by Lexxi James
“He might have grabbed it much later,” Delaney said calmly.
Sadly, he was wrong.
“He used the Ziploc to carry the knife. It prevented fingerprints. But it also kept the juice from the apple from drying, which would have happened pretty fast with how dry Colorado is. That’s the discoloration—the caramel stain where the knife meets the card. Simply put, it’s oxidized apple juice. You need to go back and dust my place for prints again. There might be new ones.”
Jake took her hand firmly, not giving her the option of letting go. “And you need a safe place to stay. He doesn’t just have your spare car keys, Kathryn. He has a set to your condo as well. I know somewhere you can stay, and it’s more secure than Fort Knox. State-of-the-art security system. Limited entry.”
Her weak head shake was instantly halted by his hand cradling her cheek.
“I insist.”
Exhausted, irritated, and on the brink of a major breakdown, she gave in with barely a nod. “Can we drop by my place for an overnight bag?”
Delaney held up a hand. “The two of you aren’t going alone. I’ll have an officer meet you there. We’ll check it out first, and you can go in while we dust for prints again.”
Jake wrapped his arm firmly around her, only releasing her to help her into his truck.
With Jake on her heels, Kathryn stepped in her front door and shivered, noting that her cozy condo had turned strangely cold.
Unfamiliar.
Frightening.
The kitchen was just as she’d left it, except for the missing knife now firmly planted in her car seat. But her gaze fixed on the counter. The empty counter. Where the box of Ziplocs had been.
Could the creep have left and come back to retrieve them? Not a chance in hell. The asshole had been there the whole time. She had to have been within a foot or two of bumping into him in her own hallway earlier.
Kathryn retraced her steps, her solid resolve slowly crumbling as she realized she hadn’t closed the bathroom door fully when she showered. Her arms tightened across her chest, holding in her shiver. Shoving down her fear to keep her tough-as-nails facade took a lot more than a few deep breaths.
Pull it together. The bastard is messing with your head.
Jake entered the kitchen, but she slipped past him, avoiding his eyes at all costs.
“I’ll just need a few minutes to pack.”
His hand swiped across her arm, but she ignored it.
Weeping, she tugged her sleeve to her eyes, losing the war against those stubborn tears. Her thoughts were way too preoccupied to focus on what to take. For all she knew, she’d shoved eighteen pairs of panties in her bag, and not one top or pair of pants. But it didn’t matter. The bag was packed, and her head was killing her. So, with her overnight bag in one hand and her pounding head in the other, she slowly stepped out of her bedroom.
The bastard got my keys, just to fuck with me. What else did he do?
Wandering through her condo, she scanned room after room, and stopped at her new laptop. Her finger skated along the top, tracing several circles on the surface as she thought. Blowing out a breath, she dropped her bag to grab some aspirin.
“Something wrong?” Jake asked.
“He didn’t take it this time.” Filling a glass with tap water, she popped the pills, then continued. “I’m guessing he knows he can’t do anything with it without my access codes. I don’t trust it.”
“You’ve got amazing instincts. I’m living proof,” Jake said with half a grin that she couldn’t help but return. He tapped the computer. “How about I take a look?”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll just have my company send me another one to wherever it is I’ll end up.”
“I’m happy to check it out.”
Without waiting for her approval, he tugged the power cord free from the wall, looping it around his hand, and tucked the laptop under his arm.
Her smile of amusement said it all. Her head hurt too much to fake her skepticism. “Look, that’s very sweet of you, but—”
Grinning, he extended his hand, taking hers for a shake. “Oh, I’m sorry. We haven’t been properly introduced. Jake Russo. Veteran. Truck lover. Whiskey drinker. And lead cyber investigator for global technology corporation Excelsior/Centurion.”
Fourteen
The ride to the safe house was quiet. Some might call it eerie. Seeing the gated entry, Kathryn couldn’t help but wonder if she’d entered some sort of unmarked federal compound. The kind you only read about in books.
Thick woods darkened the winding driveway beyond the nearly pitch-black night. The high beams that had cast a bright hue on her car earlier did little as they rounded one dark curve after another up the hill. By his speed and relaxed steering, it was clear Jake could navigate the twists and turns with his eyes closed.
The driveway ended at a large contemporary building with straight lines and hard angles, giving the structure a foreboding presence. The standout feature contributing to the don’t fuck with me atmosphere was that there were no windows on the first story.
The truck pulled into what for most houses would be the garage. Here, it opened to a huge bay sparsely filled with a few other vehicles, including a Range Rover and several motorcycles. Jake killed the engine and they both got out, the thud of their closing doors echoing against the walls.
“So, how many people are at this safe house?” she asked.
Kathryn’s tired attempt to grab her overnight bag from the back was met by his hand swooping in. He threw a you know better scowl her way and slung the bag’s strap over his shoulder before he showed her inside.
“Including you and me? Let me think.” He mulled it over, counting on his fingers, looking to the ceiling as if it could help him through a complicated math problem. “Carry the one . . . oh,” he said as he gave her a sly look, “that would be two.”
