“Joe, are you sure?” Her short nails were digging into his wrists, her gaze worried, but growing hotter by the second.
“More certain than I’ve been of anything, baby.” He laid his hand on her lower stomach, watching her closely. “Certain enough to want more with you than I have ever wanted with anyone else.”
He didn’t give her time to answer, or time to protest. He had never known anything as sweet or as erotic as loving Maggie. She was like a drug in his system; one he had no hope of breaking his addiction to. And God knew he had tried.
He had fought the arousal, the need and his belief in her for nearly a week. And even as he fought it, he had known it was a losing battle. Just as he had known as he watched her interrogation through that two-way mirror.
His lips covered hers as he drew in the sobbing response to his declaration, his tongue tasting the sweetness of her passion as he pushed the bra from her shoulders before moving to her jeans.
He wanted her naked. Naked and open for him, welcoming him with all the sweet, generous fire that was so much a part of her.
Clothes were ripped, torn, pushed at, and pulled off until only bare flesh met eager hands and muted moans met open-mouthed kisses that filled the senses with an aroused, imperative demand.
Hunger arced through Joe’s mind as Maggie’s hand attempted to wrap around the base of his cock. Her fingers didn’t quite meet, but that didn’t detract from the sheer pleasure of her touch.
As always, nothing mattered except pushing inside her, taking her, feeling her orgasm pulsing around him. He didn’t bother with the bed or the floor. His hands moved to her buttocks and he lifted her and bore her to the table.
* * *
Maggie was fighting to breathe as the overwhelming pleasure rushed through her with a force that swept through her senses like wildfire. All she felt was the heat and demand, a need pulsing through every cell of her body as she clutched Joe to her.
She felt the cool wood of the table meet her back as Joe came over her. He didn’t bother with keeping his feet on the floor, instead, he clambered to the tabletop after her, knees bent, his hips thrusting against her, driving the hard wedge of his cock deep into the fiery heat between her thighs.
There was little grace to the act, even less finesse. The clawing hunger, fear, and desperation that spurred their passion allowed for only the most primitive response. She felt the fierce width of his erection sear the tender tissue of her vagina, and arched closer. The fiery pleasure/pain whipped through her nerve endings, ricocheting through tissue and muscle until every cell of her body was focused on one point only. The penetration of her body, the hard, fierce thrusts of his cock inside her, and the fiery sensation tightening her womb with every thrust.
Orgasm was imperative. With each stroke he threw her higher, seemed to go deeper, until every sense she possessed became focused on the steady impalement.
Perspiration gathered between their bodies, creating an exciting friction as they slid against one another. The building heat between their bodies had them both panting for air, forced to break off the kiss that had consumed them as they fought for breath.
Maggie struggled to open her eyes, staring up at Joe as his hands gripped her hips to hold her in place and the strokes pistoning his cock into her vagina increased. The cords in his neck stood out in sharp relief as the tendons of his arms and chest rippled with power.
He was as out of control now, as he had been earlier that morning. As though once lost, the power to hold himself distant, in this area at least, was gone forever.
The ability to think receded as he whispered her name, his eyes opening, his gaze spearing hers.
“I love you, Maggie.” The words were torn from him, ripped from his chest in a growling, harsh sound that spiked through her womb and sent her release crashing through her.
Maggie felt the involuntary arching of her back as the wave of sensation tore through her with pleasure that bordered on violent. It exploded through every nerve ending in her body and sent convulsions crashing through her womb, as her pussy began to milk desperately at his cock. Nothing mattered but the pinnacle of pleasure, the sweeping completion she had only found in this man’s arms, and a love she knew she could never survive without. Not intact. Not completely. She would live, but without Joe, Maggie knew her soul would never breathe.
In that moment, as she felt him surge inside her one last time before his own release began to spurt heatedly inside her to join her own, Maggie knew that never again could she hope for love outside of Joe’s arms. Because to her heart, her soul, Joe was love. He was life.
10
The drive from the cabin to Atlanta was made after dark, and to Maggie it seemed as though it had taken a lifetime to accomplish. Each mile crept by despite Joe’s steady speed and his attempts at a conversation. Maggie wanted nothing more than to get to his house, to check the car, and to get the hell out of there.
As Joe pulled slowly into the alley behind the two-story older home, Maggie glanced over at him nervously. She had seen the house before, though Joe rarely stayed at it, preferring the apartment he kept farther in town. The house had belonged to his father’s parents, and had been their home before his grandfather struck it rich in various business enterprises.
The siding was rough wood, though in perfect condition, and sheltered by a wide front porch that gave it a charm and elegance that had always attracted Maggie. The garage that housed Joe’s prized Mustang was attached to the back of the house rather than the side, and led into a large, homey kitchen.
Joe pulled the SUV into the back driveway and sat for several moments, the engine idling as he stared at the garage doors.
“Grant had a key to the garage.” He ran his hand wearily over his face.
They had napped for several hours before leaving, and though he didn’t look tired, he did appear weary. Much as she felt, Maggie thought. After two years of a hellish marriage to Grant, and then the past week of knowing the danger her life was in, she felt exhausted inside.
