by Cherry Adair
“That’s a little extravagant, isn’t it?” Acadia couldn’t pull her eyes away from his. The two sides of her dress parted, leaving an inch of skin exposed between the edges.
“No.” His hand slid between her legs and brushed the dewy petals of her damp folds, sending a zing of electricity through her entire body. “You’re very wet.” Working a finger inside her, he growled, “Keep going,” with a jerk of his chin at her still hands.
She shrugged and the dress fell off one shoulder, revealing a chocolate-brown satin demi-bra. He worked two fingers into her wet passage and stretched her wide. Her back arched as delicious tremors and hot shocks of pleasure streaked through her body.
“God,” he said thickly, eyes as deep and dark as the jungle at night. “Look at you.” His gaze caressed her, traveling over her body to rest where his hand had disappeared between her legs.
Eyes heavy-lidded, he murmured, “I want to taste every delectable inch. Lick you like an ice cream cone …”
Wanting desperately to impale herself, Acadia started lowering her hips.
“Not yet.” Naked fire burned in his eyes.
His heated look inflamed her blood, and a film of perspiration covered her skin. She tried to fill her restricted lungs, but there wasn’t enough air in the room.
“Leave the bra on.” He moved his fingers deep inside her. Acadia’s gaze was drawn to his hand moving between her legs. His penis was huge, jutting past his belly button, a network of veins distended in stark relief along the length. His wrist rubbed up and down his long shaft with each stroke of his fingers inside her.
He was stroking himself while he was pleasuring her.
Knees weak, she let the dress slide off her shoulders, then slipped her arms free and tossed it aside. It landed with a soft plop on the floor beside the bed.
Zak pushed another finger inside her as his thumb found her clit. “Pull the cups down and touch your nipples.”
Her nipples were hard tight buds, aching even as she hesitated. “Zak …”
“Lightly.”
There wasn’t much to the bra cups, just a curve of satin and a little lace. She pushed the fabric down, then cupped her warm breasts and tentatively ran her thumbs across the erect tips.
“How does that feel?”
Better if he were doing it, but, “Good,” she said hoarsely. Really good.
“Just use your fingertips and pinch them. No, don’t close your eyes. Look at me.” Zak’s hand was saturated with her juices as he moved his fingers in and out of her, until she wiggled and ached for more.
He plucked the sensitive hood of her sex between his thumb and forefinger and she shuddered, gasping with need, and tightened her fingers around the globes of her breasts. She could feel her own heart racing beneath her fingers, feel the rising temperature of her damp skin.
It was hard to focus. She squeezed her nipples hard enough to elicit a moan. She did it again, harder, tighter. Her head fell back, so that she felt the cool, wet glide of her long hair caress her naked back. The restless heat building up inside her made her crazy with sharp longing. “Zak!”
“Do you want me to kiss your pretty nipples, Cady?”
She opened dazed eyes. Squeezed her breasts, feeling the hard points of her nipples press needily against her palms. “Y-yes.”
“Lean forward.”
She didn’t want to take her hands off her breasts, but she wanted his mouth on her more. “I—”
“Brace your arms on the pillow … Yes. Like that.”
She curled her fingers into the pillow on either side of his head and lowered her breasts to his mouth while his fingers kept up their relentless assault. Her hair made a wall of golden silk on either side of their heads. His hot mouth closed on one nipple, sucking it inside the wet cavern of his mouth.
“I can’t stand this. Zak, please …”
His teeth closed not so gently on the engorged tip, and her back arched as he nibbled and licked until her body was one giant sensitized nerve ending.
His fingers slipped out of her. She lifted her head and moved her hips to regain contact. “Damn it, Zak, don’t torture me …”
His damp hand slid up her back, telling her without words where and how he wanted her positioned, straddling his hips. The prod of the thick, blunt head of his penis demanded entry against her slick folds. She let out a strangled cry as he pushed himself slowly, inextricably, deep inside her, his hand tangled in her hair as he brought her mouth down to his in a kiss that stole her soul.
