by Shayla Black
Chapter One
“Now that we’re out in the middle of nowhere, crouched outside a house I’ve never seen, you want to tell me why you dragged my ass here?” Detective Cameron Martinez glared over his right shoulder, through the inky mountain darkness, at bounty hunter R. A. Thorn.
“Julio Marco’s trial starts next week. No one can find the star witness.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Cam clenched his fists, hard-pressed to keep his voice to a furious whisper. “Without Curtis Lawton, the D.A. doesn’t have much of a case, Julio Marco will go free, and my ass will be in a sling.”
“Yeah? I’m Lawton’s bail bondsman, and he’s not checking in like he promised. If he fails to appear I’m out something close to fifty grand. That’s not chump change.”
True, but at least Thorn wouldn’t have to explain to the victims smuggled from Mexico and sold into slavery why Julio Marco, the man responsible for their torment, wasn’t going to prison for a very long time, as promised. Or why Curtis Lawton, the man who helped Marco, was nowhere to be found. That would fall on Cam’s shoulders.
“It wasn’t my idea to give the asshole the option of bailing out. Judge Nelson needs to have his head examined. And I advised you against posting Lawton’s bond, if you recall.”
Thorn shrugged. “I knew he was a flight risk. I had no doubt he’d do whatever necessary to avoid prison time and those unsavory pals of his who know he’s turned snitch. But I’ve hunted him before. That’s why we’re here. I found him in this cozy little bungalow last year, boffing out his girlfriend’s brains.”
“This her place?”
Thorn shook his head, the long ends of his golden hair brushing his wide, solid shoulders. “His. He moves girlfriends in to fuck them, and out once they’re history. I did a drive-by earlier today. He’s got a new hottie shacked up here. Pretty, young thing. Little, long brown hair, world-class ass. Lawton has crappy taste in occupations but good taste in women.”
Who cared what she looked like? “Can you please keep your dick out of a conversation for once?”
Thorn’s icy eyes mocked him through the darkness. “Sure, Saint Cam. As soon as the little woman makes her appearance, let’s see if you can keep your dick out of the conversation. I’m telling you, she’s fucking gorgeous.”
Right now, Cam cared about the fact that come next Monday, if Curtis Lawton didn’t live up to his plea deal and testify against Julio Marco, his former boss, two years of Cam’s work would be down the toilet. And a lot of young Mexican Nationals who endured utter hell on earth after being guaranteed a golden ticket to the promised land would be left without justice. It figured that Thorn couldn’t get his mind off sex for more than ten minutes strung together. Why should anything be different today?
“Whatever.” Cam felt free to roll his eyes in the dark. “What’s the plan?”
“We wait. As smokin’ as this woman is, good ol’ Curtis won’t stay away long. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
That went without saying. Thorn constantly thought with his penis. But he also never thought about the same woman more than a handful of times. Good thing for him he was a good-looking SOB who could melt a woman’s panties on looks alone. Thorn was long on bad-boy temper and short on sensitivity and charm.
“I don’t care if she’s Miss America,” Cam returned. “She’s being kept by a scumbag and making her living on her back by servicing a criminal. The idea of taking Lawton’s sloppy seconds doesn’t get me hot.”
“You’re too picky. It’s a miracle you ever get laid.”
“It’s a miracle you get laid,” Cam countered. “It’s so impersonal for you, it’s like a drive-through window, man. `Would you like just the screwing, or do you want the combo package? That comes with a nipple squeeze and a tongue fuck.’”
“No one’s had the need to ask me to supersize in order to get off.” Thorn bristled. “I haven’t heard complaints.”
“You don’t stay around long enough to know if there are any. I know you’re never going to tell me your full name, but do you make every woman you nail call you by your last name? Or is it like all your legal documents, Mr. R. A. Thorn?”
“Fuck you. They don’t need to know my full name to get off. And I’m not there for a relationship. It’s just sex.” He scowled. “Are we here to catch Lawton or hash out my personal life?”
Cam shook his head. As much as it pained him to admit it, Thorn was right. The man’s fast-food sex life was none of his business. It certainly wasn’t what he would have chosen, and he had suspicions that the big blond hulk was achingly lonely, but would never admit it. And Cam couldn’t make him.
“Let’s catch Lawton. Do we know anything about his girlfriend?”
“Other than her fine ass or the fact she has the kind of tits that make a grown man beg, no.”
Figured Thorn didn’t get a name. Half the time he didn’t bother when he took a woman to bed. Why learn the name of one he hadn’t even touched?
Before Cam could answer, the ground lights flipped on at the back of the bungalow, casting a muted golden glow over the trail to the pool. Then a willowy woman emerged, wearing a thin white robe belted around her small waist. She held a towel in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. Shutting the door behind her, she sashayed down the trail to the pool, closer to their hiding spot in the dusty bushes.
