Renegade

by Lora Leigh

  Shaking her head at the thought, she lifted her keys from her purse, pulled the strap over her shoulder, then stepped from the Jeep.

  As she closed the door and hit the automatic door locks, Nik's front door opened. Leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, he watched her. He looked tall, forbidden, shadowed.

  Turning from him, she hurried up the sidewalk to the house, her gaze moving carefully along the yard, the porch, watching for anything out of the ordinary. She wasn't as wary as she normally was. She wasn't as frightened. Nik was watching her. He was there, and for some reason that gave her a sense of security that she hadn't even felt when her three bruiser brothers had escorted her into the house, checked it out, and made certain all her doors and windows were locked. Nik was dangerous. He was more dangerous, she felt, than anyone who could possibly be waiting in the shadows.

  Unlocking her front door, Mikayla stepped inside, closed the door, punched in her security code, then locked the door behind her. The house was too silent. She felt completely alone and too restless.

  The urge to step back outside and walk to the one next door was overwhelming. It was an urge she forced herself to ignore.

  She'd waited until late to come home for a reason, hoping she would be tired enough to just go to sleep.

  It looked as though that wasn't happening anytime soon, though. Moving to the small office area between the living room and kitchen, she dropped her purse to the small end table by the door and moved to her computer. Powering it up, she moved to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of sweet tea, and walked back to the office.

  By the time she took her chair, the computer was loaded and ready to go. The file marked: "NELSON" glared at her from the desktop. How could she further her research into Maddix Nelson? She'd pulled everything she could find on him as well on Eddie Foreman, and still there was nothing she could use.

  The best she had been able to find had been a few articles mentioning production and material problems with a few jobs. Nothing that wasn't found with countless other construction companies as well.

  Propping her elbows on the desk, she covered her face with her hands and wondered where she should go from here. There was nothing to tie Maddix Nelson to Eddie Foreman's murder other than the fact that Mikayla had witnessed it. And no one believed her.

  She was at a dead end.

  Maddix Nelson was going to get away with murder.

  A heavy sigh slipped past her lips as she stared at the still-unopened file. She was concentrating so hard on it that when the firm knock came at her door she nearly jumped 66

  out of her skin.

  She stood up, her eyes going to the clock on the computer before swinging to the door.

  She knew who it was. She could feel him with every fiber of her being.

  "Mikayla." The rasp of his voice, like sandpaper over velvet, stroked up her spine with sensual destruction.

  That didn't keep her from moving across the room, her fingers punching in the code to the alarm before she unlocked the door and pulled it open. He wasn't wearing riding leathers anymore. He wore snug jeans and a white shirt tucked into the low-riding waistband. Long sleeves were rolled to the elbows and a hint of light-colored chest hair peeked from the buttoned edges of the material at his chest. His long white blond hair was loose, falling around his hard-boned face with delicious rakish appeal.

  "It's almost eleven, Nik. What do you want?" she asked wearily, tiring of the battle inside her to resist his magnetic appeal.

  "We need to talk." He stepped into the house without an invitation.

  "We can't talk tomorrow?" Sometime when her willpower was stronger perhaps?

  That would definitely be a better time to talk as far as she was concerned.

  "No. We need to talk tonight."

  Mikayla closed and locked the door before turning to face him.

  "Do you want a drink?" she asked.

  Every nerve ending in her body was standing to attention now. The sheer act of walking, of feeling the silk of her skirt against her thighs, was becoming sexual. Geez, how had she managed to live this long without knowing the effect a man could have on her?

  "I'm tired," she stated, though she didn't feel in the least tired at the moment. Excited. Filled with anticipation. But tired was running in last place. His gaze raked over her. She could feel the hunger in that look, a dark need that at once terrified her and made her breathless in anticipation.

  It was all Nik could do to keep his hands off her. His palms itched with the need to stroke her silken flesh, to lay her beneath him, to fuck her until they were both sated, exhausted from satiation.

  His cock throbbed with the need. Every nerve ending in his body throbbed for it. Standing before him, her amethyst eyes curious, hot, she made him burn inside for her. He wasn't here to fuck her, though. He was here to finish this. He'd already called Maddix. There was nothing to be found, no reason for her accusations other than the fact that she believed she had seen Maddix Nelson kill his foreman. The attack on her the night she and Nik met had been in response to her allegations against Nelson, the attacker striking in anger. Nothing else made sense. The graffiti on her shop window, all of it. She needed to step back, she had to let this go, and Nik had to leave.

  Nik believed Maddix hadn't been there. His alibi was too solid. But Mikayla's belief in what she had seen went too deep.

  There was nothing to tie either of them to anything suspicious, which meant the killer was still on the loose. He had nothing to fear, though, because the only person who saw him thought she had seen someone else.

  67

  She was no threat, and there was no reason for the killer to harm her. It was time for Nik to go.

  "Why are you here this late, Nik?" She moved farther into the living room, her expression still and calm despite the arousal blazing in her eyes. Her long dark blond hair flowed down her back like a heavy cape. The image of a fairy came to mind once more. A fragile, innocent little fairy too good for the world she suddenly found herself within.

