Kill Me Twice

by Roxanne St Claire

  The sudden power of Alex’s strong hands on her shoulders transported her directly into the here and now. “We’ve hardly slept in days, Ileana,” he said, his body warming her back.

  “You can relax here,” Ileana assured them. “Use anything you want or need. I’ll take care of everything when you leave. In the meantime, you’ll have complete privacy.”

  Was that her imagination or did Alex’s hands tighten on her shoulders?

  “Gracias, cariña.” Alex’s voice was so close to her ear that it made the tiny hairs on her neck dance. “I know we’re safe, but I’m going to look over the property and secure the entrances so we can sleep tonight.”

  He left them alone with the words we and sleep hanging awkwardly in the air. Why did that make her stomach free-fall? She’d been sleeping with him in the next room for several nights. But somehow, she felt different now. Charged. Stimulated. Needy.

  Ileana’s hand closed over Jazz’s. “Don’t worry. He’ll find your sister,” she said softly. “Alex can do anything.”

  Evidently Alex lived on a pedestal himself.

  “Why don’t you get on the six o’clock news and make a pleaa for her to come home?” Ileana asked. “That’s what I’d do.”

  “She’s not technically missing,” Jazz explained. “She’s sent me some text messages, and I don’t want to put her in a precarious situation. I’ll go to the TV station tomorrow morning and start talking to people.”

  She wasn’t sure who’d be there on a Sunday, but at least she had a plan. If Alex didn’t try to stop her.

  She remembered the impact of hitting the ground with his full-body coverage to protect her. “It’s certainly a perfect job for him,” Jazz mused out loud. “He was born to be a bodyguard.”

  “They are a very rare breed, the Bullet Catchers,” Ileana said. “They work for some mysterious lady who used to be in the CIA, and all of their clients are powerful, wealthy, and important. I know his job is very dangerous, but it is a blessing to us.”

  Something in the wistful way she spoke got Jazz’s attention. “Why’s that?”

  “Because Alex is keeping our entire Cuban family alive and safe.”

  Jazz gave her a quizzical look. “How so?”

  She rubbed her thumb and fingers together in the universal body language for “cash.” “He sends a hundred thousand dollars, maybe more, a year to Cuba. Our cousins, many, many cousins, live in a tiny village called San Tomás. Because he has this wonderful job, they can travel to see doctors, they have books and clothes.” She shook her head. “It is very, very difficult to live in Cuba.”

  A hundred thousand dollars to relatives living under a communist regime? That was admirable. And illegal.

  “Whoever hired a Bullet Catcher to protect your sister must have real clout,” Ileana continued. “I know for a fact that the king of Sweden is a client.”

  Kimball Parrish had arranged for Jessica’s protection and he certainly qualified as powerful, wealthy, and important, if not royal. “What other clients has Alex had?” Jazz asked.

  “Most of the time he’s very secretive, but I know this: They’re more than just bodyguards, the Bullet Catchers. They are like small armies of highly trained men who would kill anyone or anything that would harm someone they are assigned to protect. And they are involved in other things, secret things for governments and private companies, too. Always the people involved are very rich, very important.”

  Jazz raised her eyebrows. “He must have been seriously demoted to get this job.”

  Ileana’s eyes flashed. “His last assignment ended abruptly, but it wasn’t his fault.”

  Curiosity pulled her forward. “Did he lose a client?”

  “No. He saved a man’s life.” Ileana shook her head. “All I know was that it involved a woman.”

  Big surprise there. “Where did the woman fit into it?”

  Ileana shrugged and gave an apologetic look. “I think it was the principal’s wife.”

  He screwed his client’s wife? No wonder he went from protecting the king of Sweden to a local TV personality.

  “It’s not what you think,” Ileana assured her. “What happened was—”

  Alex came back into the room, snapping his phone shut. “What are you two so deep in conversation about?”

  “You,” Ileana said.

  “Women,” Jazz said at the same time.

