Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2

by Cherise Sinclair

  He grew harder inside her—and oh, she loved knowing what he liked and touching him like this. She was getting even wetter.

  When he set his hand on her pussy, she sucked in an audible breath at the burst of pleasure. “I said ‘we’d play’, didn’t I?” he reminded as his finger circled her.

  She met his eyes in the mirror, and he smiled. The slow slide of his finger over the sensitive ball of nerves sent heat streaking through her. And need. The intensity always ratcheted so much higher when he was deep and hard inside her.

  For a wonderful time, they…played. Just touching. Exploring. He teased her breasts, never abandoning her clit. She explored his balls and the sensitive place where his shaft entered her.

  Her need to come kept rising as the pressure inside her gathered more tightly. She squirmed.

  “I need to move,” she begged and couldn’t believe the whining sound came from her. But…it was all right. Because this was Cazador. “Please, please, please?”

  “You had only to say, mamita.” He nipped and kissed her shoulder, sending goosebumps down her arms. “Let’s do this without falling off, yes?” He slid backward on the exercise ball until his weight was balanced in the center. Her toes barely touched the floor.

  “Lean forward, put your hands on my thighs, and rock back and forth. Just small movements.” He tightened his hand over her breast, making her moan at the added sensation.

  His hand was dark against her untanned skin. His other hand was between her legs, a hot pressure over her clit. So wonderful.

  “Mamita. Move.”

  “Right, right.” How in the world could she do anything when every thought disappeared with his touch? Leaning forward, she lifted her hips until he slid slightly out, then she dropped back. She went faster the second time. When the ball added an extra bounce, shoving him wonderfully deep inside her, her toes curled. “Yes.”

  “That’s it. Keep going.” He punctuated his order by pinching her nipple, sending zings of pleasure down to her pussy.

  Slowly, she rocked. Bounced. His hard hands on her pussy and breast kept her from going too far, from losing him, but, damn, it felt amazing. The place where his shaft hit grew increasingly sensitive, making his touch on her clit even more…more.

  So much pleasure. She leaned farther forward. His shaft rubbed another spot. God. Oh there. There. The sensations kept heightening. Rocking frantically, she clenched around the hard penetration inside her.

  More, more, more. Her whole lower half tightened for an infinite, ultimate moment then released in huge, mind-blowing waves of pleasure. “Oh, oh, oh.” She gripped his hard thighs, her head tilting back, and the fireball of orgasm crashed over her. Through her.

  Before she had recovered, he pulled out. Moving off the ball, he positioned her on her hands and knees on the mat, and knelt behind her, leaned forward, and entered her from behind in one swift thrust. One wonderful thrust. She contracted around him in little bursts of exquisite sensation.

  With a carnal growl, he pulled out then started to hammer her, hard. Every thick penetration was more and more pleasurable, and then his hands gripped her hips as he pressed deep and came with a low groan.

  Head hanging down, she gasped for air. Her arms were shaking, her insides trembling. The man was going to kill her. “I don’t think that was what the ball was designed for.”

  “Exercise is exercise.” With a low hum of pleasure, he ground his groin against her, setting off happy post-orgasmic quivers deep inside her.

  His arm under her stomach held her up as he nibbled on her shoulder and then sighed and pulled out.

  As he rose, she flopped over onto the mat and stared up at him. “You’re a crazy man.”

  “Eh, so judgmental.” He made a tsking sound as he headed for the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

  When he returned, he joined her on the mat, pulling her over and on top of him. “Yes. I want you here.”

  That was how she felt, too. Bare, skin-to-skin. Touching him, breathing him in, hearing the slow thud of his heart under her ear…it completed something inside her.

  His hand slowly stroked over her hair, down her back. “I missed you, mamacita. For more than just sex.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his damp skin.

  After a while, she tilted her head. Mamacita, mamita—Spanish words sprinkled his English. Propping herself up on her forearms, she looked down at him.

  Thick black hair, eyes the color of the darkest chocolate, the strong, clean jawline, the lips—so perfectly formed and so devastating on her body, the mouth that was already starting to smile.

