Broken

by Cynthia Eden

  So fucking beautiful.

  He needed to feel her climax around him. He wanted to see her when she came. Wanted to see the pleasure on her face.

  Her breath caught. Her nails raked down his arms and she surged up with her hips.

  “Eve . . .” Her name was a growled rasp from him, all he could manage because his climax was bearing down on him.

  Eve first, I want to feel Eve come first—

  She did. Her sex clenched around him in a wild, greedy grasp that sent him surging straight into the most powerful release of his life. She was whispering his name, arching, and her delicate inner muscles were trembling around the length of his cock. He kept thrusting, driving into her again and again because he didn’t want the pleasure to end.

  His heart was a drumbeat in his ears, fast and furious. Her nails still bit into his flesh, and he loved that sting. He loved the way he could smell the faint scent of sex in the air. Her. Him.

  And he loved the gut-wrenching pleasure that still shook his body.

  Her breath came out in soft pants. He thought those little pants sounded sexy, and when she said his name, her voice that husky roll of temptation, the cock that should have been tired started twitching again, hardening once more.

  Pull out. Get some damn control back. Get sanity.

  Slowly, staring into her eyes, he withdrew. Inch by inch.

  She locked her muscles around him and moaned.

  Fuck, is she still coming?

  He could feel the ripples of her release around him, and it was the sexiest thing in the world.

  Then she smiled at him.

  No, that’s the sexiest thing.

  He leaned down and kissed her. Her tongue slid over the edge of his lower lip, licking him.

  “I didn’t know what I was missing,” she whispered.

  The woman was gutting him.

  He locked his muscles and pulled out. He had to ditch his condom and get back to her.

  “No, Eve,” he heard himself say, “I didn’t know.”

  A small line appeared between her brows.

  He knew he’d just revealed too much then.

  “I’m supposed to believe a guy like you hasn’t had dozens of lovers?” Her voice was light, teasing. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her green eyes sparkled with pleasure.

  He wasn’t going to lie or bluff his way through this. He wanted Eve to know that she mattered. “There’s sex,” he told her simply, “and then there’s what we just had.”

  The faint smile on her lips slipped away. Some of the pleasure seemed to fade from her gaze. “What did we just have?”

  “Fucking I’d-kill-to-have-it pleasure.” A dark, disturbing truth. The kind of white-hot passion that ignited and burned straight to the soul. The kind he’d known that he’d have with her . . . and that’s why I tried to warn her to stay away. That if I had her once, it would be too late for me.

  “Sex isn’t always like . . . this?”

  “No.” He turned away. Stalked into the bathroom. Ditched the condom. His cock was up and more than ready to go again with her. Again and again. He stared into the mirror, saw his hard eyes and the lust that was still stamped clearly on his face.

  The floor creaked and he looked over to see Eve standing in the bathroom doorway. She had a sheet wrapped around her body. Her hair was tousled, her lips still red from his mouth.

  “Then what’s it usually like?”

  “Hot. Good. A release that leaves your body sated.”

  She licked her lips. “I thought this was . . . better than good.”

  Hell, yes, it had been. His left hand slid under her chin and he tipped her head back. “Just so we’re clear, that was ripping-me-apart great.”

  Her smile came again. “It was for me, too.”

  She didn’t see the danger. Didn’t realize how much he still wanted her.

  She would, though. She’d realize that he’d tried to warn her.

  Now it was too late.

  He lowered his head and kissed her again.

  GABE’S PHONE RANG, jerking him from a light sleep. His eyes opened, and he saw the light spilling into the bedroom. The balcony doors were open and he could hear the rush of the surf outside.

  The phone rang again.

  “You should get that,” Eve murmured.

  His eyes locked on her. She was in the bed with him, the sheet draped over her body as she curled toward him.

  With his eyes on her, he reached out and grabbed his phone. He’d tossed it on the nightstand at some point before. Hell if he remembered when. He put it to his ear. “Spencer.”

