Angels & Assassins: BWWM Romance

by K. Alex Walker

  “I…care about you too, Tayler,” he said.

  She grinned. “Now, who’s making it an Oprah moment?”

  He slipped his hand down to her bottom, lifting her and gripping a handful of flesh in his palm. Her lips greedily crashed against his as he tightened her legs around his waist. He walked through the house as though she was a featherweight, enjoying the slight pressure of her lips against his neck, the hollow between his collarbones, and the corner of his mouth.

  Waiting until he’d reached the bedroom had been a test of wills. The two times he’d stopped, once downstairs and the other in the hallway, he’d had to mentally talk himself out of taking her where they stood. But since there was no telling what would happen once the Feds showed up in the morning, he had to make this moment last as much into the night as her body could withstand.

  Somehow, he found the room. Her fingers grated through his hair. Before he’d met her, he’d never known that his scalp could be an erogenous zone. Her thighs squeezed his waist, and she slid lower. When she felt his erection, she sucked in a breath and bit his lip, one of the sexiest things he’d ever experienced.

  She continued to move, lowering herself and his shorts in the process. When she was low enough, she released her legs and dropped to her feet on the floor. Her hands finished what her legs had begun, pulling him out of the boxers and into her palms. She held him, gently stroking his shaft as though handling a precious artifact.

  “I’ve, uh, never actually done this before,” she said.

  “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he reassured.

  “Do you actually mean that?”

  “I’m hoping that you want to.”

  She smiled and sucked his tip between her lips. Pleasure and anticipation formed an exhilarating mixture, heightened by the warm corners of her mouth as she slipped even further down his length. If this was her first time then she was a natural. A damn near freak of nature. He actually felt his toes twitching and the muscles in his thighs pulsed. As if sensing them, she wrapped her arms around this thighs, leaving her lips solo to control the back and forth motion of her mouth. Without her hands, he could clearly see her lips sliding over him. Their softness against his hardness.

  She glanced up at him, a smile dancing in her eyes.

  “Liar,” he chided.

  She drew her head back until he slipped from her mouth. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Her tongue appeared and flicked his head in a rapid, teasing motion. She then closed her mouth over him again, taking him as deep as she could before pulling her hands back into the action.

  He moved the hair out of her face and traced his finger over her cheeks and then under her chin. She responded with a pleased vibration in her throat and the thrill she seemed to be getting out of pleasing him began to tug him to release.

  “Tayler…”

  Somehow, her mouth became even smaller, tighter, and she increased the speed of her back-and-forth motion, shutting him up. She knew exactly what she was about to make him do, and as her beautiful eyes pierced his, it was exactly what she wanted.

  She clamped her hands around his shaft as he struggled to remain upright. His next slew of thoughts and sounds were garbled and incomprehensible as the surge ran into him like a brick wall of ecstasy. If he’d said words, they were lost as pleasure flooded his entire body. Somewhere in the echoing distance, he heard his voice saying her name.

  She looked up at him with round, innocent eyes as though she was completely unaware of the total destruction she’d brought to his body. Slowly, he returned from some unknown dimension.

  “Are you okay?” she asked with a sly grin and sitting back on her heels. “You seem…distracted.”

  He scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed, then tore at her clothes until she was completely naked in front of him, not even slightly abashed by her complete exposure.

  “Do I still seem distracted?” he asked, his lips meeting her skin in a trail down the center of her body. He hitched her knees over his shoulders and parted her with his tongue as she attempted a response. Then, he closed his mouth over her clit and tugged.

  “No,” she barely answered.

  He slipped two fingers inside of her opening. Unsatisfied, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, spearing her where he planned to bury his cock in a few moments.

  Her leg twitched, and with the capture of her lip between her teeth came the crash of her pleasure. Her body shook in erotic ripples, and he didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath before he was sheathed and sliding into her as deep as her body would allow. She grabbed his waist, steadying him as her waves of ecstasy ebbed. He leaned forward and traced her mouth with his tongue.

  “You okay there, love?” he asked. “You seem—”

  “Shut it,” she replied, laughing.

  He pulled backward and away from her body. She gripped him.

  “Don’t worry.” He groaned as he sunk back in. “Not going too far.”

  “Please, never do.”

  Although he didn’t think it was possible, he grew firmer at that statement and thought forward to the moment he would be able to feel her raw heat against his bare flesh. The decision had already been made; he was going nowhere. He’d staked his claim on this woman and though it felt primal and animalistic, there was no other way to explain the way he felt about her.

  He stroked her with the same slow, controlled pace that made her whimper and try to pull him in deeper. He resisted, hovering over her with his hands planted into the mattress on either side of her body. His eyes went to where they were joined and the way she accepted him, coating him with her desire for him.

  She cupped his face, pulled his eyes up to hers, and pushed his sweat-slicked hair back. Her eyes were nearly pitch black as her pupils obscured her iris. Damned beautiful had definitely been an understatement. He couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the fact that, at the lowest point in his life, the exact moment he’d given up completely, she’d been there. Out of all the years he’d spent wondering if he’d had a soul worth saving, in the grandest of gestures, the best person in the world had found him.

