by Cynthia Eden
His head lifted. He stared down at her body. “The first time...” The dark rumble of his voice sent goose bumps rising over her. “It will be wild and hard because I’ve waited too long for you.”
Wild and hard didn’t sound so bad to her. It sounded exciting. Perfect.
“The second time...” Oh, but she loved the deep, dark sound of his voice. “I’ll savor you.”
Her hands flew back and slapped down on the table because her knees had just gone seriously weak right then. She needed to brace herself. She needed—
He lifted her into his arms. The move was so unexpected that a shocked laugh escaped her. “I can walk, Dylan.”
“And I like holding you, Rachel.”
But he didn’t take her to the bedroom. He stopped near the couch. He lowered her down until her toes skimmed the edge of the carpet. She was glad they’d stopped there. Rachel didn’t want to go into her bedroom. Jack had been there the night before. Each time she saw the bed, she thought of him.
She only wanted to think of Dylan. He’d said that this night was just about them. He was right.
Dylan pushed the robe off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet. Then his fingers slid down her arms. Slowly. Sensually.
But he’d promised her hard and wild.
“Have to taste first,” he growled. He dropped to his knees before her. He was still fully dressed. “Need you...to want me...just as badly.”
She did want him badly. So badly that it felt as if her body were burning from the inside.
He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. And his mouth closed over her breast.
No tentative touches. No hesitations. He just took and she loved it. This time, when she needed balance, her hands flew to clasp his shoulders. His skin was so warm beneath her touch, and his mouth...
Her eyes closed and a moan slid past her lips.
He was licking her, kissing her and making her wild.
And his hand was pushing between her thighs. “Love these,” he said as his fingers caught the edge of her panties. “Love ’em so much, I’ll buy you a new pair just like them.” Then he ripped the panties out of his way.
Her eyes snapped back open. “Dylan?”
He stared up at her, his eyes hot with passion. “Now, Rachel. I warned you...”
It will be wild and hard because I’ve waited too long for you.
He tumbled her back onto the couch cushions. Before she could even pull in a startled breath, he was there. He’d yanked open the snap of his jeans, pulled down the zipper and he pushed between her legs.
She arched up, ready—
But Dylan stopped, swearing. He fumbled in the rear pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small foil packet. In seconds, he was back with her.
She arched her hips toward him.
There was no hesitation. No slow glide.
There was only passion. Need. He drove into her and she lost her breath. He withdrew, and her nails raked down his back because she wanted him in, deeper.
Her legs locked around his hips. His fingers threaded with hers. He thrust again and again, and the tempo was just as he’d promised. Wild and hard and there was nothing but the two of them. Only the pleasure, only that moment. Only—
The world seemed to explode around her. Her body stiffened as the release hit, a surge of pleasure that swept through her, and Rachel cried out.
Dylan kept thrusting. Harder. Deeper. Thrusts that lifted up her body, that made the climax she felt last and last.
Then he tensed against her and held her tighter while he roared her name.
Being with him hadn’t been awkward. It had been hot and wild and perfect.
Even better than in her dreams.
* * *
THE LIGHTS WERE still on at Rachel’s place. The lights were on and the EOD agent was still skulking outside her building in the shadows, and...
The pub was getting busy.
Jack smiled as he watched a trio of drunken men fall out of the pub. They were just what he’d been waiting for.
He walked toward them, whistling. One guy was barely steady on his feet. The fellow was trying to hail a taxi.
Jack bumped him, just a bit. A little nudge. Just hard enough to send the guy stumbling into traffic. Tires squealed. Horns honked wildly.
The guy’s drunk friends grabbed for him.
A taxi missed the fellow by about two feet.
Jack was already far past the men by that point. He’d escaped to the shadows, certain that the drunken men hadn’t seen him clearly. But the little drama was attracting new attention as people swarmed toward the man sprawled on the street.
The drama was even attracting the interest of the skulking EOD agent. And all Jack needed was for the man to be distracted for a few moments...
Jack sidled toward Dylan Foxx’s car. He had a little gift to leave for Dylan.
You’re out of this game. You won’t touch Rachel again.
The darkness of the night could hide so much. He’d always enjoyed killing in that darkness.
Chapter Five
Rachel fought to catch her breath. She couldn’t do it. Maybe it was because Dylan held her pinned to the couch or maybe it was because aftershocks of pleasure still pulsed through her body.
But she was panting and her heart was racing so fast that it shook her chest.
Dylan lifted his head and gazed down at her. “That should’ve taken the edge off,” he said as his words seemed to rumble against her.
His voice... A shiver slid over her.
“It should’ve, but it didn’t,” he said flatly. A dark, warning edge was layered in the words. “I still want you, just as badly as before.” But he was withdrawing from her, and the hard slide of his body had her gasping.
“Don’t worry,” Dylan said as his hands slipped from hers. “I already told you, we’re just getting started.”
