Men of Danger

by Lora Leigh

  Walking out into the sultry night air, Hannah had to take a fierce grip on her own control to keep from suggesting that perhaps they could return to her house. Or to his. To a bed. She didn’t care where.

  Sweet heaven, but this man had an effect on her that wasn’t easy to combat. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he was going to break her heart, because she knew she would end up falling in love with him. She was already halfway there. She had been for more years than she wanted to count. She should break this off now. She should go home and forget that he had kissed her, touched her. Forget that she wanted him as desperately as she wanted her next breath.

  Instead, she let him help her into the truck and stared back at him as she settled on the seat, her legs still hanging out, his hands on her knees, holding her in place.

  “I’ve wanted you a long time, Hannah.”

  She stared back at him in shock.

  “You never knew?” He brushed back a strand of hair from her face.

  “No.” She could barely speak past the tightening of her throat and the need rising inside her. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushed over her lips.

  “I have.” His voice was soft, edged with some emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. “I’ve wanted for so long, and I felt guilty as hell.”

  Surprise shot through her. Guilt. He’d felt guilty because he’d wanted her before Sienna had died. She understood what he meant. Even though she just told him she hadn’t known, she had sensed it then, two years before Sienna’s death when Rick had brought Kent into school for registration.

  They had lived in the same town most of their lives, but that night, she had really seen Rick. His smile, his dark chuckle, the feel of his hand as he shook hers.

  Sienna had been cold, brittle. Hannah had had several run-ins with Sienna over the years. Little things that really hadn’t mattered.

  “Why haven’t you said anything? Why were you so cold last summer?” she asked. He hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in her when they had gone out the summer before.

  “You make me crazy.” The hand on her knee slid beneath the material of her dress, pushing it up her leg as he moved his palm to her thigh. “You make me want you until I can’t think about anything else.”

  He meant it. Hannah stared up at him, seeing the faintly confused, intent look on his face and realized that he meant it. He wanted her that bad.

  He was going to break her heart. That was her luck, it was horrible when it came to men. She had yet to choose one that wanted a relationship. Even her husband.

  Would it be better to go ahead and just get it over with? If she slept with him now, maybe all those pesky emotional issues wouldn’t come into play. Maybe she could actually have the pleasure, have a sense of caring at least, and be able to watch him leave without the repercussions that had come with her divorce.

  As she stared up at him, she felt his hand moving higher, watched his head lower further. He was kissing her slow and easy, lengthy sips of her lips that had her hands sliding up his chest again to his hair. They clenched in the strands to hold him to her.

  Her lips parted beneath his as his tongue stroked over them. He licked them, a hard male groan leaving his lips, and her breath caught from the pleasure.

  Heated, liquid need was pouring through her system. Her pussy clenched with the need for touch, her clit swelling in desperate desire as his fingers flexed against her thighs.

  Hannah felt her legs falling apart involuntarily. It had nothing to do with the feel of his hands pressing against her inner thighs and the knowledge of the touch to come if she just let him in.

  She forgot where she was, what she should be doing, and the hazards of loving any man. All she could think about was this touch, this kiss. His hands as they slid higher, as his fingers touched the silk of her pan ties and pulled them aside.

  The pad of his thumb ran up the closed slit of her sex, the feel of it, the glance of his flesh brushing over her clit, had her jerking in reaction, a stilted moan falling from her lips.

  God, they were in the middle of a parking lot, her legs spread, his finger pressing against her clit and she was so hot she was about to go up in flames.

  “Jesus, you’re wet,” he growled against her lips.

  The sound was rough, deep, and hungry. It sent a shiver racing up her spine and more dampness spilling from her pussy.

  “Come here.” With an arm wrapped around her hips, he pulled her closer to the edge of the seat, giving him greater access to the damp folds he was caressing.

  “There,” he crooned in that rough voice as his thumb stroked through the wet flesh once more and Hannah shuddered against him.

