Santa Assignment

by Delores Fossen

  Not nearly enough.

  She wanted him inside her. Fully inside her. Every rock-hard inch of him. Just like this. With them on the floor. With him behind her. She wanted the feel of those toned abs pressing against her buttocks. She wanted friction. Heat. The slide of his erection against the very places he was touching.

  Ashley reached for his zipper, but he stopped her. He put his hand over hers and stopped her. Ashley might have protested. Might. If he hadn't quickened those strokes with his fingers inside her. If she hadn't felt his tongue on her neck. He sucked gently but in just the right spot.

  "Let me feel you against my hand," he whispered.

  She heard the words. Felt him say them since his mouth was still on her neck. And she responded. She couldn't help but respond. All doubts faded.

  All coherent thoughts disappeared.

  With each new stroke, each frantic thrust of his fingers, her body slipped into a spiral. The pressure built. The need commanded. Consumed. Until all she could hear was Brayden.

  Let me feel you.

  Let me feel you.

  Ashley stopped fighting to hold on. She no longer wanted to hold on. She let him take her to the only place she wanted to go.

  Need surged one last time. There was one last stroke. One last whisper.

  And Ashley let herself fall.

  Brayden was right there to catch her.

  * * *

  IT TOOK ASHLEY several long moments to climb out of that spiral and come back to earth. Even then, the world seemed as if it had turned on its axis.

  Her breathing was labored. Her pulse, jumping. But little by little, her body began to return to normal.

  Well, as normal as it would ever be, considering.

  "I owed you that," Brayden said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "After the way I took you last night, I owed you that."

  Those words had to make it through the thick layers of sensations still racking her body. But they did. Eventually they got through.

  With amazing clarity.

  Along with that clarity, she felt a slam of anger.

  Ashley rolled out of his embrace. Away from him. And stared at him. "A pity orgasm? Great, just great."

  "I didn't mean that, and you know it."

  Did she?

  "This was such a mistake," she countered. "Top of the list of dumb things to do."

  Brayden backed away from her, as well. "You're right. Not very smart. If you want to blame someone, blame me."

  "Oh, I do." She didn't, of course. But it didn't matter. Right now the only thing that mattered was getting away from him. Then, she could try to figure out why she'd just done something so incredibly stupid.

  She didn't have time to contemplate that, or anything else. Brayden didn't even have time for a comeback, though he certainly looked as if he was gearing up for one.

  The doorbell rang.

  Lousy timing. If it had rung just ten minutes earlier Brayden wouldn't have managed to get his hands in her pants, and she wouldn't be feeling like an idiot.

  "That's probably the doctor," he grumbled.

  When he got to his feet, Ashley couldn't help but notice that he was aroused. Seriously aroused. Worse, he noticed that she noticed.

  "Well, you shouldn't have any trouble doing the collection," she said under her breath. "So, I guess we accomplished something. Glad I could help."

  His eyes darkened, and he had to unclench his teeth before he could speak. "Pity foreplay?"

  Ashley was sure her eyes did some darkening, as well. "You can call it what you want. I'm not the one who scheduled the insemination."

  "I didn't schedule it because I don't want you," Brayden informed her, and then headed for the door. "I scheduled it because I do."

  Chapter Ten

  Brayden bracketed his hands against the shower wall and let the water pound down on his neck and back. It helped with the knotted muscles. It even helped a little with the bone-weary fatigue.

  It didn't help anything else.

  He'd violated rules. Personal rules. There was already enough conflict between Ashley and him without adding sex to the mix. Yet, he'd added it. And it didn't matter that it was one-sided. It was still intimate contact that he should have done everything in his power to avoid.

  Instead, he'd instigated it.

  Brayden cursed and turned his face toward the hard spray of water. He could have dismissed the time in her laundry room as a necessity. And he had dismissed it. But what he'd done in his bedroom with Ashley wasn't a dismissing kind of thing, and it certainly wasn't a necessity. Even though it had felt like it at the time.

  A pity orgasm, she'd called it.

  Hell, he only wished that were true.

  He could handle feeling pity for her far better than he could handle feeling anything else. Because that anything else was beginning to encompass emotions he should never feel. That damn sure wasn't why he'd brought her here. This was about saving Colton, and if he had to tattoo that onto his forehead, or another specific part of him, he would remember it.

  Deciding the doctor should be done with the insemination by now, Brayden turned off the shower and got dressed. He took his time, though, mainly because he figured both Ashley and he would need it before facing each other. Thanks to him and that so-called pity orgasm, he'd made things practically unbearable between them.

  Brayden stepped out of the bathroom, paused and listened. No sound of voices. No sound of anything. When he went to the living room and glanced out the window, he saw that the doctor's car was no longer parked in front of the house.

  "She left right after the procedure," he heard Ashley say from behind him.

  She was in the hall, just outside the guest room door. She, too, was dressed. She even had on her coat. And her suitcase was in her hand.

  "Everything went like clockwork," Ashley explained. She stepped closer. But not too close. And she maneuvered the suitcase so that it was between them. "The doctor wished us good luck."

