Ultimate Weapon

by Shannon McKenna

  “Keep in mind, the last time you screwed me, I was high, remember? I won’t let you do that to me again. What you felt was not real. It was just a chemical fantasy.”

  “I did not take the drug, so the drug could not have created it,” he said stubbornly. “It only removed your barrier to it.”

  “Same difference,” she informed him. “My barrier is up and it’s staying up. So put your clothes back on and get your high standards and your tight ass out of my hotel room before I—”

  “No,” he said.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “Me putting on my clothes and leaving you alone tonight is not one of the options you have right now,” he announced. “In fact, you have no options. There is only one outcome possible. Resign yourself.”

  His implacable tone infuriated her. “Don’t you dare throw your weight around, Janos. I know you’re strong, but no one compels me. Trust me, it’s not worth the price I would make you pay.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Is it not?”

  “Want to die?” she asked. “I am not speaking figuratively, Janos.”

  His face brightened. “Excellent!” he encouraged. “I prefer you murderous and for real to smiling and false.”

  “Oh, you are nuts.” She lunged for the door. He yanked her up off her feet from behind, his hard arm clamped under her ribcage, holding her against his hot body. She tried hooking his ankles, elbowing his ribs, twisting like an eel, but his strength was enormous. “Goddamn you,” she whispered furiously. “Put me down.”

  “Shhh,” he murmured. “You’ll wake the child.”

  She started to feel panicked. “Put me down! This is where you get back at me for the necklace, right?”

  “Shhh. Not at all,” he soothed. “I do not hold a grudge. That was my fault for letting down my guard. I will not make that mistake again.”

  His cool, controlled tone drove her mad. “Oh, no,” she said, breathlessly. “You’re not angry. While you won’t let me go and threaten me with forced sex. Not angry at all. Right.”

  He kissed the side of her neck. “Don’t be foolish,” he said. “You need me to be strong for you. Gently now. Or you’ll hurt yourself.”

  “No,” she snarled, writhing. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “I will not allow you to hurt me,” he said calmly. “You got the better of me today with your necklace, but I have you now and I will not let you go until I get what I want.”

  Tears of pure frustration pricked and burned in her eyes. “I told you already, stronzo. What you want doesn’t exist!”

  “No?” He turned her until they both looked into the mirror. “Look at you,” he said. “Finally, color in your face. Your eyes are shining. You are on fire.”

  “Of course,” she snapped. “I’m furious with you!”

  “Good, then. It works,” he said. “I know what you want. You like strength. You must have been so disappointed in me this afternoon, going down so easily, like a slaughtered pig. But I will make it up to you. I will not let you win again. You are safe this time. Trust me.”

  Trust him. Hah. What a joke. He bent her forward, so her trapped arms rested on the cold marble countertop. Her eyes met his in the mirror. Her breath was shortened by rage—and excitement.

  He knocked her legs wider with his knee.

  She bit her lip as his hand slid between her legs, touching the lips of her pussy. Slipping between them, a slow, tender glide. Up and down, and up . . . and tenderly around her clit. Over and over. Her breath caught. “You’re with me now,” he said roughly. “That is the feeling I want.”

  “Sure, I am. I’m helpless and immobilized, you prick,” she said sharply. “Is that how you like it?”

  “Helpless? You?” He bit her earlobe. “You are the furthest thing from helpless I have ever met. You are a man-eating female tiger in the jungle. Perhaps you will rip out my throat afterward, but it will be worth it.” He dragged his teeth tenderly down the side of her neck, as he prodded two fingers between her slick folds and thrust them slowly, deeply inside.

  She gasped silently and clenched around the intrusion.

  “I would love to lick your clit, make you come with my mouth,” he murmured against her skin. “But you are so tense, so electric. I would have to restrain you hand and foot to do it properly. Someday I will do it. If we ever have the privacy. If we ever have a chance to use a bed.”

  One hand. Oh my.

