by Davis, Jo
But the result would be identical.
“I won’t need two weeks, you maggot.”
By then, Lionel would be living the high life in a warm climate under yet another assumed name, enjoying his final—and biggest—score. As for Cori and her firefighter, he owed them both a lesson in pain and suffering.
When they’d outlived their usefulness, well, this area of Tennessee was covered with miles of virgin forest, hills, and valleys, and a multitude of cave systems stretching forever. Their bones could molder for a century or more before anyone ran across them.
“She can be your darling in the next life, loser. I’ll take the real reward.”
Maybe before Cori died, he’d tell her why.
That she’d been sold out by her own flesh and blood.
Chuckling at his own cleverness, he settled in to wait.
Cori walked into the kitchen from the garage, tossing her purse and keys onto the counter. “Zack?”
No answer. She hadn’t seen him puttering outside, either, and she hoped the stubborn man was resting for a change. Whew, she was parched. She dug a bottled water from the fridge, twisted off the top, and took several long swallows, then headed upstairs to find her guy.
Hovering in his doorway, she peeked into his room, noting the polo shirt he’d worn to lunch laid neatly on the bed. His jeans and a green long-sleeved T-shirt were piled on the floor, streaked with dirt, along with his socks and underwear. She moved inside and saw the bathroom door standing open, the light on inside. The herbal aroma of soap teased her nose.
As she crept closer to the bathroom and peered inside, her mouth watered. Zack was fresh from the shower, black hair damp, drying off his chest, abs, and legs with brisk strokes. His half-erect cock showed his mind was on activities other than painting or sleeping, which suited her fine.
“My, my, a naked man in my house,” she drawled, sauntering in to join him. He jumped in surprise. “Whatever shall I do?”
Zack slung the towel over the shower stall, turned, and in two steps had her crushed against his chest, mouth descending on hers. His kiss was far from gentle, his tongue sweeping inside, demanding. His mouth punished hers, taking possession.
Desire flared to life, pooling between her legs. Her clit throbbed and ached, her entire body gone feverish. Chill bumps raced over her skin as his palms skimmed under the top of her green nurse’s scrubs, up her belly to cup her breasts. His fingers plucked at her nipples through the fabric of her bra, impatient.
Oh, yes. She couldn’t wait, either. He ground against her mound, his erection heavy and hard, making his intent clear. Spiraling them both toward a total loss of control that both exhilarated and frightened her. She’d never seen this commanding side of her lover, and wondered whether he was as shocked.
Pulling back, he took the bottled water from her and flung it away. Then he untied her drawstring pants, dragging them down along with her panties, and off. His movements were hurried, fevered.
“I want you now,” he rasped, backing her against the bathroom wall. “And you’re mine. Nobody else’s. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.” Lord, she was going to incinerate. Heat rushed between her thighs and her nipples hardened to points.
“Know what I’m going to do to you? I’m going to fuck you, baby.” He pressed close, fingers brushing through the curls at the apex of her thighs. He parted her slit, found the moisture gathered there, and spread it around. Rubbing, readying her.
She arched into him. “Oh, God! Zack—”
“Yeah, I’m going to fuck you right here. Just like this,” he said, blue eyes glittering with sexual heat. A man who wasn’t planning to take no for an answer. He cupped her buttocks in his hands and lifted, bracing her back against the wall. “Hang on to me.”
“But your wound—”
“Shhh.”
“Zack, I—”
He guided the broad head of his cock to her center, pressed between her greedy lips. She clung to his neck, careful to avoid the gauze on his shoulder, trembling with need. He entered her in one smooth thrust, burying himself balls-deep with a tortured groan.
“Ahh, yes!” Lost, he threw back his head. Began to pump his hips, the slick length of him stroking her channel and clit. “Just like this . . . love fucking you . . .”
“Please,” she begged. “More. Faster, harder!”