Acadia’s sheath tightened around him and she sucked in a shuddering breath at the full and exquisite sensation of him deep inside her. She quickly found a rhythm, her hips rising and falling against him until she crested and climaxed, far too quickly. While she shuddered and her internal muscles clenched, he came inside her, his entire body tensing in the aftermath of the massive climax. Feeling his body buck beneath hers, she went into liquid free fall and came again.
How—Acadia wondered, as her body still shuddered with aftershocks and the sweat on their skin cooled—how was she ever going to go back to a normal life after this? After Zakary Stark?
WHILE ZAK WORKED AT his new computer, Acadia sat on the floor nearby, with bags of their purchases beside her. Dumping everything out beside her, she started sorting, then systematically filled Zak’s SCOTTeVEST pockets with things she thought he’d need on the trip back into the jungle. If he returned to the jungle. Which she was praying very hard he wouldn’t have to do.
First the shirt, then the pants. She wasn’t a religious person, but with each item she stuck in each of his twenty-eight pockets, she said a little prayer to keep him safe.
Last, she took her St. Christopher medal and stuck it securely in the breast pocket right over his heart.
Zak had generously replaced everything she’d lost or used in the jungle, and since there wasn’t anything else to do while he looked for numbers to match his numbers, she filled her new vest with items. Not that she was ever likely to wear the clothes. But they were a nice souvenir of the—No, she didn’t want to think about it.
Getting up off the floor, she lugged the extremely heavy garments into the bedroom and placed them on one of the chairs. Hers she’d pack before she flew home. If it took longer than a couple of days, she’d find an inexpensive hotel while Zak left to look for Gideon.
Zak would wear his when he went in search of his brother. Because, as much as she hated to even think it, she knew Gideon Stark wasn’t finding his way to the hotel in Caracas. He was still out there.
Going back into the living room, she pulled a dining room chair up to the desk beside Zak at the computer. There were four other suites on the floor; a connecting room was reserved for Gideon. Every now and then she heard the faint ding of the elevator, or the subdued sound of voices passing by. But no key card snicking in the lock. No Gideon.
“Anything?” Acadia pulled her bare feet up on the rung under the seat and leaned against his good arm.
“Not a bank account. Not anything financial.”
“How about—hell, I don’t know—let’s just throw stuff out until something clicks. Fibonacci series?”
He shook his head. “They’re not in the right integer sequence.” He flipped the sheet where he’d written the numerals, 55836232859675625355565, for her to see.
“Not even close. Okay. How about … Golden Ratio? Are the numbers the size of something? No? How about prime numbers?” She stirred as he typed up a list of numbers to look at. “How about another cup of coffee and a some of that—what’s it called? Bien me something?”
“Sabe,” he finished absently, fingers tapping.
Acadia went to the table where their finished meal had been laid out. She put the dirty dishes back onto the serving cart, then dished up two servings of a sponge cake bathed in liqueur, layered with coconut cream filling, and topped with meringue.
“I’m going to wheel this out into the hallway,” she called to him, pushing the cart in front of her
. Unchaining and unlocking the door, she used her hip to hold it open, then pushed the loaded cart to one side before going back in.
Collecting the two desserts, she carried them back to Zak, placing them on the desk beside the computer. “How about we give the number thing a rest for a bit? Let’s spread out the map over there, and see if we can find where Piñero’s hangout i—”
A thunderous explosion rocked the building. Seconds later, a violent column of flames and black smoke shot up from the parking lot eighteen floors below.
FOURTEEN
Wow. That was loud,” Acadia uncurled her legs and rose to her feet. “I wonder wha—”
Familiar with the sound, Zak jumped from his chair. “Car bomb!” He grabbed her by the arm and spun her toward the other room. “Get dressed. Now.”
He’d heard car bombs in Ireland, in Yemen, hell, even in Bangkok. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the other shoe he’d been waiting for had just dropped with a very loud percussion and a billow of smoky flames.
She gave him a startled look but didn’t ask questions. She turned on her heel and sprinted so fast, he glimpsed long bare legs as her robe flapped behind her body like wings. Zak clicked off the desk lamp, then raced over and switched off the two other lamps, plunging the living room into semidarkness.