“Did he have a key to the house?” She turned back to the garage, staring at the darkened windows as her heart raced in her chest.
“No. Just the garage.” He turned off the ignition but made no move to leave the vehicle.
They had driven around the block several times over the past hour. Joe had parked across from the house for what seemed like forever, before driving around again and heading for the back drive.
“Do you think someone is watching the house?” she asked, as he continued to watch the shadows.
“I have no doubt,” he sighed. “If they tracked who I am, and I’m going to assume they have. As often as Grant railed about me in his journals, I’m certain he would have carried the bitch over to his new friends.” The bitterness in his voice had her heart clenching in pain.
“What do we do then? How do we get in there without being seen?”
“We don’t do anything…”
“I’m not staying in the vehicle, Joe.” She shook her head fiercely at the thought. “It would be too easy for someone to get the jump on me.”
“Leave the doors locked.”
“If they had a gun to your head I’d unlock them.” Her nerves were about to choke her.
He breathed in roughly. “Okay, we’ll go in together, but stay on my ass and be ready to move. You jump when I say jump, don’t bother asking how high.”
Her lips twitched at the follow-up order.
“Don’t ask how high. Got it.” She nodded firmly.
“And carry this.” He opened the glove box, reached in, and pulled out a small revolver. “I know you know how to use it.”
Of course, she did—he had made certain she took firearms lessons the minute they had begun seeing each other years before.
“A woman’s best friend.” She gripped the weapon firmly.
“I thought that was diamonds?” he quipped as he scanned the area again.
“What do you think protects the diamonds?” sh
e shot back, fighting to steady her nerves, to find at least a small measure of the calm he was displaying.
“The area is pretty sheltered here with the trees.” He pointed out the large trunks of the oaks growing between his property and the houses on each side. “We should be secure as we move to the garage. Keep your ears open and stay ready, Maggie.”
He reached beneath the dash, disabled the interior lights, then opened the door slowly and eased out of the vehicle. As he stood to the side, Maggie scrambled out after him, easing behind him as he pushed the door closed silently.
They moved quickly to the garage, where Joe unlocked the side door and opened it carefully before pulling her along with him.
The air in the garage was stale, rife with the scents of motor oil, a hint of paint and old grease. Maggie wrinkled her nose at the smell as her eyes struggled to adjust to the near pitch-black darkness.
A second later a small beam of light pierced the black surroundings, directing low, and angling toward the cherry red ’69 Mustang Joe pampered like a baby.
“Hello, baby,” he murmured as he walked to the car, patting the hood affectionately.
Maggie rolled her eyes.
“It’s not a baby, Joe,” she reminded him as she restrained her grin. It was an old argument, and one of the few she often instigated herself.
“’Course she is,” he sighed, as his hand slid over the hood before releasing the lock and raising it slowly.
The penlight beam moved slowly over the engine, as Joe leaned in, checking around it and inside the fender walls.
“Finding parts for her was a bitch,” he said softly. “There are very few original parts left for this model. She’s a true classic.”
Yeah, yeah yeah, Maggie smirked. Joe was doing more than just checking for whatever Grant may have hidden, he was petting and caressing that damned engine like it could actually feel his touch.
“Do I need to leave the two of you alone?” she asked, keeping her voice at a whisper as he ran his fingers in and out of the maze of parts that made up the engine.
“You might want to look the other way,” he murmured. “She gets embarrassed if others see her naked like this.”
Maggie rolled her eyes.
Finally, he straightened from the motor with a sigh before lowering the hood back into place.
“Nothing in there.” There was an edge of relief in his voice as he moved along the side of the car.
His hand smoothed over the top before trailing down the door and gripping the handle. “Do you know how hard it was to find completely original parts? How many years I spent putting her together perfectly?”
“Your dream woman, huh?”
“She doesn’t back-talk me.”
“She can’t get on the kitchen table with you, either. I’d remember that one if I were you.”
He turned back to look at her, and even in the dim glow of the penlight, his gaze was frankly sexual.
“Oh baby, that one is just set in stone,” he murmured. “You have nothing to fear.”
She rolled her eyes at him again as he turned back to the car, moving into it to begin searching the interior. Maggie drew in a deep breath, rubbing her hands against her arms as a nervous chill raced over her flesh.
The garage was damned creepy. There were too many shadows, too many places where someone could hide. She stared around the dark interior, her eyes struggling to pierce the darkness of the corners, the long shadows cast by the multitude of boxes, appliances, and only God knew what that had been stacked against the walls. If she wasn’t mistaken, she had even glimpsed the hull of an old motorcycle hanging high on the far wall.
“You’re a pack rat, Joe,” she muttered.
He grunted from inside the car, the shadow of his large body moving in the interior as he searched each nook and cranny. He was thorough, and though her freedom depended on finding the information, she was beginning to pray it wasn’t here. If it wasn’t here, then she couldn’t be implicated, and there would be no reason to fear Joe’s distrust.
