Deadly Hunter

by Rachel Lee

  Hours of this? She was going to go out of her mind. She was nearly out of it already.

  Suddenly his hand was gone. She snapped her eyes open in dismay in time to see him lie beside her.

  “Your turn,” he said.

  To her amazement, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all until she straddled him again, but over his legs this time.

  “Anything you want. Any way you want.”

  He looked like a meal to a starving person. She wanted to learn every inch of him, but first, first...

  She closed her hand around his staff, felt its silken steel, felt it jerk under her touch, listened to his groan with immense satisfaction.

  “How...?” she asked.

  Reaching down, he helped her roll a condom on him, then he showed her how he liked to be touched. He kept no secrets from her, letting her watch his responses, letting her hear them. She felt the power again, the power of holding a lion in thrall to her least touches.

  Leaning forward, she propped herself on her arms and sprinkled kisses on his chest until at last she had the courage to take one of his small nipples in her mouth.

  He swore, but it was a good swearing, she could tell by the way his hand suddenly gripped her, holding her closer, and the way his entire body jerked, nearly rising from the bed.

  Emboldened, she sucked on him and even nipped a bit, enjoying the pleasure she could give him, feeling as if his pleasure fueled hers until the intensity between them became almost beyond enduring.

  Then he slipped one hand down between them, finding her sensitive nub, stroking it and finally pinching it.

  The pinch did her in. She arched backward and one pleading word escaped her.

  “Please....” It was a drawn-out moan.

  Finally he obliged. Lifting her, he settled her on his staff. He felt so huge, sliding into her, but the stretching of muscles answered another need, and when he had entered her completely, she froze, savoring it.

  “However you like,” he murmured. “However.”

  She took him at his word, riding him desperately toward culmination. Riding him hard, letting sensation guide her. She flew. She flew to regions she had never imagined, goaded by the demanding hammering in her body, by an ache that needed to be quenched as surely as any wildfire.

  The climb was fraught with peril. At some level she feared it would all pop like a soap bubble. But it didn’t. Higher and higher she went until she exploded in a shower of blazing embers. Moments later she felt him follow her.

  * * *

  She was still sweat slicked but just beginning to feel a bit chilly when he slipped from the bed. She groaned a protest, but still felt too weak to do more than that. A minute later he returned from the bathroom, climbed back into the bed and pulled the coverlet over them. She crawled back into his arms as if she belonged there. He welcomed her with the same ease.

  “You,” he said, brushing her damp hair back from her forehead, “are one hell of a lover.”

  “Really?” She felt suddenly shy.

  “I’m not kidding. I’d never lie about that. I wouldn’t say anything at all if I felt otherwise. Not only have I been crazed with desire for you, but you just set me off twice like a string of firecrackers. You’re gorgeous, you’re giving and...”

  Suddenly, he threw the covers back, “We still haven’t gotten to what pleases you.”

  “What makes you think I wasn’t pleased?” The thought astonished her.

  He smiled at her in the dim light from the hallway. “Lady, we’ve just begun. But first, a shower.”

  She learned something then, too. Her shower was tiny, meant only to hold one person, but he squeezed in with her anyway, and beneath the hot spray he soaped every inch of her he could reach, then passed her the bar of soap.

  She knew a moment of hesitation as shyness rose again, but the truth was, she wanted to touch this man all over, learn how he felt everywhere. The freedom to do so had just been handed to her, and she wasn’t going to pass it up. No way.

  She began at his neck and shoulders, then slowly moved down to his chest. Each touch she gave him seemed to renew the longing inside her. She would never get enough of him. Never.

  She learned every plane and hollow, loved the way his muscles quivered beneath her touches. When she tried to reach his back, he obligingly turned and gave her complete access.

  The scars she had barely noticed earlier caught her attention now. His front, his back, slashing scars as if something had cut him, and a few deeper hollows near his spine. The marks of stitches. Some scars had faded; some were still slightly red.

  She couldn’t imagine what he had endured, but she gentled her touches even more, trying to convey that she cared. Then she reached his sculpted butt. She bit her lip, then slipped her soapy hand between his cheeks.

  His flanks quivered, a quiet groan escaped him then he suddenly pivoted. “Now you’re in for it,” he growled.

  “In for what?” Teasing overcame her. Then a giggle followed as he poked her stomach with his hardened staff.

  “You didn’t think you were going to get away from the havoc you’ve created, did you?”

  Another laugh followed the first, and soon they were laughing almost like kids, slipping around each other, the soap like a lubricant, making their skin slide so easily. But gradually the shower spray washed it away, the sliding became less easy, and his arms locked around her.

  “I’ve always wanted to wash a woman’s hair,” he said, his eyes as dark as night. “But I’m not sure I have the patience for that right now.”

  “I’m in no mood for patience,” she agreed, closing her hand around his staff.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he said.