It stood to reason that since he’d just been kidnapped and held for ransom, and his brother was still MIA, Zak was the target. His gut told him to stop messing around and move before whoever was behind the bombing crashed into the suite to finish what they’d started once and for all. His best guesstimate was that he had less than five minutes before they’d have uninvited guests.
One alive. One dead. Did this mean they had Gid, and wanted Zak silenced? Or had Gid evaded them and now they were after Zak instead? He hit all the lights. Click. Click. Click. Once an assailant’s eyes adjusted to the difference in brightness from the outside hallway, it would be easy enough to see with the illumination from the city lights streaming through the window. Zak would have about fifteen seconds before their sight adjusted and he lost the home-team advantage.
Grabbing two chairs, he flipped them on their sides, leaving them in the middle of the room, then dragged out an ottoman as well. Everything low to the ground, more an obstacle course than a trap. Anything to slow them down. For good measure, he dumped out the two bowls of mushy dessert into slippery puddles in a couple of places on the floor. Adrenaline sped through his veins as he saw the computer, screen lit and displaying the research they’d done.
Slamming the computer closed, he didn’t bother crawling beneath the desk, just yanked the cord to unplug it, then tucked it under his arm like a football. Once in the bedroom, he closed and locked the door. Another flimsy deterrent that wouldn’t keep anyone out, but might add the few precious minutes he and Acadia needed to get free.
Acadia sent him a brave grin as she shoved her feet into her boots and then slammed a clip into the SIG-Sauer they’d bought that afternoon. Both her pants and her shirt were unbuttoned and flapping open over her nude body.
“Good girl,” he whispered, tossing off his robe and hastily pulling on his pants and shirt. Thank God Acadia was such a methodical woman; she had distributed the weight evenly, and his movements weren’t hampered at all. He stuffed his bare feet into his boots.
He grabbed up several more guns, tucking them into the back of his waistband and one cargo pocket, then added the rest to the bag and shoved the computer into an outside pocket. He hated guns, but he’d never had more reason to carry one. Or two. Or three. “Take only what we can carry,” Zak whispered, although there was no one to hear him. Yet.
She nodded, then held up a hand in a wait motion. Grabbing the pillows and their robes, she formed lumps on the bed under the pulled-back covers, then threw the comforter over everything. Her shirt still hung open, and she gave him an inquiring look just as a sound alerted him to the presence of someone breaking down the front door. Zak carefully opened the door into the adjoining suite, slipped inside, and held it open. “Shh,” he breathed, letting Acadia duck inside under his arm before silently closing and locking it behind her.
Ear pressed to the thick wood, Zak heard stumbles and curses as his obstacle course tripped up at least one member of the hit team. Acadia’s fingers tightened on his arm as she listened.
Next, the bedroom door was kicked in, and Zak heard at least couple of footsteps. Immediately followed by two distinct pops.
Silencer.
Acadia’s eyes went wide.
“Make sure the wife’s dead.” The voice was male. And American.
“Sí, jefe.”
The bed was on the wall beside the door to the connecting suite they’d reserved for Gideon. The sound of the covers being drawn back was indistinct, but the American cussing was loud and clear. “You goddamn dickhead. You said she was in the room.”
“Sí. Sí. She come to take out the carrito de alimentos. The old food, ¿sí? I see her.”
“Well she’s not here now, you fucking moron! We got the car they borrowed, so wherever she is, she’s meeting up with Stark. Obviously he knows we’re after them, but they’ll be on foot. Let’s go.”
Zak kept Acadia standing by the door in the dark room for a good twenty minutes, until he was sure the two men were long gone. Not a hundred percent sure, but they couldn’t stand there forever.
Zak figured Buck’s security specialists should’ve landed about now. They’d show up at the hotel to find him gone. He added, to the growing list, calling Buck to give him their new location.
He indicated her undone clothing. “Finish getting dressed. Don’t forget your bootlaces; we’re going to have to run.” And run like hell.
The sound of emergency vehicles, fire engines and police cars, was faint but unmistakable, even eighteen stories above the street. The cavalry had arrived—although, in this neck of the woods, the cavalry was just as likely to be in cahoots with the bad guys.
