Terms of Surrender

by Kylie Brant

  Jolie trailed the nail of her index finger over his shoulder, down his defined bicep, over to his chest to trace a teasing circle around one flat nipple. His eyes slitted in response, and a small smile curled her lips. She leaned upward to nip at his collarbone before he opened his arms and she found herself falling.

  Dace had her stripped almost by the time she hit the mattress. Following her down on the bed, his arms framed her body, his mouth demanding on hers. The room was shrouded in darkness. But there was a slash of moonlight slanting through the blinds, painting the bed with a wide pearly glimmer. It sheened his body with an otherworldly glow that furthered the sense of intimacy. The black velvet shadows wrapped them in a sensual cocoon that kept the rest of the world at bay, swept aside the past.

  There was just sensation. The stroking of his healing palms over her skin, hot and demanding on her curves, gentle on her wounded leg. The contrast kept her off-kilter, her emotions swinging between lust and tenderness.

  An alarm shrilled in the recesses of her mind. Danger. There was a risk in feeling anything deeper than the need to assuage the savage hunger clawing through her system. Dace trailed a finger up her leg, circled teasingly around the heat centered between her thighs, and the inner warning bells were silenced. Her life had been full of denying herself any indulgence. She wasn’t going to deny herself this.

  Dace leaned in for a kiss. Deep. Wet. Rawly carnal. His palm covered her mound, which was damp and aching. He sent his tongue in search of hers at the same time he parted her slick folds and entered her with one exploring finger.

  Her hips arched, twisting beneath him at the dual assault. Her blood was churning in her veins, frothing and crashing like white water. There was primitive demand in his kiss. In his touch. It was a demand she reciprocated.

  Jolie’s hands streaked over his body, tempting, teasing, reveling in the sensual warmth of sleek skin covering sinew and muscle. He moved his leg over one of hers, as if to hold her in place, and she was reminded that he was still half dressed.

  There was something intensely vulnerable about lying naked beneath a man who was still clothed. She’d never allowed herself to feel vulnerable with any other man. Not even this much. Her fingers trailed along the flesh above his waistband, felt his stomach muscles quiver beneath her touch and knew she wasn’t the only one susceptible to these sensations.

  He parted her legs and eased another finger inside her, catching her bottom lip with his teeth as he intensified the sensual assault. She dragged her eyelids open, caught his eyes on hers. Knowing. Slightly predatory. It was a game they’d played before, each intent on being the first to drive the other just a little crazy.

  She unfastened his jeans, scraping her thumbnail down his zipper, pressing lightly against the hard length of him straining beneath the fabric. She saw him swallow a groan. Then he found the taut cluster of nerves between her legs and began a slow rhythmic circling.

  Her vision grayed, sensation arrowing straight to her womb. It took a great deal of effort to continue the game, to gather her scattered senses and work the zipper of his jeans down. Slow. Excruciatingly slow. One tooth at a time.

  His touch became more urgent. He lowered his head, took a beaded nipple between his teeth and worried it gently. But there was nothing gentle about her response. Her back arched off the mattress. She had always been far more impatient than he. Anticipation, she thought, was vastly overrated.

  She felt him smile against her breast, and the gesture of male satisfaction acted to steel her resolve. Pushing his jeans open, she reached inside them to squeeze his hardness and felt his body jerk involuntarily against hers.

  It was her turn to smile. But a moment later a moan escaped her lips as he began to stroke his fingers inside her more insistently, his thumb pressing more firmly. Her body was betraying her.

  With a shaking hand, she pushed aside his formfitting briefs to take his warm, pulsing erection in her fingers. She had time for one lingering stroke before he lifted his head from her breast, caught her hand in one of his. He pinned it on the pillow beside her head, his other hand never pausing in its sensual ministrations.

  “Not…fair,” she gasped. Her muscles tightened as she struggled against giving in to the vortex of desire, sucking her in to the inevitable conclusion.

  Placing a stinging kiss below her ear, he murmured, “When have you ever known me to play fair?”

