Nautier and Wilder

by Lora Leigh

  Piper pressed one hand against his heart as she pressed her face into his neck, concentrating on the beating of his heart against her palm.

  He was alive.

  That was all she could think, all she could allow herself to focus on.

  He was alive.

  “Hell!” Tim’s voice echoed above her with his characteristic mocking frustration. “Only a Mackay could cause this kind of commotion and still fucking live through it.”

  “Hey.” Dawg’s protest was a rasping growl. “I think I resemble that remark.”

  “Resent, Dawg,” Rowdy repeated the response he’d been repeating for years. “You’re supposed to resent that remark.”

  “I’ll resent it when it stops happening.” Dawg sighed.

  Lifting her head from Jed’s shoulder, Piper looked around, her eyes widening.

  The large mirror over the dresser was shattered and lying in bits and sharp pieces in front of the oak dresser. The window across the room was missing a wide section and spiderwebbed with long cracks.

  The flat-screen television was missing its screen and hung lopsided now, its pieces littering the floor. The chair was upended, along with the bedside table, lamp, and clock. Amid all of it, unconscious or dead—she didn’t care which—the broad form of the man who had attacked her in New York lay sprawled, still and silent.

  “I know this one.” Tim kicked at a limp, thick leg, his expression reflective. “Marcel Genoa. He’s one of Rudy Genoa’s fists, and Marlena’s cousin.”

  “I thought we had that organization taken care of, Timothy?” The question rumbled from Jed’s throat, the irritation in his voice heavy.

  A stranger’s voice intruded into the conversation then. “It’s according to your definition of ‘taken care of,’ Agent Booker.”

  Piper’s head jerked up as Jed rose to his feet immediately, lifting her along with him to his side. But no one was moving to defend themselves.

  “Mr. Samson?” Swallowing tightly, she moved her gaze from Rhylan Samson, Guido Samson’s son, to the men filling the room around her.

  Rhylan stepped into the room, his thumbs hooking into the pockets of his jeans, lean, muscular shoulders shifting beneath the dark gray silk shirt he wore.

  “Marcel was a bit of a wild card who we were unaware was lurking in the dark,” Rhylan said, moving one hand to close the door behind him before lifting the other to prop both on his tapered, muscular hips.

  Staring down at Marcel Genoa, he shook his head wearily. “We’ve been looking for him since the attack on Ms. Mackay.”

  “You could have informed us,” Timothy snapped, his gaze swinging to Piper. “It’s not as though she was forthcoming with the information.”

  Piper refused to flush.

  “Perhaps, Tim, if I’d been allowed an opinion or a choice in the past year where my security was concerned, then maybe I would have been forthcoming with the information.”

  “She’s not going to stop blaming us,” Dawg muttered behind her. “Let it go, Tim.”

  Letting it go was the best choice her male family members could have made.

  Rhylan chuckled at the response, his gaze moving to Jed’s. “Good luck, Agent Booker. You may need it if you continue dealing with Mackays.”

  “I rather doubt it.” The confidence in Jed’s voice had Rhylan inclining his head with a grin.

  “What’s going on, Rhylan?” Tim asked.

  “Why the hell do all of you seem to know this man far better than a few days’ stay would warrant?” Piper asked. Wasn’t it just like Dawg and their cousins, along with Tim, to know it all while leaving everyone else in the dark?

  She was fucking sick of being left in the dark.

  “Piper. There’s information you can’t have, and there will be times your questions will not be answered.”

  Tim lifted his gaze to Jed as Piper felt her chest tighten in pain. She was the one who had carried the bruises, who could have died. Who deserved this information more than she? “Take her to her mother; she’s waiting in the hall. We’ll figure this out—”

  “No.”

  Piper had never been so happy to hear that rough, growling refusal come from Jed’s throat as she stared back at Tim in recrimination.

  Tim grimaced, his face appearing more lined, his expression more concerned than ever.

  “You know the delicacy of this information—”

  “Drop it, Cranston.” Rhylan breathed out roughly as he gave his head a hard shake. “He’s right. She’s the one who’s been in danger, not the rest of you.” He turned to her again. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mackay; you were caught in a web of deceit that had nothing to do with you, other than the fact that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ended up with belongings we were unaware were in that car. The jewels you inadvertently ended up with are the belongings of a particularly sadistic Russian mobster. They’ll be returned to him, so we can then track where they end up and what they’re being used to pay for.” He turned to Tim. “If you’ll gather the jewels together for me, I have the paperwork you need.”

  Timothy’s lips thinned as the situation was explained to her. “That’s information that could get her killed, Rhylan.”

  “Only if she tells anyone what she knows,” Rhylan objected. “And I think she’s proven she knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

  No, he was wrong; she didn’t need to hear this particular argument.

  Jed had tensed to a breaking point, and Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches looked as though they were facing the gallows at the thought of her hearing whatever information this man had to give.

  “Mom’s waiting for me.” Turning to Jed, she felt the tension slowly easing from his body. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  His head lowered, and his lips touched hers with a gentleness that filled her soul with a warmth that went far beyond arousal, need, or hunger. It filled her with a knowledge she hadn’t understood until now.