Tucking the small handgun he gave her into the back pocket of her jeans, Maggie bit her lip and waited in nervous fear as Joe took his good ole, easy time searching. He worked his way from the passenger side, back to the driver’s side, searching under seats, along the sides, the carpet, the walls, anywhere that Grant could have hidden whatever it was he hid.
As he knelt at the driver’s side door again, he ran his hands along the sides of the seat, pushing beneath it, then paused. She heard his muttered curse, heavy with bitterness, a second before he pulled a small package from beneath the seat.
“He cut my seat,” Joe muttered. “Bastard. It took me two years to find that seat.”
He sat back on his haunches, staring down at the dark package in his hands.
“Is that it?” She moved closer.
“Yeah.” His voice was heavy with distaste. “I pretty much bet this is it. Feels like a few discs, a video, pictures.” He felt around the wrapping. “I think we have it.”
The garage door opened abruptly.
“And here Santiago was certain our friend Grant was such a liar.”
The heavily accented voice was followed by four large bodies stepping into the garage, weapons raised, and their guns sure as hell looked bigger than hers and Joe’s.
“Down.”
A hard hand locked around Maggie’s wrist, jerking her down, as Joe pulled her around the side of the car and toward the long shadows cast from the junk piled along the walls.
She expected gunfire. Pain. Blood.
“Get them,” the order was harsh, commanding, but the sound of bodies moving behind them was the only indication that the Fuentes gang was in pursuit. The fact that they weren’t firing guns yet made her even more nervous.
“I’m going to assume you are going to be difficult about this,” the voice sighed as a bright light suddenly flared and began sweeping through the garage. “Don’t risk your lady’s life, Agent Merino. Give us the package and we will leave as quietly as we came in.”
Maggie felt the tenseness of Joe’s body, just as she heard the lie in the stranger’s voice. They would never make it out of there alive, no matter what they did.
“Jose, kill them now. You are making Roberto’s mistake in attempting to play with them,” a younger voice hissed. “Finish them off and we leave.”
“Shut up, Santiago. Roberto was less than the piss running down his father’s leg. He had no concept of the lessons Carmelita tried to teach us, whereas I paid careful attention. I will defeat this American dog on my own terms. Is this not so, Agent Merino?” He laughed slyly. “There is no triumph in a quick death. A humiliating life is another matter.”
Maggie had a feeling Jose had no intentions of allowing them either choice. She could hear it in his voice, feel it in the tension whipping through the room. She stayed down, pressed against the side of an old washer, with Joe in front of her, completely hiding her. She bit her lip, fighting back her harsh breathing, forcing herself to stay utterly silent as the flashlight swept through the garage.
Crouched low, with decades worth of junk heaped around them, Maggie bit her lip as the sound of footsteps neared. They were searching around the stacks of accumulated boxes, appliances, and miscellaneous junk heaped six to eight feet from the sides of the large garage. It was a mess. Thank God.
She held her breath as the footsteps passed and moved away, the bright flare of the light skirting inches in front of where Joe crouched.
“Agent Merino, we can do this the easy way, or we may do it the hard way. If you make me exert effort, then I will take your woman and play with her a bit before I allow her to die. I will let you live long enough to watch. Or you can hand over the package easily, and you may just walk away.”
Maggie shuddered at the offer as Joe reached back, gripped her wrist again, and they began moving slowly through the shadows, hunkered low, working around along the side of the garage toward the far wall. The direction they were goi
ng would have them coming up behind the men standing at the doorway. If they moved further into the garage, then there was a slim chance for escape.
“How disappointing,” Jose finally sighed. “But, I’ll enjoy punishing you for the effort I must make.”
Joe moved quickly along a row of boxes before pushing her between a higher stack and an old dresser. There was a maze built through the stacks of junk, haphazard and less than safe, but with a few hidden passageways that seemed more by accident than by design.
They moved into the narrow tunnel, easing slowly behind the dresser as the sound of footsteps began to near their hiding place.
Joe paused behind the dresser, crouched, and waited as the footsteps passed before moving slowly out of the impromptu tunnel and into a mess of old clothes hanging from a long rack. Maybe being a pack rat wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“Americans are so interesting.” Amusement filled the voice that spoke from just in front of the rack of clothing a second before the glare of a flashlight illuminated the floor. “Come out my friends, let us talk for a bit.”
As the rack of clothing began to move, Joe kicked into action. Before Maggie could do more than gasp he pushed her back behind the heavy dresser and opened fire.
Maggie scrambled through the unnatural tunnel, her hand fumbling behind her as she attempted to reach the revolver tucked into her back pocket.
She had just moved to the other side of the dresser when the boxes that lined the tunnel crashed around her, and cruel fingers reached in, latching into her hair.
“No!” Her fingers formed claws as she tore at the fingers holding her, fighting the grip as she was jerked from the safety of the boxes.
“Redheaded whore!” A heavily accented voice hissed at her ear as one arm was jerked behind her back, her hand pressed against her shoulder blades as she cried out in pain.
“Do you hear her cries, Merino?” the voice called out as the gunfire was silenced. “I have your whore now.”
Real Men Do It Better Page 21