After setting her towel on the chaise and her wine on a nearby table, the woman checked to make sure her hair was still secured on top of her head by some clip Cam couldn’t see. Satisfied, she gazed up at the vast black desert sky and its many blinking stars, the majestic view unfettered by the city’s lights. She smiled faintly—then dropped her robe. She was completely naked.
Cam sucked in a breath.
“Holy shit,” Thorn muttered beside him, his voice suddenly sounding as if he’d been eating gravel. “I was hard just wondering what she had on under that thing. But now…”
He had been, too, Cam admitted silently. But seeing the real thing, her endless ivory skin, pert handfuls of breasts with wide nipples, the graceful curve of her hips… Holy shit seemed like an understatement. Despite the fact she was willingly sleeping with one of the worst dregs of society, Cam still felt a pull to her he could barely process. For once, he and Thorn agreed on something.
“Shh,” he said instead.
No need to admit that he wanted her too. If she was the kind of woman who’d let a creep like Lawton pay her bills in exchange for sex, she was the kind of woman who would fall for Thorn’s casual sex line. In other words, easy. Cam knew he’d still be trying to learn her name and something about her by the time Thorn was zipping up his pants and saying goodbye.
Thankfully, Thorn didn’t make more conversation. His gaze appeared permanently glued to the woman’s nipples, hard from a light teasing by the cool evening breeze, which was finally tolerable now that October was only days away.
Without hesitation, she swayed toward the pool and stepped into the water with a long, low sigh.
The ache in Cam’s groin tightened at the sound. Did she make little sounds like that when she was aroused?
Beside him, Thorn growled.
“Shh,” he reminded with a glare.
Thorn totally ignored him.
The beauty submerged until only her head remained above the surface. She kicked from one end of the pool to the other, moving with a slow grace, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world to devote to this pleasure—or any other.
Unfortunately, Cam was all too aware that he didn’t have all the time in the world. The trial started in mere days.
“As enjoyable as this is,” he whispered to Thorn, “how is watching Miss America here get naked going to help us find Lawton?”
“Like I said, you don’t think he’ll stay away long from her, do you?”
No. Good point. In fact, he was no more than twenty feet away from her and pissed off that bushes and dark water obscured his view of her amazing body. He could only imagine how a man who’d touched every contour and sampled every inch would miss those graceful, supple curves.
With a long sigh, she swam to the edge of the pool and ascended the stairs, hips and sweet ass swinging as she made her way up, until she was completely exposed to the night air.
With quick efficiency, she patted herself down with the towel. Cam had never been so envious of terrycloth. Then she tossed back the rest of her wine in one quick swallow and lay on the chaise, face raised to the silvery moon.
Gorgeous. Like a goddess. All toned limbs and soft skin, with a graceful curve to her neck, an intriguing tilt of her head. She looked untouched. Untouchable.
Until she planted her feet on either side of the chaise, parting the firm length of her thighs, and smoothed a palm down her soft abdomen—and right between her legs.
“Fuck,” Thorn snarled under his breath.
Cam clenched his jaw. Again, he had to agree, especially when she made lazy circles with her fingers over her mound.
Under her touch, her hips moved slowly, restlessly. Her head fell back, exposing the column of her white throat. Her pouty mouth parted and her breath caught on a gasp.
She moaned.
“Fuck.”
“Shh,” Cam reminded Thorn again, though he noticed his own tone was definitely more than raspy. Funny how a raging hard-on could change a man’s voice.
Thorn clenched his jaw, looking ready to charge through the bushes, rip off his pants, and fuck her blind. That wasn’t Cam’s usual style, but the idea now held major appeal.
Especially when she moaned again and plunged her fingers into her pussy. Wishing he could see her better was quickly becoming an obsession. He wanted her so bad he hurt. How wet was she? Did she shave or wax? Was she swollen? Did her fingers fill her hungry sex? How tightly would her pussy grip his cock?
“Bet the carpet matches the drapes,” Thorn whispered.
Cam didn’t usually care about such things—it was the person inside who mattered to him—but in this case, something about the woman made all the rules different. And he suspected Thorn was right. There didn’t seem to be anything artificial about her, from the unaffected sensual sway of her hips to the natural weight of her firm breasts, now rising and falling more rapidly.
A sharp, sudden catch of her breath split the tense night air. Cam swallowed a groan and feared his cock would bust out of his jeans when she spread her knees wider and again raised her hips to her invading fingers.
“Fuck!” Thorn whispered harshly, adjusting his erection in his pants.
The bounty hunter’s frustration might be funny, if Cameron wasn’t in the same situation. Damn, a few minutes of watching her touch herself and already his balls felt tight, like he could shoot off at any moment. He wasn’t some damn randy teenager, but watching her made him feel like one.