  As Jed released her she moved quickly to Dawg, threw her arms around him, and immediately felt him enfold her in his arms.

  “I understand,” she whispered in his ear quickly. “I never understood how you feared for our safety until now, Dawg.”

  “Understood what, sweetie?” How could she have ever thought it was just arrogance and male superiority that caused him to hover over her and her sisters so closely?

  “Why.” Her arms tightened around his shoulders. “Why we have to stay safe for you.” Leaning back, she stared into his eyes and saw the bleak knowledge he held in his soul.

  The knowledge of all the ways she could die, and all the ways he couldn’t protect her, her sisters, and her mother if he weren’t always diligent.

  It was the curse of loving men such as this, whether they were lovers or the best damned brother and cousins anyone could have.

  His jaw bunched, emotions whipping through the light green of his eyes and clenching the muscles of his face before he nodded sharply.

  A quick hug to both Rowdy and Natches, and Piper hurried from the room.

  As Tim had said, her mother was waiting in the hall, but she wasn’t alone. With her were Lyrica and Zoey, and moving up the hall Eve and Brogan strode toward them quickly.

  Brogan’s gaze surveyed her swiftly before he nodded and moved past her, leaving Eve to give her a firm hug as their mother wrapped her arm around Piper’s waist.

  They were all safe—this time.

  But they were Mackays. The sisters were Dawg’s, Brogan’s, and now Jed’s weaknesses. They would always live beneath the shadow of the Mackay males’ strength, as well as the strength of the men they loved.

  A strength that had acquired enemies for them through their dedication to justice.


  Flashing a grin first to Lyrica, then to Zoey, she warned them with amused reflection, “I’d acquire ninja training if I were you. Otherwise they’ll never stop hovering. So give in, or get tough.”

  Lyrica slumped against the wall.

  Zoey just stared back at her with eyes a fierce celadon and an expression of complete rejection of such a thought.

  “We’re Mackays,” Zoey stated then. “We don’t give in.”

  “Hell, no.” Eve laughed lightly.

  “Not in this lifetime,” Lyrica assured them all.

  “It looks like it’s time to get tough, then,” Mercedes stated as she had so many times in the past, her smile bright and filled with anticipation as they turned and moved quickly to the kitchen.

  Coffee, a sweet, and a game plan. That was how they dealt with the problems life had thrown at them for as long as Piper could remember. Her mother would prepare hot drinks, some sweet she had baked, and they would figure out the best way they could handle the situation. The best way to get tough and fight back against whatever problems they faced.

  It was time to get tough.

  THIRTEEN

  The Mackay women had learned how to fight back—if not in strength then with their intelligence—fight silently, and fight with success years before Chandler Mackay had died. They had perfected the art.

  Until now, Piper, her sisters, and her mother had been certain they could make their male family members back up and stop hovering so closely. Piper could see now that it wasn’t going to happen.

  But she could also see why.

  With Eve sitting with them, coffee and a slice of Mercedes’s coconut cream pie in front of them, they began to plot and to plan.

  Not for their freedom.

  Not for their independence.

  They were plotting, planning, and they would do all they could to defend all they loved, however they had to.

  No matter what it took.

  TWO DAYS LATER

  Stepping into the upstairs bedroom Piper’s mother had moved them into, Jed closed the door quietly behind him and stared at the woman still sleeping deeply.

  The quilt had been pushed to the bottom of the bed and nothing but a soft cotton sheet covered her naked back.

  Piper was stronger than he’d ever imagined. Stronger and more fierce than he’d ever given her credit for.

  In the past two days she’d given them as many details as she could remember about the rental agency, the young girl who had given her the car, as well as the location of the packets of jewels as she’d found them.

  Her purse had fallen from the backseat, knocking over the shopping bag containing the rhinestones and crystals she had bought that morning. She’d thought nothing of the packets she’d found beneath the seat. She’d simply gathered them all together and thrown them into her bag before rushing to the cab waiting for her.

  Why should she think anything of it? They were the same plastic packs the crystals and rhinestones she’d bought were packaged in.

  There was nothing unusual about finding the packets, and nothing that could have tipped her off that she had anything that wasn’t hers.

  Now Homeland Security had answers they’d been searching for for years: how the Russian mob was smuggling the gold, jewels, and drugs that were funding the criminal organization they were building—and the terrorists it was suspected were backing them—into the United States.

  It wasn’t over, but neither was it a threat to Piper any longer, and that was all that mattered to him: making certain she was no longer in danger.

  Now that the task was completed, his body was reminding him of another task that needed to be taken care of.

  Two days without her touch, without having her, and his cock was like an iron wedge in his jeans, demanding relief.

  Unbuttoning the shirt he wore and shrugging it from his shoulders, he allowed it to fall, forgotten, to the floor. Stopping at the bed near the stool positioned at the footboard, he sat down to remove his boots.