  She shrieked then laughed as he abruptly lifted her from her feet and put her on the mat outside the shower. He paused just long enough to turn off the water, then grabbed some towels.

  He started drying her. She grabbed a towel and reciprocated. And somewhere they went from laughing to quiet sighs and moans.

  When he passed the towel between her legs, she grabbed his shoulders for support, afraid she would suddenly collapse into a puddle.

  When he returned her to the bed, he propped himself over her. “Now,” he said, “I’m going to learn every single thing that pleases you.”

  “I thought you already had,” she said, as her body melted into a pool of hot honey.

  “We’ve only just begun.”

  He proved it, too, learning every inch of her with his tongue and mouth and not quitting until she was helplessly begging.

  Her imaginings hadn’t even come close.

  * * *

  Across the street, the hunter waited. The house was under surveillance, which meant, as he had hoped, Marquette was under suspicion for the shooting in the woods today. The cops weren’t sure he’d meant to hurt the woman, but that didn’t matter as long as Marquette didn’t wind up in a cell.

  He probably looked pretty damn suspicious, the hunter thought with satisfaction. He was the only one they knew was out there with her, and he’d been careful to cover his tracks.

  So they’d think it was a setup by Marquette, and his explanations of everything that was wrong with the nest would only make him look more suspicious.

  So he was being watched.

  Perfect. And while he didn’t know Marquette personally, he knew enough about him and his kind of training to know the guy wouldn’t leave it like this. No, he’d lay low for a day, maybe two, letting the heat cool down a bit, and then he’d come hunting the hunter.

  Which was exactly what the hunter wanted. They had a score to settle, a big one. Since the hunter knew everything he needed to, and would be staging the ambush, he had no doubt about how this would all come out. Marquette would be at a complete disadvantage, because he h
ad no idea who might be setting him up or why. Intel was always important, and Marquette had very little.

  And because of the setup, he’d peeled the woman away. Marquette wouldn’t allow her to come along. When Marquette disappeared, the cops would be sure he was on the lam.

  Perfect.

  Satisfied, the hunter shifted back into the shadows and headed for the mountains. He’d be ready whenever that bastard showed up. Tomorrow, even, although he suspected it might be a day or two. And it would be at night, because not even Marquette could slip that police noose in broad daylight.

  Soon. Very soon.

  Chapter 11

  Allison awoke in the early hours while the outside world remained dark. She wanted to luxuriate in the way her body felt, so well loved from tip to toe, pleasured so well that she ached in delicious ways in delicious places. Instinctively, she turned on her side, longing to wrap herself around Jerrod, and found him gone.

  Her heart nearly stopped. Had he left already? Jumping up, she scrambled for her robe and slippers without turning on the light. The whole house was dark. Not even a light from the kitchen or hallway.

  Frightened, even a little angry that he could have left without at least saying goodbye, she hurried down the hall, glancing into her office where only the red glow of a digital clock provided illumination. A peek in the kitchen showed her the indicator on the coffeepot glowed. He’d made coffee.

  Hope leaped into her throat, then seemed to stick there as she saw him at last, a dark shadow at her front window, staring out into a world not yet ready to stir to life.

  She stood in the doorway, uncertain whether to disturb him. He stood as still as a statue, but even so she could feel his alertness. Maybe she shouldn’t bother him.

  Then, without turning, he held out an arm, inviting her closer. She tentatively eased over to him until his arm snaked around her and pulled her close to his warm side. He was dressed again, although his shirt hung open, and he even wore his boots.

  When he said nothing, she finally whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “Thinking. Waiting for you to wake up. Let’s get you some coffee.”

  “Not yet.” She stood with him, enjoying the weight of his arm around her. “Do you see something out there?”

  “Only one of the poor cops who’s been assigned to watch this house.”

  “Why are they watching you?”

  “Not me. You. They’re here to protect you in case we figured this all wrong. Don’t worry, I’m sure we didn’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Experience.” He sighed quietly, then fell silent.

  “Just a little while ago you thought the opposite.”

  “I know. I’m sorry for putting you at risk.”

  She leaned against him, staring through the sheers at the patrol car parked out front. “They’re pretty obvious out there.”

  “That’s the idea. There’s somebody in the alley, too, with a clear view of the back of the house. Sometimes you want obvious.”

  “I suppose.” But a chill crept through her as reality returned after last night. She hoped their lovemaking didn’t turn into a treasured memory, a bubble out of time that never happened again.

  “Are you up for good?”

  “Wide-awake.”

  “Then let’s get some coffee,” he said.

  * * *

  Jerrod was thinking, all right. He’d spent time ransacking his memory, trying to come up with any idea of who might be after him. A few faces popped up, but they seemed so unlikely. Then he’d spent more time chewing over the night he and Allison had just shared. Without a doubt it had been the best sex of his life. Maybe more than sex, but he didn’t want to think about that right now, not with what he was facing. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, not by anything, and the focus had already started to tighten.

