by Rachel Grant
“I wasn’t referring to today’s article. I called the damn reporter and told him to print a statement that I did not agree with a single word in the article. I said Isabel Dawson is one of the most amazing women I know. I told him how you saved my life and I’m completely crazy about you and there is no way in hell I believe you had anything to do with my abduction. I went on to say that the concerns you raised about the safety of the compound were valid and I regret not listening to you sooner. I have no idea if there will be anything quotable in the next article, but if there is, I intend to use it because I won’t let that bullshit article become the only thing the world knows about you.”
He finally dared to meet Isabel’s gaze. Her eyes were wide, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why would you do that? You told me losing is not an option.”
He shook his head. “When I said losing is not an option, I was referring to planning to lose. I don’t plan to lose. Ever. At anything. But I’m not going to throw you under a bus to save my campaign. I fired my campaign manager because she gave the reporter background information on you—information Raptor collected when my attorneys were certain you were gearing up to sue me. I also fired the Raptor employee who provided Carey with the data.”
“You fired your campaign manager less than eight weeks before Election Day?”
“Yes.”
She took a step toward him, then paused. “What about the cave itself? Say your campaign recovers from this. If the cave is found and it becomes clear that Raptor has been involved in dirty deals and experimenting with infrasound, it’s hard to see a way you can recover from that. People will suspect you. Or they’ll blame you for not knowing what your employees were doing. Plus you were tortured. Do you really think voters will be ready to accept you as fit for office?”
He shrugged. “So be it. I lose. Hell, maybe my opponent is behind this, because it sure as hell looks like I’m in a no-win situation. But I’m not willing to change facts and cover up crimes to save my campaign. Do you really think I care more about the election than I do about the safety of soldiers who come here?
“If you think that, then you still don’t know me. First and foremost, I was a soldier. When the bullets start flying, God and country go out the window. The truth is, I always fought for my brothers beside me. I would have died for any Ranger on my team, and they would have done the same for me. A few of them did die fighting to protect the rest of us. I have to live with that. Every damn day, I know that I’m here because some very good men—men far more deserving than I—are not.”
He began to pace, the words pouring from him without his permission. Isabel had a way of doing that to him, triggering more emotions than he wanted to feel, making him admit more than he wanted to share. “It’s too late for me to fight for Vin’s life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight for the truth about his death. This isn’t just your battle, Iz. He was your actual brother, but he was a soldier, which made him a brother to me. And he was my employee, which made him my responsibility. I failed him once. I won’t fail him again by letting something happen to you, and I sure as hell won’t let his murderers go unpunished. I don’t give a flying fuck about the consequences for the campaign.”
Alec’s words hit her in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her.
He stood before her in the misty gray light of morning, deep in the forest, a setting so similar to where they’d first met. They’d started as enemies, become reluctant allies, then friends, and eventually—or maybe inevitably—lovers, but she wondered if this was the first time she’d truly seen him.
She’d been blinded by assumptions and beliefs formed when he first ignored her requests for an investigation, but now she saw the man. Wearing the same clothes he’d thrown on after he’d told her about the dream, he sported two days’ worth of stubble, and his hair, dark and just long enough to show curl, was a wind-blown wreck. He wasn’t the polished politician; he was disheveled, rugged, and the most impossibly handsome man she’d ever seen, let alone touched, tasted, and shared her body with. But it wasn’t the exterior she found so incredibly compelling.
She stared at him in the dappled light of the forest sun. Before her was a merging of all his incarnations: Ranger, CEO, politician, but most of all, the man she’d spent the night with.
It was time to decide, once and for all, if she trusted him.
She took a step toward him—almost involuntary, like he was a magnet she was powerless to resist—and gripped his shirt, pulling his mouth down for a hard kiss.
He cupped her face but resisted the tug of her hands, halting the kiss before it got started. His eyes probed hers.
It was his move now. His turn to accept or reject.
He continued to hold her gaze, unwavering. Reading. Assessing. His jaw set in a firm line.
Heat flared in his eyes, and slowly, deliberately, his fingers slid up, into her hair. He twisted her curls around his fingers in a tight but painless grip, then slowly, lowered his mouth to hers for a hot, glacier-melting kiss.
He pushed at the straps on her shoulders, loosening her pack. She squeezed the buckle at her waist, popping it open, and let the pack drop to the ground.
In one smooth motion, he scooped her up and pinned her to the moss-covered trunk, the one she’d been walking toward. She wrapped her legs around his hips as the heat and slide of his tongue sent shivers down her spine. Thoughts of trust and reporters and campaigns evaporated as her mind went blank.
All that existed was his tongue tangling with hers. She reveled in the sweet, hot flavor unique to him and tugged at his shirt. He leaned back even as he held her pinned so she could peel his T-shirt from him, revealing a feast of muscles and skin.
He had the physique of a warrior, and the scars to prove he was no pretty-boy body builder. With her lips, she counted and traced each one, starting at his shoulder, where a thin white line bisected his clavicle.
