by Norris, Kris
“No.” Her hair bounced wildly around her shoulders. “I heard voices. Footsteps. Something about them meeting up. Are you sure it was Dave in the car?”
Cannon motioned to Bridgette.
She pursed her lips together. “I had Jeremy double check the file for me. The ME said the DNA matched to what the Marshal Service had on file. But…that’s all they really had to go on. I’m afraid there wasn’t much left.”
Jericho made a strangled moaning sound then nodded. “I don’t have a clue what’s going on.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Promise.” Cannon drew her a bit closer. “It explains why you were worried about a hospital, though. If you didn’t realize Dave was dead, you probably thought he could track you down if he discovered you hadn’t died in the explosion.”
“I guess, but…”
“But it doesn’t feel right.”
“Not even a little. There’s something else—something I’m missing. Or forgetting.” She finally relaxed against him. “Maybe we’ll get more answers once I go back. Can scour through the files.”
“Not until you’re stronger. Until I know you’ll be safe there.”
“I hardly think anyone’s going to target the Marshal Office.”
“Not risking it.” Cannon shook his head at the look she flashed him. “Stubborn. Just…let me call in a few favors. Have the rest of your office checked out. If Dave was dirty…”
“Art’s clean. I’d bet my life on it.”
“I’m not as trusting as you are.”
“He’s clean.”
“Okay. We’ll call him—soon. Maybe arrange for a time for you to go in when only he’s there. When a few of us can shadow you without having to answer a bunch of questions. But this isn’t over until Ty Brown is either back in custody or dead—preferably the latter. Until we’re sure there aren’t more people gunning for you—possibly people you work with.”
“There will always be people gunning for me. It comes with the job.”
“Calculated risks, sweetheart. This isn’t random, and it isn’t isolated. Maybe it was just a prison break. Maybe Dave made a one-time deal, and this was Brown or the Macmillans tying up loose ends, and you got caught in the crossfire. I just want to make sure that’s the case before you put a giant bullseye on your back. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now, how about we sit down? Get something to eat, and we can go through it in more detail.”
“Who knew you were such a worrier?”
“Don’t let it get out. I can’t have everyone knowing I’ve gone soft.”
“It’ll be our secret.”
“Right. Okay...the beginning, again. And, this time, let’s slow it all down. I want you to tell us everything. Every small, seemingly insignificant detail. From what you were listening to on the radio to what Dave ate. I want to know what you felt, smelled and saw throughout the trip. If he left you alone with Brown, even just to go to the bathroom. And then, we’ll plan.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was midnight. Again.
Two days since she’d sat at the table and walked through the incident, and she still hadn’t done much more than sleep and rest. Cannon had gotten her a laptop—used his new status to gain access to the Marshal Service database. But, even after scouring through a bunch of files—the ones she could access and not raise suspicions—they weren’t any closer to figuring out why Dave had attacked her. If he’d made a deal with Brown, the Macmillans, or if her memories were skewed. If it hadn’t been Dave, after all. Just her messed up mind playing tricks on her. A by-product of the trauma, shock, and blood loss. Not to mention the concussion. It was to the point even she was questioning herself.
No one had come out and told her she was nuts. Not with Cannon standing over her like a damn watchdog. The other men might have been his teammates—his brothers—but there was no denying she came first. That he’d defend her, period. Whether it was right or not.
She wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve that level of devotion. Hell, they hadn’t even had sex. One panty-melting kiss in his truck, and a month’s worth of coffee and texting. Oh, and he’d saved her life. Three times, now. The bar might have turned out okay, but she counted it, just the same. He’d come to her aid, then, and it had only escalated since. Armed thugs. Attempted murder… It didn’t matter that they were dealing with a hitman. With the mafia. He treated them all the same. Waved it off as nothing compared to what he’d dealt with in the service. The years he’d spent undercover.
He’d shared a bit about his past, seeing as she had fairly high-level security clearance. Though, she knew it barely touched on everything he’d done. That he couldn’t tell her any in-depth details. But the fact he’d opened up, at all, had shocked her. Made her realize just how much he trusted her.
It also made her realize how far she’d fallen. How much he meant to her. Thirty-odd years of avoiding any kind of meaningful commitment, and Cannon had stolen her heart in only a month.
No, not stolen. That seemed inadequate in terms of what he’d done. Stolen implied there was a chance she might get it back. That she could give it to someone else. He’d possessed it. Claimed it as his. Had trapped it, and hidden it away in some kind of impenetrable fortress. That was more along the lines of what he’d done.
But what scared her more was that she didn’t even care. How could she when everything she learned about him only made her love him more? Want him in her life more. Just…more.
She groaned as she pushed up, leaning against the headboard. She’d never really been the romantic type. Hadn’t fantasized about finding that special someone. Getting married. Having kids. Fate. Soul Mates. They’d never factored in. Until now. Until he’d surpassed her expectations that very first night. Since then…
It had been a slow slide into utter madness. Even now, knowing he was out…investigating, made her edgy. Because she knew he was hunting. Trying to track down Ty Brown. Make her world safe, again.
