"Take my hand."
She grabbed it and used it to help her rise from her crouched position. Toeing off her boots, she narrowed her eyes at him. Her fingers swirled telling him to turn around. Oh, the man did not want to do it. He wanted to be all growly and possessive about the condition of her body, but that wasn't what this thing they had going was supposed to be about. She put her hands on her hips and waited. Not that the naked semi-erect vision in front of her was a hardship to look at, but seriously, he needed to give her a minute to get out of her clothes without wincing in front of him. It was just common courtesy.
He finally turned and entered the shower, shutting the frosted glass door behind him. She carefully tugged her t-shirt off and reached behind her to unsnap her bra. The movement hurt about as much as bending over and kicking out of her jeans after she pushed them down her hips. She glanced down at the bruises that covered her right side and the discoloration from her hip to her breast.
Had the man she'd been sent to kill not been hopped up on cocaine, she might not have been able to escape. Her skills were not the right ones to take on the bastard, but who was she to turn down a job? Now? Now she was exclusive, and that gave her the right to turn down anything else that flowed her way. Didn't it?
She opened the shower door and braced herself for his reaction. Dixon turned around and opened his eyes. Water trailed over his lashes, dripping across the brilliant blue orbs as he stared at the marks that the bastard had left on her. The last marks of a dead man.
He extended his hand and brought her under the warm water. Joy closed her eyes and dropped her head back between her shoulders and let the water pour over her. She gasped when his hands circled her waist. She snapped her head forward and realized he'd dropped to his knees in front of her. His fingertips snaked up the vivid divide of her unblemished skin and the deep purple and black bruises that littered the rest of her body.
He leaned forward and kissed the bruise closest to her breast. She let her fingers wind through his wet hair. His lips traced the mottled color, carefully laying down gentle sweeps of his lips against her skin. She closed her eyes. A lifetime ago, she'd dreamt of a knight in shining armor who would save her. She'd longed to have someone who would treat her with the reverence Dixon was giving her. She'd thought that hope had passed. She wasn't that innocent, wide-eyed girl that had trusted completely. That life ended many, many years ago when that bastard had killed her sister and ripped her innocence from her.
But here and now, she let herself remember those dreams, although Dixon's careful touches scared her. As his fingers drifted over her skin and his lips brushed over her bruises, her tired, wounded body voraciously consumed his gentle kindness. Dixon Simmons terrified her because she wanted this–with him. Her only goal when she’d escaped death at the hands of a drug-fueled maniac and had fled the penthouse apartment in Tokyo was getting back to this man.
As he worshipped her body, telling her with his soft, tender touches what neither one of them would ever admit aloud, she wanted to run. She trembled with the desire to escape, to flee the emotions and thoughts the man on his knees before her had resurrected, only she had nowhere else to go. Her emotions warred against each other. This moment, this man, and this feeling was why she'd fought so hard to come back; and yet this moment, this man, and this feeling held a power over her she shouldn't allow. Because of those emotions, the risks she took to do what she was paid to do no longer made sense.
Every time she took a job, she’d reconciled herself to the fact she might die. Hell, at times she'd hoped for it–the end of her existence. She drew her fingers through Dixon's hair as he kissed her ribs. Not anymore. The emptiness inside her had shrunk. Void of feeling, her life hadn't meant much. She pushed the envelope and sought out dangerous situations just to be able to feel something, anything. What she felt when she was with this man? Well, it mattered. At least to her.
He wrapped his arms around her and leaned into her while still on his knees. She wrapped her arms around him and held him. The weight of his presence sank into her and warmed cold, empty places. A past lover had accused her of not having a heart. That wasn't true, she had one, but it had been shattered into a million pieces and was so broken she'd swept the tiny shards that remained into a vault and locked them away.
Dixon leaned back and pushed her wet hair away from her face. "How bad was it?"