  His delving fingers found a marvelous, melting hot spot inside her, shocking a whimper out of her. He leaned into it as soon as he perceived it and lavished it with attention, stroking the pad of his finger over it and over it, until the deep, throbbing flush of pleasure rose, sharpened and then pulsed heavily through every nerve.

  She relaxed over his strong arm, panting. Thighs wet, tangled hair falling in thick swirls to the marble sink. She licked sweat off her upper lip and felt him ripping open the condom with his teeth.

  Was this her chance, while he was busy with that? She could probably do some surprise damage—

  She didn’t. She was shaking. And famished for what she knew would come next.

  She shut her eyes and almost keened with delight when she felt it. The thick, blunt head of his cock nudging and prodding. Insisting. And then the long, impossibly tight slide of total penetration.

  She shoved back against him, clamping every muscle around the huge, throbbing presence inside her. She felt so hot, so taut. So full.

  Just a few slow strokes to find the rhythm they needed, and they were off on a wild, violent ride. Their eyes were locked in the mirror, their bodies locked into a jarring, headlong rhythm. His arms circled her, his hands clasping with hers on the cold marble, a straining tangle of white-knuckled fingers. Her breasts jiggled with each thrust.

  They gasped for air. Choked back the noises. She bit her lip until she tasted blood to keep from gasping, moaning. The impossible things he had said were true. They had gone over to the edge to someplace new. Someplace beautiful.

  The danger zone.

  She’d never let anyone so close. He could destroy her so easily from in there. But in his strong grip, she felt safe enough to let go and let the pleasure drive her toward that thundering oblivion that awaited them. Maybe it was a mistake. A lie, an illusion, a deadly trap.

  She didn’t care. She gave in, let go, and he followed her.

  They exploded together.

  They stared at each other afterward for panting, speechless minutes. Finally, he withdrew from her body and disposed of the condom. He lifted her until she stood upright and smoothed the hair away from her damp face.

  She stood there, arms at her sides, head flung back onto his shoulder. She stared at her naked self, at the flush over her chest, her neck, her face. Her lips were crimson. When his arms circled her, a ripple of acceptance welcomed the wonderful heat of him. Her body welcomed the warm, tender kisses he dropped on her shoulder, her back. Craved the slow, hot stroke of his big hands caressing her waist, her belly. No resistance. Such an odd sensation.

  She could get used to this. Come to need it, even. Long for it. Dream of it when she didn’t have it.

  Which would be soon enough.

  “So? Am I condemned to death for my insolence?” he asked.

  She licked her lips and considered her reply. “Your sentence is remanded for now,” she said lazily. “I’m too tired to kill you tonight. But I can’t speak for later. So stay sharp.”

  His grin flashed. He kissed her throat. “Shower with me?”

  She shook her head. “Not a chance, with Rachel asleep outside. I go first, and you stand by the door and let me know if she wakes up. And do not, under any circumstances, go out there naked, got it? She’s still asleep but just in case—she doesn’t need a lesson in human anatomy at the tender age of three.”

  He nodded, docile enough. Tam stepped into the shower, knotting her hair on top of her head, and soaped herself up.

  Her body felt unrecognizable. Her skin was still so sensitive, her
private parts throbbing. Sore, from hard use. Flushed with continuing pleasure. All she had to do was contract her thigh muscles, and mini-orgasms throbbed down her thighs, through her knees and calves, tingling right down to the tips of her toes.

  Janos stood at the ready with a big, fluffy towel when she got out. She allowed him to dry her, lifting her limbs and turning with the regal grace of a queen accepting the ministrations of her body servant. He’d be in for a rude surprise if he expected her to return the favor, though.

  She left him in the bathroom and went out, rummaging through the shopping bags until she found the nightshirt she’d ordered on his credit card. She ripped off the tags and slipped it on. Nice. Then she slid into bed next to Rachel, and reached out, keeping a little distance, but wanting to feel the comforting rise and fall of Rachel’s little back.

  Soundly sleeping. Good.

  A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Val’s magnificent body was silhouetted in the door frame. Steam billowed out. He’d put his jeans back on and was carefully taping a fresh bandage onto the wound on his shoulder.

