Renegade

by Lora Leigh

  The car missed them by inches. Bearing the brunt of the fall on his back as Mikayla cried out, Nik was shooting at the car, rage coursing through him as a curse tore from his lips.

  Rolling smoothly, he shielded Mikayla's body between him and a parked car before dragging her quickly between the parked vehicles.

  She rolled with him. She didn't fight him. When he pushed her against the side of the car and came to one knee, weapon raised as the car screamed onto the main road. The bastard had gotten away, but Nik was fairly damned certain he'd hit it at least once.

  Assured there was no other threat, he turned back to Mikayla. She was pressed against the side of the car, eyes wide, the perfect wavy updo falling to the side, covering one cheek and smeared with blood. His hands were shaking as he brushed her hair back, relief searing him first as he glimpsed the long scratch that disappeared into her hair. On the heels of that relief came a rage so all consuming it nearly exploded inside him.

  He was becoming sick and damned tired of these attempts against his woman. Someone was going to pay for it. When he found Eddie's killer, he'd find her assailant. He'd find the shooter, and by God, they were all going to pay. 170

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  As far as Nik was concerned, it took too long to call the police department, report the attempted hit-and-run, and answer the questions the uninterested detective managed to ask.

  It would have been Nik's preference to take her straight to the hospital, but that wasn't Mikayla's preference. She wanted to go home. And he wanted her home. He needed to hold on to her, just for a little while, to convince himself she was truly all right. Kneeling in front of the prissy little chair she kept in her girly bathroom, he cleaned the scratch gently, checked it to ensure it wasn't deep enough to require that hospital visit.

  The scratch was deep, but once he'd cleaned it, he was certain no stitches were needed.

  "I'm sorry, baby," he said tenderly, as tender as his roughened, nearly ruined voice could be.

  His stomach was tight with fear, with rage at the memory of the horror of watching that car speeding toward her, the knowledge that if he didn't move fast enough, then he could lose her.

  He could have lost her, just as he had lost Nicolette. Just as he had lost his life so long ago, the future he'd envisioned, he'd almost lost Mikayla as well. Someone was desperate to see her dead. The strikes against her were becoming closer with each successive attempt, but still she stared back at him now with such trust. Trust and love. He could see the love in her eyes, and it tightened his chest, tore at the heart he'd never believed could be touched again, and sent hunger pounding through him. And he still couldn't understand what made a woman so innocent, so tender, give her heart to a man who had warned her he could have no future with her.

  "Why?" He couldn't hold the question back. He had to know. "Why aren't you asking me for anything, Mikayla? Commitment? Some kind of relationship? Are you waiting to hit me with it later?"

  Hurt filled her gaze at the question. "You're my lover, Nik, not my possession. You said you had no promises to give me. You never lied to me. You were honest from the beginning. Would it be fair of me to ask for more now? Or later?" She was breaking his heart. Nik wondered painfully if she had any idea what she was doing to him. She was tearing at the very foundations of the man he believed he was. The cold, hard, unfeeling man he wanted to be, had needed to be for the past ten years. He had no clue how he was going to manage to salvage his soul when it was time to walk away from her. God knew he couldn't stay. If he stayed, if he lost her later it would kill him.

  And he knew Mikayla. She would want children. She would hunger for children. And Nik knew he could never, ever allow himself to take that risk again.

  "Nik," she whispered, her voice aching with gentleness, with emotion. "I have you now, for this moment in time. However much you're willing to give me. I don't have the 171

  right to ask for more when you warned me up front that you had no more to give me." Nik shook his head. She destroyed his defenses without even trying. She was locked inside him and he was damned if he knew how to get her out or how to protect himself against it.

  "You deserve better, baby," he told her as he fought the emotions tearing through him. "The happily ever after, the white wedding you dream about. All of it, Mikayla. Why waste your innocence on a man who can give you nothing but his body?" She gazed back at him with such somber love that she broke his heart.

  "I haven't wasted my innocence, Nik." Tears filled her gaze, but she kept them carefully in check. "I gave it to you. And I know the memory of it will always be safe with you."

