Hard Core (Onyx Group)

by Jennifer Lowery

  “Slade, you look like hell, man,” Ryden said. “We got this. She’ll be fine. Go, we need you on top of your game.”

  Slade glanced at Alana, curled on the sofa. He wouldn’t be able to sleep if they were separated. “I’ll take her with me,” he said and walked over to where she slept.

  He leaned down to pick her up but a hand on his arm stopped him. Mercer stood there, shaking his head.

  “Get your hand off me,” Slade warned.

  “She’s too fragile to be moved right now,” Mercer said. “We’ll take the guy in the bed and go next door. Let her stay.”

  Slade shook off his hand.

  Sarver came into the room, frowning at the tension between Slade and Mercer. “Fortier will be waiting for our call. What’s going on with you two?”

  Mercer answered. “Nothing, we’re moving next door. Alana needs her rest.”

  “Okay.” Sarver shrugged. To Slade he said, “We’ll keep you in the loop,” before following Ryden out the door, leaving Mercer to carry the patient.

  Once they were gone, the room got quiet except for the sound of the television. Slade clicked it off. Alana hadn’t moved from her position. The tearstains on her cheeks brought the reality of her upturned life crashing through him. He should move her, put her in bed and let her sleep it off, but he hesitated. She would wake if he moved her and he didn’t want her to suffer again so soon.

  Hell.

  He moved to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and twisted the cap. Instead of taking the bed, he dropped into one of the uncomfortable chairs across the room and closed his eyes. Damn, he was tired. He couldn’t do anything more today, so a short nap would do him good. If anything changed, his team would let him know.

  Slade gave in to the exhaustion gnawing at him and drifted off to sleep. He would need his strength to take Ross down.

  * * * *

  He woke with the sense someone was watching him. Alert, he opened his eyes to find Alana standing over him. Her hair was half in, half out of its ponytail and her face pale, but there was no trace of tears on her cheeks. Wrinkled, incredibly attractive, her scrubs hugged her slender frame. It gave him a glimpse of the woman she had once been.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said, all business and back in control.

  Not sure what to expect, Slade looked down to see blood staining his shirt and pants. Probably popped the rest of his stitches when he carried Alana’s patient. A glance at his watch showed he’d been asleep half an hour. Explained why his eyes felt dry and gritty.

  “You can’t keep going like this,” she continued. “You were shot and stabbed with a scalpel. You can’t be carrying people and running on empty.”

  She was in doctor mode. Professional, curt, and showing none of the aftermath of her breakdown. It made him wary. She shouldn’t be so calm and collected. Scarier, seeing her like this.

  “I’ll change.” He began to rise, but she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

  “It doesn’t work that way. I need to look at that gunshot wound. The infection may be returning.”

  It hadn’t, but he didn’t tell her that. Maybe work helped her cope. God knew she needed the distraction.

  “Lift your shirt.”

  Complying, Slade tugged up his shirt. She dropped to her knees beside him and gingerly prodded the area around the wound.

  “You popped your stitches,” she chided. “Does this hurt?”

  Slade’s sharply indrawn breath was all the answer she needed. She rose to her feet and looked down at him. “The site isn’t infected, but it’s dangerously close. Are you going to continue to play hero?”

  Hero? He was no one’s damn hero.

  “Because if you are, there is nothing I can do for you. I don’t have access to antibiotics.”

  Slade pulled his shirt down. “Fine.”

  Her lips pursed into a thin line. “No, it’s not fine. You were shot. And stabbed. You are not fine.”

  “I’ve suffered worse.” He met her angry eyes.

  “I’m sure you have. A person in your line of work must run into all kinds of trouble.”

  Her tone and body language were antagonistic. She was looking for a fight.

  “Some.” He carefully navigated the minefield he’d thought had already detonated.

  “Mmm-hmm. And I suppose that includes kidnapping women?”

  “What?”

  “I want to go back to my home, Cristian.”

  Slade came out of his chair to tower over her. To her credit, she didn’t back down or seem the least bit afraid of him. “No.”

  Her brows rose. “No? You can’t keep me here. I’m not a prisoner.”

  “It isn’t safe to go back there.”

  “Safe?” she let out a bitter laugh. “I’m not safe here. Gavin will stop at nothing to find me.”

  “Exactly the reason you can’t go.”

  “I have unfinished business. I…my…they need to be properly buried.” Her voice hitched and she wrapped her arms around her waist. “You have to let me do this.”

  The desperation in her voice made him curse. He understood her need for finality, but allowing her to see her father now would only make matters worse for her. She had enough to deal with already.

  “I can’t.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both.”

  Her chin lifted. “You’ll stop me if I try to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I am a prisoner.”

  “If you choose to look at it that way.”

  By the look she gave him, she did. Not going to make this any easier.

  “You could look at this as protection,” he suggested and watched her eyes darken.

  “No.”

  “Look at it however you want. Bottom line, you’re in danger and I’m keeping you safe.”

  Something shifted in her eyes, her body language, telling him she wouldn’t argue anymore tonight. The air changed. Electrified. More dangerous than the man he hunted.