  Brayden nodded, suddenly not caring what the doctor said, and he tipped his head to the suitcase. "What's this about?"

  "I'm going home." She pressed her lips together for a moment. "It's time, Brayden."

  Man, he'd seriously blown it.

  He'd expected Ashley to keep her distance, but he hadn't expected to send her on the run. He had some fast-talking to do if he hoped to convince her to stay put. And then he'd have to do more fast-talking to explain to himself why he wanted her to stay.

  She walked to the window. Not the one next to him, but the one on the other side of the room. As far away from him as she could get while remaining in the same general vicinity. She looked out. "I made reservations for a flight that leaves in a little over two hours. But I'd like to swing by and see Colton on the way to the airport."

  Yes. It would give her time for that but little else, since it meant she'd need to leave immediately.

  "Ashley—"

  "I called your sister," she interrupted, obviously ignoring him. "Katelyn volunteered to drive me. Oh, and I arranged to have a Christmas tree delivered. I figured Colton would like that."

  Brayden stepped in front of her when she tried to walk past him to get to the front door. "You don't have to do this."

  "I do. I promised Colton that Santa would visit, and it wouldn't be a proper visit without a tree."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "I know. And I know you're wrong. I do have to do this. I have to go." There was a small sound of frustration deep in her throat. "Everything is getting jumbled here, Brayden. The candle and phone message coincidences that don't feel like coincidences. All the memories of Dana. Everything feels raw and too close to the surface. I need some space."

  He nodded, unable to disagree with her about any of that. Things were jumbled. Things were raw. But he didn't think any amount of space would make that better. He'd torn down some huge boundaries in his bedroom, and there was no way to put them back in place.

  Heck, he wasn't even
sure he wanted them back in place.

  "The doctor said I could do one of those home pregnancy kits in as early as five days." She glanced out the sidelight window by the door, obviously looking for Katelyn. "Even if it's negative, it doesn't mean we failed. It just might take an extra day or two for the test to show a positive result."

  She picked up her purse from the entry table and adjusted a few strands of her hair that in no way needed an adjustment. "I'll call you when I know something one way or the other. If there needs to be a repeat procedure, I'd like for it to be done in Virginia."

  It was doable. In fact, it was more than doable since the trip to San Antonio had inconvenienced her. And worse, it might have endangered her.

  But her leaving just didn't feel right.

  Nothing about this felt right.

  "What if the stalker follows you?" he asked.

  "He won't. I'll be taking several flights to Virginia. A circuitous route. While I'm at the airport I'll make arrangements to upgrade the security system at my house. I also have some cop friends, and I'll ask them to do patrols like the ones you arranged here."

  So, she'd made plans. Good plans. But not perfect ones. "And if that isn't enough?" Brayden wanted to know.

  "It'll be enough. I own a gun, and I know how to use it. Besides, I've managed to keep myself safe for two and a half years."

  "But the stalker didn't know where you were. Things might have changed."

  Ashley huffed. "Look, Brayden, there's nothing to say. We had sex last night. Today, we played around in your bedroom, and now we both feel like hell. Deny that, and you'll be liar."

  He couldn't deny it. He did feel like hell. And that feeling was increasing significantly with every word of this conversation.

  "I'll drive you to the airport," he said already pulling out his phone.

  "You don't have to do that. In fact, it'll be easier if you—"

  "Save your breath. I'm driving you." And along the way, he might even be able to figure out how to apologize for what he'd done.

  Groveling was a distinct possibility.

  Thankfully, he caught Katelyn as she was on her way out the door and canceled her chauffeuring plans. He did that with Ashley glaring at him.

  "That wasn't necessary," she assured him the moment he got off the phone.

  "Yeah, it was. Because you see, you don't think we have to talk, but we do. And since you're determined to leave, that means we talk in the car."

  She mumbled something under her breath and gave the shoulder strap of her purse an adjustment as if she'd declared war on it.

  Instead of going back through the house to get to the garage, Ashley went through the front door. No blast of icy winter wind. As it was prone to do in San Antonio, the cold front had come and gone, and in its place was a cool, breezeless day. Which was good. Since he was getting more than enough iciness from her.

  "I don't want to talk," Ashley said from over her shoulder.

  "Tough. We're talking."

  He tried to do the gentlemanly thing and take her suitcase, but she held on tight and marched down the steps and into the front yard.

  From out of the corner of his eye, Brayden saw the car approach from the left. He felt the primal warning slam through him.

  But it was too late to warn Ashley.

  Too late to get to her in time.

  The silenced shots slashed through the air.

  * * *

  IT TOOK ASHLEY A SECOND to realize the sound hadn't come from the car engine. But instead, it was the sound of gunshots fired from a weapon rigged with a silencer.

  With her heart leaping to her throat, she dived for the ground. On the way down, she caught a glimpse of the car, specifically its lowered window on the passenger's side. She also got a glimpse of the ski-masked shadowy figure in the driver's seat.

  A man with a gun.

  He fired another shot.

  Not a blast. But a deadly sounding swoosh that seemed to skim right next to her head.

  "Ashley," Brayden yelled. "Get down!"

