“Because he was the first man to make you come in eight years,” she muttered to herself, parking back at the hotel.
With a smile, she walked into the Flaming Flamingo’s lobby and stopped at the desk. The poor clerk looked a little worse for wear. What was his name? Michelle? Meshell?
“Do you know where Lawson is?” she asked.
The clerk lifted his head. “I think he left with Jack. Did you enjoy your stay?”
She smiled. “I loved it. Matter of fact, if Lawson hasn’t done so already, I’d like to pay for last night and perhaps rent the room for another night, if it’s available.” She pulled out her credit card. “What’s your name again?”
The clerked grinned as he took the card. “Michiel. And it’s so sweet of you to do that for him. Poor guy, I feel so bad for him and his friend. It’s horrible. Imagine coming to Florida for a vacation, just to have it ruined by criminals. I hope the police find their stuff.”
“I’m sorry? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know, Jack and Lawson? They were robbed yesterday morning. Someone stole their Jeep and all their identification, money, suitcases, everything. Lawson didn’t tell you about that?”
A sinking feeling rutted in her stomach. “No, he didn’t. Did any of them call the police?”
Michiel returned her credit card and the signature sheet. “They said they’d gone down to the station to report it.”
“Oh, okay,” she muttered as she returned her card to her wallet. “I’ll see you later.”
She went to the back of the hotel, overwhelmed with regret. She’d been so caught up in how Lawson had made her feel, she had ignored the very obvious, very blatant, signs that he was up to no good.
Kimberleigh Jane Mitchell, when did you become such a fool? Talk about Stockholm Syndrome. After trying to kill only God knows who last night, you let the big jerk kidnap you, then screw you. Now, the wack job is running around town with your gun.
She had to get to the Marathon Police station.
Seated in the car, she ran Michiel’s words over and over again in her head, thinking just how odd it was that the story sounded so damn familiar. What a coincidence that some college guys should have their Jeep, money and clothes stolen yesterday morning, too?
She hit the gas, letting her anger flow into the muscle car she was driving. So, Lawson and his friends had no identification, no credit cards, no clothes, nothing. Guess that would happen if all your stuff was in a plane that blew up and you had to swim your ass to shore.
Did Lawson think she was that stupid? That she wouldn’t figure it out? That because he was a great lay and he’d told her he cared for her, she wouldn’t mind that he was a drug-dealing, murdering thief?
Well, he had another thing coming.
Kimber slammed on the brakes, and her car skidded to a stop in front of the Marathon Sheriff’s station. She wanted to believe that he had a justifiable reason for following her, for shooting up a Hummer last night and for taking her gun and her car keys this morning. But as much as her heart wished it, her experience said otherwise.
She walked into the station, went straight to the counter and whipped out her badge.
“Special Agent Mitchell from the DEA field office in Key West. I’m here to pick up that report on some college kids that had their SUV stolen by some swimmers.”
“We’ve been expecting you. It’s right here,” said the desk sergeant, handing over the report.
She skimmed it quickly. The police had found the stolen SUV abandoned down the street. Oh, and she recognized that address. She had been there herself just yesterday morning. Son of a bitch. She was going to serve his ass on a silver platter.
“Anyone else file a similar report?” she asked, just to be sure.
“Nope. But you remember that fisherman in the report? Well, he came in again early this morning. Hey, Charlie, bring the evidence that old guy brought us,” he hollered over his shoulder.
Everyone around the desk sergeant started laughing as Charlie lugged up a huge black garbage bag and turned it upside down. A heap of soaking wet material plopped onto the desk, which brought another round of laughter.
Kimber fingered the cloth with the strings attached to it. It was a parachute. “What did the fisherman say?”
“I wasn’t on duty yet, but the fisherman says he got this parachute wrapped up in his propeller while out boating last night. When he untangled it and laid it out, he knew instantly it was a World War II parachute.”
His statement brought more laughter from the officers, which made the desk sergeant chuckle, too. But she didn’t get the joke. “So a drug plane went down and the occupants jumped to safety using ancient parachutes. Why’s that funny?”
The sergeant wiped the tears from his eyes. “The fisherman wanted to take back his previous statement, the one he made the morning before about the plane blowing up. He wanted the report to reflect the truth, no matter how crazy it sounded.”
“And,” she pressed.
“He said it was an alien spaceship that exploded, not a plane, and this parachute was proof that the aliens must have returned some pilots they abducted during World War II. The fisherman actually wanted us to go out and search for them, just in case they’d made it to shore.”
Now the desk sergeant was holding his stomach, shaking from the hilarity he found in the situation.
Kimber rolled her eyes and hit the desk with her hand. “Hey! Did he say anything else?”
“Yeah, he—he did,” the sergeant stuttered, trying to catch his breath. “He wanted us to call you and let you know. He said you’d understand.”
She turned and walked out of the station, not bothering with goodbyes. All the parachute did was confirm what she already knew. Lawson and his friend had been on that plane, and now they were in Marathon.
