by Kat Martin
Bran scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. It felt so good to be held by him, to feel his power and strength. But when he set her on her feet beside the bed, fear began to churn in her stomach.
He must have sensed the change because he bent his head and very softly kissed her. “I’m not going to touch you. I promise. Not unless you want me to.”
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a zip tie like the one he had used to restrain the two men who had attacked them. Before she had time to panic at the thought of being tied up, he pressed the thin strip of plastic into her hand.
“It’s for me, not you. You’re gonna tie me up. I’ll be completely at your mercy. You can do anything you want to me. You can take all the time you need. If you want to stop, you can. If you don’t, then we’ll both get what we need. What do you think?”
Her eyes stung. She looked at his magnificent body, read the heat in his eyes. He was doing this for her. Any red-blooded female would jump at the chance to sleep with him. Instead, he was putting himself out there for her, willing to try something that might help her.
“Have you done this a lot?” She prayed this wasn’t some sort of kink, something he’d done with any number of women. Couldn’t imagine a guy like Bran letting anyone restrain him.
His sexy mouth edged up. “No. It’s not really my kind of thing. But I thought in this situation, it might work.”
Relief filtered through her. She went up on her toes and kissed him. “I have no idea what will happen, but if you’re willing, I’d like to try.”
Bran traced a finger down her cheek and grinned. “Go ahead, honey. Have your way with me.”
SIXTEEN
Bran couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. He’d put it mildly when he’d told Jessie this wasn’t his kind of thing. He was a man and she was a woman, and that’s the way he liked it, especially in the bedroom.
But Jessie meant a lot to him, and he had a feeling she just needed a little help to get her head back on straight.
He started by turning on the bathroom light and partially closing the door, leaving it open enough to illuminate the room in a soft yellow glow.
Taking a condom from his pocket, he tossed it up on the nightstand, sat down on the edge of the bed, and took off his low-topped leather boots. Standing to unzip his jeans, he slid them down his legs, leaving him in his white cotton briefs. He made no effort to hide his erection. He’d told her he wanted her. He just didn’t want to scare her by telling her how much.
“You ready for this?” he asked. She nodded, but he couldn’t miss the trepidation that had crept into her eyes. Leaning down, he kissed her long and deep, then stripped off his briefs, lay down on his back and stretched out on the mattress. Reaching up, he grabbed the post at the end of the padded headboard.
Jessie’s hand shook as she looped the zip tie around the post and his wrists. Bran spread his hands a little as she tightened the loop, a trick to give him enough room to get free whenever he wanted.
Hell, no way he was actually letting anyone tie him up. He was a soldier and Jessie’s bodyguard. That wasn’t going to happen.
Didn’t matter. All that mattered was giving her the illusion of control. It would work or it wouldn’t. He prayed to God it would and inwardly groaned to think how bad he was going to ache if it didn’t.
Jessie stood next to the bed staring down at him.
“Be nice if you took off your clothes and joined me,” he said. “I’m beginning to feel a little self-conscious.”
That made her smile. She took off her clothes one piece at a time, and with every inch of her lovely body she revealed, his lust expanded. Her pretty breasts and tiny waist, the perfect little ass that had intrigued him from the moment she had dived into the warm pool water. Jessie must have sensed the effect she was having because she removed each garment with more and more confidence.
Or maybe it was the perspiration she saw on his forehead just thinking about what she might do to his body.
Naked at last, she settled herself on the bed beside him, leaned over and kissed him. Her silky hair tumbled around her, enveloping him in a fiery cocoon and driving him crazy.
The kiss went on and on. He was beginning to wonder if he had miscalculated and she didn’t have the courage to do more than kiss when her hands began to slide over his chest. His abdomen contracted as she explored his biceps, his pecs, the indentations over his ribs. When her tongue ringed his navel, he bit back a groan.
Her lips followed her hands, pressing soft butterfly kisses across his heated skin, making him so hard he hurt. She paused when she reached the scar from the knife that had plunged into his abdomen, pressed her mouth there, then kissed the scar near his spleen.
There was something about it so tender it made him want her even more. When she returned to kissing him again, it took every ounce of his will not to free his wrists, lift her up and settle her astride him, surge into her until he found release.
He called on his Delta training in a way he had never imagined, fighting the overwhelming need to take her.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand a moment more, Jessie tore open the condom and gently sheathed him. He closed his eyes at the rush of pleasure and clenched his jaw to stay in control.
Jessie straddled him, raised herself up, and took him deep. Brandon’s eyes slid closed on a wave of bliss. Sweet Jesus, nothing had ever felt so good. He let her set the rhythm, fought not to move until his body rebelled and he had no choice. She was riding him now, taking what she wanted.
He clamped down hard on his control until he felt the first ripples of her climax and heard her moan. Triumph burst through him, followed by a rush of incredible heat. Unable to stop himself, he freed his hands and gripped her hips, surged up into her and began to take what he so desperately needed.