She should be with him. Guarding his back. Keeping his ass intact. Not that he was alone. She’d seen Rigs and Colt walk out with him, so…he didn’t lack for backup. And with men whose skills far surpassed hers.
Still… Hadn’t she heard that love rarely made sense?
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
She startled, hand flying to her chest as her focus swung to the door. Cannon was leaning against the frame, silhouette just visible by a muted light in the hallway. It struck her how massive he was. How utterly unyielding.
“Jesus, Cannon. Make a little noise before you simply appear in a doorway.”
“Didn’t want to wake you.”
“You saw me leaning against the headboard.”
“Noise gets you caught. And caught gets you dead. Old habits, sweetheart.” He walked into the room, moving smoothly across the floor. He didn’t make a sound. Not a step, not a whisper of cloth across the weapons she was sure were hidden beneath his jacket.
He stopped beside a chair, laying some items on it before continuing to the bed. It dipped against his weight as he sat on the edge, toeing off his boots before turning to look at her.
Moonlight illuminated half of his face, accentuating the hard angles. He was still in warrior mode. Lips pressed firmly together. Eyes wary. He’d shaved a few days ago, but a healthy scruff had already grown back, shadowing his jaw in a deep gray.
Even looking every inch the lethal soldier he was, he was stunning. Handsome in a way that transcended symmetry and pretty features. He was rugged. Masculine. A man who’d seen the worst sides of humanity without losing his.
She reached for his jaw, enjoying the way the stubble caught on her fingers. “Find anything?”
A huff accompanied by his furrowed brow answered for him. But he shook his head once, anyway. “Found a few fledglings. But nothing that would lead us to Brown. Asshole’s good at hiding. I’ll grant him that. But we’re equally good at hunting, so…”
So, it was only a matter of time. That h
e’d search until he’d obtained his prize. Then, his gaze swept the length of her, and she knew he’d have that same hard determination where she was concerned. That he wouldn’t stop until she’d surrendered, either.
But in a completely different way.
The thought ignited a billow of heat low in her core. She’d been at his side, night and day, for a week. Granted, she only really remembered the last couple days, but her body remembered all of it. Had grown accustomed to sleeping with him—his shoulder as her pillow. One muscular arm wrapped around her back. His hand resting either above or below her wound. The feeling of being completely safe. And she wasn’t sure she could go back to how it was before. Texts goodnight then sleeping, alone.
She didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.
Which meant, it was time.
Cannon’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t quite make out the copper color in the moonlight, but the way he tilted his head. Stared. She knew he was trying to puzzle her out. She’d spent the past few minutes sitting there just staring at him. Lost in the thoughts of his body pressed against hers. Every inch touching.
A chuckle, then he was placing his hand over hers on his face. “Something tells me those thoughts of yours aren’t on Brown or whether or not it’s safe for you out in the world, yet.”
She shrugged. Most of the stitches had fallen out, already, and it was nice not to feel them tugging against her skin. Even her ribs felt better. Not without pain, but definitely manageable. “It’s kind of hard to focus on that when you’re this close.”
“While I love where you’re heading with this, sweetheart, you’re—”
“Fine, Cannon. I’m fine.”
“You’re better. Not going to die on me if I look away for a second. Go out on a scouting mission. But your ribs—”
“Are healing. Sure, I won’t be going for a run or asking you to spar with me for a while. But touching, kissing…” She shuffled closer, sliding her other hand along the opposite side of his jaw. “I could definitely muscle through that.”
“I’d rather you didn’t have to muscle—”
She kissed him. Used her grip to tug his head down as she simply slid the last foot separating them on the bed. He inhaled against her lips, then he was kissing her back. Threading his fingers through her hair, digging the other into the top of her ass as he pulled her flush against him. His tongue traced the edge of her mouth then delved inside.
Heat. Spice. A heady mix that was just him. He moaned as their tongues tangled, lifting off to nip his way along her throat before repositioning and launching another attack. The hand in her hair flexed, tugged a bit, then released.
His rapid breath caressed her chin when he eased back, resting his forehead on hers. “Christ.”
She smiled. “And that was just a kiss. Imagine what it could be like without any clothes on.”
His muscles tensed beneath her fingers. “While I’d love nothing more than to finally make love to you…”
She laughed. “I’m not going to break.”
Another flex of his fingers. Of them fisting around her hair, somehow bringing her even closer as he shifted a bit to grab more of her ass. “Jericho…”
“God, the way you say my name. Consider me seduced.”
“Sweetheart. You’re still weak.”
“Not that weak.” She huffed at the clench of his jaw. The way he closed his eyes as if in pain. “Cannon. Rick.”
He snapped his gaze up—eyes wide. As if he’d never heard his name before.
She released one hand from behind his neck—cupped his jaw. “We can take it slow. Trust me. I’ve had plenty of sleep.”
“But that’s the problem.” He untangled his fingers from her hair, lifted his hand from her ass, then stood, moving over to the door. He closed it then turned and leaned against it.
The warrior was back, not that he’d ever truly left. But there was no denying the hard line of his jaw, the way his nostrils flared in the dull light. He took what appeared to be a calming breath, fisting his hands at his side.