  “Question, please.”

  His eyes glinted with amusement. “Ask away.”

  “You’ve lived in the States all your life. Why does your accent come and go, and why do you swear in Spanish and all that?”

  His expression went serious as he studied her face. “My father brought my mother here from Mexico. When I was two, he was killed—an industrial accident at work—and she stopped trying to learn English. We spoke only Spanish at home. When she was murdered, I was still struggling to learn English. On the streets, I ran with Mexican gangs. When Mako took me in at eight, I spoke mostly Spanish.

  On the streets as a seven-year-old. Her heart wrenched. It was a wonder he survived. “You learned, obviously.”

  “I did. By the time I was eighteen, my English had no accent. Being homeschooled in the back of beyond, I didn’t run into much prejudice until I enlisted. Then…well, there was a bigoted sergeant who had the IQ and attitude of a rutting moose and a lieutenant who wasn’t much better. Since it was what they expected to hear from me, I gave them an accent.”

  She stared at the sardonic twist of his lips. “You deliberately provoked the bigots. Why am I not surprised?”

  A Latino shrug was her answer. “As a Spanish-speaking, Special Forces medic, I was often sent to South America, and now, I still visit Mexico as a medical volunteer. My accent never had a chance to disappear.”

  The subtext was clear; he wasn’t interested in losing his tie to his heritage.

  But he did it by volunteering in deadly countries. That was so like him, wasn’t it? “I guess you’d better start teaching Spanish to Regan, hmm? And me.”

  His arms tightened around her, his gaze warming until she almost melted.

  God, she loved him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gunfight Rule #1 Bring a gun. Preferably, bring at least two guns. Bring all of your friends who have guns. ~ Unknown

  * * *

  On Thursday, Bull stood in his second-story downtown office and studied the map of Rescue that nearly covered one wall. All of Mako’s acquisitions were marked with red pins. Each of the properties Bull had sold also had a green pin. Leased businesses held yellow pins. There were still too damned many places with only red pins.

  But they were making progress. A real estate broker was interested in setting up downstairs. A married couple had finally finished the new pizza place remodel. Talk about making his day.

  As he walked back to his big mahogany desk, he heard the downstairs door open and shut, then Caz called, “Bull, do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure. C’mon up.”

  Footsteps on the stairs indicated another person with Caz. Lighter weight. Probably female.

  Caz escorted JJ into the office.

  JJ, hmm. All LEO, her hair was braided back tightly, clothes spotless, jacket open to show her uniform shirt. No wonder Gabe was pleased with her.

  “JJ, good to see you.” Bull motioned to the couch and chairs by the window that overlooked Main Street.

  Caz drew her over to the couch and sat beside her.

  “You look cold. I just made a pot of coffee.” As Bull poured and delivered drinks, he tried not to frown. Their body language spoke of more than casual sex—looked more like intimacy and caring—and those emotions were worrisome. He wasn’t sure he trusted this woman—any woman—with his brother. Audr
ey had been enough of a problem, but, at least her expressions displayed every emotion she felt.

  As she’d shown all too well at the poker table, JJ could conceal everything she was thinking.

  Bull sat down in a chair across from them. “What brings you to my office?”

  “Did Gabe tell you about what happened to me in Nevada?” JJ asked. She could be blunt when needed. He liked that about her. Really, he did like her. Just, maybe, not with Caz.

  “He mentioned you’d been harassed.”

  “It was, perhaps, a bit more than that.” JJ told him—and Caz—about the police station in Weiler. Typical harassment for the first years, then how things had changed with a new chief of police. And how badly her life had gone downhill after breaking up with a fellow officer.

  Her face was unreadable—she’d donned her poker mask—and her voice stayed even. But the hand wrapped around Caz’s had white-knuckled fingers. The past few years had been brutal for her, more than she was willing to show them.

  Anger roused in him. He glanced at his visibly pissed-off brother. Caz had never been much of a one for hiding emotions, and abuse against women was one of his hot buttons.