  How the hell was he supposed to defend himself against her? There was a purity about her that he couldn't fight. An inner innocence that he never wanted to see her lose. A part he wondered if he wouldn't indeed carry inside himself now. He'd never known anyone, anything, like Mikayla.

  Lifting his hand, he cupped his fingers around her neck and pulled her to him. He needed the feel of her lips against his, her kiss warming his soul. He ached for her in ways he had no idea how to combat anymore. The hunger for the warmth of her tore at his control and filled him with such a demand for her touch that restraining himself was impossible.

  She eased the nightmares inside him, as well as the ice he'd allowed to build in his soul since the death of his family. She filled him, she made him believe in fairy tales, and God alone knew how dangerous that made her to him.

  His hands smoothed down her arms, feeling the softness of her silky flesh, the warmth of her against him. He needed her. One more memory to hold inside him, to store against the lonely nights to come.

  Trailing his fingers up her arms once again, he stopped at the silky straps of her dress and eased them slowly down her arms.

  He had to restrain his hands from shaking. Leaning back, he stared at the smooth, unblemished mounds of her swollen breasts as the material eased over them. Candy pink nipples were tight and hard, tempting him to taste them, to feel them against his tongue. Lowering his head, Nik let his lips trail down the side of her neck, then the sweet curve of her breast. The taste of her filled his senses. It left him almost shaking as hunger and lust raced through his system.

  How the hell was he supposed to ever survive walking away from her? The memory of her, the touch and taste of her, would forever haunt his memories. Opening his eyes, he stared up at her as his lips found a sweet, hot nipple. He watched her face, watched it transform with pleasure as he let his tongue lick over the hard tip.

  Amethyst eyes blazed with heated arousal. They were darkening, turning almost purple as she watched him. Her abandonment to the pleasure, to his touch and his hunger, never ceased to amaze him. Never ceased to humble him.

  As his tongue caressed the delicate nipples, first one, then the other, his hands gripped the material of her dress and drew it to her hips.

  She lifted for him, as though she felt the unspoken need to remove the dress. Removing the dress, his hands pressed between her thighs, spreading them, letting his 172

  fingertips caress her flesh as he drew ever closer to the heated folds of her pussy beneath the black silk panties.

  A little moan echoed around him as he gripped the band of her panties and pulled them free of her body as well.

  Drawing back, he stared at the sweet perfection between her thighs. Soft wheat blond curls glistened with the juices from her pussy, darkening the curls.

  "Look how pretty you are." His fingers brushed against the wet folds, his fingertips grazing over the honey that spilled from her. "Sweet and hot. Intoxicating." Glancing up at her, he watched as her teeth caught her lower lip, her lashes lowering over her eyes as slumberous sensuality took hold of her. His lips moved to the light rise and fall of her stomach. He licked at the sweet flesh as he moved lower, so desperate to taste her he was about to begin shaking with it. Soft, curl-shrouded folds drew him, tempted him. The light glaze of her feminine honey was an addiction he refused to deny himself. The tight, swollen knot of h

er clit greeted his lips and tongue as he moved lower.

  The sweetness of her exploded against his tongue as a groan tore from his lips. Heaven help him, he had no idea if he could hold on long enough to give her the pleasure he was aching to give her.

  Parting the swollen folds of her pussy, he licked through the juice-soaked slit as she whimpered in pleasure. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to her as he stroked his tongue along the intimate flesh, moving closer to the snug, juice-filled entrance he ached for.

  Gripping her ankles in his hands, he lifted her delicate feet as she rested against the back of the chair. He placed her feet in the seat, opening her further, watching as the folds of her pussy parted, revealing the sweet, pink, glistening flesh. He needed her. He was dying for her.

  His tongue licked around her clit before he sucked it gently into his mouth, laved it, caressed it as her hips lifted to him, offering him more. And he needed more. So much more.

  Licking lower, drawing more and more of the honey to his tongue, he stroked, tasted, until he reach the snug entrance to her pussy.