  He switched off the bathroom light, and became just a denser, deeper shadow amongst shadows.

  “I want to stay here tonight,” he said. “To guard you.”

  Of course. To make sure she didn’t panic and bolt was more like it. It irritated her to have another life-or-death decision to make when she was so damned tired. But what was the point in splitting hairs? He’d already breached every barrier she had, physical or psychological.

  It wasn’t in his best interests to hurt them as far as she could tell. If it was, he would have taken care of it already.

  What the hell. She didn’t have the juice to throw him out.

  “Sleep on the floor if you like,” she offered coolly. “There’s a pillow and more blankets in the closet, I believe. Help yourself.”

  She could barely make out his silent shadow in the dark, but she had a feeling he was smiling. She rose up onto her elbow. “Don’t even think about the bed,” she said in a forceful whisper. “I may have let you into my body, but I just met you a day ago, and I watched you do in three men today. And you are, by God, not sleeping next to my baby girl.”

  “Of course not.” His deep voice vibrated with suppressed amusement. “It is already an honor that you let me stay in the same room with her. I am moved.”

  She snorted. “Pfft. Don’t overdo it, Janos.”

  He glided to the closet, took out blankets and pillows, and lay one of them down across the doorway. He tossed the pillow on it, swathed the other blanket around himself, and stretched out without a word.

  She had expected to slide directly into sleep, but her overloaded nerves had pushed her beyond sleep into another place. Thoughts and worries jostled in her head. She was too rattled to sort them out.

  But one thing kept circling back. Nudging at her and making her queasy and wakeful. One random, irrelevant detail.

  “Janos?” she whispered.

  He yawned. “We’ve been through so much together,” he said sleepily. “And we’ve made love twice. Can you not call me Val?”

  “That wasn’t love that we made, and if I knew your real name, I’d use it.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Val is as real as any other name, Tamar Zadro.”

  Her childhood name sent a cold shiver through her. “Call me Tam Steele, please,” she said tightly. “Tell me something, Janos.”

  “If I can,” he said. “But only if you will call me Val.”

  “How old were you?” she asked. “When it happened to you?”

  He didn’t feign incomprehension, but he was silent for so long she finally concluded he wasn’t going to answer at all.

  “The first time?” he said, at last. “Eleven.”

  She winced in the dark. “Oh.”

  Silent minutes went by. Finally, Janos sat up, huffing out a sharp, irritated breath. “Stop thinking about it,” he said gruffly.

  She was startled. “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “I can hear you thinking about it. Please stop. I think about it myself as little as possible.”

  Her chest jerked with involuntary laughter. “I’ll try not to.”

  After a moment, he spoke again. “And you? How old were you?”

  “Fifteen,” she admitted.

  “Ah.”

  A few more moments of that, and she was the one to snap at him. “Would you stop thinking about it, goddamnit?”

  He laughed softly. “Hypocritical bitch.”

  “Yes, that would be me,” she said crabbily. “And now, would you kindly stop your chattering and let me get some goddamn sleep?”

  “You started it,” he pointed out logically enough.

  “Shut up, Janos.”

  “Call me Val, for the love of God,” he said wearily, and rolled over so that his back was to her.

  She stared into the dark for a very long time, trying not to think about anything.

  Chapter 15

  Sleep was impossible despite how exhausted he was. He felt buzzed, wired. Proximity to that woman acted on his brain like a powerful chemical stimulant.

  If he kept her close enough, he might never need to sleep again.

  Tamar and Rachel were still asleep. Tamar cuddled Rachel, the child’s back tight to her belly, her arms wrapped tightly around her. Rachel’s curly black head was tucked under her chin and Tamar looked like a little girl clutching a doll that she feared would be taken from her.

  Not by him, he vowed silently. Not by him. He would die first.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. He plucked it out, and opened the text message from Donatella. It was terse and to the point.

  meeting with la santarini 10:30 Tuesday dreaming of Paris baci e abbraci, D

  Relief almost brought tears into his eyes. He drew in a huge breath. One point of agonizing dread and tension eased, though there were plenty more of them vibrating inside him to choose from.