She wiggled until he released her so she could stand on her own feet as she explored. His nipples were hard and tight against her tongue. She dropped farther, aiming for a scar that crossed his hip and disappeared under his jeans, but he caught her, pulled her upright, and pressed her against the soft moss.
“We really don’t have time—” he said, even as he pulled off her top, then cut off his own words when his mouth found her breast. He brushed her bra cup aside and licked her nipple, then sucked on it. Pleasure shot straight to her sex.
He groaned and yanked open her hiking pants, while she unbuttoned his fly and freed his erection. He pulled her pants and panties down, but they caught on her boots. He grinned, ignoring the complex bootlaces, and slipped one leg between hers, then lifted her, opening her knees wide so he could slip his other leg inside the circle created by her pelvis, legs, and pants. Her thighs wrapped around his hips as he gripped her ass and pressed her back against the trunk. She was trapped, bound at the ankles by boots and pants, her bare sex pressed against his.
She ground against him. “Condoms?”
His eyebrows dropped, then he felt below her thighs for his jeans, and grinned. He plucked out a strip of condoms. “These are the same jeans I wore last night to the firing range.”
She ripped one open and handed the latex circle to him. He held her up with one hand as he sheathed himself with the other. She gripped his shoulders and pressed her center down on his hard cock. “Get inside me.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
He thrust into her in a single smooth stroke.
“Oh yes.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him, venting her moan of pleasure into his mouth as he thrust a second time, triggering a delicious friction she needed more than air.
He was thick, hot, and perfect in every way.
She groaned again, this time loud, wild, unrestrained.
That would scare any bears away.
This was insane. And hot. And everything she wanted. He was the CEO of Raptor, and she was taking him deep inside her body, giving him the
most private part of herself without regret or reservation.
She leaned her head against the trunk and clenched tighter on his thrusting cock.
His eyes drifted closed. He tilted his head back and let out his own guttural groan. She loved watching him this way. The tension that always hovered around him momentarily gone. He wasn’t thinking about his business, his campaign, his abduction, or the attacks on her. He was lost to sensation. To her. She held the power to make him surrender. And it wasn’t just sex. There was more to it than that.
This was a hell of a lot more than a hot screw against a tree.
His fingers slid between their bodies and pressed against her clit. His rhythm changed from fast and urgent to a leisurely stroke that sent immediate jolts of pleasure through her. His mouth found hers, and again, coherent thought vanished.
Pressure mounted with each thrust. The friction of his fingers intensified the pleasure times a thousand. Sensation built. She whimpered and moaned in his mouth. She couldn’t possibly last another second without splitting in two.
With one hard stroke, she crested. Orgasm pulsed through her. Not a short, hot flare. He kept her coming with slow, continuous caresses. His own growl of release mixed with hers as he came with a final deep thrust.
Silence descended as he held her against the trunk. He nuzzled her throat, and she felt his body shake with silent laughter. “Holy crap. I didn’t think anything could beat the firing range, but I was wrong.”
She laughed with him. She cradled his face, gazed into his clear blue eyes, then kissed him, sliding her tongue deep into his mouth.
When the kiss ended, he leaned his forehead against hers. “There are a whole lot of things I want to say to you, but this, unfortunately, isn’t the time.”
She nodded. This thing that was happening between them, she wasn’t ready to put a name to it, and it was probably more than she could handle. All she knew was she simply wanted to live in this moment. Forever.
Except for the sharp knob that penetrated the thick moss and dug into her spine. She could do without that.
She wiggled, and he stepped back from the trunk to release her, but then stopped. “It was way easier to get into this position than it will be to get out of it,” he said.
She gripped his shoulders as he lowered her to the ground and, with some effort, managed to extract his legs from the circle of hers. She adjusted her bra and pulled up her pants. Clothed again, she stood to gather Alec’s T-shirt, which she’d tossed to the side of the stump in the heat of the moment. As she bent to pick up the shirt, something glinted in the moss, catching her eye.
She studied the ground, searching for the item that had caught the light. There weren’t any ATV tracks, but she didn’t expect to find tracks again after Saturday’s rain.
The light flashed again. There.
She dropped down and reached for the object.
“What have you got there?” Alec asked.
She frowned, staring at the chipped piece of plastic. “I think it’s a broken headlight. Could be from an ATV.” She explained about the tracks she’d seen on Friday. “We’re close, Alec.”
He picked up her backpack and helped her slip it on. Once it was settled on her shoulders, he buckled the belt at her hips, then he kissed her. “Let’s go find Vin’s petroglyph.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alec followed Isabel, who retraced the ATV tracks from memory. Several times they had to double back and start over from the last recognizable point, because she lacked both her notes and photos from Friday.
Alec was now certain whoever had taken her computer, notebook, and cell phone had been out to cripple her search. He was impressed as hell that she was able to retrace her steps, given how much time she spent in the woods. The terrain had to blur together in her mind. But one thing he’d known about her from the beginning, she was smart as hell and determined. He had a feeling she was a lot like her big brother, who, in a better world, Alec could have imagined becoming a friend.
