust Alex into the lion’s den.

  Cole occupied himself behind the bar and kept an eye out. In the three days he’d been bartending, Omaney had failed to show, but rumor had it he’d visit tonight. Alex had already made a
ppearances last night and the night before and drew men to her with ease. It didn’t help that Cole saw her holding her own. He felt his parents turning over in their graves at their little girl working men like a pro.

  Jane, his manager, patted his ass again as she sashayed past him. A patron at the end of the bar noticed and gave him a shit-eating grin. Cole glared back, but the damage had been done. Damn, he hadn’t wanted his cousin Thorne to see that.

  At least Alex had him and Thorne for backup. His cousin’s job to shadow Alex gave Cole some much-needed relief. Cole watched him leave the bar to mingle, making another pass through the place. Thorne Buchanan could be a real pain in the ass, but he fit in with the crowd in this club as if born to a silver spoon. His intensity, not to mention his dark masculinity and tall frame—according to Alex—attracted others with ease.

  So long as he keeps the monsters from my sister. And therein lies the problem, because the stubborn idiot wants their attention in order to nab the worst of the lot. Reluctantly pushing his reservations aside, Cole set to work. The next hour breezed by. Until his sister arrived, it was business as usual. He reluctantly admitted his sordid fascination with the club, unable to tear his gaze from the glitz all around.

  The rich, the infamous, and the famous caroused together. It was no wonder celebrities and bigwigs alike frequented Seneca’s. The owner, a mogul in the music industry, had purchased the club for his third wife, a twenty-one-year-old porn star. The scandal of their marriage had made tabloid heaven, but didn’t deter patrons from attending the hot nightspot. Hell, with this crowd, the gossip had probably attracted them.

  Just like it would soon draw Alexandra Tyrell, a model from a prominent family, courtesy of Gina Mitchell’s contacts. Alex had the proper paperwork and electronic trail to make her cover convincing, as well as a few runway shots quickly taken a few days past, putting her somewhere in France before she’d arrived in Savannah.

  From the attention she received, Cole wondered if his sister would in fact have been better off as a model. Though Alex worked for Buchanan Investigations, she’d never before been so active in her role as an agent. Of the two of them, Cole took the risks, while Alex remained safe—where she belonged—behind a desk, far away from here.

  “Yo, Bloody Mary for me and these two,” a drunken playboy ordered.

  After serving yet another loser, Cole checked his watch. Midnight, already. As if on cue, Peter Omaney entered the club through a private entrance. He cut through the crowd without trouble, and people greeted him like royalty.

  A glance at the stairwell showed Thorne talking on his cell phone. Minutes later, a gorgeous woman in a tight red dress pushed past him toward the bar. Several people around her stopped and stared. Omaney looked as if he’d been pole-axed. Great, now Omaney will be too distracted to focus on Alex...

  “Shit!” That was his sister parading around like an upscale call girl. He quickly informed a coworker that he planned on a short break and moved to the edge of the bar where he could see her better.

  He couldn’t stop goggling at Alex, wishing he had a jacket to cover her from head to toe. Tonight, she didn’t look like anyone’s little sister. She must have poured that dress on. He didn’t know how she could breathe in it, let alone walk in the thing. The dress barely reached mid-thigh. It shimmered under the flashing lights of the club. She’d done something wild with her hair. The color looked white-blonde, and she’d pulled it up to expose her slim neck while strands dangled from a comb, licking at the back of her neck and shoulders.

  The dress’s plunging neckline was bad enough. Then she turned around to speak with someone. The damned thing had almost no back, resting just above her backside. And those heels. How the hell could she defend herself wearing three-inch spiked heels? Mission or no mission, he needed to save his sister from the dozens of male predators just waiting to take advantage. This was too much.

  “Whoa, buddy.” Thorne suddenly stood in front of him and spoke in a low voice. “I admit, it took me a minute to realize that’s Alex. She wore tamer stuff yesterday, for sure. But she’s working. Hey, it’s all for a good cause, right? Don’t worry. I’m not taking my eyes off her. Like all the other dogs in this place,” he muttered.

  Cole scowled at his cousin, forcing himself to look away from his sister before we went blind. Who knew she had a body like that? God, he wanted to erase tonight and start over.

  Thorne groaned. “I’m never letting Storm do anything like this.”

  Cole snorted. “As if you could stop her. Your sister’s been of her own mind since she was ten.” Thorne’s younger sister had a wild streak very similar to Alex’s. Bad Buchanan blood. Thanks a lot, Mom.

  “Yeah, well, I’d better go mingle so I can keep up with your sister. A red dress? Like waving a flag at a roomful of bulls. Damn.” Thorne strode back into the crowd, following Alex into the swell.

