In its place was a tender, almost loving yearning as they stared at one another through their kiss.
Inexplicably, Ashtyn had no desire to run, despite the danger this man might represent.
She wanted to allow herself this fleeting time to forget about her troubles, about the fight in which she had engaged for over six years.
Ashtyn fell into him, wanting his strong arms to encircle her waist and he seemed to sense the urgency in her conflicted body.
Without hesitation, he wrapped her against him, their embrace growing warmer, his mouth slipping along her cheek to nuzzle and taste her skin.
Ashtyn sighed, closing her eyes as she felt his hardness growing against her crotch.
Instantly she was brought back to the train, a memory she had relived several times that day but the reality of it happening again sent a shiver of heat to her core.
While she had been half expecting it, she still gasped as he swept her up and carried her to the dilapidated brass bed, laying her gently onto the squeaking mattress with ease, his lips never leaving her body.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” he murmured. “You’re like heroin. I know you’re so bad for me, but this will feel so good while we have it.”
Ashtyn tensed at his analogy but he instantly pressed his mouth to hers again, his hands roaming beneath her shirt to cup her breasts.
His erection was growing more solid, pressed against her thigh and she pushed away her doubts, permitting him to pull the shirt above her head, his sea colored eyes glowing despite the dusty dimness of the house.
When he looked at her, she felt her body quiver slightly, his irises boring into her before he swooped his head down to find her nipples with his tongue.
Her palms splayed over his head, rubbing the rough surface with her fingertips as he dropped lower.
Each flick of his tongue sent shivers through her and suddenly there was no doubt; she wanted him, no matter how wrong it was.
She guided his head lower as his hands continued to play with her large, firm breasts.
One hand slipped off his hair to undo her pants, his teeth nipping at each inch of skin as it was exposed.
Her pants made their way onto the floor and he propped her creamy thighs upward, kisses littering the path from calf to core.
He inhaled sharply as if trying to get high off her scent and Ashtyn propped herself up on her elbows to watch him as his tongue slowly made its way toward its target, with agonizingly slow laps.
Her legs were thrust over his shoulders as his hands tore away the lace, shredding the delicate garment, but she did not care. The need to feel his mouth against her throbbing clit was becoming unbearable.
“Please,” she begged, sensing his need to tease her, but she didn’t think she could wait.
He didn’t look at her, his lips surrounding her already wet center and Ashtyn fell back, realizing he was going to give her what she wanted.
She moaned quietly, relishing the tickling sensation as it shot up her abdomen, his tongue strong and skilful.
Her fingers curled into the sheets of the thin mattress, her back arching as her ankles locked behind his head.
Deeper he explored, hands gripping the flesh of her rear, drawing her closer as if to taste every inch of her womanhood.
Slowly, his fingertips worked their way to her core, making her beg him to fuck her.
Rhythmically, her hips rose and fell with his strokes, her climax building.
Her breaths came out in short gasps, the heat surging through her solar plexus, a rush of sensation exploding through her body, causing her juices to escape onto his tongue.
“Oh God…yes!” she breathed and Xander chuckled, thrusting his tongue into her core to taste her sweetness.
Another spasm shook her as he tortured her sensitive clit with his fingers, and she couldn’t wait to have his cock deep within her any longer.
“Come here,” she pleaded, reaching for his muscular shoulders. He had dropped his shirt somewhere along the way and for the first time, Ashtyn realized he was ripped with abs of steel.
Of course he is, she thought almost wryly, but her focus was much more centered on the huge bulge in his pants and not the full-body tattoo which seemed to overtake every inch of skin on his back and torso.
He crawled up toward her, snakelike, his hands slipping away from her ass to unfasten and slip off his jeans.
Somehow, he seemed even larger than he had been on the train and Ashtyn bucked her body upward, her legs still securely around his broad, rippling shoulders.
“You don’t seem real,” he rasped, positioning himself as he gazed into her eyes and it was only then that Ashtyn realized that he no longer had the French accent he had used on the train.
She whimpered, slight warning bells exploding in her mind, but they were too far gone. She couldn’t have stopped now even if she wanted to.
He flowed into her, his unit filling her deliciously and Ashtyn cried out, pulling his face to hers as he deliberately pounded her body.
Their lips locked again and she tasted herself on his tongue, the sensuality of the thought ratcheting up her pleasure even higher.
The battle between them was forgotten, as they were entangled in an almost tangible web of desire, one spun with delicate but deadly threads.
There was an undeniable connection between them, one which could not be easily ignored, despite their wariness.
“Fuck me,” she breathed and he obeyed, his movements becoming harder, his mouth opening and his tongue thrusting deeper.
Her clit was swollen, sore and growing more tender with each slap of his body, but it only served to bring her to the brink faster.
His shaft almost seemed too big for her as he groaned deeply and Ashtyn clenched her calves, the strain in her thighs barely noticeable as he plunged forcefully toward his goal.