Bran took her and took her, drove her up to a second peak, before his muscles went rigid, a fierce groan escaped, and he followed her to release.
Long moments passed with Jessie slumped over his chest, her silky hair spread out around them. Still hard inside her, he ran a hand down her back, praying he hadn’t hurt her, praying she had enjoyed it as much as he had. Praying she was okay.
When he felt the wetness of her tears on his chest, everything inside him constricted into a hard, tight ball of regret.
He drew in a ragged breath. “Jessie, honey. I’m so sorry.”
Instead of the sob he expected, Jessie shot into a sitting position, a huge grin on her face. “We did it!” She wriggled, still astride him. “We did it!”
They were tears of joy, he realized. Joy, not sorrow.
Relief hit him hard. Swallowing past the knot in his throat, he managed to smile. “Yeah, baby, we did.” Easing her off him onto the mattress beside him, he leaned over and very softly kissed her. “You were amazing.”
He left her long enough to dispose of protection and returned to find her still smiling.
“It worked,” she said as he lay down beside her and curled her into his side. “We made new memories to replace the old ones. I might have a relapse once in a while, but next time I have a problem, I’ll just close my eyes and see you. I’ll remember how good it felt when we were making love.”
Bran chuckled. “Glad I could be of service.”
Jessie laughed, a carefree sound, unlike he had heard before. “You were never really tied up, were you?”
He just shrugged. “I’m your bodyguard. I’m supposed to protect you. I couldn’t do that if my hands were tied.”
She rolled onto her side to look at him, ran her fingers through the fine mat of hair on his chest. “Do you think we could...um...try it again? I mean just the...you know...regular way?”
His body stirred and his blood began to pound. He’d tried to convince himself not to push her, that she was still recovering from Cummings, but
he hadn’t had nearly enough of her.
“If you’re up to it.” Which he hoped like hell she was. He retrieved a couple more condoms, then returned to the bed. “Anything special you need me to do?”
Jessie leaned over and softly kissed him. “I just want you to make love to me like a normal woman. I just want to be a woman Bran Garrett took to bed.”
But she was way more than that. It worried him to think how much more.
He was already hard. He leaned over and kissed her pretty breasts, tasting the sweetness he had craved from the start. “Just tell me if you need me to stop.”
She nodded.
But Jessie never stopped him, and he didn’t quit until they had both reached another earth-shattering climax.
He took her once more in the middle of the night.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about chemical weapons, finding a murderer, and trying to stay alive.
SEVENTEEN
The sound of Bran’s phone signaling on the nightstand awoke her. Jessie sat up as he fumbled, grabbed it, then cursed softly and swung his legs to the side of the bed.
The red numbers on the digital clock read 6:45 a.m. Bran was usually up by six, a little before she was, but they hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.
Heat slid through her as she thought about what they had done. She’d only had a couple of serious boyfriends. Sex with them was nothing like sex with Bran. There was just something about him.
Maybe his amazing body, or maybe just that he was such a virile male. He had taken his time, been careful not to push her too hard. She’d never flashed back to her abduction. Her mind was too full of Bran.
She sighed into the morning light seeping into the bedroom. She was going to have a very hard time forgetting him when all of this was over.
A thought that had her good mood slipping away.
Yawning, she focused on the call that had just come in.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Bran was saying. “I’ll get right on it. I owe you one, Tab.” The seriousness of his tone as he ended the call snared her attention. He slid on his jeans while Jessie slipped on her terry cloth robe and followed him into the living room.
“What’s going on?”
“That was Tabby. She’s been looking into Petrov and Graves, trying to find Weaver. Petrov’s real name is Janos, not Vladimir.” He raked back his sleep-mussed dark hair. “Yesterday afternoon Janos Petrov turned up dead.”
“Oh, my God.”
“It gets worse. The murder was reported on the local five o’clock news. At the end of the broadcast, the sheriff put out an appeal to the public, looking for any information on the victim. According to an internet news site, the woman from the resort recognized his picture, called in and told them about the fight. I checked us into the resort under my name, so now the sheriff has a BOLO out on me as a person of interest.”
“They think you killed Petrov?”
Bran just shrugged. “They’re looking for me, which means unless I want to dodge police cars all over the state, I need to turn myself in.”
“I’m your alibi. I’m going with you.”
“Oh, you’re coming with me. People are still hunting you. I need you where I can keep you safe. We’ve got time to shower, but we need to get going.”
Jessie cast him an interested glance and he grinned.
“As much as I like the idea, we definitely need more time for a shower like that.”
She laughed.
“While you’re gone, I’ll see what I can find out on the internet.”
Jessie spun and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll hurry.”
Thirty minutes later Bran pulled into an angled parking space in front of the El Paso County Sheriff’s office on East Vermijo Avenue. He got out and checked their surroundings, which was probably second nature after so many years in the army, then motioned for her to join him.
