When He's Dirty (Walker Security: Adrian’s Trilogy Book 1)

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “You’re so calm,” I comment, “like we didn’t just invite a killer to come after us.”

  “We won’t be here when they come,” he says. “We’re safe right now. I promise. You need to pack, though, so we’re ready to leave when the guys give the heads up.”

  “Pack for how long?”

  “Possibly until the trial but we need to stay light, a small duffle on top of your purse and briefcase is all we can risk right now. We’re going over your fence in the dark. If we have to stay in hiding we’ll go shopping. Back to food. Pizza is easy. You want to just get pizza again?”

  I’m still digesting the part where we’re going over the fence but manage a nod. “Yes. Good.” I grab my purse again, really needing my gun nearby when I walk through the house, despite all the Walker men present. “I’ll hurry.”

  I twist out of his reach and hurry down the hallway. My heart is racing and my hand is in my purse, on my weapon, when I flip on my bedroom light, relieved when there’s no monster waiting on me. I follow the same process in the bathroom and closet. When all is clear, I change into jeans, a T-shirt, and boots before filling a small bag. I don’t end up with much and I don’t even care. Suddenly, the reality of what we did today hits me like a ten-ton truck and I sink onto my vanity chair, hands on my face, willing my mind to calm.

  There’s a shift in the air and I swear I feel Adrian even before he appears, and then he’s on his knee in front of me. “You okay?”

  I drop my hands and cover his with mine. “I am. I just—I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I want to do good, but this is insanity. The level of corruption, the politics, the danger.”

  “Waters is a once in a lifetime kind of case, Pri.”

  “But he lets me see the layers of corruption. He lets me see that people aren’t always what they seem. I think I thought that working for the prosecution insulated me from such things.” I study him a moment, this complicated man, I’ve only just met, but who I believe understands me more than people I’ve known most of my life. “I know I want to make a difference in the world,” I say, “but I don’t know if this is how I want to do it. I mean, look at you. You left the Feds after Waters. You had to have felt the same kind of internal conflict.”

  It’s a statement but also a question.

  “I think you already know that’s a long and complicated story but yes, I left. I was done after Waters.”

  “I think I might be, too.”

  “Don’t make that decision now. Decide after you put him in jail and if you leave, leave on your terms.”

  “Not over a fence in the dark?” I joke, giving a choked laugh.

  “Not unless you have pizza in your belly.” He winks and stands, taking me with him, caressing my hair behind my ear, his touch sending a shiver over my skin. “A few more hours and we’ll be out of here, safe, and by the time we wake up tomorrow, at least part of this story is over.”

  And yet, my gut tells me the nightmare has just begun.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ADRIAN

  Pri’s on edge and I understand why. Being under fire in the courtroom is her thing. Being under fire outside the courtroom is mine.

  Once the pizza arrives and she’s with me, Savage, and Jacob at the island, eating, she seems to relax, at least a small amount, laughing as Savage and I banter. Unfortunately, the escape from reality that laughter represents is short-lived. Savage’s phone buzzes and he answers the call, listens, and says, “We’re moving.” He disconnects and focuses on me. “A storm is rolling in. Lucifer thinks you need to move now before it hits and makes it harder to make the change.”

  “Will a storm stop Deleon from attacking?” Pri asks.

  “The opposite,” I say, standing up. “A muddy, wet house hides evidence.”

  “Right,” she says. “I, of all people, know that.”

  I stand and motion to her phone where it rests on the table. “Leave it. We can’t let them use it to track us. We’ll get you set-up with a new one soon.”

  She hesitates but nods her approval.

  Five minutes later, I’m helping Pri over a fence, thunder rumbling above, the scent of rain in the air, the humidity downright suffocating. Once we’re on the ground in the yard next door, we do the same two more times, and exit to another neighborhood street. A quick scan of the area reads safe and I spy the white Ford F150 pickup I’m looking for—a truck our team chose for the simple fact that it’s a Texas favorite, in every other driveway, thus it doesn’t stand out.