  Alex looked from one to the other. “Really.”

  “Somehow those two subjects always end up in the same conversation,” Ileana said with a teasing grin.

  He glanced at Jazz, a whisper of denial in his eyes, then put his arm around Ileana and led her to the door, saying something soft in Spanish.

  Alex and women.

  The very last thing she wanted was to be one of his conquests.

  But sometimes what she wanted and what she needed were two opposing forces. And sometimes, need won.

  Jazz prowled through the beautifully decorated rooms, her blood pumping at the same rate as her whirlwind thoughts.

  “It’s almost one o’clock, Jazz. We can’t do anything until tomorrow morning. Go to sleep.” Alex sprawled on a dark leather couch, his arms locked behind his head.

  The heat of his constant scrutiny didn’t help, either. As the night progressed, they’d both gravitated to the richly paneled great room that overlooked the pool and patio. She leaned against the sliding glass door and looked out at the moonlight illuminating a navy blue–bottomed swimming pool.

  “Tell me about your client’s wife,” she said suddenly. “The one you did in Geneva.”

  He let out a disgusted breath. “I didn’t do anyone in Geneva.”

  “Really?” She turned and smiled sweetly, the way she always did when she wanted to charm someone into giving her information. “That’s not what your sister says.”

  “Ileana talks too much.”

  Jazz crossed her arms. “I like people who talk a lot. You learn such interesting things.”

  He simply raised an eyebrow.

  “Like…the fact that you send all that money to Cuba every year.” She paused long enough to see his dark eyes narrow slightly. “Isn’t there an embargo against sending financial aid to communist countries?”

  “Like I said, my sister talks too much.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” Jazz wandered over to a massive antique side bar, touching a colorful Chinese vase. Probably Ming. “But Ileana told me this Lucy person is ex-CIA. Breaking a U.S. trade embargo can’t go over big with her.”

  A smile lifted his lips. “As long as it doesn’t impact my job, Lucy doesn’t care what I do with my money.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed that, but continued her examination of the art and furniture. “What exactly is the Bullet Catchers? Is it a company? Where’s the headquarters? How do you get to be one?”

  His gaze stayed with her as she moved, sliding up and down her body openly enough to ignite the chemistry that arced across the room. “The Bullet Catchers are a group of specialists trained in personal and corporate security, threat assessment and risk management, executive protection, competitive intelligence, explosive detonation, crowd control, corporate espionage, and—” He grinned. “—some other stuff. The membership changes, there are no company headquarters, and you have to be invited to join.”

  She grazed her fingertip over the polished ebony of a Steinway as she continued her tactile tour of the room. “And to be a client?”

  “You have to be recommended and referred.”

  “I wonder who recommended Kimball Parrish,” she asked, her hands settling on the side of the piano. “Do you know?”

  “If Lucy wanted me to know, she’d tell me.”

  Jazz sat on the piano bench, facing him. “She intimidates you.”

  He let out a sharp laugh. “No, she doesn’t.”

  “You don’t like powerful women,” she mused. “Do you?”

  “I prefer quiet women.” He shot her a meaningful look. “Remembe
r that if you want me to like you.”

  “I don’t want you to like me.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He stood slowly, rising from the leather sofa and crossing the room to loom over her. He liked to do that, she’d noticed. He liked to remind her of his physical strength and size. She looked up at him as he put his hands on her shoulders. “Too bad, because I do like you.”

  She swallowed and rode the dip in her stomach. “As much as you liked your client’s wife in Geneva?”

  He leaned over, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. “Even more.”

  She slid across the piano bench to escape him. “I need some air.” She needed more than that. “Can you watch TV or something while I swim? I don’t have a suit.”

  His lips quirked up. “Don’t let that stop you.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  “I’m not,” he assured her. “I’ll turn all the lights out and open the sliders so I can hear if you need help.”

  Swimming in the dark. Naked. With Alex a few feet away. A rush of craving nearly buckled her legs.

