by Nicole Helm
He stepped out of his jeans and then crawled onto the bed and over her. She slid her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet. An invitation, an enchanting spell.
He traced the curve of her cheek with one hand, positioning himself with the other. Slowly, torturing himself and possibly her, as well, he found her entrance. Nudged against it. Taking his sweet time to slowly enter her.
Joined. Together. As if they were a perfect match. A pair that belonged exactly here. How could he belong anywhere else when this was perfect? When she was perfect?
She arched against him as if hurrying him along, her fingers tightening in his too long hair.
“We have time, Gabby. We have time.” He kissed her, soft and sweet, indulging himself in a moment where he was simply seeped inside of her.
A moment when he was all hers and she was all his. And she relaxed, melting. His. All his.
Chapter Twelve
Gabby had known sex with Jaime would be different for a lot of reasons. First and foremost, she wasn’t a young girl sneaking around, finding awkward stolen moments in the back of a car. Second, he wasn’t a little boy playing at being a hard-ass bad man.
He was a strong, good, amazing man, doing things her ex-boyfriend would have wilted in front of.
But mostly, sex with Jaime was different because it was them. Because it was here. Because it mattered in a way her teenage heart would never have been able to understand. Perhaps she never would have been able to understand if she hadn’t been in this position. The position that asked her to be more than she’d ever thought she’d be able to be. Because the truth of the matter was, eight years ago she had been a young woman like any other. Selfish and foolish and not strong in the least.
She would never be grateful for this eight years of hell. She would never be happy for the lessons she’d learned here, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate them. Because whether she was happy about it or not, it had happened. It was reality. There was only so much bitterness a person could stand.
With Jaime moving inside her, touching her, caring about her, bitterness had no place. Only pleasure. Only hope. Only a deep, abiding care she had never felt before.
He kissed her, soft and gentle, wild and passionate, a million different kinds of kisses and cares. His body moved against hers; rough, strong, such a contrast. Such a perfect fit.
Passion built inside her, deep and abiding. Bigger than anything she’d imagined she’d be able to feel ever again. But Jaime’s hands stroked her body. He moved inside her like he could unlock every piece of her. She wanted him to.
The blinding spiral of pleasure took her off guard. She hadn’t expected it so quickly or so hard. She gasped his name, surprised at the sound in the quiet room. Surprised at all he could draw it out of her.
He still moved with her. Growing a little frantic, a little wild. She reveled in it, her hands sliding down his back. Her heart beating against his.
She wanted his release. Wanted to feel him lose himself inside her.
Instead of galloping after it, though, he paused, as if wanting to make this moment last forever. Satisfied and sated, how could she argue with that? She would stay here, locked with him, body to body forever.
He kissed her neck, her jaw. His teeth scraped against her lips and she moved her hips to meet with his. But he was unerringly slow and methodical. As though they’d been making love for years and he knew exactly how to drive her crazy. How to make her fall over that edge again and again. Because she was perilously close.
Aside from the tension in his arms, she would have no idea he was exerting any energy whatsoever. That spurred something in her. Something she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel again. A challenge. And need.
She tightened her hold on his shoulders, slicked though they were. She sank her teeth into his bottom lip, pushing hard against him with her hips. He groaned into her mouth. She slid her hands down his back, gripping his hips, urging him on. One hand tightened on her hip, a heavy, hot brand.
She looked into his eyes and smiled at him. “More,” she insisted.
He swore, sounding a little broken. That control he’d been holding on to, that calm assault to bring her to the brink, snapped. He moved against her with a wildness she craved, that she reveled in.
She’d brought him to this point, wild and a little broken. She could be the woman that did this to him, and that was something no one could ever take away. She was the woman who had made him hers. Maybe she wouldn’t always have Jaime, but she’d always have this.
He groaned his release, pushing hard against her, and it was the knowledge she’d brought him there that sent her over the edge again herself. Pulsing and crashing. Her heart beating heavy, having grown a million sizes. Having accepted his as her own.
He lay against her, and she stroked her hand up and down his back, listening to his heart beat slowly, slowly, come back to its regular rhythm. He made a move to get off her, but she held him there, wanting his weight on her for as long as it could be.
“Aren’t I crushing you?” he asked in her ear, his voice a low rumble.
“I like it,” she murmured in return.
He nuzzled into her neck, relaxing into her. As though because she’d said she liked it he would give her this closeness for as long as he could. She believed that about him. That he would always give her whatever he could. Once they knew Natalie was safe, he’d agreed to get her out under any means possible, and she believed.
For the first time in eight years she believed in someone aside from herself. For the first time in eight years she had hope and care and pleasure.
She might’ve told him she loved him in any other situation, but this was no regular life. Love was... Who knew what love really was? If they got away, back into the real world, maybe...maybe she could learn.