Joy held back the canned brush off that sprang to mind. She threaded her fingers through his hair and spoke the truth, "He was better than me, but he was strung out. If he hadn't been, I don't know if I would have been able to make the kill. He bled out as he was choking me." She bit her bottom lip before she spoke and gave herself permission to show him her vulnerability, "I didn't think I'd see you again."
He stood and gathered her into his arms. "You are mine, now. Exclusively." He turned off the water and made quick work of wrapping her in a towel before he swiped the water off himself.
He led her into the bedroom and folded them under the thick blankets of the bed after placing his gun and her knife on opposite nightstands. He pulled her close, tucking her into him, her back against his chest. Joy glanced over her shoulder at him. "Don't you want—"
He kissed her softly, stopping her question. "What I want right now is to hold you. I need to know something good exists in my life. Everything I've ever known has been tainted by that bastard...except you. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms, and I want to wake up with you here beside me." He kissed her again. "Go to sleep."
She turned her face toward the window. A shiver ran through her, and he tightened his hold. The shiver wasn't because she was cold. Being held, being wanted just because of who she was? She closed her eyes. Maybe sometimes, little girl dreams did come true.
Chapter 12
Dixon woke immediately. His eyes dropped to the woman asleep beside him. The horrid bruising on her body had sent a jolt of reality into his life. On his knees in that shower last night, he realized how important he'd let her become. The hot, casual fuck he thought he'd found had morphed into someone that mattered. Joy was the one thing his father hadn't been able to violate, and for that he was thankful.
He turned onto his side so he could watch her sleep. She was beautiful and so damn delicate. That thought brought a smile to his face. Delicate looking, but the woman had a strength that would rival a blend of tungsten, titanium and chromium. The woman was a force of nature. A diminutive one, sure, but he'd fought against her. If she'd been trying to kill him when they’d collided, he had no doubt he'd have been a pin cushion for that knife of hers. Would he have been dead after they met? It was a toss-up. She had skills, but so did he. The bastard that put the bruises on her was lucky he was dead. Dixon wanted to stalk off to whatever country she'd left his corpse in and resurrect the motherfucker just so he could kill him again. Yeah, that was kinda fucked up, but he was feeling protective even though she didn't need protecting. Hell, he'd put her on retainer so she'd be near him. Again...fucked up. He could hear Drake's voice in his head. What the fuck, Dix? You hired a killer to keep her safe?
Dixon chuckled softly at the thought of what else his brother would say. Yeah, he did hire her to keep her safe, but she'd never know that. Shit was about to get real. He'd need someone in his corner, and while he used Smith yesterday, he didn't necessarily trust him. He didn't know the man or his past. Those videos Smith wanted? He'd make sure he'd have a copy of what was on them before he released them. Knowledge was power, especially now. He'd thrown the gauntlet down with the Stratus underling. He wanted someone higher up. He needed a way to get Guardian in the door, and a minion that had no authority to make a decision wasn't going to cut it.
Joy's eyelids fluttered open. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself." Dixon pulled her into him. He enjoyed the soft sigh and the way she snuggled against him. His dick liked it too. She rolled her hips against him, and he groaned.
"You should have taken me up on my offer last night." Her hand snaked around h
is cock and stroked him.
"We were both exhausted. I only do wide awake sex." He rolled her onto her back and gazed down at her.
She smirked at him and reached up with both arms, snaking them around his neck. "Good thing I like wide awake sex."
He lowered and slanted his lips across hers. Her kisses were addictive. When he first realized that she wanted him to control their sex, it had been a powerful rush. His dominance of her was exciting, thrilling and euphoric. Making her let go, if only for the time it took to reach orgasm, was a privilege.
Today wasn't about conquering her, but making her let go. His hands explored her body as they lost themselves in each other's taste. He could kiss her forever and never get enough. His cock was dripping by the time he allowed himself to finger her sex. She gasped into his mouth and rolled her hips, looking for more.
