by Liliana Hart
The woman answered the door like she usually did, and Naya could see the red marks in the shape of fingers around her throat. Her pupils were dilated so they were big as black saucers, and a streak of blood was smeared under her nose. Her hands shook and she only cracked the door an inch or two. The terror on the woman’s face was enough to send chills down Naya’s spine. Something was different about this time, and Naya’s hand automatically went to pull her weapon from her holster.
Tony tried to get the woman to come outside and talk to them for a bit without the husband interfering, but it was as if she were frozen in place. The shots that fired through the door took them all by surprise. And by some horrible stroke of bad luck, all three bullets hit Tony right in the middle of the chest.
If Naya had been the one to knock on the door that night—like she had almost every time before because she was a woman and the least threatening of the two—she’d be the one buried and gone instead of Tony. Naya had been given a second chance at life at the expense of her partner’s, and it was something she’d never forget.
After the shots had fired, Tony’s body had slammed back into her, falling on top of her, so she was trapped beneath his heavier frame. The breath was knocked out of her and for a few seconds, she was completely paralyzed. There was no amount of training or scenarios that could prepare you to catch your partner as he died.
Naya had still been on the ground, scrambling to her knees to call for backup, when two more shots sounded from inside the house—a shot for the wife and another the husband inflicted on himself.
She’d turned her badge and gun in that day, while Tony’s blood had still been sticky on her hands. Nothing her captain could say would change her mind. She didn’t have the guts to make it as a cop. But she had good instincts, and she had a nose for finding the bad guys. Becoming a bounty hunter was her only other option if she wanted to utilize her skills.
She shook herself out of the memories of the dream and looked around the room, trying to reorient herself to the present while repeating in her head that there was nothing she could do to change the past.
The rain still pounded down against the roof. It looked as if buckets of water were being poured onto the windowpanes, distorting the images in the street. Darkness still hovered in the sky, but she wasn’t sure if that was because of the clouds or because it was still the middle of the night. No matter the time, she was wide awake and she might as well get up.
She stretched slowly, feeling the soreness in her muscles. Sex had been off her radar the last year—ever since she’d met Lane. No other man had measured up. She smiled smugly as a vision of his body and the thick stalk of flesh between his thighs drifted through her mind. She wasn’t sure it was possible for anyone to ever measure up to that.
Her pack was on the chair in the corner of the room, and then she remembered her backpack of clothes was in the saddlebag on her bike. If her bike was still where she’d left it, that is, and not floating down the street with the cows and God knew what else.
The important thing was she had her paperwork to capture Jackson Coltraine. She could pick up clothes and other supplies anywhere. She didn’t care what Lane said about the roads. The itch at the back of her neck was telling her she needed to get out there and start looking. Coltraine was dangerous. And even sick, he wasn’t someone to underestimate.
Before she could get back to work she needed coffee and a shower. In that order. So she rummaged through one of Lane’s drawers until she found a spare T-shirt and she pulled it over her head, enjoying that the soft cotton smelled of him. Then she headed to the kitchen to see what more she could learn about the man who’d become her lover.
The way someone lived spoke a lot about a person. Lane’s apartment was sparse—only a couch and a flat screen TV on the wall in the living room. There were no pictures or other collectible type things sitting around. Her own apartment looked much the same way, but mostly because she was never there and hadn’t even unpacked all of the boxes that were still in storage. She wondered what Lane’s excuse was because he obviously spent time here. Cooper had said Lane had been in Surrender two years.
The appliances in the kitchen were clean and well used. There was food in the refrigerator—not TV dinners and other various dips that most bachelors would have—but real food that made up ingredients for recipes. It was obvious the man cooked. It bothered her that she wanted to dig deeper—to learn more about the man he was. But she wouldn’t lower herself to snooping past what was right in front of her eyes.
That kind of personal information was reserved for long-term relationships, not lust-filled flings.
She’d bitten off more than she could chew with Lane, she thought, searching through cabinets in the kitchen until she found what she needed for the coffee. The chemistry between them had been undeniable when they’d met a year before. It had been a game. A way to pass the time before she left town again. But now it was something more, and there was no way to go back to what they’d had before.
Lane had been a constant worry in the back of her mind the past year because despite her intentions when they’d started out, he’d gotten under her skin and stayed there. She couldn’t let him get too close—close enough to know her secrets and her shame. What if she let herself fall in love with him and then he ended up not liking the person she was? A person who could stand by helplessly as three people died around her. A coward who couldn’t pick up her badge and gun again to protect and serve.
Naya waited impatiently for the coffee, glancing at the clock above the microwave to see it wasn’t quite dawn yet, and still Lane wasn’t back from wherever he’d gone. She looked outside again, hoping the rain had magically stopped while the coffee had been brewing, but no such luck.
It mattered not. She’d wait a couple hours, gather a few supplies, and then set out to find Jackson Coltraine. He was still recovering from whatever illness he’d picked up, so he’d be weak, unable to move as quickly or adapt in harder conditions. He’d be looking for a place he could lay low for a while until the rain passed and he could recoup some of his strength. She only hoped he decided not to endanger any of the citizens of Surrender. Coltraine was dangerous and desperate—two things that made for a deadly combination.