  "I'm leaving." Hooking his thumbs in his belt, he fought the need to touch her. Surprise filled her eyes then. "Your job is over already? It was hardly worth renting a house for, was it?"

  Confusion filled her voice, as well as disappointment.

  "I managed to wrap things up faster than I expected," he told her, wondering at the tightening in his chest as she continued to watch him with such somber intensity.

  "I see." She nodded slowly. "When are you leaving?"

  "Tomorrow evening."

  She asked, still watching. "So why are you here tonight?" He almost grinned. She was smart as hell. She knew something wasn't quite right about the job he had claimed to have versus the fact that he was leaving so soon.

  "I'm here because of what you saw, Mikayla." He tried to say the words gently, to lower his voice enough that she knew he wasn't there to hurt her. She flinched. Hell, so much for trying. "You're here because of Maddix?" Nik clenched his teeth for long seconds as he watched the feelings of betrayal fill her beautiful eyes.

  "I've known Maddix for a while," Nik told her. "I'm confident enough in the man I know to believe he's innocent. I was here to check you out, to figure out why you would want to destroy Maddix by accusing him of murder."

  Nik wasn't going to sugarcoat it. There was no gentle way to tell her. No easy way to break this to her or to keep her from hating him after he was gone. As she took a step back, almost in defense, her arms wrapped over her breasts, her face paling, causing her eyes to appear larger, darker than before. Pain swept across her features as moisture glistened in her eyes, proof that he was piercing at the heart of a woman who had been hurt too much in the past weeks.

  "I see," she whispered, obviously fighting against the hurt and anger he could see building in her eyes. "The night at the club. The guy that attacked me. Did you know him, too?"

  Nik's brows jerked down in a frown as he felt the ice he had built around him before coming here

beginning to crack.

  "You think I'd have someone attack you, Mikayla?"

  Her lips tightened in a mocking grin. "Sorry, how silly of me. You like doing your own dirty work, don't you? Do you get more satisfaction that way?" He couldn't blame her for her anger. He'd expected much worse than this. But he had to admit this silent pain tore at him more deeply than screaming accusations could have.

  He could have walked away from the screaming. Walking away from this quiet pain was harder.

  "I'd kill any man who tried to harm you," he told her. "I'd never hurt you, 68

  Mikayla, not intentionally."

  "What more does a liar deserve?" Her fingers clenched on her arms as she held on to herself. "Isn't that how you see it? I dared to lie about your precious Maddix. What more do I deserve?"

  He shook his head, hating this. He hated this worse than he had ever hated anything in this life. Seeing the pain on her face tightened every muscle in his body and tore at his determination not to touch her.

  "I don't believe you're a liar, Mikayla," he sighed. "Any more than I believe Maddix is a killer. What I do believe is that you think you saw Maddix. It was evening. Shadows stretch over the building site at that time of day. That can give anyone, anything, a far different look."

  A tear slipped free.

  God, he hated that single tear, the proof that she was fighting so hard to hold back the pain he was inflicting.

  "Of course, that's all it was." She nodded in agreement. A mocking, ironic agreement. One filled with betrayal. "You figured it out, Nik. Thanks so much for fixing this little problem for me." Her breathing hitched, breaking a heart he didn't know he had.

  "Now you can get out of my house and go back to where you came from." Any other woman he knew, or had ever known, would have been cursing a blue streak at this point. Screaming. Throwing things. He could have escaped and thanked his lucky stars she hadn't actually managed to hit him in the head with anything. But not Mikayla. Her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted defiantly, and she fought her tears and her anger with everything inside her.

  And it was killing her.

  Mikayla stared back at Nik, feeling as though she were going to be sick. Her chest felt tight, her heart straining at the agony resonating through her. Had anything ever hurt this bad?

  No, it hadn't. It hadn't even hurt this bad when her uncle had asked her the same question.

  It didn't matter that it was a logical question to ask.

  "Strange." Her voice sounded strangled. "You never asked me about what happened that night. You never even asked me about the possibility that I could have mistaken someone else for Maddix, did you, Nik?"

  If he had asked, she could have told him why she was so certain. She could have told him how the sunlight pierced past the shadows, blazed across Maddix's distinctive face for those few, unforgettable moments.

  But Nik hadn't asked her.

  "There was no reason to ask, Mikayla," he stated; his expression seemed to be filled with pity. "I talked to Maddix, his family, his alibis, and his neighbors. He was at home, exactly as he said he was."

  Mikayla nodded again. Whatever it took to get him out of her house, out of her life. She just wanted to hide and lick the wounds she could feel tearing through her heart. She had known Nik Steele was a very bad idea. She should have followed her instincts. This would teach her to do exactly that.

  She couldn't believe her heart had led her astray this way. That she had been poised so close to falling for a man who had been essentially lying to her all along. 69

  At least he'd had the decency not to actually seduce her, she told herself. That final humiliation hadn't been delivered.

  "Mikayla, you're going to have to accept that Maddix didn't kill Eddie Foreman," Nik told her, his voice harsh. The longer he stood there, the more forbidding his expression became.