  “Okay.” The indifference in her voice was in direct opposition to the sensations ricocheting through her body. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  Five minutes later, she emerged from the cabana wrapped in a thick black towel. While she’d been undressing he’d turned out every light, and the whole house and patio were now completely dark. Warm, humid air had already started to seep into the great room through the open sliders. Jazz found her handbag on the coffee table and unclipped her cell phone, setting it on a patio table as she stepped outside. She hadn’t given up on the fantasy that Jessica might call.

  “I hope this is dark enough.” Alex spoke from the far corner, on a sun chaise. “I can’t turn off the moon.”

  “And here I thought you Bullet Catchers could do everything.”

  She heard the soft rumble of his laugh, but couldn’t discern his face. There were no lights under water, none coming from the house. With the elegant dark blue pool surface, she really could swim in some privacy if he stayed back in the corner.

  And if he didn’t…

  “My eyes are closed,” he said. “You’re free to dip, querida.”

  The sound of the Spanish word hung in the air as thick as the tropical humidity, and as sweet as the fragrance of mango trees surrounding the patio.

  “Are you lying, Romero?”

  “Are you teasing, Adams?”

  “No.” Fantasizing. Imagining. But definitely not teasing.

  “Then I’m not lying. My eyes are closed. Swim.”

  She dropped the towel and dove in, the cool water skimming her body like a wet kiss. She glided to the bottom, opening her eyes, her hands in front of her. It was dark enough to get completely lost.

  Dark. And wet and warm and sensual. Her nerve endings tingled as the water caressed her, but didn’t cool her down. Not even close.

  What would he say if she shot up to the surface and told him exactly what she was thinking, what she wanted? Come swim with me.

  Her lungs started to ache and she thrust herself through the water, up into the evening air in one smooth move. She let out a soft sigh of bliss, and heard him laugh from the chaise. Sucking in a deep breath, she submerged herself and launched along the bottom surface of the pool, the water enveloping her legs, caressing her breasts.

  Take your clothes off and join me, Romero.

  She pictured him swimming to her. Wet and hard and ready to do what she dreamed he would do. She imagined him stroking across the length of the pool, his brawny arms and back slicing through the water, his tight, masculine buttocks pale in the moonlight. She popped to the surface again and gasped for air.

  “How’s the water?”

  Damn. He was still in the chaise lounge. “Amazing. This was exactly what I needed.” Well, not exactly.

  She dove under again, her heart thudding at the thought of Alex dipping his fingers into her, gliding his rock hard shaft along her swollen flesh.

  She could drown with need.

  Make love to me, Alejandro.

  Out of air and ready to explode, she imagined his hand on her aching nub. His mouth on her breasts. His—

  From behind her, powerful arms slid around her waist. His hands closed over her breasts and his erection stabbed against her bottom. With one forceful kick, he propelled them to the surface.

  As they broke the water, she gasped for air and he spun her around, his kiss taking her tongue and her sanity.

  Strong, hungry hands slid up her body to fondle her breasts and she wrapped her legs around his, pulling them both underwater. She scraped her nails down his back and over his back side, palming the steel muscles while pressing her breasts into the wet, coarse hairs of his chest. He dragged them both to the surface again, and she pulled in a desperate breath while scooping his wet hair into her hands.

  “You lied,” she panted, breathless. “You were watching.”

  He kissed her again, all the while moving them to the three steps at the shallow end.

  “I’m always watching.” He tugged her onto his lap, turning her to face him as he settled onto the middle step. “And you lied, too,” he said, his voice husky and thick. “You don’t want to swim alone.”

  The water slapped against their chests in rhythm with their ragged breaths. “I don’t want to swim at all.” She encircled his hips with her legs, allowing his erection between her legs. “I want you.”

  “I want you, too.” He captured her again with a slow, hot kiss. His tongue flicked her teeth and lips, then filled her mouth.