He finished buttoning and zipping. “Empty most of that crap out of your pockets; it’s going to slow you down.”
For once, she didn’t argue. He noticed she looked paler than usual, but with thin-lipped determination, Acadia laid the SIG on a nearby chair and quickly started emptying some of her pockets. She tossed the heaviest item—the tent—behind the upholstered chair in the corner. “I need everything else I’m carrying.”
“Sounds like whoever hired the guerrillas is American. And they aren’t happy to find us alive and well and not here.”
“Did you hear what the American guy said? ‘Make sure the wife is dead.’”
“Yeah. Got that.” That little bit of business added yet another unpleasant layer to the miasma that was this whole clusterfuck. Who else would know about his “wife” except hotel staff, the sister at the mission, and the son-of-a-bitch chief of police she’d beaten at poker?
She took a deep, steadying breath. “That Spanish voice, that was one of the guerrillas.”
“What? Who?”
“The kidnapper in the hotel room who sounded like he had a cold? That was him in there. I recognized his voice. Kind of high,” she explained, “like he had to talk through his nose.”
Or has a nasty coke habit, Zak thought. Damn. If it was the same guy, and Zak was inclined to believe it was, then Loida Piñero had finally caught up with them. How she’d found them, he had no idea.
“Okay. We’re going to slip out, turn left, and haul ass down the hallway to the emergency exit. Don’t stop, no matter what happens. If we get separated—”
“We’re not getting separated.”
“If we get separated,” he repeated, fighting the inane urge to smile, “I want you to find somewhere to hide. Then call Buck and have his security people meet you. They’ll make sure you get back home. Promise me.”
“Fine.”
Zak grabbed her by the front of her shirt and kissed her quick and hard. He touched his fingers to her soft, warm cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid. You hear me,
Acadia Gray?”
Her chin came up, eyes shadowed. “Ditto, Mr. Stark.”
“Keep that gun pointed, and be ready to shoot without asking questions. These assholes mean business. I don’t want any extra holes in you, got it?” Her lips twitched as if she found that amusing. She nodded.
Zak eased open the door, hand held up to keep her behind him. There was no one in the hallway. The floor indicator showed that all the elevator cars were in the lobby. He waved her out. Together, they stuck close to the wall, running toward the exit sign. No one stopped them, but Zak waited for a tap on the shoulder at any minute. Or, worse, the muffled report of silenced gunfire.
He eased open the door to the stairwell, and Acadia passed through. He closed the door behind them, then peered through the small window to see if they’d been followed. No one out there.
“Eighteen flights,” he reminded her. “Pace yourself.”
SHE NEEDED TO RENEW that gym membership. Eighteen flights of stairs at a jog just about gave Acadia respiratory failure by the time they reached the bottom. Her knees ached. Her legs were rubbery, and she felt light-headed.
“Catch your breath,” Zak said. He wasn’t even breathing hard. They were in a small area at the foot of the stairs, still inside, but the metal door was marked Salida. “I’m going to get transportation.”
She held her hand to the stitch in her side. “I-I n-eed a-air.”
Zak hesitated, then pushed open the door onto the muggy night. They stepped outside into a narrow alley, where flashing red and blue lights of various emergency vehicles bounced off a nearby wall in a disco effect, but thankfully they were hidden behind a low outbuilding. “Okay. Stand right here.” Here was comprised of two large, noxious-smelling trash bins. “Stay put.”
Hands on her knees, head down, she grunted an affirmative. She felt the brush of his hand on her neck. “You’re a hell of a—” Suddenly Zak’s phone beeped. “Jesus—”
Acadia would’ve liked hearing the rest of that sentence. She straightened as Zak turned on the phone, saying a brisk “Yeah?” He paused, his features relaxing while he listened to whoever it was. “They are? Good to know. Where’s the jet?” Zak listened for several seconds. “The kidnappers broke into our hotel room. Yeah. No, we’re both fine. Have the pilot stay where he is. File a new flight plan. I’ll be there in twenty. Yeah. Thanks, Buck.” He disconnected.