  “That’s us,” I say, motioning to the truck and then helping her inside the passenger side. “Lock it,” I order, scanning the area one last time, as I round the truck bed and quickly find my way to the driver’s door. About the time I climb behind the wheel, joining Pri and locking up, the first drop of rain hits the window.

  “We’re in for a wet ride,” I say, cranking the engine and wasting no time setting us in motion.

  “Where are we going?” she asks. “I don’t think you ever told me.”

  “A cabin out by the lake my father left me for just such an occasion. It’s deeded under a fake name and meant to be an escape if he needed it, and now, I need it.” I’m already pulling us out of the neighborhood, and the edge of my mood begins to settle, the adrenaline rush of getting her out of her place safely with it. “Snuggle in and get cozy, sweetheart,” I say. “We have an hour-long drive.”

  She scoots over beside me and rests her head on my arm, glancing up at me. “Is this okay?”

  I wait for some kind of internal push-back, some rejection of my growing bond with Pri, but it’s not there. Something inside me is changing, and it’s all about her. “Yes,” I say. “Perfect.”

  She’s perfect, I think a while later when the rain is steady and so is her breathing. Too perfect for me and it guts me to know that it won’t be long until she agrees.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  ADRIAN

  When we hit the gravel road not far from the cabin, with rain pounding the windows, Pri bustles to life, sitting up with a jolt. “What’s happening?”

  “Bad roads,” I say. “Easy, sweetheart. All is well.”

  Her shoulders roll forward. “Thank God. How long was I out?”

  “Most of the drive. We’re about to arrive now.”

  She presses her hands to her face and then her legs, as if she’s trying to get her circulation pumping. “I can’t believe I slept that hard.”

  “We did sleep on the couch last night and it’s been an intense day.”

  “True,” I say. “Very true.” She scans the woods around us. “Good thing we ate before we left.”

  “We have some supplies, but nothing fancy. I have chocolate and booze, though.”

  “Well then,” she laughs, “we’re living like kings.” She groans. “Why’d I have to bring him into this?”

  “At least you said kings and not devils, but Waters is all over our lives right now, sweetheart.” I point ahead as the wood cabin comes into view and then maneuver us close to the front door and porch. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’s cozy.” I kill the engine. “Hang tight and I’ll help you avoid the mud.” I open the door and rush out into the cold rain, drenched in about ten seconds, but I plug onward.

  Pri opens her door and I scoop her up and out of the rain quickly before carrying her up the steps to set her on the porch. “I’ll grab our bags,” I say, rushing back out into the rain and returning with her bag, and shortly after, another three the guys packed for us.

  “You’re dripping,” Pri worries as I unlock the cabin door and flip the switch controlling the lamp in the living room.

  “I have clothes to change into and we have power which in this case means power to run the air conditioner we’ll need when the rain passes. My father pre-paid in cash for the power for several years in advance.” I push open the door and motion her inside, quickly joining her. She scans the plastic-covered couches, and fireplace, while I to
ss the bags to the floor by the door. “Like I said,” locking up and kneeling by my bag to pull out a change of clothes. “It’s not the Ritz.”

  “I don’t need the Ritz,” she says. “I just want to stay alive.”

  “The back and sides of the house are booby-trapped by the way. If anyone comes at us beyond the front door, they’re in for a painful surprise. My father knew how to cover his bases. You can feel safe here.”

  “Booby traps,” she murmurs. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “We won’t need them,” I assure her, pulling off my wet T-shirt and replacing it with a dry one, then standing with a dry pair of jeans in my hands. “Kitchen,” I say, pointing to the right where a brown table sits. “One bedroom and bathroom. I’m going to go check those rooms.”

  “I’ll uncover the furniture,” she offers, and I nod, heading to the back, checking things out, and then drying off before changing pants.