  She couldn’t summon an answer. Sensation slammed against sensation. There was an urgency in his touch, a demand. And while she could fight the sensual assault, the conclusion couldn’t be denied.

  He was saying something else, his voice a ragged whisper. But the sound slipped away, as evasive as wisps of fog. Nerve endings spiraled to concentrate where he was touching her so intimately. Her control tenuous. Teetering.

  And then it snapped and she shattered, falling headlong into a pleasure too long denied.

  Breath panting and uneven, she was aware of his movements beside her, swift and jerky. She heard a slight sound, realized he was donning protection and the realization had reason returning.

  But then he was beside her again, sleek, lean naked flesh a temptation she couldn’t resist. And the longing, just satiated, began to climb again.

  She leaned over him, intent on mapping his body with her lips, one inch at a time. But now he was the eager one. His muscles quivering with tension, he urged her astride him, his eyes dark with passion. The skin over his cheekbones was drawn tight.

  She rose above him, guiding his entry, and then he hesitated. His face lay half in moonlight, half in shadow. But she saw the sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Felt his muscles bunched beneath her. Then she moved, taking him inside in one long stroke, and the tether on his restraint snapped.

  Her hips were clutched in hard desperate fingers as he urged her to a faster pace. And while minutes earlier she’d been intent on teasing, torturing, now she found herself as hungry as he. She braced her hands on his shoulders and met every lunge of his hips, each a little more desperate than the last.

  The position felt familiar. So was the hot avid gaze he pinned her with as they strained together. Her blood began to pulse again, scorching rivers under her skin. Need coiled in her belly. And the urgent pace he set was familiar, too. Familiar and welcome.

  As she saw his face pass into the light, then back into shadow, there was a moment when the past and present melded so completely she couldn’t separate the two. It caused an instant of panic, nebulous, but just as quickly dissipated by the urgency of their movements.

  The rhythm quickened. Breath shortened. The climax shook her first, startling in its intensity. In the throes of her own pleasure she felt Dace finish and melted, bonelessly, when she heard him groan a word that almost sounded like her name.

  * * *

  That sliver of moonlight was keeping Dace awake. He should get up, adjust the blinds, but he couldn’t summon the energy.

  He stroked Jolie’s hip, one arm curved around her to keep her close. She’d always slept deeply after great sex. And the sex, he recalled, had always been mind-blowingly great.

  It was when they were out of bed that problems evolved.

  Because he didn’t want to examine the sneaky little doubts that were circling in his mind, he pushed them aside. There were other, more pressing things to concentrate on. Like what Jolie had revealed earlier.

  Four foster homes. Probably more, the way she’d phrased it. He kept his touch light as he traced patterns on her skin, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She hadn’t ever told him much about her past prior to joining the force, but apparently most of what she had told him had been a lie.

  That should piss him off. It did piss him off. But it also explained a hell of a lot, and he’d waited a long time for an explanation. Now he had at least part of one, and he could guess at the rest. It didn’t change anything but at least he could start to understand. Would understand better when he could pry more out of her.

  But it didn’
t matter. He told himself that and tried to believe it. The past was past. Over. Just like they were over, in any way other than the physical.

  But if it didn’t matter, he’d release her. Let her roll away and curl up into a ball, the way she always slept if allowed to. Alone, even when someone else was lying beside her.

  And he would release her. In a minute. Maybe two.

  It was the cop in him, he reasoned, his eyes on that slice of light dividing the shadows of the room. He was used to piecing together puzzles to see the whole. Trained to look for answers. But he hadn’t looked very damn hard when they’d been together, or he’d have known all about Jolie’s mother. All about her childhood. All about the demons that had shaped her fears, fueled her doubts. That was what had him lying here awake.

  She stirred against him and his hand stilled, waiting until she gave a little sigh before she went motionless again. The warning signs had been there three years ago. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen them. He hadn’t pried with Jolie because he hadn’t wanted to face whatever it was that had made those defenses so much a part of her. It had been so much easier to tear them down, smash through them.