Her breaths got shorter, harsher. She worked herself furiously—until Cam was breathing hard, felt himself sweating, despite the sixty-degree evening.
“That’s it, baby,” Thorn coached in a whisper. “Fuck yourself. Deeper. Oh, yeah. God, she looks sexy. I’m so damn hard, I could pound nails.”
“Just don’t ask her if she needs any help.”
The woman raised one hand to a hard nipple stabbing its way into the cool desert air and pinched it. She gave another long, low moan that had Cam biting his lip.
“Wouldn’t dream of interrupting,” Thorn murmured. “Hell of a floor show. Let her get nice and wet and pliant, then I’ll offer to soothe her with my tongue.”
“TMI,” he muttered.
But the conversation ended when she shoved her fingers even harder into her pussy, grabbed her nipple in a hard pinch, then gyrated, moaning in a series of whimpers.
She looked poised on the edge, ready to explode at any moment. Cam held his breath, grasping the edge of sanity as he watched her fast movements grow frantic, almost panicked.
She let loose a frustrated wail. Even at this distance, he could see her trembling thighs, her body so taut that every muscle vibrated with need.
But she didn’t come.
“Can’t she get off?” Thorn asked.
The beauty answered that question with a jerk back of her head, a pounding of her fists on rigid thighs, and a discouraged cry that echoed through the little courtyard.
Moments later, the cry became a sob as she gathered her knees to her chest and lowered her face until all he could see was the thick coil of her caramel-colored hair and her shoulders shaking with the force of her tears.
Her aroused mewling had reached out and gripped his cock with need and impatience. This…her sobs, they clawed at his gut, tore at his heart.
A hand on his shoulder startled him. He turned to Thorn in question.
“Sit back down, Dr. Phil, or she’ll see you. You can’t go barging over there to dry her tears. You’ll blow our cover to hell.”
Cam nodded, taking a deep breath. He’d been so far gone with the desire to hold her and help her, he’d nearly given their presence away? Not good. At all. But he couldn’t deny that some part of him ached to kiss the lushness of her mouth that darkness only hinted at, replace her fingers with his, then watch her come apart in his arms. He’d keep her tight against him if the need for tears came again.
The urge was utterly stupid.
Exhaling raggedly, Cam clenched shaking hands into fists. She was a criminal’s mistress. Whatever her issue was, it was none of his.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Thorn was already on another subject. “Think she needs pain to get off? I know from seeing Lawton’s last honey that he sure can dish it out.”
Grimacing, Cam tried to avoid a mental image of this beauty begging toilet scum like Lawton to hurt her. But he couldn’t discount the possibility that Thorn was right. What other explanation was there for her inability to orgasm?
“I don’t know but it’s not why we’re here. Let’s focus.”
“Hard to focus when all the blood in my body has gone south of my belt buckle.” Thorn grimaced.
Cam rolled his eyes. “Manage—quick. We need a plan. I hate to tip my hand too early by dropping in to question her.”
“But we’re running out of time.”
“Yeah.” Cam couldn’t ignore that reality.
Lawton’s girlfriend sniffled and lifted her face to the desert night. Silvery tears marred the smooth apples of her cheeks. He couldn’t see her eyes in the dark but the sadness that bounced off her, the despair that ate at her—he could feel it, thick and dark. Dejection pulled at her shoulders as she rose slowly, taking the towel in one hand, empty glass of wine in the other.
Even a view of her heart-stopping ass couldn’t cut through Cam’s urgent need to hold her, help her. Something was completely wrong, and he was dying to know what.
But she disappeared into the house without giving him a single clue.
At his side, Thorn released a long, hard breath. Cam wondered how long he’d been holding it.
“That girl needs to get off. Bad. I volunteer help, even if it takes all night.” Thorn’s sly grin grated on his nerves.
“Shut up, you moron. She doesn’t just need to come. Whatever is bothering her is deeper than an orgasm will solve.”
“Not my problem.”
“Fuck them and forget them, huh? Nice motto.” Sarcasm grated his voice.
Thorn gritted his teeth. “I can’t stand you pussies who are in touch with your emotions.”
“I can’t stand you assholes who can’t think past your cock.”
Silence descended, a full five minutes of it. In that time, crickets chirped, frogs croaked, while the desert wind kicked dust up into the bushes providing their cover. Lawton’s girlfriend turned out the lights at the bac
k of the bungalow.
And Cam felt guilty. He and Thorn had been acquaintances for a long time. Not great friends. Thorn never let anyone very close. But still, sort of friends. Squabbling over the man’s sex life was stupid. Neither one of them would likely ever have sex with Lawton’s girlfriend—much less get to help her with her orgasm deficit, more’s the pity.
Before he could open his mouth, Thorn said. “Fuck this, dude. Let’s get back to the case. I want to keep my fifty thou and you