The coffee trickled into the pot, and she finally lost patience and stuck her cup beneath the drip. She took the first scalding sip, feeling the blood start to move through her veins, and then she took it with her to the shower.
The bathroom was as clean and sparse as the rest of the place—white towels and washrags stacked in the cabinet above the toilet and a white shower curtain. She turned on the water, glad to see it was more than a trickle, and then stripped out of Lane’s shirt and got in, taking her coffee with her and enjoying the dual stimulation to get her brain back in working order.
She knew the moment he stepped into the bathroom. Her senses were too honed for her to not recognize the change in the air. But she also recognized that it was him. Her head dipped back under the spray, rinsing the remaining shampoo away, and then she pulled the curtain back.
“Holy shit. What happened to you?” she asked, her eyes widening at the sight of him. This was not the sexy encounter she’d been envisioning in her head.
He’d stripped out of his shirt and had dropped it in a sopping heap on the floor. Despite the protection of the shirt, his chest and arms were covered in streaks of mud. So was his face. Blond stubble whiskered his cheeks, but splatters of brown covered the left side of his face all the way to his hairline.
“I had to track down the truck from the electric company. They’d taken a wrong turn and had to abandon their truck because the water was rising too fast. So I had to unhook the boat and go get them. I gave them a ride so they could take care of the power lines before anyone got hurt. It’s as bad as I’ve ever seen out there. The people without generators are going to be without electricity for a few days.”
He worked at the buckle of his belt, but the leather had gone sti
ff and was crusted with mud, so it wasn’t easy to get off. Naya leaned down and turned the water a little hotter because his lips were blue and his teeth chattered. He finally got the belt loosened and his pants shoved down. The fact that he’d left the dirty clothes on the floor was a telling sign for how exhausted he must be.
“Hand me a towel and I’ll get out and toss your clothes in the washer,” she told him.
“Leave them. I’ll have to throw them away anyway. And I’d rather have you for company in the shower. I’ll let you scrub my back,” he said with a leer. It would’ve been more effective if he hadn’t been asleep on his feet.
“You’ve got another thing coming if you think the sight of you covered in mud and God knows what else is going to turn me on.”
“I’m not sure I’d have the strength to do anything but drop you, so I think you’re probably safe.”
“And the romance is dead,” she grinned. “That didn’t take long.”
“I’ll romance the hell out of you once I get some sleep.” He stepped into the tub with her and hissed as the hot water hit his skin.
“Why, Deputy Greyson. I believe you’ve become a smartass over the past year. I must’ve been a bad influence. You’re always so serious.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing. I like to think of myself as responsible and the voice of reason.”
He ducked his head under the spray of water and started scrubbing away the mud. “I moved your bike over to Charlie’s Automotive, by the way. And I grabbed your backpack while I was at it. I figured you’d probably need a change of clothes. Though you might want to toss them in the dryer first as they’re a little damp.”
Naya’s heart did a small flip in her chest that he’d thought of her. It was the little things, her mother had always told her, that made a relationship last. She found herself in a hurry to get out of the shower and back on solid ground as those thoughts entered her mind. What she and Lane had was not a relationship.
“Why does it smell like coffee in the shower?” he asked quizzically.
Naya blanked her face from the panic she was sure had probably been showing there.
“Here.” She handed him the mug and waited while he took a long, lukewarm sip.
“This is a little weird, as I’ve always been under the impression that coffee should be drank while not naked and soaking wet.”
“I guess it’s my job to get you out of your rut and bring some excitement to your small-town life.” Her hand smoothed back his hair before she could help herself. “And being serious isn’t a bad thing,” she said in response to his earlier statement. “I think you want people to underestimate you. You sit back and watch, and you read people fast and accurately. It makes you good at your job and complements the way Cooper works as well. He’s the flash. The one who intimidates. The one they focus on while you get in and work the job from behind the scenes. The two of you make a good team.”
“It’s pretty early in the morning to be psychoanalyzed.” The annoyance in his voice was obvious, and she hid a grin while she passed him the bar of soap and another clean washrag. There’d been parts of being a cop she’d been good at too. Just not the most important ones.
“Surrender isn’t as bad as you make it out to be,” he said, breaking her out of her thoughts. “It’s a good place to live. A good community that cares about each other. The people here just do things differently. But mostly it’s entertaining, unless you’re waist deep in raging waters, listening to people who should be tucked away safe in their homes while they yell out instructions.”
Naya snorted out a laugh. “I can only imagine the excitement.”
“After I got the power lines taken care of, I drove out to help Joe with the stranded kids. The road is completely washed out. There’s no way through from either side or around unless you go by boat, and the water is moving fast enough that it’s better you don’t try it unless it’s an emergency. People are going to be stuck in their houses for days until it goes down, or until they get restless enough to unhitch their boats and go joyriding. So probably by noon.”