Her smile slipped past her heavy fatigue. He was trying to lay a rosy red carpet over the swamp of crap she was wading through, and it was adorable.
Opening the door, he let her into a vestibule. Instantly, soft lights popped on as they made their way through a long corridor.
Motion activated.
They approached an ominous steel door. Jake pressed his hand onto a panel next to it. The loud clank snapped her from her weariness, letting her know the door had unlocked.
High-tech security too.
Well, even if my room is the corner suite at Alcatraz, I just need some sleep. Pretty sure it’s got running water and electricity, so it’ll be paradise compared to some of the hellholes I’ve bunked in.
Jake pushed open the heavy door to let her through.
Stunned, she reconsidered every preconception she’d had. Apparently, walking through the hall of MI-6 led them straight to the lobby of the Ritz Carlton.
The vaulted ceiling soared a full three stories above them, with a massive rustic stone mantel towering between walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. For a second, she could lose herself in the twinkling lights of the distant city and forget the whole reason she was here.
“This safe house is nicer than Buckingham Palace,” she said. “After they catch the SOB messing with me, I just might stick around. Maybe I could water the plants or cook to earn my keep.”
Her soft laugh earned her a slight chuckle from Jake in reply.
“Anything’s possible. I’ve got an in with the owner. Here, I’ll show you the room you’ll be calling home for a while.”
A half-spiral staircase took them to the landing on the second floor. Down the hall, he opened the double doors to a corner bedroom with a king-size poster bed and two walls of windows overlooking the same breathtaking view.
Jake ushered her inside the room and set down her bag. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab you a few bottles of water. Do you need anything else? Snacks?” When she shook her head, he said, “Be right back.”
Snooping around, she peeked into another doorway. The biggest bathtub she’d ever seen barel
y took up much of the spacious bathroom. A fireplace shared the wall between the two rooms.
Definitely going on my must-do list. Bath with a roaring fire.
The large walk-in closet was empty except for a few quilted blankets stored high on the top shelf, and she took another glance around. With the cream sheers and plush corner chair accented with a namast’ay in bed pillow, the room was lavish, but comfortable and cozy. A small photo in a silver frame on the nightstand tied it all together with a homey touch.
She picked it up, surprised to see a family photo depicting a much younger version of the man she’d spent the last few hours with. A candid shot, it captured an up-close-and-personal view of a young man graduating from high school, flanked by his beaming parents. For whatever reason, the sight of it brought tears to her eyes.
Convincing herself the response was perfectly normal for someone recently faced with extreme events and exhaustion, she didn’t try to hold back the tears that slid down her cheeks.
When Jake’s returning footsteps neared, she turned away, swiping her face and using her sleeve to dry the frame where a few drops had landed.
She cleared her throat as he stepped inside the room. “Looks like you’re here a lot. I guess rescuing damsels in distress is just another day for a lead cyber investigator, slash EMT, slash knight in shining armor.” She set down the frame. “Anyway, I’d hate to take a room you’re used to.”
He slung his arm around her shoulders as he gazed at the picture holding her attention. “I was eighteen, about to head off to boot camp and my first deployment.”
She stepped out of his hold and grabbed the bag at her feet, not bothering to get too comfortable. “You take the room. Seriously, I’m really low maintenance. I’m happy to take a smaller room . . . or the couch. I’m just grateful for a safe place to sleep.”
He stepped in front of her, tucking her hair behind her ear, and she dropped her bag. She looked down, foolishly trying to mask her crying.
Her breath hitched, but she said softly, “Or a tent out back . . .”
He lifted her chin, and her eyes fell closed. The press of his lips touching hers unknotted every muscle in her body. As he pulled her to his chest, she relaxed, unable to push away his warmth.
This man’s too much for me. I barely know him.
But she was his. All his. At the weakest, most vulnerable point in her life.
He pulled back from the kiss, leaving her wanting.
“This is my home, Kathryn. And you’re more than welcome to it. This is the room my folks stay in when they visit, but if you’d rather have a different one, there are several to choose from. If you need anything at all, I’m at the other end of the hall.” He pecked her sweetly. “Feel free to mosey anywhere you want, but try to get some rest.”
She studied his eyes, biting her lower lip. “Do you always come on this strong?”
Carefully, he slid his fingers to the back of her neck. His low voice sparked a shiver. “No, little kitten. Never in my life.”
With the firmness of his grip, her head fell back. For the first time, she realized what she’d been too preoccupied to see.
He knew who I was. All along.
Becoming her Dom hadn’t been a coincidence. Jake had chosen her.
She smoothed her hands across the muscles of his torso and slid them around him. His lips brushed her ear, and her nails skated over his back.
“And for the record,” he murmured, “I’ve barely skimmed the surface of coming on strong with you.”
The heat of his low voice vibrated against her neck, and she let out a little whimper.
His hand dropped to cup her cheek as he laid a last kiss on her lips. “Try to get some rest.”
He headed out, closing the door behind him.