  Cole took a moment to compose himself and resumed his position behind the bar. He continued to serve drinks, knowing Alex would make contact with him. He’d play it cool, but he planned to tell her what he thought of this stupidity later.

  It didn’t take her more than an hour before she stood in front of him, waving a ten dollar bill. “I’d like a white wine,” she said in a sultry voice that sounded very unlike her.

  Cole forced himself to nod. Up close, he could see the subtle changes she’d made to her appearance. She’d applied some dark color to her eyes that made them look more exotic and mysterious. Her cheekbones looked higher, her brows more defined. Alex’s lips were slick and red, and he had to refrain from bashing the head of the man next to her, who wouldn’t stop staring.

  “Wine’s on the house. Enjoy yourself, sugar,” Cole said with a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. Alex’s smile faltered before she brightened the wattage and turned away with a glass and a thank you.

  It took another half hour before Omaney wrangled an introduction.

  Soon enough, the pair headed up the side stairs, past a pair of guards, to a private floor. From this angle, Cole wouldn’t be able to see her very well. Thorne met his gaze and winked before following his cousin up the stairs without a problem.

  Grabbing Jane’s arm the next time she passed him, Cole excused himself with the promise to grab more towels from the storage room. Once there, he took a small earpiece from his pocket and settled in to listen.

  ALEX SMILED UP AT PETER Omaney. It was a shame he looked even better in person than he did in his photographs. Tall and dark, with engaging blue eyes and a dimple that flashed when he smiled, he was the epitome of charm.

  She felt Peter’s hand on her back as he escorted her up the stairs. He had a large hand, soft and warm. But his touch didn’t have half the heat Hunter’s did. And once again her mind wandered to that overbearing, obnoxious man.

  Since their last explosive encounter, she’d put all her energies into pouring over every detail of Peter Omaney’s life. She knew of his likes and dislikes, about his distant relatives and his job. The past few nights at Seneca’s had given her insights into his shadowy peers, the many women he’d been with, and the men who considered themselves his friends.

  If she were lucky, tonight might also be the start to revealing more of Omaney’s associates, those who lived in the darker corners of the world, where Rebecca might be found.

  “Here you go, Alex.” Peter sat her at his table, just one of five on this level. Big money and influence lorded above the peons on the floor. She didn’t see her brother by the bar and prayed he wouldn’t do anything reckless. Like storm up here and save me from this creep. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’d welcome the rescue. Peter Omaney is bad news. I can feel it.

  He sat next to her, then reached over to take her hand. He kissed the back of it and held on. His gaze traced her features, but didn’t roam lower than her chin. The consummate gentleman. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he said without blinking. “How is it I’ve never seen you here before?”

  Alex subtly tugged at
her hand, relieved when he let her go. She stuck to her script and answered, “I’ve recently returned to the states. I spent the past few months in Europe. My modeling career is really taking off,” she said excitedly. “But I can’t say I’ve never seen you before. You’re even better looking than your photos, which is saying a lot.”

  Peter took a swallow of scotch. “Flatterer,” he said with a smile.

  She heard a hint of the South in his deep voice and again wondered why a man like this, a man with such charm, polish, and standing, would do something so awful as kidnapping.

  “I try.” She drank from her wine slowly, licking her lips as she finished. His gaze locked onto her mouth. Alex needed to make an impression on this man without being too easy. Conscious of the listening device fixed to the front of her dress, camouflaged as a rhinestone, she kept her arms free from hindering his view of her décolletage.

  “Tell me, Peter. How can a man as attractive and smart as you possibly be here all alone?” Alex leaned closer.

  He subtly glanced down her dress. She reminded herself to play it cool. He’s buying it. Don’t screw it up, Alex. You can do this.

  “But, sugar, if I’d come with someone else, I wouldn’t have been free to find you,” he said smoothly.

  She managed to continue their inconsequential small talk for another hour. She mostly listened while he spoke.

  “I’ve been talking all night, Alex. Why don’t you tell me more about you? Where are you staying while you’re here?”

  Alex sipped slowly at her second glass of wine. She’d been very careful with her drinks, never completely taking her hand or gaze from her glass. Thorne had somehow made his way upstairs and sat across the floor with two beautiful redheads while he kept a surreptitious eye on her.

  “I’m staying at the Formati. I hear it’s the best place in town.” Alex smiled and waited for his answer, knowing what it should be.

  “The Formati, oh yes. Benjamin Anthony, the owner, is a very good friend of mine.” He watched her absorb the news with a calculating gleam in his eyes.