  Once I’ve returned to the main room, I find the basic brown couches exposed and Pri kneeling by the bags. She holds up a candy bag. “We have plenty of M & M’s, I see.”

  “Dessert and superpower food.”

  She laughs and pulls out a bag of Cheetos. “Also superpower food.”

  “You know it,” I assure her. “Now we just need whiskey. See if there’s any soda in those bags, will you? I have frozen and canned foods, if we need them to get by but Savage packed us some extras.” I walk into the dusty-ass kitchen, and find an equally dusty-ass bottle of whiskey, a couple bottles of water, and two plastic Solo cups, before returning to the living area.

  Pri stands up, holding the candy, and displaying a small bottle the size of a salt shaker between her index finger and thumb. “It’s called Sweet Tea Mio, one of those flavor additives for water, and there’s a note from Savage that reads, ‘Water, Mio, whiskey. Thank me later.’”

  “Savage knows his whiskey, so let’s give it a try.” I motion to the living room and we settle onto the couch. Pri’s already removed the plastic from the basic wooden coffee table and we set our haul on top. “No cable,” I say, filling our glasses with whiskey and water, while Pri adds the Mio. “But we have computers.”

  “What about the internet?”

  “Lucifer will give you a secure line. I have a new phone for you, and Lucifer will forward your calls to it.” I hand her a glass and lift mine. “Shall we try it?”

  “I’m all in,” she says, and we both take a sip, the sweet mix of tea and whiskey a surprisingly good combination.

  “I like it,” Pri says. “And I don’t even really like whiskey.” She takes another sip and leans back onto the couch cushion, facing me. “Tell me about your father.”

  I lean into the couch facing her. “He was a good man, a proud man. A skilled agent. He made me want to be a better man.”

  “And mine made me want to bill the highest dollars. I let the money go to my head and I’m not proud of that.”

  “Because that’s the bar your father set for you to be successful. Hell, I like money, too. I made more money with Walker during my first year with them than I would have my entire career in the FBI. And I got to do good things.”

  “That much money?”

  “Yes,” I say. “But I did go overseas.”

  “And did what there?”

  “Rescued a foreign diplomat’s daughter, and captured a terrorist, among other things. Pretty much it’s the rite of passage for Walker. We all go, make our money, and decide when we’ve had enough.”

  “Is it a requirement?” she asks, reaching for her drink as if she suddenly needs it.

  “It’s not. Nothing but honesty and integrity are requirements at Walker and they share the profit with us all anyway, even stateside.”

  She sips her drink and sets it back down before scooting closer to me, her hand on my leg, her touch tempting me already. “Tell me something,” she says.

  “All right,” I say, steeling myself for a question I’m not willing to answer now.

  “Wasn’t Savage some sort of assassin?”

  “A mercenary and yes, an assassin.”

  “And he’s been with Walker how long?” she asks.

  “A few years longer than me,” I say cautiously. “Why?”

  “If he’s with Walker, why do you believe Walker will turn their backs on you after you testify? Because you do. I know you do.”

  I cup her face, regret in my answer, I don’t hide. “The same reason I know you will. I had to play the role. I had to let people get hurt.”

  Her hand covers my hand on her face. “I let people get hurt by helping bad people stay out of jail. I’m not going to turn my back on you. I’m not. Try me.”

  “I can’t do that, not without the immunity deal.”

  She pulls back to look at me, a stab of pain in her stare. “Do you think I’d use what you tell me tonight against you? Do you really think that of me?”

  “I think you’re a good person, even if you question that. But you have a legal obligation to expose what you know. I’m not going to compromise you in that way.”

  “You have immunity.”

  “For reasonable justified actions. I went beyond that, Pri.”

  “Do you think guilt is controlling you, even effecting your judgment?”

  “No.” I tangle fingers into her tousled dark hair and pull her mouth to mine. “We aren’t having this conversation right now. I’m not ready for you to hate me.”

  “I’m not going to hate you.”