  Her head tipped back, giving his lips access to her neck as his thumb rubbed and probed and sent heat coursing through her body.

  “Rick.” She sighed his name again. “Someone’s going to see.”

  She wondered if she even cared if they saw. She was sitting there, and she sure as hell wasn’t protesting a damn thing he was doing to her. She was on the verge of begging for more.

  “Not yet.” His lips slid against her neck before he let his teeth rake over it. The stinging little pleasure was like a rush of heat attacking her nerve endings.

  Hannah fought for breath as his strokes between her thighs intensified. He parted the slick flesh, groaned against her neck, and a heartbeat later she felt the slow, firm penetration of two fingers.

  Her breath caught, her eyes opening drowsily to stare back at him as she fought to breathe. It was exquisite. It was the most pleasure she had ever known, had ever thought she could know.

  “It’s so good,” she breathed out roughly as he pressed deeper, retreated, only to return again, his fingers stretching her erotically as she tried to hold her eyes open, to watch his face, to revel in the hunger burning in his eyes.

  “It could be better, Hannah,” he told her softly. “So much better.”

  His fingers slid deeper, punctuating his words as she fought to hold back a strangled cry of pleasure.

  “Ruining another good woman, Grayson?”

  Angry, almost childish, the accusation had Rick freezing in her arms, his fingers sliding slowly from her wet heat as he pushed her skirt back down her legs.

  Hannah looked past him, barely recognizing the furious face of Rick’s brother-in-law, Jay Martinez.

  “We should go,” she whispered to Rick, recognizing the fury that began to sizzle between the two men.

  “We are.” Rick’s tone was hard, cold. The sensual man of seconds before was replaced by the dangerous, well-trained warrior she knew he was.

  He closed the door to the truck, moved around the front, all the while followed by Jay.

  “You killed Sienna,” he yelled at Rick’s ramrod-straight back. “You murdered her, and we both know it.”

  “Go home, Jay.” Rick jerked his truck door open and slid inside.

  “He’ll kill you too, Hannah,” Jay rapped out at her, his dark eyes glaring. “You can’t say you weren’t warned. Unlike Sienna. She never saw the bullet coming.”

  Rick slammed the door closed, gunned the motor, and pulled out of the parking place with more restraint than she would have expected.

  “Hannah, he’ll kill you,” Jay’s voice echoed behind her.

  Turning to Rick, she stared at him and saw the harsh, savage lines etched into his expression now. The lover was gone. He was hard, remote now. Withdrawn.

  “He blames you?” she asked, thinking of Sienna’s death at the hands of the militia that had kidnapped her and one of her friends two years before.

  “He blames me.” Rick’s hands clenched on the steering wheel.

  “Jay and Sienna were close,” she said softly. She had gone to school with Jay, she knew he’d adored his older sister, despite the fact that she had been adopted before he was born.

  “Yes.”

  They were back to monosyllables again.

  Hannah restrained her sigh and watched as they drove through
town, moving ever closer to her home. She hadn’t wanted the night to end this way. She had hoped it would end on a much more pleasant note. A much more pleasurable note.

  It looked like, once again, Hannah Brookes was doomed to spend the night alone.

  CHAPTER 4

  SIENNA HAD BEEN killed by members of a homeland terrorist group that preyed on Mexican illegal immigrants as well as those who had immigrated legally and were born in the States.

  They were a white supremacist militia that had on several occasions kidnapped their victims, hunted them, then killed them with such torturous means that Hannah had actually had nightmares after reading about the events in the newspapers two years ago.

  Many of those militia members had been known and trusted members of the community. A sheriff’s deputy, the mayor, a bank president, the owner of a local ranch. She had taught the children of several of those men in school, and she had watched how their families’ lives were destroyed once the news hit.

  Sienna Grayson and Sabella Malone had been kidnapped by the group when the terrorists found out that Sabella’s lover had discovered evidence against them in one of the trucks that had been in the garage, and had turned it over to authorities.