  For that, grateful didn’t speak to how he felt to wind up like this, with her in his bed looking at him the way she was, the glisten of tears beginning to cover the whites of her eyes, and her sweet caresses against his face. Grateful didn’t even begin to define how he felt to be presented with the truth that fate had chosen her as the woman for whom he had the honor of falling.

  -12-

  Tayler woke up to more of Gage’s callused, yet somehow tender hands molding her body along sensitive pressure points. She was on her stomach while he bent over her and rubbed her muscles in soothing circles.

  “You missed a spot,” she said, flipping over. His expression immediately went hungry as her naked breasts bobbed.

  “Did I neglect these last night?” He reached for a nipple. “I feel like I did.”

  “I think you did.”

  “Ah, can’t believe I forgot about my two favorite mates.”

  “Mates?” she asked. “Doesn’t mate mean friend?”

  “Yes.” He ran his tongue from one nipple to the other. “Can’t think of any better friends than these two.”

  “I think I made a new friend last night too.” He firmed against her hip. “And there he is. Good morning.”

  He smiled. “Impossible to imagine life without you, Tayler.”

  She froze. He’d just said nearly exactly what she’d been wanting to hear. At least, before the “I love you” that she was sure would never come.

  As she thought of ways to get him to expand further, the sound of the doorbell rang throughout the house. He tensed and closed his eyes as though counting to three before they popped open again.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up.

  “Get dressed, sweetheart.”

  The endearment began to soften her, but the feeling was curbed by her increasing uneasiness. Gage looked as though h
e knew exactly who was at the door and that he didn’t want her to know who it was.

  “Who’s at the door, Gage?” She climbed to her knees. His eyes fell to her breasts.

  “Gage…concentrate.”

  “It’s the FBI,” he replied. “After my meeting with Julien, he told me that they would be stopping by. They’ve found something linking you to the case. Something at the cottage.”

  She slid off the bed and rummaged through the bags from the stores where she and Mo had shopped the day before. They were all empty.

  “I put your stuff in the drawers after you fell asleep last night,” he said.

  She fished out a pair of panties and the dress with the Aztec print before shimmying into them. His eyes fell again.

  “Gage.” She waved her hand. “Concentrate.”

  “I am. I’m concentrating on pulling that dress up around your thighs,” another series of knocks echoed through the house followed by an authoritative male voice, “…and fucking us both back to sleep.”

  “And this is what’s on your mind when the FBI’s at your door.”

  Gage’s shoulder lifted and he lazily grabbed his phone to check the exterior camera covering the front door. There were four agents in front of the door, but considering the convoy of black vehicles lining the long driveway, there were probably at least a dozen more lying in wait.

  “Tell them about the knife,” he said, reluctantly pulling on a t-shirt and stepping into a pair of dark rinse jeans. “Just don’t tell them that you took it. Say that you left it in the woods.”

  “But, what happens when they can’t find it?”

  “They’ll just blame the North Carolina PD.”

  “What did you eventually do with the knife?”

  He then realized that he hadn’t told her anything he, Mo, and Julien had found out.

  “Shit. Tayler—”

  The next knock that came was one of anger and frustration.

  “They’re going to tell you some stuff,” he quickly explained, leading her downstairs. “Some of it’s stuff that I found out but didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best then.” She smoothed wrinkles out of her skirt that hadn’t been there in the first place. “Gives me plausible deniability.”

  Gage pulled open the door, and the man at the front, nearly matching him in height, held up his badge. It wasn’t as though he’d needed to. Gage immediately recognized him from when Julien, after working with him on a case for the FBI, had invited him to one of their monthly paintball games a few years back. A heated exchange had erupted after Gage’s ball of paint had not-so-accidently bounced off the side of the overbearing man’s cheekbone. Soon the game turned into an impromptu quarter of tackle football.

  “I don’t need to see your badge,” he said.

  “What in the hell took you so long?” The man’s head popped up when he spotted Tayler standing off the entryway. “Oh…hello there.”

  “Good morning,” Tayler greeted with a wave.

  “Tayler, I presume?”

  She nodded, and he walked over to shake her hand. She’d been expecting a firm grip, but his hands were gentle and smooth.

  “Yes. Tayler Diaz.”

  “You can call me Joel.”

  “Or Agent Lattimore,” Gage corrected.

  The man’s blue eyes iced over, confirming that he and Gage seemed to share a volatile past. The light blue was an interesting contrast with his dark hair, tanned skin, and angular jawbone.

  “Where can we talk?” Joel asked, walking in the direction of the living area without waiting for a response. Tayler followed and Gage ushered in the rest of the agents who’d been more inclined to respect professional boundaries.

  Joel took a seat on the sofa while Tayler opted for the loveseat. When she sat, he moved over to the cushion beside her. Gage’s eyes flickered at the exchange, but he didn’t press the issue. Not yet, anyhow.

  “I bet you’re wondering why we’re here this morning,” Joel began. “It has to do with the fire that happened in North Carolina. We understand that it was your home.”

