by Amy Gamet
This was what she wanted, she could see so clearly now. Gone were her fears of being hurt by him again. She was already hurting, and she would go on hurting. She might as well enjoy him while she could.
His good arm came around her waist, holding her there, and his prosthetic did the same on the other side. She was hyperaware he couldn’t feel anything with that limb, and she desperately wanted him to feel every inch of her body with every inch of her own. “Can I take this off?”
He leaned back, breaking their kiss. “Why?”
“It isn’t you. I want to feel you.”
He set her aside. “It’s part of me now.”
“No, I just meant…” Her voice trailed off. She could see she’d made a horrible mistake, only intensifying his emotional moment. “I’m sorry.” She closed the distance between them and touched his chest lightly with her palm. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
She swallowed against her discomfiture. “I want to kiss you.” His expression told her he was angry, torn between taking her offer and walking away. She licked her lips. She had to try again. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed about kissing you? Being back in your arms, just one more time?”
“Arm. Singular.”
“I don’t care about that. You’re still you. That’s what I really wanted.”
His eyes darkened, his gaze slipping down her face to her lips, hovering there. “I dreamed of you, too.” His hand slipped into the hair at the nape of her neck, lifting her face to his. “But my dreams didn’t stop at kissing.”
Adrenaline surged into her bloodstream, a pulse beating between her legs. Memories of him swarmed like bees, from the first time he penetrated her, taking her virginity, to the desperation of teenage lust, searching for release.
His hand moved from her neck to her collarbone, trailing sensation as he traced the outline of her breast and moved lower. His big hand slid around her midriff and farther to cup her derriere.
Her eyelids grew heavy as he held her against his hardening erection, and she fitted her torso more completely against his, her arms coming to circle his neck as she kissed his jaw, his stubble abrading her lips.
Then he was kissing her, deep, demanding kisses that flooded all rational thought. There was only feeling, only emotion, only the desperate need to be as close to him as possible.
His hands slipped under her shirt, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. His hand moved to her lace-covered breast, taking its fullness in his palm and kneading it before circling her nipple with his thumb.
Her back arched in response, thrusting her rib cage closer to him, and he pulled the cup of her bra down to expose her fully. She felt the warmth of his breath before he took her in his mouth, licking and suckling her deep.
She bucked wildly against him, desperate for these feelings only he could bring, and her nails dug into the flesh of his lower back. “Sloan,” she said on a moan, needing him to know what he was doing to her, needing to connect with him even more than he was doing now.
His head came up and he kissed her, lifting her with his powerful arm and all but dragging her to the bed. He followed her down, the planes of his body accentuated by shadow, and she reached out to touch every inch of his flesh.
The scent of his body was heady and familiar as her hands raked over his chest. She bent to kiss his nipple, the taste of his salty skin further fanning her desire. She moved up to his neck, kissing him there as her hands reached down to unbutton his jeans.
“Jesus, Jo,” he ground out under his breath, helping her get his pants off and shucking them down his legs.
He wore black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric, and her hands moved over it, outlining his sensitive shaft and cupping his balls before stroking them tenderly.
His breath caught, its rhythm faster now, and she longed to push him closer to the edge. Sliding her body down the bed, she kissed him through the fabric where her hands had been, loving how he cursed and twisted beneath her.
She hadn’t given oral sex in years, hadn’t wanted to, but now she was as desperate to taste him as she was to receive his attention. Slipping her hand beneath the material, she fisted her fingers around his firm shaft and breathed heavily on the fabric-covered tip. “God, yes,” he ground out, and she pulled down the waistband, exposing him completely.
His cock was glorious, thick and wide, and she licked the bulbous head before taking him in her mouth, instantly remembering what he liked. She teased him, sinking onto him slowly before taking as much as she could and loving every groan and hiss of his reaction.
Then he was pulling her up, wrestling her onto her back and assaulting her with a sensual attack. His mouth was back on her breast while his hand moved down to skillfully stroke the sensitive seam of her sex. Her legs fell open at his touch, hungry for more.
His stubble lightly abraded her abdomen as he moved lower, reverently kissing her skin until he reached the inside of her thigh and stopped. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers tracing her swollen lips before slowly slipping deep inside her.
She bucked against the mattress. Then his tongue was on her clitoris, a wave of sensation building as his fingers moved to the rhythm of his mouth.
No one else had loved her like this. No one had tasted and touched as if he were receiving a precious gift, and she longed to hold him inside her and never let go. “Please,” she begged, not wanting to reach orgasm without him. “I need you now.”
He rolled onto his back beside her and she straddled him, experiencing only a flash of concern as she sank down on his bare shaft. She thought of the condom in his wallet. They had never used one before, but she’d been on the pill back when they’d been dating. She wasn’t on the pill now.
He filled her completely, and it felt so deliciously good she couldn’t bear the thought of stopping. It was lunacy and she knew it, consequences be damned.
His hands moved to her waist and she instinctively jerked away from his cold prosthetic, but he held her there, moving her hips onto him as he thrust beneath her.