Vin would probably have fit right in at the private dojo in DC. A small gym in the heart of the city owned by JT Talon, it was where Lee, Curt, JT, and Alec worked out and sparred several times a week. They’d recently added Keith and Sean to the mix, and for Alec the dojo was the one place where he could be himself. Not a candidate. Not a boss—even though Keith and Sean were there. In the dojo, everyone was equal, with the possible exception of belt ranks. The three men who’d studied martial arts the longest and had the highest belts—Curt, Lee, and JT—were also the three who’d never served in the military, which made for an interesting mix.
In a different, better universe, Vin would have lived and been transferred to the Virginia compound on rotation, and odds were he’d have hit it off with Alec, Keith, or Sean and been invited for a round of sparring with the inner circle.
In that universe, Alec would have met Isabel under entirely different circumstances, and he had no doubt that he’d have been ass over teakettle just the same.
Some things were meant to be.
He was meant to get on that bus when he was twenty-one. He was meant to be a Ranger. He was meant to buy Raptor. And Isabel Dawson was meant to come into his life with the destructive power of a tsunami.
Because even if he’d met her in a better world, he had no doubt meeting her would wreak havoc with his organized life.
“You can’t remember the questions they asked,” Isabel said as she pushed a branch out of the way. “But do you have a guess as to who it was? Height and build?”
Her question pulled him back to their conversation. He’d told her he was certain he’d been interrogated in the cave. “No. I think they dilated my eyes and stood behind spotlights. It was so bright, even though it was a cave. The only thing I could see was above—the petroglyph on the ceiling. A lynx with a smile like the Cheshire Cat.”
“But who do you suspect?”
He ducked under another low branch. “I’ve avoided naming names with you, because I didn’t want either of us to develop a favorite suspect, blinding us to other possibilities. I believe in suspecting everyone equally.” He paused, then added, “But at this point, I think it’s fair to say I believe whoever abducted me is on Falcon.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Falcon has all my top suspects too. There are some I would rather it be over others. I’d ruled out Chase from the start, because of the timing.”
He’d finally had a chance to tell her Chase was her stalker, but neither of them could begin to guess what it had to do with the rest, given that Chase had only been with the company for a few months. Keith felt the young man was underqualified for Falcon, but Nicole had a point about being short of options.
That both Chase and Isabel had been hit with infrasound inside the most secure building only confirmed the belief that someone within the company was behind everything.
“You think someone picked up where they left off with infrasound development when Robert Beck was arrested?” Isabel asked.
He’d thought long and hard on that point. “Yes. I had all employees vetted—weeding out those who were loyal to Beck—but obviously, a few were missed.”
“Why didn’t you change the name of the company, like Blackwater did, when you bought it?” she asked as she climbed up on a rock. She shaded her eyes and scanned the woods from her slightly higher elevation.
“Raptor wasn’t in the same sort of trouble as Blackwater”—he allowed sarcasm to enter his voice—“or whatever the hell they’re called now—was in the first time they changed the name. I felt it was important to show the company was under new ownership, but not hide from the fact that it was the same company. Raptor had good training and good rules of engagement, but was led by a corrupt man with a handful of loyal followers. With Beck and his supporters gone, there was no reason to hide. And frankly, I bought the name recognition as much as the company.”
“No such thing as bad publicity?”
“Pretty much. Can you name another private security comp
any, besides Raptor and Blackwater?”
“Apex,” she said distractedly as her gaze skimmed the forest from her perch on the rock.
He laughed. He should have seen that coming. “Could you name Apex before Friday night?”
“No. I’d never heard of them.” She jumped off the rock and lifted a branch that covered the path ahead. She examined the end. “It’s been cut. Recently.”
He studied the raw end and saw she was correct. He helped her move the long bough, and the reason for the cut branch became clear. The ATV had slipped and torn the moss ground cover. There was no way to repair the gouge without making it more obvious. Whoever had created the rut had covered it with the branch.
She pulled out her quad map and marked the location, then traced the route they’d taken with her finger. “The ATV went along this swale. The fact that there are no other permanent ruts means they don’t use the same route often. So there have to be several ways to get to the cave, or they rarely come here.
She sat on the rock, her focus on the map. Alec dropped down beside her. She pointed to a dotted blue line on the map—a seasonal stream—and said, “I think this is the stream where I lost the tracks. We should find it just below that line of trees.”
“If you lost the tracks in the water, they probably drove down the riverbed.”
She nodded. “I think the water is low enough. So the question is, upstream or down?”
Alec studied the map. “Up. The sharp elevation drop downstream could be a waterfall.”
She nodded and stood. “We’ll head upstream, then.”
He caught her arm when she would have started toward the stream. “We’re getting close. I go first from here on out.”
She looked like she wanted to argue.
He pressed a finger to her lips. “You’re a helluva hiker. And given the fact that you managed to find a piece of headlight and covered tracks in thick forest, my guess is you’re a hell of an archaeologist too. But I’m the soldier here, and we’re likely dealing with people who are armed and dangerous. If I didn’t know you’d zap me with bear spray for suggesting it, I’d send you to the car right now.”