She drove to Em’s, changed into a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, then traded her pumps for sneakers and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Satisfied with her look, she fished her spare gun out of the suitcase, tucking the weapon into her shoulder holster, then pocketed the handcuffs and her badge.
She had to get Lawson and his friends before they skipped town, if they hadn’t already.
Even if they did, fuck it. She’d find Lawson no matter where he ran.
Chapter Fifteen
Kimber entered the lobby of the Flaming Flamingo again, this time fury quickening her steps.
“Michiel, did Lawson come back?” she asked tersely.
The clerk rubbed his eyes, still bloodshot from his hangover. “Oh, hi. Yeah, he did, but I think he went to the room he shares with Jack. Do you want me to call him?”
“No, that’s okay.” She approached the desk and held out her hand. “Just give me a key. I want to surprise him.”
Michiel eyed the weapon tucked beneath her arm and the scowl on her face. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all,” she answered sweetly.
“Well, I can’t give you a key unless I call him and get his permission first. Privacy rules and all,” he said cautiously.
She didn’t have time for this. She pulled her badge out and slapped it on the counter. “Key, please.”
Michiel raised his eyebrows. “Warrant, please.”
Kimber took a step back. She removed her gun and aimed it at the clerk. “Is this good enough?”
The desk clerk swallowed, nodded and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a keycard and held it out. “Geez, there’s no need to be such a grouch. Can we say abuse of power?”
“Can we say obstruction of justice?” She placed her badge back in her pocket, took the key and glared at him. “Will this open his door? Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s the master key. It opens all the rooms.”
She gave him a curt nod and turned to leave. Kimber looked over her shoulder. “Room number?”
Michiel glanced down, defeated. “Thirteen.”
She gave him a quick wink. “Thanks, babe.”
; Kimber made her way to the room, and as she approached the door, she heard the phone ringing. When it stopped, she pressed her ear to the door.
“What do you mean Kimber pulled a gun on you?” she heard Lawson ask. Then he added, “No, no, don’t call the police. I’ll deal with it.”
She put the keycard in the slot and opened the door, weapon ready. She made her way in, slow and cautious. Checking around the corner, she saw Lawson on the bed, wearing nothing but a towel, his body still wet from the shower.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the open and stretched her arm out, aiming the gun in his direction.
“Calm down, Mishi. I said—” Lawson spotted her and pulled the phone away from his ear, anger filling his eyes.
“Hands on your head,” she ordered.
He put the receiver to his ear. “Do nothing. I said I’ll deal with this myself.” He hung up, and he placed his hands on his head.
She removed the handcuffs from her pocket. “Stand up, nice and slow.”
“Do we really have to do this again, sweetheart?” he asked as he rose from the bed. The towel dropped to the floor.
The sight of his naked body caused her heart to jump and her blood to race. She licked her lips. Before her eyes, his cock grew large as it stiffly pointed at her. Her insides melted, and the crotch of her jeans grew damp.
God, she still wanted him. She wanted to feel his thick length deep inside her. Again.
Her arm wavered, and the gun dropped a few inches.
“Why don’t you put your weapon away so we can talk about this? I’m sure we can reach a satisfying agreement.”
She lingered on the promise of his words, entranced by his smooth-as-velvet voice, and lowered her weapon. Perhaps if she listened to his side of the story…
He smiled at her, his eyes alight with triumph.
No! She jerked her arm up. Last night, she might have let lust blind her to the facts, but her eyes were wide open now. So wide, she was sure she had second sight. He’d not make a fool of her again.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
“You know what happened last time we went this route,” he warned, giving her his muscled back. “But this time, when I take your gun away, your punishment will be much more thorough.”
“Don’t fight me,” she warned. “You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”
Securing her gun in her holster, she went to his side, placed her hand around his wrist and snapped on a cuff. As she went to pull his other arm down, he moved back, using his body to knock her off balance.
Spinning around, he took the gun from her holster and pushed her on the bed. “Don’t fight us,” he whispered.
She flung her leg out.
He blocked and stepped back.
She jumped to her feet.
He held his hands up. “Kimber, I don’t want—”
The kick was a solid blow to his stomach.
“That’s one,” he gasped.
The next kick landed across the side of his head and knocked him to the floor.
He rose on his hands and knees and shook his head. “Three strikes, that’s it. And that kick was number two.”
She strolled to his hunched form. “Did you think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t find out about the plane?”
“I can explain if you’d give me a—”
“Shut up.” She slammed him in the ribs with her foot. “Don’t give me your damn excuses.”
She stomped on his hand, the one that held her weapon, then kicked it away, moved behind him and placed the bottom of her shoe on his bare ass. Then she pushed him onto his stomach. He grunted, but offered no resistance.
She knelt beside him and grabbed a fistful of hair, lifting his head up. “But worse than being a drug trafficking, murdering, thieving, scumbag criminal, you broke my heart. Now put your hands behind your back, or I’ll really kick the shit out of you.”
“You know that’s not true,” he said, his tone still patient. “The pieces of that puzzle don’t fit right. And I wouldn’t break your heart. I care.”
Did he?
Before she knew what happened, Lawson took hold of her arm, held it tight to his body, and rolled their joined forms across the floor until he was on top of her. He pinned her hands above her head.