She was frantic now, her body racing toward release, and she pumped as quickly as she could until the orgasm came, unable to move in the moment.
He flipped her over, bracing himself on his good arm as he drove into her again and again, finally joining her in sexual oblivion.
22
Sloan stared at the ceiling, Joanne sleeping soundly on his shoulder as he absently stroked her skin. He’d slept for a few hours but had woken shortly before four, unable to get back to sleep.
He was blown away.
He’d slept with plenty of women since this one, but none of them compared. It wasn’t a physical comparison but a spiritual one. He hadn’t been as connected to any of them as he’d always been to Joanne, and that was a problem.
Making love to her was like picking up where they’d left off years before, and he was suddenly concerned with all the reasons he’d dropped out of that race in the first place. Jo had changed the rules on him halfway around the track, asking him to marry her and take her away from her abusive father forever.
She’d been asking him to save her.
He’d been a stupid kid back then, just barely eighteen and on his way into the military. He had nothing to offer her but himself. That wasn’t how love was supposed to manifest, like some kind of dare that seemed like a super-bad idea.
Now he’d gone and made love to her without a condom.
Speaking of super-bad ideas.
It wasn’t like it had slipped his mind. He always practiced safe sex and had a condom in his wallet right now. But he hadn’t used it, needing to feel every part of the experience just as he had felt it back then. Condoms were for other relationships, not for this one.
Fuck.
Worse yet, in that moment, he’d considered the possibility of her getting pregnant, and the idea only increased his desire to make love without one.
What was he looking for here? Joanne was back in his life and looking for him to s
ave her again. It’s not like she’d come looking for him to give their relationship another try. She’d shown up on his doorstep desperate for help, and he knew in his heart she wouldn’t otherwise have been there.
To make matters worse, he was getting attached. Not just to Jo but also to the kids. She’d asked him not to be nice to them for their own sake, but he should have been more concerned with saving himself. Instead, he hadn’t given it a care.
Lucas was a trip, reminding Sloan of himself at that age. And Fiona, well, the devil himself would fall in love with that girl. April was at a tough age, but she had a good head on her shoulders and her mother’s big heart.
He kissed the top of Jo’s head. There was no way this was going to end well for him. He’d help her find the money and get to a safe place with her kids. Then he would have to get over her all over again. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d learned to live without her, but this time he swore would be the last.
He opened his eyes. He needed sleep, but it wasn’t likely to come as he battled regrets and poor decisions. After slipping his arm out from beneath her neck and quietly getting out of bed, he grabbed the files they’d taken from the plumbing supply company and headed into the adjoining room. If he was going to be awake, he might as well do something useful.
He clicked on the light and got to work, inspecting each account and making notes on when deposits were made. Most of the money was moved in the past three months—more than ninety percent of it—and all of it in amounts less than three thousand dollars. Perhaps a larger transfer would have attracted attention.
All totaled, there was just over two-point-two million. But was it their missing money? If David had taken it and given it to his mistress, she could well be hiding it here. Moto would have to go through the transactions and follow the trail to confirm, but it sure looked like they’d found what they’d been looking for. Only question now was, would Bannon accept that his wife, McKenzie, was involved? They would need proof—that much was sure.
He dialed Moto, who answered on the first ring despite the hour. “What’s up?”
Sloan told him about the account activity he needed traced. “I’ll email you scans of the account information.”
“So nobody’s dead or dying right now?”
“Nope.”
“Then why the fuck are you calling me at four a.m.?”
Sloan grinned. “Figured you’d be easy to get ahold of.”
“I spent my day riding a horse.”
“You don’t strike me as the ranch-hand type.”
“I’m not, and you damn well know it. I can’t fucking move, and my ass feels like its been pounded with two-by-fours for hours.”
“Look at you with the Home Depot reference. You keep this up, Moto, you just might earn that man card back.”
“Fuck you, Dvorak. I’m going to sleep.”
“All right. Just get me bank info as soon as you can.”
“Got it.”
Sloan grinned. Mac O’Brady had one hell of a sense of humor, sending Moto to a horse farm in Wyoming like that, even with Trace there to help him blend in.
He stood and began to pace, running a hand through his hair. He was stressed. Uncomfortable. Something was bothering him, and he tried to place his discomfort. He was knee deep in the throes of relationship hell with Joanne, that was certain. But something about this money scheme and the visit to the warehouse tonight was all wrong.
It was too easy.
From the moment they’d set their sights on coming here, his gut had been telling him this would be a dangerous mission. And while the dog had been alarming, it was not the battle his subconscious had been anticipating.
Maybe he’d been wrong, and there was nothing here to fear. Or maybe they’d only scratched the tip of the iceberg, and the Titanic was about to go down.
He plopped down on the bed and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. His last coherent thought was that he should have been with Joanne in the next room, as fatigue abruptly overtook the last vestiges of consciousness.