He pulled away and rolled onto his left side, bringing her back to his chest and lifting her leg. Her right side was a battlefield of bruises that he wouldn't aggravate. He kept his hand behind her right knee and lifted it up, careful not to push her leg against her torso. He pushed his hips forward and grunted when her hand found him and guided him into her hot, waiting core. He slid forward and closed his eyes at the feel of her silky heat wrapping around his shaft. Her fingers pressed against the root of his cock as he hilted. He watched her stroking her clit as he withdrew and then thrust forward.
Dixon lowered his lips to her shoulder. Her right hand traveled up and grabbed his hair, keeping him there. He licked and nipped the area he could reach as he listened to her quiet sounds fill the room. The woman hummed in appreciation, moaned when he thrust harder, and muttered words of encouragement when his hand left her leg to reach between them. She never let go of him, her hands tangled in his hair. He wanted to believe it was because she needed the connection as much as he did. He needed to believe that, and for the moment at least, he allowed himself to hope it was true. He worked her body until he felt her tighten and then snap against the rhythm of his hips. Thrusting into her while she rode out her orgasm, he chased his own release.
She turned her head and pulled him down, bringing them together in a sloppy, desperate kiss. "Take what you need from me. I'm here. I'm yours."
Dixon's back arched, and he lost it. Bright red spots formed behind his clenched eyelids. They blurred into blackness as he remembered to breathe. He dropped his head to her shoulder. and brushed a breathless kiss against her shoulder. "And I'm yours." His murmur dropped into the stillness. Her only response was a soft sigh. It was enough.
"Did you kill your father?"
Dixon sighed. "Yes and no. I put the gun to his head and took everything he'd worked for away from him. He pulled the trigger and killed himself."
She rolled over onto her back and narrowed her eyes at him. "So...no, you didn't kill him."
"I didn't pull the trigger."
"So...no, you didn't kill him." She turned, so she was facing him. "What did you do with the body?"
"Smith took me to the mortuary owned by my father. We used the crematorium."
"Any video of the event?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I want you at my side. I think it’s best Smith doesn't know who you are other than my...woman."
Her eyebrow arched, and a small smirk ticked up the corner of her mouth. "You’re sure you want to saddle yourself with me?"
Dixon laughed, "Oh, yeah, baby, ride me."
She slugged his arm and laughed, "You're like, thirteen, aren't you?"
"Most of the time." He pulled her on top of him and stroked her hair when she laid her head down on his chest. This felt so damn right.
"What's the play?" She asked in a sleepy, dreamy voice.
He continued to run his fingers through her hair as he spoke. "Play?"
"Yeah, what's the endgame? Your old man is dead. We are playing house, and you don't trust Smith. What's the endgame here?" She lifted her head and cupped her hands on his chest before she lowered her chin and looked at him expectantly.
"There is a vacant Senate seat that I believe I'll be nominated to fill." He watched her closely as she digested the news.
She opened her mouth, closed it, started to speak again and then snapped it shut. She pushed up and straddled him, naked and obviously confused. "Why the fuck would you want me around if you are going to be a senator?"
"Is there anything connected to you that could come back to me?" He ran his hands up and down her thighs.
"Like a criminal record?"
"Exactly like that."
"Nah. I'm dead...I mean the person I was born as is buried. So, there is nothing there, but I mean...there is nothing there. Your idea to have me hang around as your woman would do nothing but complicate matters."
Dixon narrowed his eyes at her. "What about the name you use to get in and out of the country?"
"That changes with the job. Documentation like passports and such are easy to get with enough money." She pulled the blanket that had dropped when she sat up back over her shoulders. "But a simple passport wouldn't be enough to withstand the scrutiny of a zealous background scrub. I think it’s best if I stay in the background."
"If I'm correct in my assumptions, you won't be subject to any scrutiny. We'll get you a new passport and driver's license. I have a feeling the less information that can be found about you, the better." Dixon flicked her a quick smile.
"Ah... say what, now?" She flipped the blanket over her head and clutched it under her chin.
