by Lisa Childs
He sucked in a breath, as if she’d slugged him. But then he dragged off the shirt and his holster. The gun went on a table next to the bed, the shirt with hers on the floor. They moved quickly then, both discarding their pants. His underwear went with his, leaving him completely naked and perfect.
He was so muscular. So fit.
Wendy’s curves were a little too soft. But he didn’t seem to mind when his erection pressed against her again. He lowered himself onto her, kissing her lips before sliding his mouth along her throat. His tongue flicked over her leaping pulse. Then he moved farther down her body.
He unclasped the bra and tugged it away to free her breasts. Then he slid his mouth across them, over the mound of flesh, before closing his lips around a nipple. He pulled on it gently.
She cried out as pleasure rushed through her. Desire pounded in her core, which ached for him. She needed him like she’d never needed anyone before.
She reached out and closed her fingers around his shaft. He was so long, so thick. She moved her hand up and down the length of him.
He groaned. “I’ll go too soon,” he warned her as he pulled away from her touch.
“I don’t care,” she murmured. She needed him now. She needed him fast.
“But I want to please you,” he said as he moved farther down the bed, down her body. Her underwear disappeared just as quickly as her bra had.
Was she dreaming? She must be dreaming.
But it felt so real—when he kissed her intimately, when he moved his mouth over her core. She arched and cried out as a small orgasm rushed through her. She nearly sobbed that it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. So much tension gripped her yet. She grasped his broad shoulders, trying to tug him up.
But he pulled away. And she heard something tear. Then she watched as he rolled a condom over his shaft. She parted her legs for him and helped guide him into her. He was so big, she had to arch, had to shift to take him deeper.
Then he moved inside her and that tension built even more, threatening to break her apart. She whimpered and moaned.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gruff with passion and concern. “I’m not too...”
Perfect. That was what she’d always thought he was. Now she knew she’d been right.
He fit her perfectly. She moved beneath him, arching and stretching to take him even deeper, and he groaned.
He lowered his head and kissed her, deeply, passionately. Their mouths mated like their bodies. Then his hands moved between their bodies, over her breasts, teasing the nipples...
She moaned into his mouth.
He moved his one hand lower, flicking a finger across the most sensitive part of her body. And she came and came...crying out his name as the pleasure overwhelmed her.
His body tensed and, with a loud groan, he found his release, as well.
Wendy had never been as satiated or as scared as she lay there in Hart Fisher’s bed, in Hart Fisher’s arms. She was afraid of Luther Mills and the people who worked for him.
But she was also afraid of her feelings. She was afraid that she had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with Hart.
* * *
Hart had been in some dangerous situations before. Hell, he’d thought the most dangerous one had been at her parents’ home when he’d come under all that gunfire in the backyard. But now he knew this was dangerous, too. Wendy Thompson was dangerous—to him.
He’d lost his focus and had allowed his desire for her to distract him from his job. It wasn’t to make love to her; it was to protect her.
But now he felt like he needed protection. From her...
He’d come back to bed, though, after cleaning up. And he’d slid his arms around her and pulled her naked body against his. She was so warm and soft.
She slept as if she’d passed out. Maybe she had. He’d nearly fainted from the pleasure she’d given him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so much passion and such a powerful release. His body had shuddered. It shuddered even now as he remembered...
Then a certain part of his body reacted. He wanted her all over again. But he couldn’t disturb her.
He didn’t know the last time she’d slept. From the dark circles beneath her eyes, he suspected it had been a while. Her lashes, which were nearly as red as her hair, lay over those circles. And that sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks tempted him to touch.
She was so damn cute. Her hair had tangled around her face. But it was soft against his skin. Just like she was...
Soft and warm and sweet.
How hadn’t he noticed her before? Sure, he knew they’d worked together. He remembered getting teased that she’d had a crush on him. But he’d been married part of that time. Not that it had been a happy marriage.
From the first, he’d realized it was a mistake. But with Felicity already on the way, he’d wanted to try to make it work. After the marriage had failed, the last thing he’d wanted was to ever try that again with anyone.
Wendy seemed like the type of woman who wanted a commitment. She probably wanted a marriage like her parents had. But she had no way of knowing how rare and special that was. Hart knew and, because he did, he wasn’t going to risk looking for something that elusive.
No. Making love to her had been a mistake. But when she’d touched his chest, his heart, he’d been unable to stop the rush of desire that had overwhelmed him. He’d needed her like he’d needed air.
Air.
He needed that now, because every time he breathed, he inhaled her sweet scent and the scent of their passion, until his lungs filled with it. He needed air. But when he tried to slide his arm out from underneath her, she murmured in protest.
“Shh,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, suddenly fully awake.
“Just going to check outside,” he said. “I want to make sure all my backup is in place.” He’d told Parker where he was taking her. But neither of them had thought he’d need many other bodyguards.