With a moan, he angled his thrusts, lunging deep and hard, pistoning into her. Increasing the tempo, setting her on fire. She gave herself over to him as she’d never done to anyone, just let herself be swept away by this dark and primal passion. The total abandon carrying them to the edge.
And beyond.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she cried in time to his plunging cock. Owning her. Branding her as his. He pounded her into the wall and she was vaguely aware of a hanging picture being upset and knocked askew.
Flesh slapped in noisy rhythm, background music to the storm raging over them both. She felt her body unraveling, lightning shooting from her sex to her womb, and on to her limbs. His body quickened, and he gazed into her eyes, expression fierce.
“Oh!” Her orgasm exploded and she burst into zillions of shards of wicked joy.
His exultant shout joined hers and he filled her in a hot rush, his cock jerking until he collapsed against her, spent and quivering from exertion. After a moment, he slipped from inside her as she unlocked her legs from his waist, lowering her feet carefully to the floor.
Lord, he’d taken her half dressed. Glowing from head to toe, she shot him a grin. “Aren’t you full of fun surprises?”
He laid his forehead on hers. “God, Cori, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
“Well, I don’t, either. But when the spirit moves you again, let me know so I can get naked!”
He shook his head, shamefaced. “I can’t believe I treated you like that. Hell, I didn’t fully undress you, or even take time to make sure you were pleased. I—I’ve never been so thoughtless and crude.” He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was crestfallen. “I was selfish. That was all about me, and you deserved better.”
“No, Zack, I loved—”
“But what if you hadn’t? I didn’t give you the chance to refuse, did I?” He snatched the towel and held it in front of his wilting erection.
“I wouldn’t have said no to you!”
“Don’t you see? It didn’t matter to me right then.”
“You are so full of horseshit.”
Quickly, he wiped off the evidence of their tryst and brushed past her. “I’m going to be in the shop for a while.”
Great. Now he’d go sulk where she wasn’t supposed to trespass because of the secret project he was working on for her. How damned convenient. Women did not have the market cornered on the “retreat and pout” method of avoiding confrontation, despite popular rumor.
Watching him dress, she crossed her arms over her breasts, trying not to feel insulted by his not giving her credit to think for herself. He was young, she reminded herself, and inexperienced not only with sex but more important, with the deeper emotions brought about by intimacy.
And she’d lay money he was still smarting over the encounter with Tony—if that was the creep’s name. Zack had probably stewed all afternoon, worked himself into a frenzy. She’d happened to catch the brunt of the most basic male reaction.
A supremely pissed man marking his territory.
She sure wasn’t complaining. Her lover had some seriously sexy moves, whatever the catalyst. However, she refrained from giving him an analysis of his motivations, figuring he wouldn’t appreciate it right now.
He jammed his feet into his sneakers, pushed on his glasses, and grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
“Sure.”
At least he stopped to plant a gentle kiss on her lips before disappearing out the door. The man was a roiling ocean of turmoil. He had yet to reveal what he’d promised to talk about when she got home, and th
is mysterious subject obviously was part of the problem, as well.
Battling dejection, she retrieved her bottled water from the floor, padded to her own bathroom, and took a quick shower. Afterward, she felt marginally refreshed and optimistic. Zack would spill his guts when he returned and when he did, he’d feel so much lighter. They’d deal with whatever was bothering him and everything would be fine.
She pulled on a pair of gray sweats and a clingy white baby-doll T-shirt, and went downstairs in search of something a tad stronger than water. A bottle of chardonnay squatted on the shelf behind the milk, just waiting to take the edge off a day like this one.
Five minutes later, Cori was sipping a cool glass of wine and swaying to Norah Jones drifting from the stereo in the living room, when the doorbell rang. Frowning, she used the remote to turn down the volume, and went to look through the peephole.
Her hackles went straight up, every female cell in her body on the defense as she opened the door to greet her visitor.
“Hey,” she said warily. “This is a surprise.”