  His hand went to her spine, tracing the vertebrae there, so delicate to hide a will so strong. He’d spent a year and a half blaming her for walking away. Sixteen months trying to forget her altogether. It was pretty damn bitter to lie here realizing just how big a hand he’d played in their misery.

  * * *

  Adam Marker pulled the door open, cocked a brow when he saw the newcomer. “Don’t you sleep?”

  “Not much, thanks to you.” Gee walked in, glancing at Mose sitting at the table, drinking his way through a twelve-pack. “The news is all over the media.” Tightly controlled fury was in every word. “What the hell did you do?”

  “Me and Mose went hunting, is all.” Adam watched Gee look over at the high-powered rifle lying on the table in front of Mose. “Open season. Bagged us a couple more SWATs. Those cowboys will all be pissing their pants when word gets out.”

  And there was a vicious stab of satisfaction at the thought. Freaking cops would all be dead before he was through. Every one of them that had David’s blood on their hands. He wouldn’t stop until they were all as cold and lifeless as his brother.

  “You’re out of control. Killing two more of the SWAT unit is going to make this more difficult, don’t you get that? You need to get your head out of your ass. Nothing you do is going to bring David back. You’re just digging a hole for us we can’t hope to get out of. Call it even, pull up stakes and head to another state before you bring this whole thing down on us.”

  “What have you been smoking?” Mose tittered at Adam’s retort, the sound abruptly trailing off when Gee threw him a glare. “The memorial service is the day after tomorrow. We’re prepared. You just need to do your part to ensure that nothing goes wrong.” Gee’s constant second-guessing was wearing on his nerves. But then, everything got on his nerves these days. The waiting, especially. The constant news stories about the freaking cops who had died at the bank.

  There’d be new stories for the media to feed on after the night he and Mose had spent. He hadn’t missed this time. He’d remembered everything David had told him. Hadn’t rushed the shots. Kept his breathing nice and slow. A slow easy squeeze on the trigger.

  But already the pleasure from the kills was fading. For every one he’d managed to kill, there were more out there deserving death. He wanted them all. Only then would David be avenged.

  “You think you’re running this operation?” Gee took three quick strides and had Adam around the neck before he thought to react. “Think I can’t bury your ass before you even have a chance to wonder what hit you? One phone call from me and you’ll have a pass right back to prison. But it would be death row this time. You really that anxious to join your brother in hell?”

  Adam let the fingers close around his windpipe. He waited. Calm. Deadly calm. Felt his breathing catch and labor as those fingers started to squeeze. Then watched Gee still when Mose stuck the tip of the M40’s muzzle beneath one ear.

  He reached up, pried Gee’s fingers off him and shoved away. “I think you could say there’s been a shift in the balance of leadership. You try to double-cross me and you’ll never see us coming for you. Might be a bullet.” Mose punctuated his words with a little jab of the barrel. “Might be a big bang and then nothing left of you but pieces.”

  He turned away, went to the window. Dawn was spreading sticky pink smudges across the horizon. Metro City was slowly awakening. “You do your part. Follow the plan. We’ll take out as many as we can.”

  “And then we get back to business?”

  Still too much demand in Gee’s voice for Adam’s liking, but he lifted a shoulder. “Let’s wait until after the memorial. Then we can talk about business.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Detective Riley was shot as he was grilling in his backyard.”

  Chief Sanders looked like he’d aged ten years in the past few days. Jolie watched him at the podium of the conference room, feeling as shell-shocked as the rest of the occupants of the room looked. “Officer Fitzpatrick was killed getting out of his car in his driveway after work. Two hours between attacks, but with only about ten miles between the two locations, the same subject could easily have made both shots. No spent cartridges were left behind. But I’m guessing the slugs retrieved in the autopsies will match. Just like they’ll match the ones they took out of Carter, Laeten and Thompson.”