  “My former home,” she corrected. “I’d recently moved out after purchasing a property on the lake. That property is still being worked on.” Her eyes widened. “Nothing happened to that one, did it?”

  He took her hand. “That location is still fine.”

  “That part of the FBI interviewing handbook?” Gage asked, jutting his chin at their clasped hands. “In case you didn’t realize it, that’s your first warning.”

  “Can you let me get through this process, Wolfe?”

  “Of course. Just keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

  The two men obviously didn’t care for each other, but hidden between their disdain was an underlying shared sense of respect.

  Joel released his grip. “As I was saying, Tayler, before we get into the details of what was recovered in the fire, we need some information from you first. Now, according to the sheriff we spoke with, he said that you were attacked?”

  She nodded. “Yes. In the woods next to the lake house. I told him everything, though. I never saw the man’s face as he was wearing a mask. He never spoke.”

  “And what were you doing in the woods?”

  “Looking for my dog, Ares. I didn’t tell the sheriff that I’d gotten a phone call, though. It sounded as though somebody called me and put a phone next to Ares so that I could hear him in pain.”

  “Tell me about the attack,” Joel urged.

  “Well, when I found Ares, he was injured. I went to pick him up and that’s when I felt the forearm around my neck.”

  “And did you get a chance to see what color that forearm was?”

  It was the first time she’d ever even concentrated on the detail. “Actually…yes. I didn’t even notice it before. I saw his wrist. It was a white male.”

  “Good. Good.” He turned to the other agents. “Did anybody recover a phone from the scene?”

  One of the men shook his head.

  “Probably was a burner anyway. Couldn’t do us any good. Guy like this doesn’t seem like he’d leave fingerprints if he won’t leave anymore DNA.” He turned back to Tayler. “How did you get away?”

  “I cut him,” she confessed, quickly glancing at Gage.

  “You cut him? With what?”

  “A kitchen knife.”

  “What the hell?” Joel looked to the agents again. “This is why I don’t like dealing with small departments. They wouldn’t know how to interrogate even if you gave them a damn script.”

  “They never found it?” Tayler asked, sneaking a bit of disappointment into her tone. “I was hoping that they’d be able to get something from it.”

  “They probably kicked dirt all over it by now,” Joel asserted. “I’ll send some of our guys to canvas the area again and see what we can find. Doesn’t matter anyhow. We got a DNA hit off some of the human blood found mixed in the canine’s mouth. We have our guy.”

  There was a jolt behind her ribcage. “Your guy? You mean, you know who’s been doing this and why he’s doing it?”

  Gage turned away, and she knew that what he hadn’t told her, the part that she believed he’d intentionally held back whether or not he realized it, was about to come out.

  “To an extent,” Joel replied. “It’s a guy that we’ve been following. He’s responsible for a string of murders along the coast. He’s struck in Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, New York, Virginia, and now North Carolina, but the body found in North Carolina doesn’t fit his usual pattern. All of the women he’s targeted have been ethnic minorities. The victim in North Carolina was a white female. That, along with the message he left behind, tells us that she was not the intended target.”

  Tayler backed away on impulse. “What message?”

  “It was written in the same handwriting as those notes the sheriff showed us. It said, ‘Tell that bitch to get back here,’ which we already know is referencing the fact that you left th
e state, Tayler.”

  “Wait, who’s the victim in North Carolina? Is that what you recovered in the fire?” She moved to her feet and began to shake her hands as though drying polish. “If he referenced me in that message…who was the victim in North Carolina?”

  “Her name was Anya Schulz. She worked at the local medical center. Did you know her?”

  Gage was there before she fell and a loud, piercing sound that she didn’t know she’d been capable of making rushed from her throat. She could barely register the hands wrapped around her as they struggled to keep her upright on legs that lost their will to perform.

  “One of her friends,” she heard Gage say. “One of her good friends.”

  Joel’s brow softened. “I’m so sorry, Tayler.”

  She shook her head and pushed Gage away, disappearing to the kitchen. He didn’t follow, for which she was both grateful and disappointed.

  The bastard had killed Anya because she’d left. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t know how she could have ever been so selfish. The man had nearly killed her dog. He’d attacked her in the woods. Just because she was no longer around didn’t mean that he would suddenly stop. It would have just meant, as what had happened, that he would switch his focus. In a town of Yearwood’s size, everyone was a sitting duck.

  Then, there were those other women. He’d killed those women, which meant that he would stop at nothing until she was dead right along with them.

  She ran back to the room, nearly colliding with Gage who’d been on his way to check on her. “Agent Lattimore, if he killed Anya to get me to come back, then Katia’s not safe,” she warned.

  “What’s her last name?” Joel pointed to one of the agents who pulled out a phone.

  “Wu. She has a husband. They have two kids—three and sixteen months. Please, if he killed Anya, then Katia’s next. I have to go back.”

  “Like hell you do,” Gage growled.

  “Who else will he kill if I don’t?” she yelled. “Come on, Gage. I know that you want to protect me, but I have to protect my friends.”