  In retaliation, the militia had kidnapped her and the sheriff’s wife. Sienna hadn’t survived. When federal agents had moved in on the group Sienna had been killed.

  It had been tragic. The community had turned out in force to mourn with Rick. Though many of them had dis-liked Sienna personally, it seemed everyone had cared for their sheriff.

  He was a good man, Hannah thought as they drove through town. He was a good sheriff. In all the years he had held the post there had never been a whiff of scandal attached to his office.

  He kept his life, both private and public, squeaky clean. If Rick Grayson had skeletons, and she was certain he did, then they were buried so deep in the proverbial closet that she doubted anyone would find them.

  To call him private was an understatement. Even before his wife’s death, Rick hadn’t been a whiner or the type of man that told everyone his business. After her death, he seemed to have closed up even further. Though Hannah would have been surprised if he hadn’t.

  “I’m sorry about that, Hannah.” His voice was a black velvet whisper through the night as he spoke. “Jay has things set in his head and there’s no convincing him otherwise.”

  “Things like the rumor that you shot your wife?” she asked, catching the little flinch her words evoked.

  “Yeah, things like that.” He shifted his shoulders as though the weight of them were a burden.

  “Jay was always fiercely protective of Sienna,” she stated. “I went to school with him. He would never let anybody say anything bad about her.”

  But there was plenty said. Jay had gotten a reputation as a gutter fighter at a young age because of his defense of his sister. It was too bad she hadn’t been equally protective of her reputation. Not that Hannah could say that to Rick.

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Rick agreed with a heavy sigh as he glanced back at her. “It didn’t do anything for the mood though, did it?”

  The wry smile that tugged at his lips surprised her. He was obviously trying to brush off the encounter, to recapture the heat and sensuality that had been there earlier.

  “We could talk about it over a cup of coffee if you like?” She smiled as she turned away from him, a flash of light catching her eyes.

  She heard Rick curse as her eyes widened and fear clenched her chest tight. Leaning forward, she peered out the window, her throat tightening.

  “Oh God,” she whispered. “Is that my house?”

  There were police cars in her front yard, several in the street in front of her house. Her front door was hanging open and several officers were talking to neighbors.

  “Hang on, Hannah,” Rick commanded as he drew the truck to a stop and reached out for her, grabbing her arm as she moved to exit the truck. “Let’s see what happened first. Stay put.”

  The ring of authority in his tone made her remain still and silent for several precious moments as he jumped out of the truck and rushed around to the door.

  She had already thrown the door open and was in the process of getting out of the high cab when he gripped her waist and helped her to the sidewalk.

  “Let’s see what’s going on before we jump to conclusions,” he warned her.

  Hannah nodded, grateful for his arm as it reached around her back, pulling her to him.

  The sense of safety that wrapped around her stilled the shudders that had begun racing through her, but nothing could still the fear that tightened her chest and her throat.

  “Sheriff, you found her.” A young officer moved from the front yard toward them, his expression concerned as Rick stopped, holding her back.

  “She was with me all along, Officer Johnson,” Rick informed him as Hannah’s hand lifted to her throat, her chest tightening further as she stared at her house.

  It was small. It wasn’t roomy, but it was hers. It held her possessions, her life. It was her refuge, and now strangers were walking through it?

  “What happened here, Officer Johnson?” Rick asked, his tone becoming commanding.

  “Sorry, sir.” The officer jumped to attention. “At approximately nine o’ clock this evening we received notification from her security company that her alarm had gone off and they couldn’t reach her.” He turned to Hannah. “Did you have your cell phone on you, ma’am?”

  Hannah’s gaze jerked back to him as she shook her head. “I noticed it missing this morning. I haven’t found it yet.”