  He palmed her breast with a sure, insistent hand, leaning her back so that the moonlight bathed her naked chest. Rivulets of water rolled down her neck and shoulders as she closed her eyes.

  He whispered something in Spanish, then lowered his head to close his lips over her nipple, sucking gently at first, then with more intensity. He licked her skin as he traveled to taste the other one, leaning her back so that her hair dipped into the water as he buried his face in her cleavage. “Mi fantasía, belleza.” The soft words floated over her, as weightless as her body in the water. She opened her arms and let them drift at her sides, but tightened her lock around his hips.

  “Mi sirena del agua.” He circled one nipple and watched it pebble, his member growing harder against her. “My mermaid.”

  “You speak Spanish when you’ve got sex on your mind.”

  Moving his hips to slide his erection up and down between her legs, he scorched her with his dark gaze. “Not true. Or I would never have spoken a word of English since I met you.”

  That made her smile.

  “Estás tan rica que…” He slid his hand into the wet curls between her legs. “Te quiero comer.”

  He’d said that to her before, waking her up in bed. “What does that mean?”

  With an evil, teasing grin, he lowered himself one step, positioning her knees on either side of his face. “It means you look good enough to eat.” Spreading her legs, he placed a leisurely kiss against the inside of one leg, then the other. “So don’t be surprised when I do.”

  He nibbled the tender flesh of her thigh, and her breath caught. How could her blood feel like lava when cool water covered her body, lapping over her flesh, between her legs?

  He raised her hips to meet his mouth. Gently, delicately, he spread her flesh to dip his tongue deeper, finding the spot that made her quiver and moan.

  She writhed and almost went under, tightening her gut to hold herself afloat. “Oh, please, Alex.”

  “Shhh, querida.” He nipped her thigh, sending a fever straight down her body. Her hips rocked involuntarily, and he met each rise with a stroke of his tongue. Over and over he tortured her, swirling her flesh with dizzying intensity. Thorough and sure, he circled her sex with bold licks, delving into her body, sucking her tender nub so that she could think of nothing, nothing, nothing but the need to spiral into a release.

  She shuddered wi
th a fast, hard orgasm. More. She wanted him more of him, deep inside her and on top of her and around her. It wasn’t nearly enough and she managed to tell him in broken breaths.

  She could hear him laugh as her body floated back to earth. “I’m not going to leave you here alone while I search for a condom.”

  She closed her hands over his erection, thick and corded with arousal. “You will go nowhere without me. Not into that house, not out of this pool.” She leaned into him for a kiss, her arms purposely pushing her breasts together and against his chest. “I want you.”

  He lifted her out of the water and laid her on the towel she’d left at the pool’s edge. His eyes half closed, he kneeled over her and held a condom package.

  She choked out a surprised laugh. “You brought that out here?”

  He slid the latex on as he looked into her eyes. “I left it out here this afternoon.” Searing her with his hands and gaze, he kissed her deeply. His hard-on sought the heat between her legs, already swollen and slick from an orgasm. “Are you angry?” he whispered, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

  She lifted her hips. “Furious.”

  “I like it when you get mad. Your whole body vibrates.” He dipped his tongue into her ear and lightly circled the sensitive flesh. She shuddered. “Like that.”

  She wanted to laugh, but her lower half just rocked into him. “Please, Alex,” she demanded softly. “Now. Now.”

  He pressed his lips to her ear. “Despacio, querida. Tenemos todo eternidad.”

  She suddenly felt as weightless as she’d been in the water. “What are you saying, Alex?”

  His tip entered her. “It’s just an expression. The language of love.”

  Her heart clutched. She didn’t want to speak the language of love. She wanted to speak the language of sex. Good old-fashioned no strings, no control, no commitments sex.

  Anything else with this Latin lover would be the biggest mistake she’d ever made in her life. Still…Tenemos todo eternidad. Something about eternity?

  He inched a little bit farther into her, groaning with the pleasure and pain of it.