  He talked the talk and walked the walk, and did a damn fine job of it, but if he’d ever thought he was absolutely secure in his skills, he had plenty of scars to prove he was mortal. He knew with certainty that he might not survive this hunt.

  That didn’t frighten him. He and the possibility of death had been close acquaintances for a long time now. Every twinge of his back reminded him of how close he had come. So he wasn’t at all worried about what he might face, not for himself. In fact, he was almost eager to be at it. His only disadvantage might come if his back decided to spasm hard on him, but he thought he could keep on going through that, no matter what.

  No, he was thinking and worrying about Allison, probably more than he should, given what he faced. He felt a new admiration for his teammates who seemed to have been able to cut off all concerns about their families once they became mission focused. But they all understood something: any distraction might be deadly. Total focus was a must.

  He figured it would take over completely once he set out, but right now he sat with a woman in a darkened kitchen, his eyes night adjusted enough that he could see her clearly in the little bit of illumination that filtered in through the window from the streetlamp down the street.

  He thought of how she had looked last night and hated himself for the tension he saw in her now. He wanted to erase it with one sweep of his hand. He supposed he could. He could carry her back to bed right now and make them both forget for a while, but then reality would return. Inevitably.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have loved her last night. Maybe he’d made things worse for her. He’d wanted her to understand that her old boyfriend was wrong. He’d wanted to give her back that part of herself.

  But what if he took away something equally important when he walked out of here?

  The thought pierced him, hurting almost like the shrapnel that had once slashed him. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, not at all. Not even in the least way.

  Instead, he’d mucked up her life, caused her a scare she’d probably never forget and now was about to go out the door on a mission that would leave her waiting, frightened to death.

  He’d ripped a hole right through the center of her life. He looked back at the past two weeks and wondered why he hadn’t just kept his distance. Why had he felt so compelled to insert himself? For God’s sake, he’d even been wrong about the threat she faced...which had likely been none until he walked into the middle of things.

  All he could do now was mentally kick himself for being so dull witted. He’d formed the wrong shape in his head, and there was no excuse for that. He knew better than to settle on a single outline until he had a lot more information.

  But out here in this bucolic county, he’d felt so far from his own past. No reason to think it could have followed him here, certainly not so swiftly. Instead, in the stupidest way imaginable, he’d allowed events to mislead him. He had been the danger to her, not some shadowy poisoner.

  She had tried to tell him that no one had anything to fear from her, but he hadn’t heeded her. In his world, a paranoid world to be sure, there was something to fear from everyone. Eventually, she had concluded the same herself. Only yesterday she had said, “What if he’s still using the poison?”

  But had she thought of that because of his insistence all week that she could be in danger?

  God, he nearly despised himself. Why couldn’t he be like other people? Why wasn’t he in bed with her right now, whispering the sweet nothings she deserved, holding her and caressing her and helping her to appreciate the incredible gift she had given him?

  Instead, he was prowling the dark, thinking about equally dark things and ready to dive into business again even though it was still too soon.

  “I’m broken,” he announced.

  Her head jerked a little. “Your back?”

  “No, me. I’m broken. I can’t squeeze myself back into regular life.”

  “I think you’re doing okay
, but aside from that, why should you?”

  That startled him. “Why should I?”

  “You are who you are. I think the world can make some room for you, Jerrod. It makes room for a lot of different types of people. Besides, I don’t think there’s any real state called normal. Everything’s relative.”

  “Well, I’m so lost right now that I seriously screwed up, scared you, put you at risk... I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You perceived a threat. One that fit with the situation. Why would you think it was anything else?”

  “Because there are people with a reason to want my hide.”

  “That would be the first thing to occur to you when I was tracking a poison and my car window was smashed. Yup, that rises right to the front of the brain, doesn’t it?”

  Despite himself, he felt his lips twitch at her sarcasm. He couldn’t believe she was making light of the situation he’d led her into. A situation that had gotten her shot at and probably left her sense of security in a shambles.

  She amazed him.

  She sighed and rested her chin in her hand. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’re sure now it isn’t just the guy with the hideous poison. You’ve got a handle on it. So isn’t this when you put on your game face?”

  “Soon.”

  “As for the rest.” She paused a long time. “In case you think your white-knight self-image has been tarnished, it hasn’t with me. Last night... Last night...” Her voice thickened a bit. “Let’s just say you helped me consign an idiot to a pit he should have been in a long time ago.”

  Happiness struck him then, a feeling so rare he almost didn’t recognize it. Real happiness. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He shook his head quickly. “You gave me something precious, Allison. Don’t ever think otherwise. Nobody’s given me the gift you gave me last night, the gift of your trust when you were so afraid. But as for the white-knight thing... I’m nobody’s knight.”