Zack lost himself in the tactile pleasure of cutting the treated boards, the deafening whine of his table saw. The pungent smell of raw wood, the satisfaction that he was creating something to last for decades.
For Cori.
Why did he have to lose control like that? He’d screwed up. He knew no woman could fake such intense passion, knew she’d loved the hell out of his taking charge. But who was the guy who’d fucked her senseless against the bathroom wall? Problem was, he had no clue.
This shit was all new to him. The intense feelings, sharing, developing a relationship.
Falling in love.
Insane jealousy.
The fear that he wasn’t good enough for Cori, and never would be.
He didn’t know himself. Today, he hated the emotions scraping him bloody inside. The sooner he told her the truth, the better. Hell, she might not even believe what he told her about Joaquin. Might go so far as to throw him out. He’d be alone, like before—
No, he corrected himself. Much worse than before. Because he’d tasted what it meant to belong to a woman, for her to belong to him. He’d felt the first stirrings of real hope he’d ever had in his life that maybe someone might love him in return.
Made no difference. He had no right to postpone their talk any longer.
He tripped the OFF switch with his foot. His earplugs filtered the worst of the noise, and with the machine winding down, he couldn’t hear a thing. Pushing his safety goggles on top of his head, he inspected his work, then laid the board aside.
Without warning, a prickle teased the back of his neck. The weird sensation of another presence. Close. Turning, he caught movement from the corner of his eye.
Just as a two-by-four swung toward his face. Pain detonated in his skull and his knees buckled. He hit the concrete floor, tasted sawdust in his mouth. Blood.
Cori! God, neither of them had anticipated an attack in broad daylight. He had to stay conscious. Had to get up and stop this bastard . . . With an effort born of desperation, he pushed to his hands and knees.
Another blow to his head shattered his hold on consciousness, spun him into darkness. He was vaguely aware of shuffling footsteps. A strange hissing noise.
And then the light in his brain winked out.
Lionel stood panting, glaring down at the prone man on the shop floor. Not dead, but Knight would be in minutes. Shit, if he’d known killing would give him such a hard-on, he’d have done it years ago.
How to finish him? He glanced to the saw and thought it might be poetic to cut Knight’s throat with his own blades. But that was messy and he didn’t want to be covered in blood when he left. Same reason he didn’t use his gun—taking a man out with a rifle and a scope was different from walking up, shooting him in the head, and getting his brains all over you.
Casting about, his attention fell on the ancient gas heater on the floor a few feet away. Cheery flames danced inside, warding off the chill in the shop.
Perfect. After the shooting, the authorities would question whether Knight’s death was an accident, but what could they prove? For all they knew, he’d become dizzy, hit his head, and fallen unconscious, succumbing to his fate.
Lionel performed his task, smiling. Hurrying, he exited the shop and peered around the corner, toward the house.
“What the fuck?”
Impotent rage blinded him, boiled in his veins. The slut had a visitor! He could try to jump them, but he had no idea how many people had arrived or whether they were male or female. Sonofabitch! He’d have to wait until the guests left, or come back later.
He looked back at Knight and some of the anger calmed. At least he’d removed this obstacle.
One down, one to go.
Cori showed Eve Marshall into the living room, instantly on guard but determined to be polite to Zack’s friend. From the woman’s stiff posture and combatant, pale gaze, Cori knew she hadn’t been imagining the chill in Eve’s attitude toward her since they’d met.
Not a comforting realization. Cori instinctively knew this woman would make anyone a formidable enemy—or the most loyal friend. There was a confidence in her stride, a proud tilt to her head, and a glitter in that odd gaze hinting Eve had fought tooth and nail for every good thing in her life. And to keep them, she’d gladly kick ass and take names again.
Cori faced Eve, wishing the woman didn’t look so damned together, her trim, athletic build flattered by dark jeans, snazzy boots, and a black leather blazer. Dark, curly hair with reddish highlights framed her striking, bronzed face and tumbled unbound to her shoulders.