  But Caz was letting JJ lead this talk, so Bull took a sip of his coffee and asked, “Are you going to sue them? Sounds like you have a case.”

  She sighed. “I don’t want their money, and I don’t want to muck about with lawyers. I just wanted to leave it all in the past, you know?”

  “I can understand that. But…?” Bull motioned with a tell-me-more gesture.

  “But what about the next female officer? Since the administration and officers got away with that behavior toward me, won’t it be even worse for future females—as well as female citizens? I don’t think an all-male police station is healthy for the community, especially a station that is prone to abusive behavior toward females.”

  Her reasoning was correct. “I agree. What do you want to do?”

  “I thought you might have some ideas, ’mano.” Caz motioned with his coffee cup toward Bull’s desk. “You play in the business and legal worlds.”

  “Let me think for a minute.” Bull considered. Her station was city police, not state police or feds with all their checks and balances. Since the police chief in Weiler was a Barlow, going up the ladder to complain wouldn’t work. However…a Chief of Police was usually appointed by a mayor and council. That might be a vulnerable link.

  “There were other female officers who had problems?” Bull asked.

  “Yes. I know two personally who left because they couldn’t stand the harassment.”

  Bull rose and walked across to his desk. “Give me names and contact information. Along with your training officer’s information. Let me see what I can do.”

  Caz grinned and pulled JJ to her feet. “Help her set the Weiler police station to rights and I’ll work on keeping your freezer filled.”

  “Damn, you’re on.” Bull grinned at JJ’s confused look.

  The doc was the best hunter of the four of them. Sure, Bull would’ve helped JJ no matter what, but if Caz wanted to sweeten the pot, no way would Bull turn that down.

  He ushered them out of his office. “I’ll get back to you when I have a plan.”

  Two hours later, he had a good grasp of the story.

  He’d called JJ’s training officer, the one who’d recommended her to Gabe. Turned out Mako’d been Gene’s drill sergeant way back when, and he’d been at Mako’s funeral. Hearing the retired officer talking about the bright young woman he’d worked with, how she’d taken hold, and how she’d been stabbed in the back by the very people who should have been on her side…it had pissed Bull off.

  The harassment, the discrimination, ignoring rules and regs because she was female. Slander. It had all pissed him off.

  It’d been touching to hear Gene get choked up when he said she’d called him from Alaska to thank him for his training, his friendship—and for sending her to Rescue.

  Well, the people in Rescue knew how to value her. And, after talking with Gene, Bull had a better understanding of JJ.

  Bull shook his head. They’d all been unattached when Mako died. Then Gabe had found Audrey. Caz had gained a daughter and now JJ.

  Hawk was still single. And although he had a bottomless well of love he could offer a woman, that well had been capped off with unbreakable cement. There would be no family for Hawk.

  Probably not for Bull either. He’d tried, fuck knew. Unfortunately, Gabe was right when he’d said women were manipulative, and an open, honest person like Bull would get exploited every time. Married twice, been burned twice.

  Bull’s mouth tightened. Gabe wasn’t wrong.

  He let out a breath and shoved the bitterness away. He had a family. Four brothers. Two potential sisters-in-law. And a fantastic niece. Good enough for any man.

  Right now, he had a lovely bit of vengeance to accomplish for Caz’s woman.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t do more than set this into motion. But he had enough to hand over to the lawyers. More than enough.

  Yeah, Nash and the other Barlows who infested the Weiler police station were in for a world of hurt.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Home is the nicest word there is. ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

  * * *

  Tuesday evening, with the cat prowling around his feet, Caz gathered supper’s leftovers to empty into the latched chicken-scrap canister on the deck. The sound of Regan and JJ’s laughter from the living room area made him smile. It had been almost a week since he and JJ had enjoyed makeup sex in Mako’s gym.

  JJ had missed Regan as much as Regan had missed JJ, and the last few days had been healing. Did JJ realize how important she was to them?