Naya smiled at the obvious affection he had for the people of Surrender, even as the affection equaled the exasperation.
“Those kids were stuck on top of their car and it took all of us to get them down and to safe ground. Their car washed away about five minutes after we got them to safety.” He wiped a hand over the scruff on his face. “I’m too tired to shave. Cooper’s downstairs in the office this morning so I can get a few hours of sleep. We’re going to be spread thin the next week or so.”
Naya looked him over from head to toe, the water running over the tight muscles of his abdomen and thighs, and the very rigid length of arousal.
“I thought you were too tired to do anything but drop me?” she asked, quirking a brow at the impressive sight below his waist.
“You shouldn’t have brought coffee into the shower. I find I’m feeling very much awake at the moment. Rejuvenated even.”
“Yes, I can see that. Still, I’m not sure I want to take a chance on being dropped.” She pressed her palms against his chest and then slid them down slowly. “I should probably take matters into my own hands.”
She wrapped her hand around him and squeezed, and then watched with delight as his head dropped back and a hiss of pure pleasure escaped his lips.
“Excellent idea,” he said, bracing his hand on the shower wall as she dropped to her knees before him.
She stroked him from root to tip, watching him out of those dark eyes, and the sight of her kneeling in front of him—the water raining down and droplets catching on her hair and eyelashes like tiny diamonds—had his cock jerking against her hand. Her breasts were full, her nipples puckered and pink, just waiting for his mouth.
Wanting her was like breathing.
Her tongue flicked out and licked up the sensitive underside of his cock. His balls drew tight and he gritted his teeth as the pleasure gathered at the base of his spine. When she reached the swollen crest, her tongue curled around it and lapped at the pre-cum he hadn’t been able to hold back.
“God, Naya,” he rasped. “You’re killing me.” But his hand fisted in the back of her wet hair and brought her closer. She was a drug—addictive and sweet.
She stopped teasing him with gentle licks and strokes and enveloped the crest of his cock in her mouth, surrounding him with wet heat. She made swallowing motions and he swore he felt his eyes roll back in his head as she suckled him long and slow, while stroking the base of his shaft.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Take more. Suck me down, sweetheart.”
She purred around him as he tightened his hold in her hair and he felt the vibrations all the way through his body. Her hand came up and cupped his balls and he widened his stance for balance and pressed harder into the tile wall.
He looked down into her slumberous gaze and watched as his cock disappeared into her lush pink mouth. It was heaven. It was torture. And though he was only moments from coming, he wanted to be inside her when the moment came.
“Stand up,” he said, tugging on her hair.
Her nails bit into his thighs in protest and she opened her mouth wider, relaxing her throat as she pushed forward and took him down as far as she could go. It was impossible to take all of him, but the feel of his head hitting the back of her throat was pure ecstasy.
“Enough or I’ll come,” he growled.
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she ignored his pleas, completely lost in his pleasure. He finally gave up the battle and felt the orgasm rip through his body and down his cock before shooting into the back of her throat.
His shout echoed off the tiles and mixed with her hums of pleasure as she drank him down. The intensity of it flattened him, but he’d be damned if he was going to take without giving in return.
He pulled her head back and he felt the beast inside of him rage with lust as she licked a pearly drop of cum from her swollen lips. And then he lifted her up by the arms and pushed
her back against the tile, his cock rooting between the slick folds of her pussy before sliding home.
Her legs wrapped around his waist and his arms went beneath her ass, supporting her. He couldn’t be gentle. Couldn’t be smooth or show her finesse. He had to fuck her in the most basic sense of the word.
His thighs bunched and muscles quivered as he pistoned between her thighs. He felt the bite of her teeth against his neck and heard her muffled scream, but the pain barely registered.
Her pussy clenched and pulsed around him and her legs squeezed him tighter as her body burned like a furnace from the inside out, her orgasm so powerful her muscles clamped around his dick so the pleasure melded with pain.
“Lane,” she cried, her nails digging into his shoulders as she thrashed against him.
He felt his balls constrict and knew it should have been impossible for him to come again so soon. But even as he had the thought, his cock jerked inside her and his cum spurted against her inner walls.
He was wrecked. Probably for life. Their hearts pounded against each other in perfect time and muscles quivered while flesh cooled. His legs were shaky, and he let her down slowly, hoping she could support her weight because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold both of them up for much longer.
Her eyes were closed and he soaped the washrag, wiping the evidence of their lovemaking from between her thighs, and then he turned the water off. Chills pebbled her flesh and he found his movements lethargic as he reached for towels. He could sleep for a week.
“Come on, love. We’ll help each other to the bed.”
“I’m not sleepy,” she murmured, her head dropping to his shoulder as he dried them haphazardly.
“I can tell.” Amusement made his lips twitch. Naya was definitely grumpy when she was tired. “You can hold me while I catch a couple of hours then.”
She grunted what he assumed was her assent and they stumbled toward the bedroom, drops of water still dripping from their hair. They fell into bed in a tangle of limbs, and Lane pulled the covers over them so they were cocooned in the warmth.