  Standing seconds later and releasing his jeans, he shed them and the boxer briefs he wore, discarding them on the floor where he stood. A smile curled his lips, the fingers of one hand gripped his dick, and he moved to the side of the bed to pull the sheet from the silken body of the woman he reckoned he loved more than life.

  As the sheet cleared the rounded globes of her pert ass, her hips shifted and she rolled to her back. Jed felt his breath still in his chest for precious seconds as he stared down at her, still marveling that such beauty was laid out for him, tempting him, hungry for him.

  Firm, cherry-tipped breasts drew his gaze. As he watched, she parted her creamy thighs, revealing the sheen of slick dew on the lush folds of her pussy. Above, the moist, swollen little bud of her clit peeked out at him and tempted his tongue as her nimble little fingers stroked up his thigh before cupping the taut sac of his balls.

  Fuck, her fingers were like hot silk.

  Cupping, stroking, fondling the tense flesh beneath his hard dick, she drove him to complete distraction and had him panting as she slowly sat up on the bed. Her fingers moved from his balls, brushed his fingers aside, then slowly curled around the tortured length of his dick.

  He clenched his teeth, fighting for control, yet a moan still slipped past his lips as he watched her lips part as she eased forward and slowly—fuck him, so damned slowly—covered the engorged crest of his cock and sucked it inside.

  It was like being immersed in white-hot pleasure.

  Hell, this wasn’t just pleasure. It was pure fucking rapture.

  The deep draws of her mouth had shards of incredible heat raking across the too-sensitive flesh, while her wicked little tongue flicked and tasted the throbbing head she held captive.

  Thick lashes closed over her green eyes as he buried his fingers in the thick, black length of her hair. Creamy cheeks hollowed as she suckled him like a favored treat, moaning around the width of the throbbing head and lashing at it with her hungry little tongue.

  “Ah, fuck.” The words were dragged past his lips as she began stroking the tortured shaft with warm, silken fingers. “Piper, sweetheart, I’m going to end up coming in your mouth instead of that hot little pussy.”

  She moaned around the head, a hot little sound of hunger and need that had his stomach tightening as he fought to hold back his release. He wasn’t ready to come. Not yet. Fuck, he just wanted to feel this a little longer. Just wanted to luxuriate in the pure ecstasy of each suckling motion of her mouth, each lick of her tongue and stroke of her fingers.

  Staring into her face, seeing her pleasure and arousal, was more than he could stand. He could feel his balls tightening. The head of his cock flexed and clenched in her hungry mouth, and before he could push back the driving spikes of tortured pleasure, a spurt of release washed over her tongue.

  It was like giving her a taste of rapture rather than a taste of his seed.

  Desperate moans fell from her lips. Her fingers milked the hard shaft as her lips and tongue searched for more of the rich, male taste, clearly eager—no, craving—more.

  Pulling back took every ounce of control that he possessed.

  Watching the slow release of his cock from the hot moisture of her mouth was like tearing out a piece of his soul.

  But there was so much more pleasure to be found.

  Coming to her, he covered her lips with his, his tongue slipping past her lips and dancing against hers as he moved between her thighs. With one hand he quickly rolled the latex condom over his cock, then twisted against the hold of her thighs and found the slick entrance he was searching for.

  It was pure heat raining down on the head of his cock as he tucked it against the clenched opening of her heated cunt.

  Soft as luxury, as hot a
nd tight as pure sin itself, the clenched tissue milked at the head of his cock, tightening with each shallow thrust, then spasming with delicate greed as he thrust heavily inside her.

  Control.

  God help him, just a little control, because he wanted nothing more than to sink inside her and hold himself there forever.

  “I love you, Piper.” The words were torn from his lips, pulled from his soul, and whispered against her lips as he thrust inside her, hard and deep, burying himself to the hilt in the milking grip of her pussy. “Sweet God, I love you.”

  * * *

  Piper felt her breath catch.

  Holding tight to the strength of Jed’s shoulders as she fought to adapt to the width of the iron-hard cock throbbing inside her, she hadn’t expected the declaration. Nor had she expected the emotion that filled it.

  Forcing her eyes open, meeting his gaze, and seeing the love in his eyes had her own gaze dampening.

  “I love you, Jed,” she whispered, her breath hitching, her heart catching at the depth she knew that her love filled her.

  There wasn’t a cell in her body that wasn’t filled with the ever-deepening love she felt for him.

  Tears blurred her vision and wet her cheeks, and as his lips lowered to hers once again, the tears infused their kiss.

  Piper caught her breath as his hips shifted, his cock retreating from the tightened depths of her pussy. His kisses fed the hunger raging inside her. Each fierce, deep thrust of his cock sent searing pleasure racing through every nerve ending.

  Her clit, swollen and throbbing, ached for relief as each thrust of his hips pressed his pelvis into it, and each heavy penetration inside her tender cunt pushed her closer to release.

  She was on the verge of begging.

  Oh, God, it was like being immersed in pure pleasure.

  Flames burned inside her, whipped over her flesh. They tore through her pussy, wrapped around her clit, and with each stroke inside her pushed her closer—