“This is a nice surprise,” Cori said in a friendly tone. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“No, thanks. I’m not staying long.” Eve’s hand clutched her purse strap in a death grip, betraying her agitation.
Oh, boy. Whatever this is about, it’s just what I needed today. “In that case, I’ll call Zack in from the shop. I know he’ll be thrilled to see you.” She turned to go, but Eve’s flat voice halted her.
“Actually, I’m glad he’s busy. I’d like to speak with you first.”
Bristling, Cori faced Eve, setting her glass of wine on the coffee table. “Sounds dire. Look, if this is about the shooting, I don’t know what to say to make you feel more comfortable about Zack’s safety—”
“That’s not why I’m here. I’m worried about the attempt, of course, but I’m also concerned about his mental well-being.” Eve took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “Zack has a big heart and if you broke it, sister, I’d take that personally.”
Cori crossed her arms over her chest, anger starting to bubble. “So you do have feelings for him. Well, I’m sorry he doesn’t reciprocate them, but that doesn’t give you the right to barge in here and make ultimatums.”
Eve laughed, not a happy sound. “I don’t have a thing for Zack, not like you mean. He’s my best friend, my brother. We look out for each other, and that includes serving notice if I think he’s being taken for a ride.”
Cori stared at her. “Am I supposed to decipher that? If you’re making an accusation, then come out with it.”
“You really don’t know,” she mused, frowning. “Zack still hasn’t told you.”
“Told me what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She gestured in the air with frustration. “We’ve done nothing but support each other from the day we met! He’s a wonderful man, and I don’t care that he’s fallen on financial hard times.”
“Really? Even if you’re the one responsible?” Eve fired back harshly, vibrating with outrage.
Cori’s mouth fell open. Clearly, the woman had lost it. “That’s completely ridiculous. Since I met Zack, he hasn’t had a penny for me to take.” Shoot, that sounded awful when she’d only been trying to defend herself, but Eve interrupted before she could explain.
“Of course he didn’t,” Eve hissed, advancing on her. “You’ve got every damned thing he loved in the palm of
your hand! Take a good look around you—tell me what you see.”
“I don’t . . .” A suspicion began to form. One too horrible to be true.
Eve stopped less than a foot away, well inside her personal space. “Sure, you do. You’re a smart lady. Work it out.”
A series of recollections flooded her mind, unwelcome.
Zack, his temper exploding in the hospital, the phone in pieces.
Standing in the foyer when he first arrived here. Pale and shell-shocked.
How he’d known where items in the kitchen were located without being told.
His slip at the dinner table, almost calling the shop his.
The shop he obviously loved and knew his way around very well.
“No,” Cori whispered. “Zack would’ve said something to me.”
“And what exactly should he have told you? That while he was living off peanut butter, you were happily nesting in the house he’d labored with his own two hands to make into a home?”
The blood left her head in a dizzying rush, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. No wonder Zack wouldn’t talk to her. He’d been protecting her—again. And she’d raked him over the coals for his trouble. “I . . . It can’t be true.”
“Zack has serious class, always thinking of others before himself. He didn’t want any of us to know. But you—” Eve jabbed a finger at the center of Cori’s chest. “I have difficulty believing you had no idea this was Zack’s home when you purchased it. How could you not know?”
“I didn’t have any idea,” she insisted, shaking her head. “The house was a gift from my brother. . . . Oh, no.”
Eve’s dark brows furrowed. “What?”
Oh, sweet heaven. In an instant, she understood. The nice, tidy world she thought she’d created was now turned upside down, tainted by her brother’s cruel manipulations.
But that was nothing compared with what he’d done to Zack.
The shame was almost beyond bearing. “My brother did this to him. Zack must’ve ended up owing him money, but how? Joaquin lives outside Atlantic City and he’s only visited me twice since I moved to Sugarland. How would they have met?”