The feelings grew uncontrollable in them both, and almost simultaneously, they spilled in unison, a symphony of feral sounds and juices.
Xander arched into her one final time, sighing as he filled her with heat, and tentatively she allowed her hands to unfurl.
They were quiet for a moment, as if coming to grips with what had occurred between them.
He collapsed to her side and stared at her, his strange eyes studying her face.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “You’re staring at me funny.”
Ashtyn shook her head.
“I’m looking at your tattoo,” she admitted. “Trying to figure out what it means.”
He laughed and shook his head.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out my entire life,” he replied and she peered at him questioningly.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged and flopped onto his stomach, peering over his shoulder to see if she was following his gaze.
“I’ve been haunted by a nightmare for as long as I can remember,” he confessed. “This dream about being stormed by men in black, violent men with guns coming into a house. In the dream I am a baby, a small child but there are other children there too. There was screaming and gunshots…”
Ashtyn arched an eyebrow and continued to listen to his strange tale.
“Sounds scary,” she offered but he shook his head.
“It’s not just scary,” he muttered. “I think it happened when I was very young.”
“Really?”
“My twin brother thinks he remembers something like that in the corners of his mind but then I have to ask myself if I didn’t influence him with all the times I told him the story.”
“You have a twin?” she asked incredulously. “Identical or fraternal?”
“Identical. But he loathes me. We sort of took different paths in life.”
He chuckled mirthlessly.
She studied the intricate design on his body and realized that it was precisely what he was describing in an abstract Edvard Munch style portrait.
The haunted eyes of four children, shadowy
figures and obscurely, a dining room table.
“Who is that man?” she asked, pointing at the only adult figure, not cloaked in black and appearing as terrified as the children.
“I believe that is my real father,” he replied shortly, and Ashtyn could see that he didn’t want to talk about it much more, but as she examined the detail, she realized all the figures with faces had the same sea green eyes.
That is one hell of a memory, she thought. She wondered what it meant.
“Who are you really?” she asked pensively, partially to change the subject and partially to learn the truth.
He looked at her almost blankly, cocking his head to the side as if he was surprised by the question.
“My name is Xander. Van Hoyt.”
“Why have you been following me?”
If possible, he seemed even more stunned.
“Really? You don’t know why I’m here?”
Ashtyn shook her head but as she studied his face, she wished she could stop him from answering before he spoke.
“I’ve been sent here to kill you.”
Chapter Twelve
Washington, DC
He stared at the secured line, drumming his fingers against the desk as if the action would help him make the decision any easier.
If I do this, Drake thought, every government agency will be out to find him. He will be captured, but will he be killed? On the other hand, if I don’t do this, I will never find him. Who knows where those fake agents have taken him… or if they’re Oculus.
Drake ground his teeth, knowing that whatever he decided, he was going to regret.
If Oculus had smuggled Xander out of the prison, no one would ever find him. He was as good as dead.
But if someone else was at work here, outing them would most certainly lead to finding his son but it would also put Xander in grave danger.
“Sir?”
Drake had almost forgotten Agent Goetz was at his side, waiting for an order.
“Leave me,” he instructed.
The trusted man eyed him nervously, unwilling to leave his boss in such an obvious state of uncertainty.
“Sir, I want you to think this through,” Goetz said, uncharacteristically voicing his opinion.
“And I want you to leave me,” he retorted sharply, his sea green eyes raking over the man contemptuously.
You think I don’t know what’s at stake here? He thought furiously. This has been the thing which has consumed me for over twenty-five years. How dare he?
Reluctantly, Goetz turned to leave as if detecting Drake’s mounting anger.
Drake stared after him for a long moment, the door closing as he watched, his mind still whirling with confusion.
After what felt like an eternity, he reached for the phone and pressed one button.
“It’s me. I need a universal alert issued…it’s a matter of national security.”
____________
She was warm and cold simultaneously, wracked in something similar to a fever as she tossed and turned in her bed.
“Tell me where she is!” Xander hissed in her ear. “Where is my sister?”
“I don’t know,” Catriona mumbled. “I don’t know…leave me alone…”
“I will never leave you alone,” he growled, his voice overpowering her. “I will not rest until I get my hands on you both.”
“We don’t have Sarah!” she whimpered. “Please, stop coming to me…”
“Cat! Cat, wake up!”
Solis shoved her roughly and with great effort, her eyes parted as she stared at him with terrified dark eyes.
He peered at her curiously, sensing her unease.
“You’re talking in your sleep,” he told her but Catriona could only shake her head in denial.
“I wasn’t asleep,” she gasped. “He’s here.”
Sol’s mouth pursed into a fine line.
“He’s not here,” he snapped in annoyance but Catriona knew he could never understand the way the assassin came to her in the night.
She didn’t comprehend it either but from the day she had seen him in North Branch, it was as if he had possessed her.
He’s not human. He’s a ghost or a -
“Forget about your damned nightmares and focus!” Sol growled. “Look!”