  “Well,” he continued, “when the security company couldn’t reach you we were called out. Your car was in the drive, your parents hadn’t heard from you, so we entered the house to make certain you weren’t in trouble.” He waved toward the broken door as he grimaced. “Sorry, ma’am. It was the only way in.”

  “Find anything?” Rick asked as he began to draw Hannah toward the house.

  As the two men talked Hannah felt the overwhelming urge to run. She didn’t want to go into her home when all these people were milling around in it. She wanted them to leave. She wanted to lock herself in and make certain the few things she had were still safe.

  “Nothing was stolen that we can tell,” the officer was saying. “The back door was kicked in. They didn’t even try to keep from setting off the alarm. The uhh . . .” He glanced at Hannah. “The bedroom is the only room that appears to have any damage.”

  “Hannah!” Rick’s voice was sharp as she broke away from him and ran for the house.

  She pushed past the officer at the front door, knees shaking, her heart in her throat, and rushed upstairs to her bedroom, aware that Rick was following close behind.

  Damage to her bedroom? Her sanctuary?

  She ran into the room then came to a hard, dead stop.

  Rick cursed harshly behind her, his voice dangerous, icy, but all Hannah could do was stare in humiliated horror.

  Okay, she didn’t have an active sex life. She had a few toys. Well, several adult toys actually. A vibrator, a soft gel dildo, and a little egg-shaped clitoral vibrator.

  The clitoral vibrator hung from the fan over her bed, twirling lazily as she stared at it in agonized humiliation for long seconds.

  The gel penis-shaped toy was stuck to her dresser mirror where the words whore had been printed in block letters with red lipstick. And her vibrator? It had been shoved into the ripped lips of the huge teddy bear that sat in a chair beside her bed. A gift from one of her brothers.

  There were police officers in her bedroom. They stared with her, their gazes shifting from her as she stared around the room, shame burning through her.

  “How did someone have time to do this?” Rick asked, his voice so icy, so stone cold that even Hannah flinched.

  “Sheriff Grayson.” An older man dressed in a rumpled suit stepped forward.

  “Detective Dickerson, how the hell did someone have time to do thi
s before your men arrived?”

  “Response time between break-in and our arrival was fifteen minutes,” the detective stated. “The security attempted to call Ms. Brookes’s contact number and when she didn’t answer they alerted us. According to the security logs, her pass code was punched into the alarm an hour before the break-in, though. How long has she been with you?”

  “Longer than that,” Rick stated as Hannah turned to the detective in shock.

  “No one has my code.” She shook her head in confusion. “No one. Not even my brothers or parents.”

  The detective shook his head, his lips flattening as he rubbed at his temple for a second.

  “Someone knew what the hell they were doing, then,” he said. “There are devices that can get past this system, but your normal burglar doesn’t have them. Who wants to get at you that bad, Ms. Brookes? Bad enough to do this when they found you weren’t here.” He turned and looked around the room before returning his gaze to her.

  “I’m just a teacher,” she whispered.

  “Any parents threatened you? Harassed you?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head fiercely.

  The questions didn’t stop. They were insistent, probing. Hannah couldn’t take her eyes off her bedroom as the detective interrogated her.

  Other than the toys that had been displayed, nothing else seemed to have been disturbed. They had found the most humiliating things and used them to hurt her.

  But why?

  As she answered the detective’s questions she fought to understand. As far as she knew she didn’t have any enemies, she told the detective. No, she hadn’t argued with anyone lately. No, she wasn’t dating anyone and hadn’t in more than a year. Until tonight, Rick injected.

  It went on and on until she felt as though she were going to scream in frustration. She just wanted them to leave. She wanted everyone out of her home so she could hide the evidence of her loneliness and lick her wounds in peace.

  “Well, we’ve dusted for prints.” The detective finally rubbed at his nose as he stared around the room again. “If we find out anything, we’ll let you know. But honestly.” He shook his head again. “I doubt we’re going to. Someone was pretty thorough here.”