They shoved through the front doors and walked up to the counter, where an eager young deputy in a dark gray uniform shirt and black uniform pants sat behind a computer.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“My name is Brandon Garrett. This is Jessica Kegan. I’m her bodyguard. I understand the sheriff is looking for me in regard to a man named Janos Petrov.”
The deputy, Hillman, his badge read, looked up at Bran in surprise and quickly came to his feet. “Yes, sir. You said bodyguard. Are you armed, Mr. Garrett?”
“Not at the moment.”
A second deputy appeared to assist Hillman. They definitely weren’t taking any chances, and as Jessie thought of what Bran was capable of doing, she didn’t blame them.
“If you’ll both come this way.” The second deputy, Crowley, was older, a slight paunch over his belt.
They passed through a metal detector that showed Bran had been telling the truth about the weapon, which he had left locked in the SUV. Crowley checked Jessie’s handbag and motioned for them to follow.
“Right this way,” Deputy Hillman said.
But the man waiting in the interview room wasn’t the sheriff. He was the sheriff’s deputy in charge of the Petrov murder case, Detective Mace Galen.
“Thank you for coming in,” Detective Galen said, a broad-shouldered blond man, rather imposing, Jessie thought, with a thick mustache that curved around his mouth, and intense dark eyes.
“No problem,” Bran said.
Galen turned to her. “Ms. Kegan, is it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait in the other room. I’ll need to speak to you after I’m finished with Mr. Garrett.”
Jessie’s gaze snapped to Bran. On the drive over, they had reviewed the details of the fight at the resort and also the attack that had left Petrov and Graves tied up in the desert.
“Just tell them the truth,” Bran had said. “Can’t screw up too badly if you’re being honest.”
“What about all the other stuff? My dad, and the reason we’re here?”
“You’re a journalist. You’re working on a story. That’s all you need to say.”
Now, walking out of the interview room, her mind raced as she followed Deputy Hillman into a second interview room next to the first.
“You might as well have a seat,” the young deputy said. “It could take a while.”
The door closed, and Jessie sat down in a pale blue padded vinyl chair at the metal-framed table in the middle of the room. It was cold in there. The room was stark, except for a big rectangular mirror on one wall, a two-way mirror, she figured, just like on TV.
Jessie thought of what might be happening to Bran and shivered.
* * *
“So the cuts and bruises all over Petrov’s body were delivered by you?” Detective Galen sat across from Bran on the opposite side of the metal-framed table.
“I don’t know. I’d have to look at the body.”
“What kind of weapon do you carry?”
“On which particular day?”
Galen glared.
“Mostly a Glock 19. If I need it, a Smith & Wesson .38 revolver ankle gun for backup.” Among others, but he didn’t say that.
“Petrov died from a .45-caliber bullet wound. He was shot right between the eyes.”
“Whoa, brutal.”
“Yes, it was. We know you were army Special Forces. Highly decorated before you were wounded and had to leave the service.”
He didn’t bother to answer. It wasn’t his favorite subject.
“A special ops soldier. That makes you more than capable of delivering a kill shot like that.”
“I could do it, but I didn’t. What about his buddy, Graves? Maybe Graves got tired of playing second fiddle.”
“Is that the way it was? Petrov ran the show and Graves just went along for the ride?”
“I’d
say Petrov was the alpha dog, but truthfully, I didn’t pick up that kind of friction between them.”
“We’re still looking for Graves. They both had rap sheets, but Graves had no outstanding warrants so he was released the same night we brought him in. Petrov’s background was a little more sketchy. Plus he was using an alias so we kept him in lockup overnight. When nothing interesting turned up, we released him the next morning. A teenager found him dead in his truck a few hours later.”
“Graves could have been waiting for him.”
“He could have been. What about you? The woman at the resort described a rather spectacular fight on Halloween night.”
“We fought,” he said. “Petrov and Graves were hired to silence my client, Ms. Kegan.”
“By silence, do you mean kill?”
“If necessary.”
“And why is that?”
“She’s a journalist. They wanted to stop her from writing a story she’s working on.”
“What kind of story?”
“Look, what Ms. Kegan writes is none of my business. I’m her bodyguard. Keeping her safe—that’s what I’m paid to do.” Not that he was actually getting any money.
“And the night we picked up Petrov and Graves out in the desert? That was you? You’re the one who assaulted them and called 911?”
“They made the mistake of coming after Ms. Kegan again. All I did was protect my client. They were lucky I called the cops instead of leaving them to freeze their asses off in the desert.”
Galen grunted and leaned toward him across the table. “So you aren’t the guy who killed him.”
“Hell, no. If I’d wanted Petrov dead, he’d be dead and buried and you never would have found a trace of him.”
Galen’s chair grated as he slid it backward, got up, and began to pace the tight quarters of the stark white room. The faint smell of stale fear-sweat lingered in the stuffy air.
“Tell me why you believe Petrov was hired to take out your client.”
“I told you...she’s doing a story someone doesn’t want her to write.”