Once she had her pajamas on and having spent the last of her energy on unpacking, Kathryn welcomed the surrender of sleep. But not before looking at the photo one last time. Smiling, she pressed a kiss to her finger, carrying it to the young man in the frame.
Fifteen
Sleeping late had never been Kathryn’s thing, but it felt good to rest. Jake barely bothered her at all as she slumbered until noon, occasionally bringing her food and checking in on her. He was so solicitous, the opposite of what she thought a Dom was supposed to be, it made her wonder if he really was one.
Later in the afternoon, he gave her a tour of the grounds. His property seemed to go on forever. When they returned to the house, he offered to run any errands she needed, but she declined.
Jake had been the consummate gentlemanly host. And she’d been way too comfortable as his guest. Shocking herself, she unapologetically crashed early, not long after dinner. Apparently, being stalked and attacked exhausted a person.
The second morning, Kathryn took charge as her early bird brain woke her with the sun. She figured she’d make good with earning her keep, intending to fix them both some breakfast with whatever she could find.
Slinking down the stairs with ninja-like moves in her flannel pajamas, she halted at the entrance to the kitchen and her tip-toed feet fell flat. The alluring aroma of dark, rich coffee hit her like a good-morning smack on the ass.
Sunlight bounced off the shiny surfaces of the gourmet cappuccino machine on the counter, teasing her with a come-hither gleam. Skimming her fingers across it, she murmured, “As if you had to ask. Good morning, you steaming-hot sex machine.”
“Morning.” Jake stepped in from the breakfast nook.
A flush warmed her cheeks. Trying not to gawk was too hard this early in the morning. Damn, he knows how to wear a T-shirt.
“Can I fix you a cup?” he asked.
Eager to show off one of her best skills, she smiled wide. “Oh, not a chance. I worked my way through my first year of college at Starbucks. This baby’s all mine.” Like coming home, she started prepping a drink, then noticed the mug in his hand. “What are you having?”
“Oh no, you don’t. Yours first. I’ll watch and see if I can pick up pointers from a seasoned barista.”
She turned from his charm. Diving into a sweet cappuccino was just the wonderful wakeup she needed.
I could do this blindfolded.
Sneaking a glance at his scruffy mountain-of-muscle glory, she bit her lip through a silent giggle.
“Can I have some cream?” she asked, but he didn’t respond. She caught his naughty grin and shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”
His muscular body closed in. “Nothing,” he said a little too directly, and set his coffee mug down, scooting the creamer across the counter toward her.
Her smile vanished.
I guess he’s not a morning person.
Fumbling about, she finally managed to steam the cream to a thickness that allowed layering it into a leaf over the coffee in her mug. At least she could have a pretty cup of coffee with her first-rate faux pas.
Still facing the machine, she took a taste, but her body began overheating from more than the steaming-hot java. His fingers brushed her hair over her shoulder, letting his words whisper across her neck.
“Wrong question, little kitten. What you really want to know is what am I going to do with you.”
His body touched hers. Well, a very specific and rigid part of his body did. Nearly spilling her coffee, she set it down.
Peering over her shoulder, he admired her artistry. “Impressive. How long will it stay like that?”
“Um, a few minutes.”
She leaned back, sinking into the heat of being blissfully between her coffee and a hard place. His body cloaked hers. His hands tightened around her wrists, keeping hers locked at her sides. Like a wound-up jack-in-the-box, his kiss on her neck popped her butt to his groin.
His low voice rumbled in her ear. “How are you feeling?”
How am I feeling?
Like surrendering to that cannon of a cock giving me the stickup.
She tried to reach back, twisting her wrists to grab more of him, but it was no use.
They were hopelessly shackled in his grip.
“Answer the question.” His stern voice feathered the words on her skin.
Her head dropped back to his shoulder. “Oh, I think I’m perfectly fine for . . . whatever you have in mind.”
His teeth tugged her ear. “Then we’ll wait. Until you’re sure.” He released her and stepped back. “Turn around.”
She did as he demanded, panting through her stillness. As his darkening gaze drifted down her body, she tried to remain still.
“We need a safe word,” he said. “What would you like?”
I thought we weren’t doing anything. Not that I’m complaining.
Her parted lips quivered. “R-r-red?”
“I like red.”
He crossed his arms, stretching his cotton sleeves tightly around his biceps, and she sighed.
“You can use that, at any time, for any reason. I’ll never think less of you for using it, but it’ll be a total deal breaker if you need to use it and don’t.” His eyes lost their dark haze—their luster—leaving the emptiness of someone hollow. “Not a mood breaker. A deal breaker. Got it?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Good.” His eyes reignited, alive with her understanding. “Now,” he said as he leaned back against the counter, “take off your clothes. I’m dying to see you. All of you. Afterward, you can head up to shower while I fix breakfast.”
His lips curled up as he finished the last of his coffee, watching and waiting.
Well, I can’t very well let the man die . . . again.
Her teeth tugged at her full lower lip, not really reining in an ecstatic smile. The wanting gaze of those gorgeous eyes tore through whatever inhibitions she might have had.