Then he was on his feet, standing beside the couch, staring down at her. Rachel tried to reach for her robe.
He caught her hands. “Don’t. I want you to stay just like that. I’ll take care of you.”
She stilled.
His fingers slid over the inside of her wrist, caressing the spot just above her rapidly beating pulse point.
Then he pulled away. He headed toward her bathroom. Rachel tried to suck in some deep, fortifying breaths while he was gone.
Her legs were trembling. She was trembling.
The floor creaked. Her head jerked up. Dylan was already back. He’d zipped and buttoned his jeans, and they hung low on his hips. He had a soft cloth in his hand. He bent and carefully pressed the cloth to the tender flesh between her thighs.
Rachel flinched. “Dylan...”
His gaze held hers. “Was I too rough?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” He tossed the cloth aside. “Because this time, I get to savor.”
She couldn’t have spoken then even if—
A phone rang, the shrill cry loud in her apartment. She glanced to the left. It wasn’t her phone.
It was his. Dylan’s phone was on the end table, vibrating.
“It could be Mercer,” Rachel whispered. “We should...we should get it.”
His jaw locked. She knew he didn’t want to move. She didn’t want him moving anywhere.
Because she wanted to savor him, too.
The phone stopped ringing.
He smiled at her.
And the phone began its peeling cry once more.
“Don’t move,” he ordered her again.
Then he was stalking toward his phone.
She inched up a bit, staring over at him.
A frown pulled his brows low as Dylan reached for his phone. “Blocked number.”
A chill swept over her skin.
Dylan swiped his finger over the screen. “Who is this?” he demanded. His finger tapped on the screen once more. A crack of static filled the room. Static then...laughter.
He’d put the call on speakerphone.
Rachel reached for her robe. She was breaking his not-moving rule. He could deal with it.
That laughter was familiar to her. It was familiar, and so was the voice that said—
“Agent Foxx, just who the hell do you think I am?”
Jack.
She was on her feet in an instant and rushing toward Dylan.
Dylan had turned to stone.
“Rachel knows who I am,” that familiar voice continued, deep and low. “She knows me very, very well.”
Dylan’s gaze caught hers. “Does she? Well, guess what? Turns out I know her pretty well, too.”
She froze.
“You’ll never know her the way I do.” Jack was smug now. “Rachel loves me. Did she tell you that? She loves me so much that even after everything that I did to her, Rachel couldn’t bring herself to kill me.”
Rachel fought hard not to let any expression cross her face right then.
“Rachel doesn’t give a damn about you,” Dylan replied, his own voice clipped. “She knows exactly what you are—a killer, and she wants to see you locked up.”
“Or maybe...” Now a mocking tone had entered Jack’s words. “Maybe she just wants to see me again. Maybe Rachel misses me just as much as I miss her.”
She shook her head, the move instinctive.
A siren echoed outside. Rachel’s gaze flashed toward her window, then back to Dylan. She hurried to grab her phone. She needed to call the EOD. They could try and get a trace on the call. She tapped in the number for headquarters and brought the phone to her ear. When the agent answered her call, Rachel whispered, identifying herself, then she said, “Jack is on the line with Agent Foxx. The killer just called—”
“Is that my sweet Rachel?” Jack asked. “Standing there, is she? Listening to all that I have to say.”
Dylan was as still as a statue.
His silence seemed to infuriate Jack. “Then why don’t you both listen to this?” The words were harder now. Snapping. “You want to bring me in, Agent Foxx? You think you’re the man who can finally bag the infamous Jack? Then come and get me. Just you, got it? You come to find me, and I’ll be waiting for you behind Ford’s Theatre. Right there in the alley. You and me.”
Dylan didn’t speak.
“Leave Rachel behind because right now...this isn’t about her, is it?” Jack taunted. “It’s about us. Her two lovers.”
Rachel shook her head. No, Jack had never been—
“And if you aren’t here in fifteen minutes, then I’ll just kill the first loser who is dumb enough to cross my path. I’m feeling a little...angry tonight.” But it wasn’t just anger coating his words. It sounded more like fury. “First my client double-crosses me, and then I see you...spending the night with my girl. Things like that tend to wreck my control.”
The sound of sirens filled the room again.
And...did she hear the sirens coming from Dylan’s phone, too?
“Fifteen minutes,” Jack snapped. “Get here or some fool will die in your place.”
He hung up then.
“Did you get all of that?” Rachel asked the agent on the line because she’d turned her speakerphone on, too.
“Yes,” Helen Grant said, her voice cool and in control. Rachel had worked with the other woman a few times before. “And I’ll get support personnel en route. Dylan, get to Ford’s Theatre. We’ll have a team to back you up.”
Rachel tossed her phone toward Dylan as she ran to the bedroom. It wasn’t just about having another team there. She planned to be there, too. Dylan would have backup all right—me.
She grabbed for her clothes, dressing as quickly as she could. She ran back into the den seconds later.