  And he lost his senses, lost his control. Thrusting his tongue inside her, he licked delicate flesh, stroked against the smooth walls of the sweetest pussy he'd ever known in his life.

  His dick was so hard he was dying with need. His balls were drawn tight, precome dampening the tip as he fucked her with his tongue, groaning at the taste of her, the need that had her hips thrusting back at him until he felt her explode. He felt it.

  Her pussy clenched and tightened around his tongue. Heated spicy-sweet juices met his tongue as she cried his name, her hands tightening in his hair, trying to drag him closer.

  He lost his breath at her response, at the complete abandonment she gave him. The way she filled him.

  "Complete me, Mikayla," he begged as he tore at his pants, releasing the agonizingly hard flesh that strained against the zipper.

  Hell, there were probably zipper tracks on the too-hard flesh. 173

  Gripping the shaft, he straightened, pressed closer, until the head of his dick was pressing against the clenched opening. "One more time, little fairy, complete me." Leaning back, he watched as he began to penetrate her. The heavy, wide flesh pressed inside, parting her as the folds of her pussy began to grip and hug the heavy erection.

  He'd never known anything so beautiful as this. As this perfect innocence accepting him, lifting to him, crying out for him. Her hands gripped his arms as her neck arched, her hair falling around her shoulders as slumberous violet eyes stared back, locked with his gaze.

  Her slick juices clung to his shaft, beading on her curls, slickening his dick. Fucking her was pure pleasure. It was pure rapture. It was sweet, hot ecstasy.

  "There, baby," he crooned, his voice rough. "Let me have you, just like this. Just like this, Mikayla."

  He pushed inside her, filled her, sinking in to the hilt as the tight muscles gripped him, flexed around his sensitive flesh until he swore he was dying from the pleasure. He couldn't hold back. He was losing himself to her. He could feel it. Losing himself until nothing mattered but this. Nothing but holding her, fucking her until she was screaming his name, until he heard his own voice, choked and desperate, as she began coming around him.

  Her pussy gripped him, stroked him. It held him tight as it rippled around him, her juices heating his flesh further as he erupted.

  His semen spilled inside her, and a part of him ached, a part of him longed, for the forbidden, the impossible. For one broken second he could see her with his child, see that innocence, that purity, in the eyes of their child.

  "Hold me, Mikayla," he whispered as he collapsed against her. "Sweet baby, just hold me."

  And she held him. Held him in her arms. In her heart. In her soul.

  "I'll always have this, Nik," she whispered, her voice weak, drowsy. "The memory of the greatest pleasure of my life."

  Those words echoed through his head as he cleaned her gently and carried her to bed. Pulling her against him, he sheltered her against his body, felt her hand against his heart, her head on his shoulder, as she slipped into sleep.

  She was safe here, he promised himself. Here in his arms was the only place he knew she was safe. A part of him was terrified to let her go, terrified to trust her to fate. Fate was a capricious, vindictive bitch and he knew it well. If he trusted this treasure to that whimsical being, then he would be left a broken shell of a man in ways he had never been before.

  Smoothing her hair back from her face, he laid a kiss against the top of her head as his hand smoothed down her naked back.

  It was a good thing he was keeping her with him. Her protection was his main priority. Finding the person responsible for this, for Eddie's death, for the attempts against her, was the only way to keep her safe when he had to leave. He'd believed Maddix Nelson when he said he had nothing to do with Eddie Foreman's death. Nik had believed Maddix knew better than to screw him over like this, than to lie to him and expect to get away with it.

  Maddix didn't know the organization Nik was a part of, but the other man was 174

  damned well aware of the fact that Nik wasn't going to be easy to manipulate. The alibi Maddix had appeared solid. He was obviously not working alone. As Nik stared up at the ceiling, his forehead creased into a frown. He had help here. Ian, Kira, and Bailey. They were in D.C. and they would return to Hagerstown if needed.

  They were needed.

  He had to get this taken care of. He had to return the security to Mikayla's life before he could walk away from her.

  Walk away from her?