“Since I joined the service, my life has been all about control. Allowing your emotions to rule your actions is the fastest way to get yourself killed. So, we train—long. Hard. Until every movement, every action is planned.”
She braced some of her weight on one arm, tilting her head off to one side. “Still not seeing how this equates to us making love being a problem. If you’re saying you like to be in control in the bedroom—”
“That’s the problem! I look at you, and fuck…that control vanishes. Poof. Just gone. It’s like you short circuit my brain. None of the signals get through. I have to rely only on my instincts. My senses. My damn feelings.”
He pushed off. Took a step closer. “This is uncharted territory for me. You’re still hurt. You need gentle. To be cherished. And all I can think about is how desperate I am to touch you. How my damn skin itches to rub against yours. I want to take you in my arms and thrust inside. Pound you for hours.” He released a strangled breath. Rough. Painful. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know if I can give you the kind of loving you deserve. That you need. Not when you put my control to the test with nothing more than your smile.”
The tightness in her chest that had taken root since he’d walked into her life eased. And, finally, she could breathe. Because it all made sense.
Jericho eased off the bed. At least, standing, walking—it didn’t hurt like it had before. Just a slight ache. Nothing she couldn’t live with. And she knew, once he’d taken her in his arms—removed the shirt she’d borrowed from him and put his lips on her skin…
She wouldn’t feel anything but burning need.
Cannon didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as she stepped over to him. Not until she drew her finger along his shoulder then down his chest, settling it over his heart. It pounded against her palm, the rhythm nearly as fast as hers.
She smiled. “First of all, you’re not the only one who’s running blind. I’ve never felt like this before, either. Never been this far gone. I feel like I’ve jumped off a cliff but haven’t hit the ground. That I just keep falling. It’s unnerving, if I’m being honest.”
“Jericho—”
She placed her finger over his mouth. “It’s still my turn, Master Sergeant. Second, you’re assuming I want gentle. That I need you to hold back. I’ve told you I’m not fragile, and you loving me—however that has to happen—isn’t going to break me. But, more importantly… You said I test your control, right?”
He nodded, eyes wary, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her other hand.
She tapped his lips with her finger. “Seems to me, you also said there isn’t a test you’ve failed, yet.”
He grunted, gently removing her finger from in front of his mouth. “This is different.”
“Is it?”
“We’re talking about your well-being.”
“Which will be compromised by never-ending frustration if you don’t pick me up and carry me over to that bed. Followed by a night of making me see stars.” She drew a pattern along his chest. “You can go all night, can’t you?”
A twitch of the muscle in his temple. “You’re not helping me, sweetheart.”
“Is this better?” She reached her other hand down—cupped his shaft through his pants.
He shuddered, grabbed her arms—hard—then forcefully gentled his touch. “Dangerous.”
“Good. If I were looking for safe, I’d be dating a banker. Or an accountant. And I’d be dead. So, stop worrying about control or if you’re gonna break me, and kiss me, already.”
Cannon stood there, staring, for nearly a minute before closing his eyes, then leaning forward. She let him lead, knowing it had to be his choice. That, if he was convinced having sex was going to set her healing back, there wouldn’t be anything she could say or do to change his mind. How had he put it before? She was his weakness—had far too much power over his decisions—except where her safety was concerned. He’d claime
d he couldn’t be swayed, and she knew he hadn’t been joking.
So, she waited, her hands palming his chest, her heart beating so fast she heard it strumming inside her head. She wet her lips as he moved in closer, hovering a breath away. God, the heat pouring off of him. She didn’t know how he wasn’t sweating.
She was. Sweating and breathing and praying for him to do…something. Forget about the sex hurting her. Standing there—almost touching—was going to kill her. Make her heart explode or maybe she’d simply die from anticipation.
“Rick…”
Cannon opened his eyes, that wonderful copper color lost in the ebony pupils. “There’s just something about the way you say my name.”
“Make love to me, and I’ll scream it.” She chuckled. “Well, maybe not scream since we’re not alone. Not really. I mean, I’m sure one of your buddies is up guarding—”
He covered her mouth with his, swallowing any last words. She stepped into him. It wasn’t more than a few inches, but it felt as if she’d bridged a canyon. A huge divide separating his body from hers. All that thick firm muscle pressing against her—his erection hard and thick nudging her hip. She swore it lengthened as the kiss drew on, nearly taking her to her knees when he finally eased back.
He tsked, gently pulled her shirt over her head then scooped her into his arms, careful not to jostle her ribs as he headed for the bed. “I knew I’d never win an argument with you. The only question left is… How are we going to start this off?”
Chapter Fourteen
Cannon was going to die. Right there in the bedroom. Jericho in his arms, her body snugged against his. She seemed completely at ease, while his damn heart pounded against his ribs, his dick so long and hard, he expected it to explode at any second. And take him with it because the way she was looking at him…
He’d been in complete control. After four hours spent casing a bar Ty Brown was rumored to frequent only to come up empty handed, Cannon had used the ride home to calm his nerves. The ones that were getting antsy with the utter lack of progress. Over a week since Jericho had nearly died, and he’d gotten nowhere. Not one concrete lead.