She blinked and sat up, glancing at the flickering television screen. At first, she could not make sense of what her lover was trying to show her but it quickly became evident when Xander Van Hoyt’s mugshot appeared on the screen.
“What is going on?” she demanded, jumping onto the covers to study the screen closely. “Turn it up!”
Sighing, Sol grabbed the remote control and raised the volume.
“…massive manhunt for the escaped killer, along with his two accomplices,” the reporter intoned. “The reports are that he could be anywhere, and is likely in the company of these two people.” Pictures of the two flashed onto the screen. “Aliases Sam and Cathy Smith of Interpol. They are also considered to be armed and dangerous. If you have any information pertaining to the whereabouts of these three people, please call – “
Solis hit the mute button.
Catriona felt the blood drain from her face as another image of her and Sol appeared, this one was a grainy picture from North Branch’s security system.
“Oh fuck!” she cried. “How did this happen? How did they figure it out so quickly?”
“I don’t know but we have to get out of here,” he replied shortly. “And we have to get to Paris and find this SOB.”
“Are you nuts? I’m not going anywhere near Van Hoyt!” she protested but Sol was already throwing on his pants.
“Well I am not losing this contract,” he snapped back. “We need to find Ashtyn Deveaux and get rid of Van Hoyt before he becomes an even bigger problem.”
“No,” she retorted. “We need to get further underground until he is recaptured.”
But even as she said the words, she knew the only way to ensure their safety was to kill the threat. And that threat was Xander Van Hoyt.
“Call Renault and ask him what he wants us to do!” Catriona ordered but Sol shifted his eyes away.
“Don’t be stupid,” he snarled. “Renault doesn’t know we’ve subcontracted this job.”
Dizziness washed over Catriona and she closed her eyes, swallowing her terror.
“Forget about everyone,” she whispered urgently. “We’ll be on the next plane to Brazil.”
But Sol was not taking “no” for an answer.
“We’re going to Paris,” he replied curtly. “We don’t have a choice.”
“I have a choice!” she countered, her voice rising an octave in distress. “I am not the one who signed on for this! I can’t understand how this blew up so quickly. It’s like we’re being set-up, Sol!”
He sighed, turning to her almost furiously as if she was a small child.
“You don’t have a choice,” he said flatly, aiming his pistol at her head. “You’ll either come or I’ll have to kill you too.”
Catriona looked at him, a bemused smirk on her face.
“You would kill me?” she asked, a dead calm overtaking her. “Over this?”
He shrugged.
“There’s more at stake than I initially mentioned,” he answered easily.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
“There’s time to discuss that later – if you decide to stop being a pain in my ass and do what you’re told.”
Cat stared at him for a long moment, a wave of fury enveloping her.
He’s been planning to kill me all along, she realized. He’s just waiting until he doesn’t need me anymore.
“What’s it going to be, babe? Are you with me or against me?”
Catriona smiled coldly.
“Of course I’m with you,” she replied, a whining tone in her voice. “Put that away.”
He nodded, his over-confidence blocking what he knew about the sultry brunette.
; I wonder how much money he’s truly getting for this, she thought, watching as he holstered his weapon and continued to throw on his clothes.
Imagine being double crossed by my own lover and partner. What a stupid man.
Slowly, she rose from the bed and began to collect her belongings.
I will warn Xander that we’re coming, she decided. Let’s see how Sol feels about walking into his own pre-planned death.
Chapter Thirteen
Paris, France
Darkness had fallen over the city by the time they had retreated to the marina, but the cloak did nothing to alleviate Xander’s apprehension.
What are we doing back here? Xander asked himself again, glancing at the beauty beside him. Well that answers that question, doesn’t it? He asked himself as his heart clenched while he watched her quietly.
Determination was etched into the lines of her jaw, and Xander knew if he had not joined her, she would have come to search for her sister alone.
“I can’t breathe thinking that my sister is on that boat and that we left her there,” she choked. “If she was within my reach after all this time, and I didn’t even try…don’t you see, Xander? It would have all been for nothing. All these years. All for nothing.”
He lowered his gaze, thinking of his own sister Sarah, and silently agreed with her, nodding his head.
“I understand,” he replied gruffly. “I’ll be there with you. I’d never let you go alone.”
“You have your own sister to worry about,” she reminded him gently. “You need to find the Smiths and whoever they’re working for and get Sarah to safety.”
“She’s not with them,” he told her, and Ashtyn eyed him curiously.
“How can you know that?” she demanded and he lowered his head, not meeting her eyes.
“Well…ever since I’ve been a young kid, I could…I mean, I’ve been able to see – things,” he stopped abruptly, obviously uncomfortable. “I mean, I have the ability to…” he trailed off, either not knowing how to express himself, or being too embarrassed to tell her.
Ashtyn didn’t know what he was trying to tell her. “What do you mean? Can you see the future or something?” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.
HARD Series Box Set: Bad boys with powers Page 32