  “And yet, you will.” I brush my lips over hers and whisper, “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”

  “Maybe I’ll save you,” she answers. “Maybe we’ll save each other.”

  Or maybe I’ll destroy you, I think, but still my mouth closes down on her mouth, and the instant our tongues collide, there’s a shift in the air, hunger spiking between us, demanding and ferocious in its need. The sweet taste of her is now my new obsession and I can’t get enough.

  We’re all over each other, tugging at clothes, shifting and moving. There is no slow burn, not this night, not this time. There is just this sense of standing on the edge of a world that is no longer round, and we are falling, crashing, into each other. When we’re naked, and she’s straddling me, she’s not shy about touching me. I hold her up, anchor her, and she’s holding my cock, pressing it inside all that warm perfect heat of her sex.

  She slides down me, pressing against me, settling low, taking all of me and it’s fucking perfection. She’s perfection: her ivory skin, her high breasts, her nipples puckered and pink.

  Her gaze lands on my devil tattoo and I go still, waiting for her realization of just how deep I was inside the Devils, how a part of them I was, and always will be. Her hand covers the ink and her gaze lifts to mine. “You will always be a devil.”

  And there it is. Her realization. “I’ve been telling you that.”

  “You’re too busy denying that part of yourself to survive it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means embrace and use it.”

  I catch her hair with my fingers again, and this time I’m not gentle. She just won’t listen. She won’t stop pushing me to a place she thinks she needs to go but doesn’t. She really fucking doesn’t. “You don’t know what you’re suggesting.”

  “Show me,” she says. “Let that part of you fuck me right here, right now.”

  My rejection is instant. “You will never know that part of me.”

  “Then I’ll never know you.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Pri, and I will. I will never be the man who deserves you. You need to know that.”

  “What if you already are?”

  “I was him, before Waters, but I’m not the same man I was then. I won’t be him again.”

  “I don’t know that man. I know this one. I want to know more, the good, the bad, and the dirty. I can handle it.”

  Until she can’t, I think,
but I want her to, so fucking much. My fingers relax in her hair, my hand cupping her head. And I feel her in ways I have never felt another woman and she’s burning me alive.

  I know I should stop this, stop us, let her go, but right now, it feels like losing her would be cutting off a part of my own body which is crazy—I’ve only just met her. I thought I was fine with dying on those missions for Walker. Now I want to live. And part of me wants to punish her for making us both want what we can’t have. This will end. We will end.

  My mouth slants over hers, and I’m kissing her, drinking her in and I don’t hold back and neither does she. Our tongues connect, stroke, battle. I can taste her demand. She wants what I won’t give. She wants me to fuck her like the devil I am. And I could. I could so easily demand everything and expect her to give it to me. I could take her in ways she’s never been taken. And then she’d prove me right. She’d prove she can’t handle that part of me.

  I tug her shirt over her head and shove her bra down, my fingers teasing her nipple. Her teeth scrape her bottom lip and when I cover her breast with my hand, she covers my hand. Almost as if she’s holding onto control. I lean in and kiss her, and she pants into my mouth, and I revel in the fact that her control is already gone. I nip her bottom lip, lapping at the offended skin, my fingers still tangled into her hair again.

  I kiss her hard and fast, and mold every soft curve she owns against me, one hand scooping her perfect little ass. My lips linger just above hers, and there is no denying the deep ache Pri stirs in me, unfamiliar and somehow intrusive, and yet still additive. Too addictive for me to let her go.

  She leans into me, her body submissive, a plea for me to go further, to show her everything there is to show. She wants to be pushed, to escape with me, but I hold back. I’m too close to the edge, too close to a part of me that may not be gentle. Tonight, our sins will stay our own. They will not be mine.

  Angry at her for trusting so easily, angry at myself for where I almost went with Pri, tormented by how easy it was, I pull my mouth from hers. Her hand presses to my face and she whispers, “I’d tell you to stop deciding for me, but I think I owe you the same.”