* * *
JAIME SLEPT IN Gabby’s bed. It was a calculated risk to spend the night with her. He didn’t know how close an eye The Stallion was keeping on him with everything going on. In the end, perhaps a little addled by her and sex, he’d figured, if pressed, he’d explain all his time as making sure Gabby paid for her supposed lack of respect.
It bothered him to have to think of things like that. Bothered him in a way nothing in the past two years had. That he had to make The Stallion think he was hurting Gabby. It grated against every inch of him every time he thought about it.
So he tried not to think about it. He spent the night in her bed and the next day mostly holed up with her in her room. They made love. They talked. They laughed.
It felt as though they were anywhere but in this prison. A vacation of sorts. Just one where you didn’t leave the room you were locked into. He wouldn’t regret this time. It was something to have her here, to have her close.
They didn’t talk about the future or about what they might do when they got out. Jaime would have some compulsory therapy to go through. A whole detox situation with the FBI, along with preparations for the future trial. Any further investigating that needed to be done would at least fall somewhat within his responsibility.
But he was done with undercover work. He’d known that before he’d met Gabby. These past two years had taken too much of a toll and he couldn’t be a good law-enforcement officer in this position anymore. He didn’t plan to leave the FBI, but undercover work was over.
Once he got Gabby out, he would make sure that “something different” included her. She would need therapy, as well, and time to heal. It would take time to find ways back to their old selves.
He could wait. He could do anything if it meant having a chance with her.
But their time here in this other world was running out. The Stallion would be expecting a full report from Rodriguez, and Jaime had put it off long enough.
He would do all the thi
ngs he had to do to protect her. To free her.
“You have to go meet with him,” she said, her tone void of any emotion.
He turned to face her on the bed. It was too narrow and they barely fit together, and yet he was grateful for the lack of space, for the excuse to always be this close. “How’d you figure that out?”
“You got all tense,” she replied, rubbing at his shoulders as though this was something they could be. A couple. Who talked to each other, offered comfort to each other.
He couldn’t think of anything he’d ever wanted more, including his position with the FBI.
“He’s expecting a report from me.”
Gabby frowned and didn’t look at him when she asked her question. “Are you going to tell him I cried?”
He’d been planning on it. He knew it poked her pride, but it would be best if The Stallion thought her broken. It would be best if Jaime made himself look like a master torturer.
“Do you not want me to?”
“You would tell him you failed?”
He shrugged, trying to act as though it wasn’t a big deal, though it was. “If you want me to. I don’t think it would put me in any danger to make it look like I’d failed one thing considering everything else that’s currently going down.”
“You don’t think?”
“He’s not exactly the most predictable man in the world, no matter how scheduled and regimented he is.”
“That’s very true,” she mused, looking somewhere beyond him.
“Gabby.”
Her dark gaze met his, that warrior battle light in them. “Tell him I cried. Tell him I sobbed and begged. What does it matter? I didn’t actually.”
“If it matters something to you—”
“All that matters to me is you.” She blinked as if surprised by the force of her words. “And getting out of here,” she added somewhat after the fact.
He pressed a kiss to her mouth. Whatever tension he’d had was gone. Or perhaps not gone, but different somehow.
Screw The Stallion. Screw responsibility. She was all that mattered. He wanted to believe that as he fell into the kiss, wanted to hold on to that possibility, that new tenet of his life. Gabby and only Gabby.
But life was never quite that easy. Because Gabby, being the most important thing, the central thing for him, meant he had to keep her safe. It meant that responsibility did have a place here. It was his responsibility to get her out. His responsibility to get her free.
He started to pull away but she spoke before he could.
“Go have a meeting. Find out if there’s any news about Nattie, and make sure you remember every last detail. And then, when you can...” She smoothed her hand over his chest and offered him a smile that was weak at best, but she was trying. For him, he knew.
“When you’re done, when you can, come back to me,” she said softly.
He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Always,” he said, holding her gaze. Hoping she understood and believed how much he meant that.
He slid out of bed, because the sooner he got this meeting with The Stallion over with, the sooner he could find a way to make sure that this was over. For Gabby and for him.
Jaime collected his weapons. He could feel Gabby’s eyes on him though he couldn’t read her expression. She had perfected the art of giving nothing away and as much as it sometimes frustrated him as a man, he was certainly glad she had built such effective protective layers for herself.
He put the knives back in his boots and then strapped on his cross-chest holster with all of his guns. He buckled it, still watching her expressionless face.
She slid off the bed and crossed to him. She flashed a smile Jaime didn’t think had much happiness behind it, but she brushed her lips against his.
“Good luck,” she said as though she were scared. For him.
“I have to lock the door,” he said, regretting the words as they came out of his mouth. Regretting the way her expression shuttered.
“Yeah, I know.” She gave a careless shrug.
Her knowing didn’t make him feel any better about doing it, but he had to. There were certain things he still had to do. Things that would keep her safe in the end, and that was all that could matter.