Not in line with her professional persona, she relented. Her body relaxing against his.
His blue eyes sparked. “I thought we got past this. I thought you learned to trust me.”
“I did, and look where it got me.” She tried to raise her knee to his groin.
It wasn’t her smartest move, nor did she want to hurt him, but his heavy muscles rendered her captive. Anger crossed his features. He hauled her off the floor and bent her over the bed.
With one hand splayed across her back, he pushed her into the mattress and used his free hand to search her pockets. After finding the keys, she heard him undo the cuffs.
“You need to be reminded that you trust me.” Lawson jerked her arms behind her and placed the cold metal around her wrists. Holding tight to her bound hands, his arm came around her torso, lifted her slightly and his fingers roamed until they found the button on her jeans, which he proceeded to unsnap.
“So you’re going to fuck me into understanding?” she taunted.
“No, but I’m going to tan that ass of yours,” he muttered as he jerked down the material.
She grunted as he roughly pulled the denim off her legs, taking her panties with it.
Smack, smack, smack.
“First, you apologize for doubting me,” he demanded.
The man must have lost his friggin’ mind. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before you hear those words out of my mouth.”
Smack, smack, smack!
“Say it,” he demanded again.
Her ass was hot in contrast to the cold air in the room. Her skin sensitized, making her nipples perk up. “Why should I?”
His fingers caressed her burning skin. “Because I’m innocent of what you claim I’ve done, and you know it. Because you struck me when all I wanted to do was explain. Because you insulted me by calling me a liar.”
The tingling in her stomach grew, and moisture pooled between her legs. She just hoped he didn’t notice. Not that it mattered.
“Sure, whatever, I believe you, Lawson. So let me up, and we’ll go down to the police station and get this sorted out.”
Smack, smack, smack!
“Don’t pacify me,” he warned as he rubbed her cheeks.
She gasped for air, her heart raced, and her body heated with wanting.
“Hmmm,” she mused sarcastically. “Wasn’t it you and your friend who came here in a plane that crashed into the ocean? Didn’t you swim to shore and take some kid’s clothing, money and an SUV?”
“Yes, but the plane was not used for drugs. And we didn’t steal from the kids, we borrowed.”
“Okay, fine,” she muttered.
“Why do we have to do this?” he asked exasperated. “Why can’t you admit that you might be wrong about me?”
“What?”
“If you won’t apologize, you stubborn woman, tell me what you want from me,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone.
“I don’t want anything from you, Lawson,” she lied.
Smack!
“Naughty girl. It’s not nice to tell fibs.” He began rubbing her ass again, his fingers teasing at her throbbing sex. “Now, tell me what you want?”
I want you to make me scream! “I want nothing. Leave. Run away. But sooner or later, I’ll catch up with you.”
His hand spread her thighs farther apart, and he stroked the fire within her.
“Do you want me to go?”
“Yes,” she rasped.
He thrust his finger inside her. “Really?”
“No,” she corrected.
“Beg for me,” he whispered.
“What?”
“I want you to beg for my forgiveness.”
Asshole. “Ha! T
hat ain’t happening.”
“Fine, have it your way.” He withdrew his finger.
“Wait.”
He circled her clit, coaxing an apology to her lips.
“I’m sorry…” That it has come to this, her mind filled in. I’m sorry that we won’t work out because you are a lying asshole and a fucking criminal.
Lawson’s fingers filled her, moving slowly in and out and twisting in ecstasy inside her channel. Her breath quickened, her body shuddered. He stopped.
“Again, Kimber. Asking once is not begging.”
Shit. “Forgive me, Lawson.” His fingers thrust faster and deeper. “I shouldn’t have…” Should have arrested your sorry ass back at the Bearded Cockle. I’m sorry I didn’t. If I had, I wouldn’t be in this position now, writhing beneath my captor’s fingertips.
He drove his fingers home and caressed that sweet spot inside her. Her body shook with the intensity of her release. “Oh God, oh God, Lawson. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
He removed his hand and maneuvered her around, placing his thick and hot erection against her entrance. “How sorry?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Very. Never been more so.” She wasn’t lying. She really was sorry. Because as soon as he finished with her and released her from the handcuffs, he was going to jail.
He thrust inside and pumped deep. She screamed as he pounded into her, hard and fast. Wave after wave crashed over her, leaving her weak and breathless, as a second orgasm built until spots formed in her eyes and blackness followed.
She was dying, but this was the sweetest death she’d ever imagined.
Quickly removing the handcuffs, Lawson sat on the bed and gathered Kimber’s limp body in his arms. He bent his ear to her lips to check her breathing. Finding it deep and steady, he smiled in relief. She was okay.
He smoothed her hair softly. “Love, come back to me,” he murmured.
Nothing.
She looked so peaceful, innocent, much like he imagined the princess from the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale would have appeared during her slumber. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips gently to hers. They were warm, soft. Pulling back, he watched her eyelids flutter open. His heart jumped. She gazed at him, offering up a small smile.
Bought His Life Page 11