  “The team’s here,” Dean told him, voice sharp. “Most of the team, anyway. Sarah and Victoria are settled in their rooms and I’m on the fourth floor.”

  And Gabe wasn’t so sleepy and relaxed any longer.

  “Wade said you gave orders for him to stay in Atlanta until he learned more about that attack on your girl.”

  Your girl. His eyes were on Eve right then. Her hand was on his leg, very close to a part of his anatomy that loved her touch.

  “You ready to start scouting the island?” Dean asked.

  Gabe cleared his throat. “Give us five minutes.”

  “Right. We can start hitting Jessica Montgomery’s old hangouts and work back from there. If we can figure out her movements the last few days leading up to her disappearance, then we might catch the guy who took her.”

  Yes, they might.

  Gabe put down the phone.

  Eve was staring up at him, her gaze aware and—determined. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to break apart again.”

  “I’ve never seen you break.”

  This time her smile was sad. “Liar.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never lied to you.”

  Her gaze searched his. His words seemed to give her pause. “No, I don’t guess you have.”

  “And I won’t.” He needed honesty between them. As more of her past was revealed, she had to know that she could count on him. “The things we find out here . . . they’re not going to be easy for you to handle.”

  Because they both knew she was Jessica Montgomery. DNA test or not, the truth was there for them. In the cop’s reaction to her. In Eve’s own startling response at the bakery.

  The freckles! The fucking freckles!

  And as they explored the island more and more, the past would come back to her.

  He hoped, anyway.

  When he’d talked to her at his office, Sarah had been pretty confident that heading back to Dauphin Island was in Eve’s best interest. Familiar environment. Familiar people.

  Since it looked as if the killer already knew she’d escaped once, there had been no point in trying to keep her hidden in Atlanta.

  “I was tortured. Nearly killed,” Eve had told him then, her voice strong. “I already know that, so it’s not as if I’ll be discovering something new there.”

  No, but having the memories and reliving the terror were two entirely different things. “I’ll be with you.”

  Her delicate jaw hardened. “And I told you, I won’t break.”

  Now, he heard a knock at the door. Hell, so much for five minutes. Dean must have hauled ass up that elevator. Gabe slid from the bed. Grabbed his jeans and T-shirt and dressed as quickly as he could. “I’ll handle Dean while you dress.”

  She was in that bed, watching him with her deep, gorgeous eyes.

  He should say something else. Something about the sex. Something about them.

  Gabe opened his mouth.

  “Thank you,” Eve said as she rose from the bed. She didn’t bring the sheet with her. She stood there, naked, making his cock ache, and inclined her head toward him. “You stopped making me feel afraid . . . and you just . . . you made me feel.”

  The pounding on the door came again.

  Why the hell was it that every time he had Eve in a bedroom, some jerk from LOST had to come knocking on his door? He needed to have a serious talk with people about the i
mportance of timing.

  “Thank you,” he told Eve, without moving toward that pounding. “Because you fucking gave me pleasure I won’t forget.”

  She smiled at him. A quick flash of warmth that had him taking a step toward her because the bed was close, she was naked, and—

  Eve put her hand on his chest.

  “Get the door.”

  Right. Shit. The door.

  He turned away. Made sure that he closed that bedroom door, then made his way to the condo’s entrance. But when Gabe peered through the peephole, Dean Bannon wasn’t on the other side of that door.

  The Dauphin Island police chief was.

  And Trey Wallace was lifting his hand to pound again.

  Hell. Gabe jerked open the door.

  He saw that Trey hadn’t been lifting his hand to knock that last time—the guy had a key grasped in his fist—a key that he’d been about to use on the condo’s door. What the hell?

  “So breaking and entering is allowed on this island?” Gabe asked him quietly. “Good to know.”

  Trey’s smile looked like a tiger’s. “She gave me a key. Like I said, we were lovers once.”

  “Past tense,” Gabe reminded the guy. As of the present, he was her lover.

  Trey’s hand opened. “Take it.”

  He damn well did, and shoved the key into his pocket.