23
Joanne awoke from a deep sleep feeling more rested than she had in weeks. She opened her eyes. Making love to Sloan came back to her in a rush of heated memory, along with what they needed to do today. In an instant, her anxiety was back.
Where was Sloan?
She sat up, making her way to the heavy drapes and opening them to a dark and rainy day. That didn’t bode well. The door to the adjoining room was open, and she crossed to it. “Sloan?” The bathroom door was closed and she could hear the shower running. The bed had clearly been slept in, and she frowned, not knowing what to make of that.
The files from the plumbing supply company were spread out on the desk. He must have come in here to work, or else he was having second thoughts about last night and wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know which.
She needed to find her Rolaids. Returning to her room, she dialed Evelyn’s cell phone. Fiona answered. “Hi, Mom. We made rainbow pancakes with sprinkles!”
“Wow, it sounds like you’re having fun.”
“Mmm-hmm. Miss Evelyn’s going to draw with me next. She’s playing poker with Lucas.”
“Poker, huh?”
“Yeah. We did Crazy Eights first. I won thirty-eight cents.”
Of course they were betting for money. “That’s awesome, sweetie. Can I talk to Evelyn for a minute?”
She got on the phone. “How’s it going down there?”
“So far, so good. We found some records I hope will point us in the right direction. How are the kids?”
“Lucas and Fiona are good. April spent last night moping around the house. Something about a boy you won’t let her talk to.”
Jo pinched the skin between her eyes. “Can I talk to her?”
“She isn’t awake yet. Nothing surer to drive two lovebirds together than to forbid them from seeing each other.”
“Ev, she doesn’t even know this boy! She met him online. What if he’s a stalker, or a predator of some kind? She invited him to our campsite in Chicago without asking me and Sloan nearly shot the poor guy.”
“Good lord.”
It occurred to her April might have reinstalled the same app. She hated to be so suspicious of her own daughter, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t. “Can you do me a favor?” She walked Evelyn through how to search for Instagram on April’s phone.
“Nope, no Instagram.”
Jo exhaled and dropped her shoulders. “Thank God. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“Should I wake her up or just let her sleep?”
She looked at the clock, surprised to see it was already almost ten. “Let her sleep another thirty minutes or so, then you can wake her up. Thanks, Ev.”
She hung up just as Sloan walked into the room with only a towel slung around his waist, the smell of soap surrounding him. His prosthetic was once again in place.
“You ever take that thing off around women?”
“All the time.”
She really didn’t like that answer, especially coupled with her insecurities over him sleeping in the next room. “I’m going in the shower.”
She washed her body with hotter-than-hot water, wishing she’d been blessed with mind-reading abilities so she knew what that man was thinking. The men of HERO Force would be arriving soon, precluding further private conversation, and she wanted to know where she stood.
“I’m not sorry,” she whispered under her breath. “I will never be sorry.” No matter what happened from here on out, she’d followed her heart and opened herself up to Sloan. That was an accomplishment, not something to be ashamed of or worried about.
When she dried off, she removed her bandages and winced. That didn’t look good at all, and she cleaned it carefully before putting on a new bandage. She dressed quickly in the hot, steamy bathroom, wishing she could go in the cooler bedroom but too confused about her standing with Sloan to walk in there nearly nake
d, as he had done. The thought further frustrated her already frazzled nerves, and she was thoroughly hot and cranky by the time she emerged.
Once again, Sloan wasn’t there, which irritated her that much more. She tied her hair back in a ponytail and went in search of him, finding him at the desk in the adjoining room, on the phone. He held up a finger.
“I really appreciate you doing this so quickly, Moto. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up. “You’re not going to believe this. All of these accounts have been emptied in the past eight days.”
“All of them?”
“Every last one, all two-point-two million dollars and change.”
“Our missing money. Where did it go?”
“An account in the Cayman Islands.” His phone vibrated, and he looked at the screen. “Mac and Champion are on their way up. You ready to find McKenzie?”
The moment was slipping right out of reach, and she needed to get it back. She’d go crazy if they didn’t talk about the elephant in the room before leaving here. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”
“Shoot.” His phone rang. “Hang on, it’s my mom again. Hello?”
He shot panicky eyes to hers as he listened to the phone. “What do you mean?”
Joanne could hear Evelyn’s voice rising and falling with emotion. “What happened?” she whispered.
“April’s not in her room.”
“What? Put her on speaker.”
He hit a button. “…woods around the cabin, but I don’t see her. Should I call the police?”
Jo was light-headed with fear. “Did she leave on her own? Was anyone there?”
“As far as I knew, everything was fine. I went upstairs to wake her like you asked me to, and it doesn’t even look like her bed was slept in last night.”
“Did she run away?” Jo clutched at his shirt. “Was she that mad at me? We have to find her. We have to find her, Sloan!”
“I should have had guys stationed at the cabin,” he barked. “Damn it, I thought she’d be safe. Call the police. I’ll get HERO Force out there as soon as I can. I’ll call you back.” He hung up.