  Earlier, she’d left him a text that she wouldn’t be over tonight. That he and Regan should have a father-daughter night together. Was she worrying about becoming part of their family?

  Regan wasn’t about to let her off the hook. And after they cooked the spaghetti dish Bull had taught her, Regan charged over to JJ’s to beg her to eat with them. To tell her all the food was ready so if JJ was tired, she wouldn’t have to do anything. Caz grinned. Could anyone with a heart resist a little girl wanting to show off her new skill?

  Certainly not JJ.

  As he dumped the leftovers in the chicken can, his gaze caught on the brilliant light show going on in the night sky. The two cheechakos—newbies to Alaska—shouldn’t miss this show.

  He opened the door and called, “Pause your movie, grab a coat and shoes, and come outside.”

  A minute later, still pulling on coats, JJ and Regan walked out.

  “Is something wrong?” JJ asked. “Do I need a weapon?”

  “No, Officer Jenner. Look.” He pointed to the sky and watched their eyes widen.

  “Is that war?” Regan asked in a whisper. “It’s not fireworks.”

  That his little girl would think first of war was a terrible reflection on the state of the world. Caz shook his head then tugged on her hair. “No, mija, that’s called the aurora borealis. The northern lights.”

  JJ let out an awe-filled sound, and he put his arm around her. Yes, right here was where she belonged.

  Sirius had followed them out of the house and meowed impatiently.

  Caz snorted. “He’s thinking, ‘stupid humans, staring up at the sky’.”

  Giggling, Regan picked the cat up and returned to staring at the rippling curtains of greenish-white light. “What makes it that color?”

  Such a curious and clever mind. Years ago, he’d asked Mako the same question. “A wind from the sun throws particles at Earth. This is what happens when those particles bounce off the oxygen and nitrogen—way up high, maybe fifty miles or so.”

  “Huh.”

  He grinned. “Or some people think it’s the dancing spirits of the dead.”

  “I’m going with that explanation,” JJ murmured.

  He grinned.

  As a breeze came across the snow-covere
d lake, Regan’s hair flew into her eyes. As she tried to comb it back with her un-cat-impeded hand, she gave a huff of annoyance. And looked over at JJ’s French-braided hair.

  Helping his daughter pull her hair back, Caz frowned. He might know his way around a woman’s body, but fixing hair? Not a skill in his toolbox. He’d have to learn.

  JJ noticed the direction of Regan’s look and the tangled strands in Caz’s hand. “Long hair is troublesome, isn’t it? Would you like me to French braid your hair? Maybe tomorrow before school?”

  Regan’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

  “Sure. Run on over after your breakfast. It’ll be fun.”

  The happiness in Regan’s face was like the sun coming out.

  As they turned to go back inside, a low drone sounded with the distinctive buzz of a Cessna 185 flying low. Approaching.

  The bush plane circled the Hermitage. It was obviously preparing to land.

  Caz hurried into the house, to the garage, and used the master controller to flip on the Hermitage’s floodlights that illuminated their private road. Regan and JJ crowded beside him as he walked out to watch.

  The pilot made a quick pass, probably checking the windsock and snow gauge, then the plane descended in a neat line between the solar LED pole lights that marked the runway beside the road.

  “It landed on the snow.” Regan’s voice was filled with wonder.

  “The plane has skis on the bottom,” Caz told her.

  A door slammed, and Gabe stepped out of his cabin in boots and coat. Bull was still at the roadhouse, or he’d be out here, too.

  Hawk was home.

  * * *

  JJ studied the plane then Caz’s broad smile. “Would this be your pilot brother?”

  “Yes, that’s Hawk’s plane.” Caz took Regan’s mittened hand. “He’s come home for Thanksgiving—and it’s about time. Let’s go greet him.”

  JJ hung back. “You go on and—”

  “Come, princesa.” Caz tucked a hand behind her back, guiding her forward. They walked down the cleared road nearly to Gabe’s house then tromped through the deeper snow to where the Cessna sat, pinging in the cold night air.