  “She looked shaken back at the station. I just wanted to make sure that Jessica was okay.”

  Jessica. The name just didn’t come easily to him. When he thought of the sexy blonde he’d just left, naked, in that bedroom . . . Eve. My Eve.

  “I know you’re fucking her.” Though Trey’s words were low, the anger in them was clear.

  An elevator dinged down the hallway. Gabe looked over the cop’s shoulder, and when the elevator doors opened, he saw Dean stride toward them.

  “One of yours?” the cop asked.

  “Yeah.” I know you’re fucking her. Trey’s words replayed in Gabe’s head. “Dean Bannon’s ex-FBI.”

  A hard sigh slipped from Trey. “Right. ’Cause we need more Bureau assholes running rampant over my island.”

  “Dean’s one of the best agents at LOST,” Gabe said, making sure to keep his own voice even.

  Dean’s brows rose.

  “You said we’d have the access we needed here,” Gabe continued. What, was the cop about to back out now because—

  Trey glanced back at him. “Do you always have this much of a vested interest in your cases?”

  “All of my cases are important.”

  “Especially when the cases look like Jessica.”

  Gabe narrowed his eyes on the cop.

  Trey swore then, and reached for some packages set on the floor, to one side of the door—two bags and what looked like canvases. “Look, I was worried about her, and I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

  She is all right.

  “She paints when she gets stressed.” Trey shoved the supplies at Gabe. “She paints when she’s happy, too. Her brother sold everything she had, but . . . they have an art store near the station. I just . . . I picked those up for her, okay?”

  The bedroom door creaked open. Eve’s footsteps padded toward them.

  Trey’s gaze instantly shot to her. Gabe could read the longing in his stare. Longing, pain, and . . . anger?

  Yes, there was definitely some rage there. Gabe’s shoulders stiffened.

  “I know that look,” Trey muttered. “The way her cheeks are flushed and—”

  “Don’t say another word,” Gabe warned him. Cop or not, if he did anything to make Eve feel uncomfortable or ashamed for what they’d just done, he’d slug the guy.

  “I already knew you were fucking her.” Trey took a step back and nearly bumped into Dean. “So it’s not a surprise.” His gaze raked Gabe. “But what the hell are you going to do when her memory comes back? When her life is back? Because Jessica Montgomery’s life doesn’t include you.”

  He spun away. His words had been low, so Gabe didn’t think Eve had heard them, but—

  “Trey?” Eve called, in the doorway now.

  Trey stopped just in front of the elevator.

  Eve slipped around Gabe. He wanted to grab her and pull her back but he locked his muscles and held still. If the guy says anything to hurt her . . .

  “You brought me . . . paint? Canvases?”

  Trey didn’t look at her. His gaze was on the closed elevator doors. “When you were eight, you picked up your first paintbrush. After that, I don’t remember a time you didn’t have some paint on your hands or under your nails.” He looked over at her. “Except for now.” That anger was still back, and Gabe shot forward, dropping the items Trey had shoved at him because the cop was reaching for Eve—

  Trey’s hands closed around her shoulders. “Don’t let Jessica be dead. Bring her back. Remember. I need Jessica back.”

  The elevator dinged. The doors opened.

  Trey let Eve go and hurried into the elevator. The cop stared back at her. Then, just before the doors closed, he looked at Gabe, his hand flew out and he stopped the doors from shutting. “I’ll do everything in my power,” he said, jaw locked tight, “to uncover the truth about what happened to Jessica. So send the Bureau guy . . .” Trey jerked his head toward a watchful Dean. “Send your anthropologist. Send everyone you’ve got to investigate. Because I want Jessica back.”

  His hand fell away.

  The doors closed.

  You’re not getting her.

  Silence.

  “Well . . .” Dean said easily. “By my estimate, you two have been on the island about two hours . . . and it looks like you’re already busy making friends.”

  Gabe glared at him.

  Dean lifted his hands, palms out, toward Gabe in a classic “my bad” pose.