And saw that Thomas was coming into her apartment. Dylan was at the door, heading out.
He’s leaving me?
“Stay here,” Dylan directed her as he glanced over his shoulder. “This will be over soon.”
He was crazy. “Not happening.” She marched toward him. “I think you’ve got me confused with a civilian—and not an EOD agent.”
His dark eyes glittered down at her. “I don’t have time to argue. Please...just stay here.”
Then he was just—gone. What the hell?
Thomas shrugged and lifted his hands. “My orders are to watch you.”
“And my orders are to bring down Jack. Not just sit here while Dylan risks his life.” Because that wasn’t the definition of a team.
One person facing the danger?
One person being safe?
No way.
She rushed out right after Dylan. Thomas tried to stop her, but she just yanked free of his hold. Her feet thudded down the stairs, and she caught up with Dylan just as he was heading for the door of her building. “It’s a trap!” She grabbed his arm.
He swung around to face her. “You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I want you to stay here with Thomas?”
“So you can face all the danger yourself.” She shook her head. “Teammates take the risk together.” And Jack—he was her problem. It was personal for her. Not just about the EOD. Not just about stopping a killer.
“I don’t have time—”
She sprinted ahead of him and into the night. “Then catch up.”
Dylan’s car waited in the parking spot just a few feet away. She ran toward it.
* * *
RACHEL EXITED THE BUILDING, running ahead of Dylan Foxx.
Jack stiffened.
Rachel had heard his orders. So had Dylan. Dylan was to come to that meeting alone.
He’s not alone.
As Jack watched, Dylan unlocked his car. He was standing at the passenger side, right next to Rachel. They were arguing.
But Rachel got in the car.
She got in the car.
Dylan ran around the vehicle and jumped into the driver’s seat.
Rachel was in the car.
No. She had to get out.
Jack rushed forward. Horns blared as he ran right across the busy street.
* * *
“SO MUCH FOR listening to your senior officer,” Dylan snapped. Rachel was already buckled up, and the woman’s delicate jaw had locked. No matter what he said, Rachel wasn’t backing down.
“Drive, Dylan. Now.”
Car horns honked, blaring loudly. There was a police cruiser a few feet away. The uniforms were talking with a few college-aged guys.
And...
Someone was rushing across the street.
That was why the cars were honking.
Dylan turned the ignition, frowning.
“Rachel!” It was a man’s scream. The man running across the street. “Get. Out!”
The car’s engine sputtered. The vehicle was in top condition—always perfectly maintained because it belonged to the EOD. It shouldn’t have sputtered.
I know what that sputter means.
And he knew who the man was—the man shouting because he was so afraid.
“Get out!” Dylan yelled as fear froze his own blood. Not fear for him, but for Rachel. Her fingers were fumbling with the seat belt. He jerked the belt free. She opened her door. He shoved her toward the sidewalk. “Run!”
Then Dylan pushed open his door. He lunged out—
The car exploded.
Dylan felt a wave of fire rush over his skin, and then he was flying, hurtling through the air as the force of the blast picked him up and tossed him ten feet.
He landed in the middle of the street. The pavement tore off the skin on his lower arms. He rolled, tumbling, and car lights blinded him as the vehicles screeched to a stop near him.
The thunder of the explosion slowly faded. Dylan shoved up to his feet. He had only one thought then—only one person mattered.
“Rachel!”
He spun back toward the car.
And saw nothing but a wall of flames.
* * *
RACHEL LAY ON the ground like a broken doll.
Her hair was spread beneath her. Her arms limp.
Jack crouched over her. Others were running toward them now. His fingers slid to her throat. Felt for her pulse.
Alive.
Jack exhaled slowly. “You shouldn’t have been in the car with him.” This was all Dylan’s fault.
“Rachel!”
Jack jerked at the bellow. His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. So Dylan had survived, too.
Unfortunate.
But Dylan was on the other side of those flames. Dylan couldn’t see him. Not yet.
It had been so long since he’d touched Rachel. Jack’s fingers slid over her throat.
Her eyes fluttered, then cracked open. It was dark, and the flames were behind him. He wasn’t sure that she could see his face.
Even if she did, would she recognize him?
Doubtful. He slowly slid back. Bodies bumped into him. People who were eager to help Rachel.
And the EOD agent was fighting to get to her side.
He backed up a bit more and took off his baseball cap. It would be easier to just blend in with the crowd.
He was good at blending in.
Dylan Foxx rushed by him, so close that their shoulders collided.
Dylan didn’t even spare him a second glance. The man was too consumed, too focused on Rachel.
Anger churned within Jack. She isn’t yours, Agent Foxx. She never will be.
* * *
RACHEL OPENED HER EYES and saw a swirl of faces above her. And just behind them, flames shot into the sky.
She was pretty sure those flames had been a car a few moments before.
“Dylan!” She shoved to her feet and pushed through the crowd that had gathered. Where was he? Where—