  He noticed Rachel’s pink fuzzy blanket draped over the chair. It gave him an idea. He fished in his jacket for the case of miniature spyware he’d been carrying everywhere he went, picking the same type he’d put into Tamar’s jewelry case, but he fished out the slightly larger size, for the sake of the longer battery life.

  Three days, guaranteed, the catalog had boasted. Maybe more.

  They weren’t the PSS-sanctioned transmitters that he usually used. When he’d researched the McClouds and Seth Mackey, he’d been intrigued with the merchandise in the SafeGuard online catalog. He had ordered an array of products to test and been agreeably surprised. Their software was better than that of PSS, and he liked the sleek, easy-to-use designs. The beacon burrs, as the catalog called them, were miniature X-Ray Specs GPS tracers, the smallest of them as slender as a wild grass seed. A pointed needle tip made for easy placement, no unstitching necessary. The tiny electronic parts and supercondensed battery were packed into a narrow plastic capsule. One slid it into a hem or fabric lining, and the thing was done.

  He stared at Tamar for a moment to see if she was still asleep. She would read his gesture as threatening if she saw it, but if they should ever need the tracers, she would be grateful for them.

  Swift, discreet action. He inserted one into Rachel’s stuffed bear, another into the upholstery of her new stroller, a third into her ski jacket. Overkill, but he didn’t care. He was the one who had put this child at risk. He wanted options should anything happen to her while they were in Europe. He only wished the batteries lasted longer.

  He resumed the kung fu he’d been practicing for several silent hours. He’d tried meditating on the matrix, but he was buzzing at too high a frequency to have any hopes of centering himself.

  He had to keep his wits about him—not so much against the enemies massed against them, but against Tamar herself. It took constant, careful attention to have anything to do with the woman. She was so sharp, so prickly and contentious. And so fucking beautiful.

  She scrambled his circuits
like an electrical storm.

  He felt her eyes on the back of his neck as he sank down into a tiger crouch. His gaze flicked over her as he spun. Tamar was propped on her elbow, looking at him with squint-eyed, sleepy suspicion.

  He continued without acknowledging her and silently finished the movement.

  When he was done, she was on her feet with her back to him, punching a number into her cell phone. She spoke in a hushed voice, in Portuguese. “Rosalia? Yes, it’s Tam . . . yes, I just called to find out how your . . . oh, really? Wonderful, Rosalia, thank God. I’m so glad you got it all straightened out so quickly . . . no, actually Rachel and I are out of town right now . . . yes, for a few days, yet. I’m not sure how many. You just take a vacation and relax, and I’ll call you when I get back. OK. Thanks to you, too. Take care, Rosalia. Good-bye.”

  She clicked her phone shut, and glared at him. He gave her an I-told-you-so shrug.

  “Well, and so what?” she snapped. “Don’t give me that smug look. It was a shitty thing to do in the first place. You scared the poor woman to death. To say nothing of how her sons felt. You should pay them monetary damages for lost sleep and mental anguish. Embarrassing them at their place of work just to mess with me. It was unforgivable.”

  He shrugged. “I will pay them damages, if you like, when all this is over. But it’s fine, now. I have arranged for an introduction to Ana Santarini. We have an appointment with her in two days.”

  She frowned. “So long from now? Do we have to waste an entire—”

  “She is in Italy,” he reminded her patiently. “We lose a day traveling, and when we arrive in Rome, we still have hours of driving to do. Do you have enough jewelry with you to show to a client without going home to get more? I suspect going back would be dangerous.”

  “I have everything I showed you at Shibumi, and then some,” she said. “All unarmed, of course, but I have the means to arm some packed in my case.”

  “Good. We should get on our way,” he said.

  “Val,” she said sweetly. “You’ve forgotten one small but very important detail. You killed my passport. I have others, but I expect you’ve killed them, too. Am I right?”