  He looked out at the remaining members of the unit assembled before him. The silence in the space was deafening. “I don’t think I have to tell you, this is unprecedented in the MCPD. You’ve all been on your guard.” His slitted gaze traveled around the room, touching on each individual. “All been extra careful, and still we’re losing officers. Good people, with families. I’m not willing to lose any more.”

  “I say you turn us loose to do some hunting of our own,” someone called out. There was a murmur of agreement among the officers, one that the chief silenced with an upraised palm.

  “Believe me, I understand the sentiment. But I’m not allowing this dirtbag to use the rest of this unit for target practice. As of this moment, you are all on paid leave.”

  Jolie heard Dace utter a low oath. His was seemingly the mildest response in the room. The officers were all voicing protests, loudly. Even Lewis and Mendel were joining in.

  “With all due respect, Chief…” Lewis stood, pitching his voice above the din. “The cost to the city will be astronomical. Don’t you think we could be put to better use joining in the search for these guys?”

  “Let me worry about the cost to the city, Captain.” But Jolie could tell from the chief’s expression that the words had scored. Counting her and Dace, nearly thirty people were affected. The city council didn’t even like paying officers overtime. They sure weren’t going to be happy about approving extra leave.

  The verbal dissent in the room intensified. “This is not up for debate!” he roared into the microphone. Slowly, sullenly, the officers quieted. “I want each and every one of you to leave town, and that is an order. If you haven’t already moved your families, take them with you. You’ll be relieved of duty for the next forty-eight hours, at which time you will call your precinct lieutenant and ask for further instructions. Captains Lewis and Mendel, you will see that every person on your squads follows those orders before you vacate the city yourselves. Lewis, you’ll see that Carter is apprised of her new orders. You’re all excused.”

  Judging from the mutinous expressions on the unit members’ faces, there wasn’t an agreeable person in the room. Jolie wondered how many of them would directly defy the chief’s order. It went against any cop’s nature to tuck tail and run in the face of a threat. She’d much prefer the task she and Dace had undertaken. But was Sanders backing off their involvement, too?

  As if in answer to her silent question, Sanders turned at the door, scanned the room. “Recker. Conrad. Com
e with me.” With a slanted look in Dace’s direction, Jolie rose as he did and complied.

  They trailed him down the hall in the direction of his offices. “He’s going to shut down our part in the operation,” Dace muttered. “Have your arguments lined up and ready. I’m not pulling out of this now. Not with the memorial scheduled for tomorrow.”

  Jolie nodded. The media had been broadcasting updates about the memorial for days. And there had been strategic mention of the fact that two of the fallen policemen’s fellow officers would be on the dais representing the entire unit.

  She was going to be on that dais. Needed to be there, now more than ever.

  Sanders was behind his desk when they arrived. He didn’t invite them to sit down. “Close the door.” He waited for Dace to comply before leveling them with a shrewd gaze. “My gut is telling me to send you two packing along with the others. Despite the best efforts of the Bureau and the department, there’s no way your safety can be guaranteed. Given the events in the past twenty-four hours, I’m thinking the risk may be too great.”

  “I think that would be a mistake, sir.”

  His tone sharpening, he glared at Jolie. “Really?”

  Thinking fast, she injected a reasonable tone to her voice. “With the rest of the unit gone, it’s more imperative than ever that we go through with the original plan for tomorrow. This guy isn’t going to be able to resist the temptation the memorial presents. He’s going to have to leave the area soon. The investigation has got to be pressuring him. He’ll show up tomorrow. He won’t be able to help himself.”

  He surveyed her from beneath beetled brows. “That’s your professional opinion?”

  “Yes, sir. Whoever the HT was, there was a close relationship with the accomplice. This guy is a brother, father…someone who feels guilt at the HT’s death. Someone compelled to avenge it.”

  He shifted his attention to Dace. “What do you think, Recker?”

  “This may be our only shot to catch this guy,” Dace said bluntly. “He’s planning something for tomorrow. We can use bomb-sniffing dogs. Set up double perimeters. Entrench our own snipers. The feds will have a stable of agents there.”