  She did. Ashley rolled over, tucking herself against a thick cluster of rosemary shrubs. It wasn't much protection. Not much at all.

  She realized that with the next shot.

  The bullet slammed into a landscape rock right in front of her and sent bits of it flying through the air. Ashley felt the sting of the debris on her face. She felt the fear. It clawed its way through her, setting off a dozen nightmarish memories. Of another shooting. Of her sister's murder.

  Brayden was suddenly right there. Scrambling along the ground toward her. He had his weapon drawn and aimed. He also had a large portion of his body exposed to the gunman.

  Her fear kicked up a notch. Not because Ashley was worried about being shot, but because she was worried about Brayden. Sweet heaven. He'd put himself in the line of fire.

  Ashley leaned out from her meager cover and latched onto him to pull him into the shrubs with her. He cursed at her, yelling for her to stay down. She ignored him and hauled him closer. Just as the car gunned the engine.

  Before he sped away, the driver got off another shot.

  This one clipped off a chunk of the rosemary, spraying them with the prickly needles.

  "Were you hit?" Brayden demanded.

  Fighting through the adrenaline, Ashley tried to do a quick assessment. "I don't think so. How about you?"

  "Don't worry about me." He climbed over her, sheltering her body with his, while he kept his weapon pointed at the street where the gunman had launched the attack.

  But not just any gunman. This almost certainly wasn't some random act of violence. This was the stalker.

  He'd found her.

  And worse. He was no longer content to make harassing phone calls or leave candles burning.

  Brayden unclipped his phone and pressed a button. "Lt. O'Malley. I need assistance at my residence."

  She listened as he relayed the information. Other than the speed of his request, and the slight rush of his words, he gave no indication of panic.

  Unlike her.

  Ashley's entire body was in panic mode, and it took everything within her to make herself stay put. More than anything she wanted to latch onto Brayden and get them both inside the house.

  Brayden cursed. That was the only warning she got before he pushed her head closer to the ground.

  And Ashley soon realized why.

  There was a high-pitched squeal of tires. The smell of rubber burning against asphalt. Another slam of adrenaline surged through her.

  Another shot.

  Even though she couldn't see the car, Ashley knew it was the same gunman. It was the same gun. The same silenced rounds of fire. And any one of those deadly rounds could kill Brayden or her.

  Brayden levered himself slightly above her and aimed. He got off a shot. It crashed through the back glass of the car just as it sped away again.

  "Backup's on the way," Brayden let her know.

  Under the circumstances, waiting for backup was all they could do. They couldn't try to go inside the house or even to the garage. They were literally halfway between them, and that meant they were only halfway to safety. Which was no safety at all since the gunman could be out there, waiting for them to make a move.

  So they stayed put. There on the ground. With her heart in her throat.

  Long, agonizing moments passed before she heard the police sirens. Longer moments still before Ashley realized the gunman was done for the day.

  But just for today.

  He'd be back.

  And what small sanctuary she'd managed to gather was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  "They just drove up," Brayden's sister, Katelyn, announced.

  Ashley heard the garage door grind open, and then seconds later, it closed again. She held her breath through the entire mundane process.

  Praying that nothing would go wrong and that Colton and Brayden would make it safely inside. Because after the gunman's attack, nothing—including the sim
ple opening and closing of a garage—felt mundane anymore.

  Katelyn withdrew her gun from her holster and hurried to the side entrance that led to the garage.

  Holding her weapon discreetly by her side, Katelyn gave Ashley an inspecting glance from over her shoulder. "Don't worry. You don't look as if you were shot at just a few hours ago."

  "Good," Ashley mumbled.

  But she had no idea how she'd managed that particular feat. Inside, her nerves were a tangle of fatigue and spent adrenaline.

  "It's short stuff," Katelyn squealed, throwing open the door.

  That was her cue. Ashley stepped back into the kitchen, as Katelyn insisted she do. Out of the potential line of sight, and fire. And she waited.

  Brayden came in, carrying his son in his arms. Colton was pale but smiling. He immediately reached out and gave Katelyn a high five. In the same motion, Katelyn shut the door, locked it and ushered them into the living room. Away from the windows. A reminder that even though Ashley might not have looked it, Brayden and she had indeed been shot at earlier.

  Security measures were no longer just a precaution.

  They were a necessity.

  "So, Colt, what do you think of your magic hide-away?" Brayden asked.

  The boy's gaze skirted around the living room. "It's okay. But I'd ruther go home."

  "You're joking, right?" Katelyn countered. "This place is so much better. It's got cable. Plus, I brought over a kilo of gummy bears."

  Colton gave her a you-still-haven't-convinced-me shrug. Ashley understood completely. The place was nice. The house of a friend of a friend, Brayden had explained. But it wasn't home, and today should have been the day that Colton got to go home.

  Thanks to the gunman, that wasn't going to happen tonight. And maybe not for a lot of nights.

  Ashley stepped out from the shadows, and just as he'd done in the hospital, Colton spotted her right away.

  "Aunt Ashley." Another smile. One that caused his dimples to flash. "Do you get to stay here, too?"