  “Ah,” she murmured. “Tell me. Cristian, what will keep me safe from you?”

  Chapter 13

  Alana didn’t want to think anymore. Didn’t want to remember. She wanted to forget she’d lost everyone she cared about. The island, now the site of a massacre and home to a murderer, was the only home she knew. She had nowhere to go.

  She didn’t want to see those images. They were too raw, too painful. She wasn’t ready to process yet.

  Cristian could make her forget.

  Memories of how he’d touched her flooded her body. She’d longed for him to touch her like that ever since. Every time she looked at him she remembered the rasp of his hands on her bare skin and the way he murmured to her in French, the foreign lilt as tantalizing as his touch. He wasn’t so immune to her either, even though he had called her by another name.

  Right now she didn’t care what he called her, as long as he made her forget.

  Sex would make her forget. Sex with Cristian would be raw and powerful. Like the man. He stood there in jungle camouflage. His t-shirt clung to broad shoulders and granite muscle. Who could blame her? He was a warrior--albeit on the wrong side of the law--but a warrior no less.

  His eyes glittered when he looked at her. Her question hung between them.

  “Am I safe from you, Cristian?” She closed the distance between them. Heat emanated from his body, warming without touch.

  “What are you doing, Doc?” His voice was low, rough.

  Might as well go with honesty. “I need to forget. Just for tonight.”

  Raw hunger flashed in his eyes and her belly tightened. She reached out a hand and laid it flat on his chest, feeling his heart leap beneath her touch.

  “This isn’t what you need,” he said roughly, body rigid.

  Alana looked up and met his gaze. “Stop telling me what I need.”

  “Sex will complicate things.”

  “Things are already complicated.” She traced the h
ard lines of his chest, marveling at the contoured, chiseled muscle. “I’m not asking for commitment, Cristian. I’m asking for one night.”

  He scowled when her hand feathered over his rippled abs and stopped at his waistband. She looked up at him. “Are you involved?” She would never be the other woman. If Cristian was with Mariette, then she would walk away and find another way to deal.

  “No.”

  “Then there is nothing to stop you. Do this for me, Cristian.” Her hand moved lower to cup his erection.

  “Alana…” He growled.

  “No regrets.” She pulled out all the stops. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? All she desired was here and now. He’d started something that night in her hut and she wouldn’t be able to rest not knowing what it was like to make love to this hardened mercenary.

  “No regrets.” He pulled her against his body and brought his mouth down on hers.

  His lips ravaged hers, angry and demanding. Trying to scare her. Well, he could try, but she wasn’t easily scared. She returned the kiss with equal fervor. The rest of her life scared her. This didn’t.

  She clutched his shoulders and pressed herself fully against him, fitting her curves into his contours, wanting to feel every inch of him. He slid his hands under her shirt, rough against her sensitive skin, making her shudder. Heat from his body poured into hers, warming her like a furnace.

  “Too many clothes,” she whispered against his mouth, and helped him drag his t-shirt over his head.

  Within seconds they had stripped out of their clothes and were both naked. She had seen him naked before, but not like this. Not fully erect with hunger in his eyes. He sucked in a breath as his eyes roved her naked body. Her body tightened in response to the slow caress.

  Cristian pulled her into his arms and lifted her off the ground. Unable to control herself, Alana wrapped her legs around his hips and burrowed her fingers through his hair. A low moan escaped her lips at the feel of him pressed intimately against her.

  He traced a fiery path down her neck with his lips, nipped the pulse that beat frantically, and she gasped in pleasure and pain. She’d never wanted rough sex, but the scrape of Cristian’s teeth on her skin, his calloused hands, his granite body pulsing against hers turned her on like never before. Wild. Hot. Incredibly erotic, and all she could do not to come apart.

  “Yes,” she gasped when he dipped his head and took a nipple between his teeth. The sensation caused goosebumps to erupt from head to toe. He walked backward until her back bumped against the wall.

  “Please, Cristian, now.”

  With a low growl, he plunged into her and drove her against the wall. She cried out in pleasure as he filled her. Frantically, she pulled him closer, bit down on his shoulder, and urged him on. With powerful thrusts he obliged, surging into her with a primal grunt, giving her what she wanted.

  Her orgasm came swift and hard and she cried out with its intensity. Her climax rocked through her in waves that never seemed to end. Cristian thrust harder and faster, as if instinctively knowing what she needed. His climax followed hers, bringing her to the edge again, and driving her over with the force of a tidal wave. This time she raked her nails across his back and she bit down on his neck.

  When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, she dropped her head down on his shoulder and waited for her breath to come back. His chest rose and fell heavily against hers, his breath warm on her skin.

  After a couple minutes, he eased out of her. She was too weak to fight as he slipped out of her body. She mourned the loss, was empty without him. And that scared her more than the mind-blowing sex she’d just had.

  Her knees buckled as soon as her feet hit the floor and he swung her into his arms, carried her to the bed and gently deposited her in the center. He hesitated.

  Alana grabbed his hand. “No. Stay.”