  His jaw clenched at the thought. How the hell was he supposed to walk away from her? But how could he bear to stay with her? If something ever happened to her, an accident, a disease, if anything stole her from him once he came to breathe for her existence, then it would destroy him.

  Laying another kiss against her brow, he eased slowly from the bed and padded silently to the guest room. Drawing on a pair of sweatpants, he picked up the cell phone from the dresser and hit the number for Kira Richards.

  "Is she okay?" Kira answered quickly. "We heard the return on the attempted hitand-run. Ian's been pacing the floor waiting for you to call." Nik doubted Ian was pacing; most likely Kira was the one pacing. Ian was calmer, more certain that if Nik needed them he would call.

  "Is Ian with you now?" Nik asked.

  "He's here. Should I turn on the speakerphone?" Kira asked.

  "Yes." Nik had to grit his teeth on the word. "Pulling in one of the members of the Elite Ops backup team wasn't easy for him.

  "I'm here, Nik." Ian spoke a second later.

  "All I saw was a black sedan, no plates," Nik stated. "I put at least two rounds in the vehicle. I need you to check for vehicle repairs. I could have heard glass shatter, so there's a chance I got the front or back window."

  "I have it," Ian promised. "How are you doing with the investigation?" Nik sat down heavily on the side of the bed. "It keeps leading back to Maddix," he admitted. "I'd thought he was smart enough not to try to use me. I could have been wrong."

  "Everything I've found on Mikayla points to a very honest, forthright woman," Kira stated through the line. "She doesn't even finagle on her taxes. But if Maddix did this, then there's not even a hint of evidence that I've been able to find. Usually, the least you can get is a solid rumor."

  Nik rubbed at the back of his neck. "It's not going to be easy to break his alibi," Nik admitted. "I'm following every lead I can find, but as I said, those leads are going back to Maddix. I'm heading back to Gina Foreman's tomorrow. In the meantime, Kira, see if you can find a financial trail for Eddie Foreman and Maddix Nelson that coincides somewhere other than Foreman's salary. After I meet with Gina, I've got to find a line in to Reed Holbrook. The man's avoiding me, and he ties in here somewhere." There was a brief moment of silence.

  "How does Reed Holbrook fit into this?" Ian asked.

  "Do you know him?" Nik questioned softly.

  "I know him," Ian answered.

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  "Mikayla and I found Reed's office, cell, and home numbers in Eddie Foreman's private office. There was also a witness who saw Reed and Eddie Foreman talking the day Eddie died. There are a lot of threads moving here, Ian; I need to track down as many as possible."

  "I'll get you a meeting with Reed," Ian promised. "If he's involved with this, we'll figure it out."

  "That's what I need, thanks."

  "I'll get started on the financials," Kira promised. "It may take a few days, though."

  "Get it as quickly as possible," Nik asked. "This needs to be finished, Kira. I've been here too long already."

  He hadn't been here long enough. He didn't believe any amount of time with Mikayla would ever be enough. Leaving her would tear his soul from his chest, but better that, he told himself, than losing all he was to her and having her taken from him. He disconnected the call moments later and moved back to Mikayla's bedroom. Laying the cell phone on the bedside table, he stared down at her, watching as the fragile light of the moon spilled through the small seam of the curtains to the bed and the woman.

  If ever she looked like a fairy, then she did now. The moonlight loved her flesh, caressed it, bathed it in gold.

  He was fucking waxing poetic, something else he'd never done in his life, that he had never done with any other woman.

  Shedding the cotton pants, he moved back into the bed beside her, his lips quirking as she moved against him, a sleeping little groan falling from her lips as he pulled her against his chest once again.

  Her head fell back to his shoulder, her hand to his chest, as he held her to him. He hadn't slept with a woman in over ten years. He'd fucked them. Enjoyed them. But not until Mikayla had he needed one in the bed beside him.

  Not until one had penetrated that part of himself that he held in reserve. Even his wife hadn't managed that. Not until Mikayla had Nik felt his heart slipping from his grasp with no idea how to protect it.

  Only with Mikayla.

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