Luther was unlikely to find enough men to stage another attack so quickly. Hell, most of his crew was either in jail or the morgue right now.
Too bad Luther couldn’t join them.
“I’ll be fine,” Hart assured her.
She clutched at him. It wasn’t like she had earlier, with passion. It was with fear. “You remember what happened last time you checked outside.”
He’d nearly been killed. He didn’t need the reminder. But he still needed the air. He pulled her hands from his arms. “I will be fine,” he said again. Then he shared with her what he and Parker had already deduced. “Luther is using up his crew. They’re dying or going to jail. He can’t have that many more to send after us—at least, not so soon.”
She stared up at him for a long moment. “If that’s what you think, then why do you need to check on your backup? Why do you need backup?”
She knew. He wasn’t going outside for her protection. He was going outside for his.
* * *
Doubt nagged at Parker, along with that sick certainty that something bad was about to happen. It already nearly had the night before. But everyone had survived. So why hadn’t the feeling gone away?
Because Wendy Thompson had refused to...
She wouldn’t go to the safe house with her parents and Hart’s daughter. The chief should have ordered her to do it. To go away...
But could they be certain she would be safe anywhere? Luther had to be even more determined to take her out than he’d been the eyewitness.
Wendy had collected all the evidence that proved him guilty beyond the shadow of any doubt. She had to stay alive to keep it safe and keep the chain of custody of that evidence unbroken. Once she turned it over to someone else, there was a very real possibility that it would disappear. That feeling nagging at him, he picked his ce
ll up from his desk and tapped Hart’s contact number.
This time his bodyguard actually answered on the first ring, which was probably a good sign. If he was busy getting shot at, he wouldn’t have had the time to answer.
“Everything okay?” Parker asked.
Hart’s long hesitation had his heart pounding hard and fast.
“Is everything okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hart replied, but he sounded distracted.
“Are you?” Parker asked. He’d been separated from his child. Maybe Wendy had been right. Maybe he should have sent Hart off with her parents and his daughter.
There was another long hesitation.
“What’s going on?” Parker demanded.
Before Hart could say anything more, a blast reverberated from the phone. It wasn’t a gunshot. It was louder than that. Like an explosion.
Parker remembered that sound well from when he’d nearly been blown up a few years ago.
“Hart? Hart!” he called out.
There was no reply. Parker wasn’t even sure if the cell phone was still working or if it—and Hart—had been destroyed in the explosion.
Chapter 15
The windows rattled and the old warehouse structure shook from the force of the explosion. It was close. Too close.
Wendy had dressed after Hart had left the bed. She hadn’t been able to sleep without him. Now she grasped her gun and headed to where he’d gone. Outside.
He should have listened to her that it was too dangerous. But he’d seemed determined, or even desperate, to get away from her, probably because he’d regretted what they’d done.
She didn’t, even though she would undoubtedly wind up having her heart broken. Her only regret was not forcing him to stay in bed with her.
“Hart!” she called, her heart beating frantically with fear.
When she stepped into the living room, she saw the glow of a fire outside the front window. The SUV Hart had parked at the curb was fully engulfed in flames.
Where was Hart?
Gripping her weapon tightly in one hand, she unlocked and opened the door with the other. Of course, Hart had locked her in; he wanted to keep her safe even while he kept putting himself in danger.
“Hart!” she called again. She tried to get closer to the SUV, but the heat of the flames was overwhelming. Was he inside?
He wouldn’t have got in it. He wouldn’t have left her.
“Hart!” Panic gripped her now, pressing so hard on her chest that she could barely draw a breath.
Black smoke roiled off the flames consuming the burning vehicle, turning day into night. She couldn’t see anything. But she had to get closer, had to find Hart.
As she moved forward, she bumped into someone also moving around in the smoke. “Hart!” she exclaimed.
But the grasp on her arm was too tight, too painful to be his. For a moment, the smoke cleared and she could see the face of the man holding on to her.
It wasn’t Hart’s handsome face. This man’s features were cruder and swollen, like he’d been in quite a few fights in his lifetime. And he was older. At least, older than the kids who usually worked for Luther.
He wasn’t anyone she recognized. But she recognized the look in his cold, dark eyes. Even though she didn’t know who he was, she knew what he was.
A killer.
Had he already killed Hart?
* * *
The force of the blast had knocked Hart to the ground. And the sound of it roared in his ears. So he couldn’t hear anything but it right now.
And through the thick smoke, he could barely see. So he wasn’t sure how he knew—but he just knew—that Wendy was in danger.
Of course, the explosion had probably been a distraction, intended to draw him outside, away from her. But Hart had already been outside when the SUV had exploded. He’d already been distracted.
He knew the explosion would have drawn her outside, as well.
The wind picked up, clearing the smoke for a moment. And he saw them: the big man who held tightly on to Wendy. A protest scorched Hart’s throat as his lungs burned with smoke. He pushed himself off the pavement, lurching to his feet. His entire body shook.