  “I think he is my friend,” Eve said, her gaze on the closed elevator doors. Her voice was thoughtful.

  “With friends like that . . .” Dean muttered, “this case is going to be even harder than we thought.”

  Eve squared her shoulders and turned to face Gabe and Dean. “Where do we start?”

  Wade could see that the emotion was gone from her eyes. If Trey’s words had cut her, there was no sign of the wound. No sign of anything but her stark determination.

  And Eve was worried she’d break?

  Hell, no, she wouldn’t even fracture.

  Dean coughed a bit into his hand. “I think we, uh, we need to go and see where the bodies were found. Victoria is already heading over there. Maybe something at the dump site—”

  Gabe cut his gaze toward Dean.

  “Maybe something at the recovery site,” Dean corrected carefully, “will help to jar your memory.”

  Eve nodded. “Maybe it will.”

  Or maybe the place would just give her fresh nightmares. Either way, he would be by her side. Every step of the way.

  WAS SHE SUPPOSED to still be able to feel Gabe’s touch on her skin? Because she did. She could almost feel him all around her, in her, and her body just seemed . . . different.

  Eve kept glancing at him. He’d been so silent during the ride to the old golf course. His gaze had been dead ahead, focused, while she was too aware of him.

  Trey knows that I was with Gabe. Was she supposed to feel shame about that? She didn’t. Gabe was the man she wanted now, her present—the only man she’d wanted since waking in that hospital. So, no, she didn’t feel shame.

  But she felt . . . guilt. Because she knew Trey wanted her to remember him. When he’d been in that elevator, she’d seen the need in his eyes. Not a passionate need. The need for—

  “This is the place,” Dean said from the backseat. His deep voice made her jump. He’d been silent during the ride, too. No small talk for those two.

  Just unnerving silence.

  She looked back at the road and saw an old gate and a sign that proclaimed: MEMBERS ONLY. NO TRESPASSING.

  “I’m guessing there haven’t been members here in
a very long time,” Gabe murmured.

  “The country club shut down about twenty years ago,” Dean said. He’d leaned forward and his voice was louder now. “With no activity here, the killer knew this was the perfect place to hide his victims.”

  Gabe drove past the old gate. It had been left open for them. By Victoria? Gabe had told her that Victoria Palmer, the forensic anthropologist, was already in that place. Somewhere.

  I wouldn’t want to be alone here.

  And it was strange . . . because the place was so beautiful. Tall, almost mountainlike sand dunes surrounded the narrow road. The sand was that bright, perfect white, seeming to reflect light all around them.

  The road twisted and snaked around the dunes, and they drove up, up, until Eve saw a two-story round building. It was dark, its main windows hazy.

  “That’s the old clubhouse,” Dean said. “Victoria’s SUV is parked right there.”

  The SUV sat next to a Jeep. Gabe slid their rental into a spot beside it. Eve hurried out and the wind hit her, tossing her hair around her face. There was a giant stretch of beach right below them, empty, and she could see a dolphin breaking the surface of the water down there.

  “The bodies were found to the east,” Dean said as he came to stand beside her. “That’s where the beach took the big hit from that last storm. The SOB probably thought he was safe, that no one would find his girls—”

  “But he didn’t count on Mother Nature,” Gabe said. His voice was so careful, so controlled. He’d been that way since Trey had come to the condo.

  Was he regretting what they’d done?

  She didn’t have time for regret in her life. When you only lived in the present, how could you regret anything?

  “Gabe!”

  Eve turned at the call, and she saw a woman waving toward them. She was down below, near the edge of the water. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a pair of sunglasses were perched on her nose.

  “Viki,” Dean said, “always keeping it low key.” But he hurried down the slope toward her. Two other men were behind Victoria—they also wore dark sunglasses, but unlike Victoria, they weren’t dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. They wore khakis and white dress shirts.

  “Your men?” Eve asked without taking a step down the slope. It was so hard to meet people, because she worried every instant that she was actually seeing someone from her past.