He pulled her down on top of him and wrapped his arms around her. "Get the documents. I'll pay for them. I want you beside me."
"It won't work. Someone is going to ask questions."
"Maybe not if you have dual citizenship. Two passports, we can work the background in another country and use it."
"Smoke and mirrors?"
"Something like that. I have friends overseas that can help." Dixon ran through his available options; friends of friends he and Drake had made while working overseas; people who owed them and would be willing to do a favor or two. It could work. He just needed to be able to reach out. Now that the brownstone was his, he could do what he needed to do without the fear of being monitored.
She tapped his forehead. "I see the squirrels moving around up here, but I'm not sure I like where they're going."
"We won't make the relationship public until you are satisfied I've been able to produce a viable cover for you. Deal?" She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at him again. He laughed, "How did I confuse you?"
"Why is it important that I be beside you through this?"
"Because I have zero allies that I can access. My gut tells me I can trust you. Hell, you haven't killed me yet, so I'm assuming my instincts are correct."
She scrunched up her nose at him and let out a huge sigh before she moved up on her elbows. He flinched and moved her weight off his ribs, tossing her onto the mattress. She landed with a wince. "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry." He gently palmed her bruised side with his hand.
"I'm fine. I'm a helluva lot tougher than I look." She rolled back toward him and pulled up the blankets to ward off the chill in the bedroom. "I'll give you the time you need, and you can count on me to be here for you." She dropped her eyes as if embarrassed by the comment. "What about that control room? How are you going to get into it?"
Dixon lifted his head and glanced at the bedside clock. It was just after five in the morning. He dropped his head. "It's unlocked."
She bounced up and slapped her knife into her hand. Her wince of pain at the movement vanished as she flew out of the room. Naked.
Dixon got up and put on his pants before he grabbed his gun and a blanket. He descended the stairs and headed to the back of the house. She stood at the top of the stairs. She spun and pointed at the door. "It was locked last night."
"It was."
"How?"
"I contracted the services of an information extraction specialist."
"A what?"
"A thief."
"Why didn't you just say that?"
"Long story."
"What if he stole something that can be used against you?" She darted down the stairs...still naked as the day she was born. Dixon shook his head and threw the blanket over his shoulder as he walked down the stairs.
"What. The. Actual. Fuck?" Her words fell in a confused heap. She turned around and blinked at him. She indicated a room whose door stood open. "What the hell was he going to use this for?"
Dixon grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He glanced into the torture chamber his father no doubt called a training room. It wasn't the same room he’d used with him. His father had probably thought it an improvement from the hole he'd been trained in. Dixon waited, expecting to feel something more. He waited for the panic, fear, and anxiety to surface, but the only thing he felt was disgust for the man who'd given him life.
He draped his arm around her shoulder and nodded to the end of the hall. "The control room." The door stood ajar even though there was an alarm panel outside the door. The front of the panel was removed, and there were wires pulled from the interior. He opened the door and turned on the light. The monitors were all active but showed only splotchy light through the paint covering the lenses.
Dixon wrapped his hand around the cluster of wires leading to the computer system and yanked, pulling all the ends from the back of monitors. He moved Joy to the side, sat down at the desk and wiggled the mouse. The computer wasn't even password protected. He clicked on the folders located on the desktop. The folders were listed by date, going back for seven...no, eight years. Probably the date the system was installed.
"Man, nothing like putting all your shit in one bucket. Anyone could access those files."
Dixon shook his head. "No, see here? This is a receptacle. The cameras dumped the feed into this computer at exactly six thirty every evening and started a new recording. If someone was to access the camera system, like they did yesterday, the system dumped the recording the second the line was breached. The hacker would only have a live feed of what was happening at that exact moment. There was no way the people who hacked in could access any history." He called up the C prompt and sent a command to the DOS function of the system. "If anyone accessed this storage space via a tunnel, Trojan, or internet connection, it would be wiped."
Dixon Page 12