He grabbed for his weapon. But his holster was empty. The gun must have been knocked out when he’d fallen. Where the hell was it?
Wendy had her gun, though.
And now he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Or maybe because she had used it once already—and taken a life—she would hesitate before turning the barrel toward the man who held on to her.
The man tightened his grasp, though, bending her arms so the gun wouldn’t point toward him. Then he reached for it.
If he got it away from her...
If he turned it on her...
Hart propelled his body forward, launching himself at the man like the explosion had launched him into the air. His back to Hart, the man hadn’t seen him coming.
The attack took him down but knocked Wendy over, also. She lay sprawled beneath the weight of two men.
Hart wrapped his arm around the guy’s neck, trying to choke him. But the guy reared up and shook him off as if he was just a child trying to get a piggyback ride. And, at the moment, Hart felt as weak as a child, as if the explosion had zapped all his muscles.
He dropped to the ground again.
When the man turned and reached out gloved hands to grab him, they both heard the cocking of Wendy’s weapon. The man tensed, as if still considering grabbing Hart. But then he ran, jumping over him in his haste to escape a bullet.
She had saved his life again, just as she had at her parents’ house.
Which one of them was the real bodyguard? He certainly felt as if she’d protected him more than he had her.
“Are you okay?” she asked as she stood over him. Her face was tight and pale with fear and concern.
All the breath had been knocked from his burning lungs again, so he just nodded.
“What the hell happened?” she asked. “Why would someone blow up your SUV?”
He had to admit that it didn’t seem like something Luther Mills would order. But then, neither had cutting someone’s brake line.
Luther was never that subtle.
Of course, there was nothing subtle about an explosion. Since his hearing had returned, Hart was aware of the whine of sirens in the distance. And the deep rumble of other male voices.
His backup had arrived.
Lars Ecklund, one of Cooper’s team, rushed up. The giant of a man reached down and lifted Hart to his feet as if he weighed no more than Felicity’s treasured rag doll. “You okay?” he asked. The ex-Marine looked pale, and it probably wasn’t just because his hair and eyes were so light. It was probably because the explosion had brought him war flashbacks.
Hart felt like he was in the middle of a war right now himself. A war to protect Wendy.
“I’m fine,” he said. But he wasn’t. He was worried as hell—about her.
Luther had obviously stepped up his attempts. He was going after her even more relentlessly than he’d gone after Rosie Mendez. Hart and Parker had been wrong; it hadn’t taken Luther very long to send someone else after her.
How the hell had he found them so quickly, though? Had he followed them from her parents’ house to Hart’s condo?
Hart had watched the rearview fanatically again. But he had missed that white van before. Was this guy the driver of that van?
It made sense that he would be older. One of the kids from the earlier attack on the Thompson house wouldn’t have been able to tail Hart undetected the way this guy had.
“What about you?” Lars asked her. “Are you okay, Ms. Thompson?”
She nodded. But she looked afraid.
Hart couldn’t blame her.
He’d put himself
in dangerous situations before, but he’d never had anyone as determined to kill him as Luther Mills was determined to kill Wendy. He wasn’t sure how the hell he was going to keep her safe.
“I need to preserve as much of this scene as I can,” she told Lars. “I need to figure out what kind of explosives and detonator were used.”
Feeling like a broken record again, Hart told her, “You are not processing this damn crime scene. You can’t, since it’s yours.”
She stared at him, or perhaps she stared through him. All of her attention was on the burned-out vehicle behind him. “It doesn’t make sense that it was yours...”
“Yours isn’t here,” Hart pointed out. “He couldn’t blow up what wasn’t here. And I’m sure he just planted the bomb to draw us outside.”
Lars nodded in agreement. “A diversion...”
“That’s one hell of a diversion,” she remarked. “It drew everyone’s attention.”
That was true. If the guy had hoped to escape without being seen, he should have gone with a smaller explosion, not one that must have been heard and felt for blocks. But since there was nothing subtle about Luther Mills, the bomb must have been his doing.
Wendy looked skeptical, though, her teeth nipping into her bottom lip as she studied the area. While she didn’t touch anything so as not to compromise evidence, she carefully inspected the scene.
“That’s one cool chick,” Lars Ecklund remarked. “And I know cool chicks.”
He was married to Parker Payne’s sister. Nikki was a bodyguard herself. She was also a computer genius.
Yes, Wendy did have quite a bit in common with the resourceful, tough Nikki Payne-Ecklund.
But was it enough to keep her from getting killed?
* * *
“An explosion...” the chief murmured as he rubbed his head. It hurt as if he’d been there, as if he had felt the blast himself.
“Doesn’t sound like Luther Mills, does it?” Parker remarked.
“I think we’ve only scratched the surface of what that man is capable of.” And who he was capable of manipulating to carry out his wishes. Woodrow stared through his office window into the detectives’ bull pen.