  "Hey, I'm agreeing with you." She was fighting her tears second by second. God help her, if she didn't get him out of her house then she was going to break down and humiliate herself by losing control of her tears. "You can leave now, Nik. You've explained everything. Why, Maddix should have called you earlier to fix this little problem of his."

  She hated Nik. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate everything about him rather than to hurt this way. To feel those sharp talons of agony raking across her soul at the subtle lies he had practiced.

  His jaw flexed, the muscles working furiously as he obviously held back whatever he wanted to say instead.

  "Why don't you just leave?" she suggested as she walked to the door and jerked it open. "Go, Nik. Pack. Go back where you came from. I didn't need you before you arrived here and I don't need you now."

  She didn't need anyone else to remind her that Maddix Nelson had gotten away with murder. It was shoved in her face daily. It was spray painted on her shop window; it was left in messages on her answering machine at home every night. The injustice of it boiled inside her like acid. Eddie Foreman might not have been a nice man, but he hadn't deserved to die like that. And she wasn't strong enough to bring his killer to justice.

  The knowledge that there was nothing she could do about it ate at her mind like acid.

  Nik stared at the door, then back to Mikayla.

  He wanted to do as she ordered. God knew it was the wisest course of action. He should walk right out that door and be finished with this. It was obvious it was over. Instead, the need to touch her was rising within him by the second. It would be his last chance to touch her, to taste her. The last chance to experience that incredible pleasure, that almost peace he found in her touch.

  He moved for the door as though to follow the order. His gaze remained locked on hers, every cell of his body honed in on the warmth of her. As he stopped in front of her, his hand gripped the edge of the door, pulled it from her grip, and closed it gently while she watched in shock.

  "What now?" she whispered, the anger breaking through for a moment. "Do you still want an answer to that question you asked earlier? A little or a lot?" Her lips tightened, that spark of pain darkening her eyes further. "Guess what, Nik? How about none? Nothing. There's nothing more that I want from you. No, just leave, so I can forget you ever existed."

  "Why do you think I'm leaving?" His voice was a harsh growl that surprised both of them.

  In that tone, he heard what he watched her sense. A hunger such as he had never known in his life. A need that burned in his gut, in his balls, that tightened and engorged his dick to painful hardness.

  70

  The need to fuck her was ripping him apart. The need to possess her, to do the impossible, to protect her, tore through him with a power so strong that for a second it tore past the control he had promised himself he would hold on to. Before he could stop himself, he pulled her to him. Before she could protest, he lifted her against him, covered her lips with his, and gave into a need so fierce, so overriding, that it was more animalistic than logical.

  And Mikayla couldn't resist.

  As his lips slanted over hers, she couldn't hold back the need to part her own, to taste him, to feel him, just one more time.

  This one last time.

  The hold she'd exerted on her tears slipped and the moisture fell from her eyes. The pain brewing inside her found release as the hunger she couldn't control tore past the barriers she had fought to place between her and this man she couldn't hold herself back from.

  Pleasure raced across her nerve endings, raked through her system. Velvet-lined talons locked into her womb, sending sensation clenching into her sex, swelling her clit tighter and leaving her helpless in his embrace.

  He was the bad boy. The heartbreaker. She had sensed it all along, known she couldn't give in to that temptation, no matter how she wanted to. Ached to. Her lips parted further, her tongue licking against his as a moan broke free and her hands gripped his shoulders desperately.

  He tasted wild and dangerous. His kiss was dark and earthy, filled with dominance and lush ecstasy.

  Arching to him, she could only moan as she felt his fingers jerking the hem of her blouse from her skirt. His big hand stroked beneath it, curving around her hips, lifting her against him as his other hand curved around the rounded flesh of her breast. His thumb stroked her nipple as his fingers delved beneath the edge of her bra and lifted her flesh free. He was moving as he stroked her past reason. Moving her. Before she could process the information, process where she was, she found herself stretched out on the rich material of the microfiber upholstery of the couch, Nik moving over her. Her blouse was unbuttoned, spread apart. The front clasp of her bra was loosened and his lips were traveling over one breast, licking, kissing, as she stared down at him in shock. She watched in bemusement as his lips parted, covered the tight, hard peak of her breast, and sucked it into the blistering heat of his mouth.

  His tongue stroked against the tight bundle of nerve endings, sending fingers of electric pleasure to clench between her thighs as she felt her juices flowing from her inner sex. Her vagina clenched, burned, felt empty as Nik's hard thigh pressed against the sensitive mound firmly.

  She was drowning in sensation. The pleasure swamped her, stilled any protests she could have even thought to have, and wiped away betrayal, hurt, anger, filling her instead with heat and hunger.

  She found herself rocking against his thigh as her hands clenched in his hair to hold him to her breast. Her thighs tightened on him, stroking her clit against the denim of his jeans and the silk of her panties as ecstasy threatened to drive her wild. She couldn't bear it. The need was ripping through her, rising, pulling her down into an abyss of pure sensation too intense to deny.

  71

  She wanted more. She wanted all of it. The hard wedge of his erection free, hot and hard, pressing into her, taking her. She wanted to feel the pleasure/pain of that first possession, wanted to feel the agony of that first orgasm.

  -->