He kissed her once more, knowing he was only delaying the inevitable. He steeled all that certainty and finally managed to back himself out of the room. Away from her smile, away from her sweet mouth.
Away from his heart and soul.
He closed the door and locked it from the outside. He regretted having to add the chain, but any regrets were a small price to pay to get her out. He would keep telling himself that over and over again until he believed it. This was all a small price to pay for getting her out.
He walked briskly down the hall, noting the house was eerily quiet. It wasn’t unusual, but often in the afternoon there was a little bit of chatter from the common rooms as the girls worked on their projects or fixed dinner.
Jaime cursed and retraced his steps to check on them. The two calm ones from yesterday were sitting on the couch working on something The Stallion had undoubtedly given them to do. Alyssa was pacing the kitchen.
None of them looked at him, so he could only assume he’d been quiet enough. Satisfied that things seemed to be mostly normal, he backed out of the room. Alyssa’s frenzied pacing bothered him a bit. Gabby was right, the girl was a loose cannon, and it was the last thing they needed. But what could he do about it?
There wasn’t anything. Not now.
He walked back along the hallway, going through the hassle of unlocking and unchaining the door, stepping out, then redoing all the work. His thoughts were jumbled and he had to sort them out before he actually saw The Stallion.
He paused in the backyard, taking a deep breath, trying to focus his thoughts. He forced himself to hone in on all the strategies he’d been taught in his years as a police officer and FBI agent.
He had to put on the cloak of Rodriguez, get the information he was after, lie to The Stallion about Gabby, then go back to her. Once this was over, he could go back to her.
With a nod to himself, he stepped forward, but it was then he heard the noise. Something strange and faint. Almost a moan. He paused and studied the yard around him.
The next sound wasn’t so much a moaning but almost like someone rasping “Rodriguez” and failing.
Jaime started moving toward the noise, listening hard as he walked around the backyard. He held his small handgun in one hand, leaving his other hand free should he need to fight off any attacker.
He rounded the front of the house, still listening to the sound and following the source. When he did, he nearly gasped.
Wallace and Layne were sprawled out in the yard. Layne was a little closer to the house than Wallace, but they were both caked with blood and dirt.
“Rodriguez. Rodriguez.” Layne moved his arm wildly and stumbled to his feet. “I’ve been dragging this piece of shit for who knows how long. Go get The Stallion. And water. By God, I need water.”
“Where is your vehicle?” Jaime asked, his tone dispassionate and unhurried.
“Only go so far...” Layne gasped for air, stumbling to the ground again. “Asshole shot our tires. Got as far as I could.”
Jaime looked at both men in various states of bloodied harm. “You don’t have her.”
Layne’s dirty, bloody face curled into a scowl, but he gave brief shake of the head.
“I don’t know if you want me to get The Stallion if you don’t have her.”
“He shot us,” Layne said disgustedly. “That prick shot us. Wallace might die. We need The Stallion. We need help.”
“You may wish you had died,” Jaime said, affecting as much detached disinterest as he could.
On the inside he was reeling. Gabby’s sister had escaped these men with Ranger Cooper, which meant that it was time. It was time to move forward. It was time to get the hell out. Her sister was safe and now it was her turn.
“Go get The Stallion,” Layne yelled, lunging at him. He had a bloody wound on his shoulder and he was pale. Still, he seemed to be in slightly better shape than Wallace who was lying on the ground moaning, a bullet wound apparently in his thigh.
After a long study that had Layne growling at him as he tried to walk farther, Jaime inclined his head and then began striding purposefully back to The Stallion’s shed. He knocked and only entered once The Stallion unlocked the door and bid him entrance.
“What took you so long?” The Stallion demanded and Jaime was more than a little happy that he had a decent enough excuse to explain his long absence in a way that didn’t have anything to do with Gabby.
“Senor, Wallace and Layne are in the yard. Injured.”
The Stallion had just sat in his desk chair, but immediately leaped to his feet. “They don’t have her?” he bellowed.
“No.”
“Imbeciles. Useless, worthless trash. Kill them. Kill them both immediately,” he ordered with the flick of a wrist.
Jaime had to curb his initial reaction, which was to refuse. He might find Wallace and Layne disgusting excuses for human beings, he might even believe they deserved to die, but he was not comfortable with it being at his hand.
“Senor, if this is your wish, I will absolutely mete out your justice. But perhaps...”
“Perhaps what?” he snapped.
“You will want to go after the girl yourself, sí?”
The Stallion frowned as he walked over and stood by his dolls, grabbing one hand as though he was holding the hand of a little girl.
Jaime had to ignore that and press his advantage. “Clearly the Ranger is smarter than your men. But certainly not smarter than you. If you go after him, you can do whatever you want with both of them. Surely you, of all people, could outsmart them.”