  Something flickered across his face before he masked his expression and joined her. She cuddled next to him, his body slick with a sheen of sweat. It had been a long time since she’d shared a man’s bed. She wanted to savor the precious few moments they had. Reality would invade soon enough.

  Cristian covered them with a sheet and pulled her against his body. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, “Sleep now.”

  And so she did.

  * * * *

  Alana awakened in complete darkness to a hand feathering over her navel and dipping lower to caress her with a masterful touch. She moaned, biting down on her lip and lifting her hips to urge his hand lower to the place she longed to be touched.

  A hard male body moved over hers and teeth grazed her nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Heat splintered through her midsection, tension built inside her. His fingers teased her, slid along her wet folds, but not touching where she needed.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  He moved lower, trailing kisses across her navel, then between her thighs where she ached. Alana gasped when his tongue caressed her. In her sleepy haze she moved against his mouth, her orgasm building with each stroke of his tongue.

  She came slowly, lingering, on a wave for what seemed an eternity before she touched ground again. Cristian positioned himself over her and she welcomed him into her body, taking him fully. Heat raged inside her with the first long stroke. No rush to finish, no roughness this time. Each slow, tantalizing thrust drove her to the brink with deliberate patience.

  Ready to explode if he didn’t give her release, Alana gripped his shoulders and drove against him. The fire burning in his eyes told her he was having none of it. He continued his slow, torturous pace. It was exquisite.

  The pressure inside her threatened to overcome her, but he wouldn’t let her go over. Instead, he continued to stroke her to the edge, holding her there.

  “Now.” He thrust deep and quickened his pace.

  Alana climaxed so powerfully, dots danced in front of her eyes.

  She wasn’t sure she liked the complete loss of control. She wasn’t sure she didn’t.

  Her muscles contracted around him as he buried himself deep within her and let out a guttural groan as his climax rode hers. He collapsed on top of her, resting on his elbows, but his weight felt wonderfully heavy.

  Minutes later, when they caught their breath, Cristian rolled off her and pulled her against him, an arm possessively around her waist. Sated, she relaxed against him. Better if she didn’t analyze how easily she’d given him her trust. And she certainly wasn’t going to analyze what she felt right now. She might not like the answers. Because falling for Cristian Slade was a dangerous, dangerous thing.

  More danger was the last thing she needed in her life.

  * * * *

  Alana came out of the bathroom showered but still wearing her scrubs, since they were the only clothes she had. Her body was sore from making love all night. Not unpleasant, but facing Cristian this morning had been. Gone was the man who’d ravaged her body over and over until she couldn’t think, and back was the taciturn, stony-faced warrior.

  Although she woke early, she’d been alone in bed. Cristian had already showered and put coffee on. He had been talking quietly on his cellphone when she climbed out of bed, scooped up her clothes, and hurried into the bathroom. She didn’t want him to see how making love had changed her and made her long for the happily-ever-after she could never have. She had no regrets, but it did make things a whole lot more complicated than she’d anticipated. And not only because they hadn’t used protection. She’d never lost control like that. Normally, she would have covered the issue of safe sex first. With Cristian, the only thing that crossed her mind was how quickly she could get his clothes off and take him inside her. Worth every second, but a pregnancy scare would complicate an already complicated situation.

  Why did she continue to make rash decisions where he was concerned?

  Tense, uncertain what to say, Alana moved to the coffee pot and poured a paper cup full of the dark brew.

  Cristian stood in front of the window, his back
to her. He had changed into fresh t-shirt and pants, his hair still damp. Somehow she’d slept through his shower. Not that she should be surprised. He’d made good on her request and kept her very busy all night long. When she’d finally slept, it had been without dreaming. A blessed reprieve from the reality now staring her in the face.

  She sipped the coffee and leaned back against the counter. What now? Her life was in shambles and the man who’d made love to her all night was ignoring her. He hadn’t even glanced at her when she came out of the bathroom. Did he regret last night?

  Deciding it best not to talk about it, she cleared her throat and asked, “Where is my patient?”

  “Next door with my team.”

  His team. Right. The three large, well-built men that had witnessed her falling apart yesterday. The mercenaries.

  “I need to make sure he’s all right.”

  “He’s fine.”

  Per his standards. She wasn’t content with that. She needed to explain herself to him, tell him why she’d done what she had. The poor man deserved that much from her.

  “I need to see him.” Somehow, she would get Cristian to agree.

  “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “Neither do I, but there are things I have to tell him.”

  “You’ll get the chance.”

  He was irritatingly cryptic and commanding this morning. Typical, but it grated on her already frayed nerves.

  “All right, Cristian, let’s clear the air. I can’t live like this.” She set her cup on the counter.

  He turned slowly to face her, his eyes glacial. “Did you get some rest last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there’s nothing to talk about.”

  Alana glared at him. “That’s it? That’s all it was to you? A roll in the sack so I would sleep better?”

  A muscle jumped along his jaw. “What do you want from me, Doc? You said you weren’t asking for commitment.”

  “I’m not.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. The terms were hers. He’d given exactly what she asked for. Maybe she wanted him to be as affected by their lovemaking as her. Or maybe she was just worried and scared that their night of passion might have conceived a child she was in no position to have.