Explosive (The Black Opals)

by St. Claire, Tori

  With a sad shake of his head, he gritted his teeth and reversed out of her drive. Some battles, he supposed, just weren’t meant to be won.

  * * *

  Beep…beep…beep.

  Alyssa’s legs clamped like a vise as the incessant noise filled her ears. She stared across Brice’s desk, straight into the laughing eyes of Michael Barker. C’mon, LissaLou, open up real wide for me.

  If she moved, the bomb would go off. If she didn’t move, Michael would hit her again. Already she tasted the blood in her mouth. The only reason he hadn’t knocked her out of the chair already was because Jayce held on to her ankle.

  “Jayce,” she murmured. “Jayce, he’s got a gun.”

  “Alyssa.” A hand clamped onto her shoulder. Hard. Painful fingers. Kane held her down. Not Jayce. Jayce had ninety seconds on a timer.

  “Jayce.” She twisted in the chair as Michael’s cocked his arm again.

  “Alyssa!” Brice’s voice crashed into her awareness.

  Alyssa jerked upright, panting. Frantic, she scanned her surroundings, taking in the mantle on the wall, the dark television, the couch cushion beneath her, the heavy hand on her shoulder blade. Dreaming. She’d been dreaming.

  Expelling a heavy sigh, she collapsed against the back of the couch. Brice took a seat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Easy, sweetheart. I think you gave me a black eye on that last swipe.”

  “Where’s Jayce?” For the first time Alyssa could remember, Brice’s protective embrace didn’t hold safety.

  Brice released her and scooted to the edge of the couch, his glance uneasy. “His truck’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Alyssa shot to her feet. “Are you sure?”

  He huffed a hard breath. “Yeah. I’m sure. It left right after the front door slammed and woke me up. About twenty minutes ago.” Frowning, he rose to his feet and cast an apologetic look her way. “Something tells me he wasn’t fond of waking up alone.”

  Not alone—but finding her with Brice. Alyssa grimaced inwardly. She could only imagine what he must have thought. “I’ll be back after a while.”

  “Alyssa.”

  Brice’s quiet voice stopped her at the foot of the stairs. She ducked her head back into the living room. “Yes?”

  “I think it’s time I disappear. I’m not going to be here when you get back.”

  “Brice…”

  He shook his head. “He was my best friend. I broke those rules. It’s not going to be something he just forgets. I need—”

  Alyssa held up a hand, silencing him. “Just stick around to tell him goodbye. That will matter to him. I’ll fix this. Just…stay put.” She had to fix it. There was no other choice.

  Not allowing Brice further argument, she darted up the stairs and grabbed the first pair of clothes she could get her hands on—a pair of lightweight running pants and a loose green T-shirt. Not exactly knock-em-dead material, but she wasn’t trying to impress Jayce. The time for false illusions had come and gone. She dressed, stuffed her feet into her sneakers, and dashed down the stairs again, her car keys in hand.

  Please, God, let him be at Jordan’s.

  It took a little bit of navigating—she hadn’t exactly been in her best frame of mind when Jayce drove her here the first time. But she managed to locate the bridal shop, and from there, trace her way to Jordan’s townhouse. The knot in her belly loosened by several degrees at the sight of his truck parked in the drive.

  She pulled in beside it, sucked down a gulp of resolve, and exited the car. Her legs protested the effort of walking, her muscles still tight from exertion. And her skinned knees still stung. Her heart, however, assumed a new, jerky racket with each step that led her closer to the door. She had to fix this. Had to make Jayce believe she hadn’t turned to Brice last night, that she’d only accidentally fallen asleep.

  Alyssa knocked on the front door, then held her breath as footsteps sounded within. Just as she became convinced her heart was going to bound right out of her chest, the door opened. Jordan peered out, puzzled. Her confusion cleared as she focused on Alyssa.

  “Oh, Alyssa. Come in.” A bright smile accompanied the invitation.

  “Is Jayce…” She shot a furtive glance around the front room, hoping to catch him sitting nearby.

  Jordan extended an arm toward the hall. “First door on the left.”

  “Thanks.” Alyssa bobbed an awkward nod and followed the direction Jordan indicated. Later, she wanted to sit down and talk with Jordan, really talk. Right now, Jayce was more important.

  She stopped at his door, listening for a moment as something heavy clunked inside. For a second, she debated knocking, then decided he might not let her in if he was as angry as she suspected. The last thing she wanted to do was have this necessary conversation with a door between them. Alyssa opened the door.

  Jayce stood at his dresser, his back to her, pulling out clothes and stuffing them into a duffle bag. He shoved one drawer; it clunked heavily into the frame. He jerked the next open with so much force one corner came off the rollers. With an oath, he set it back in place.

  Definitely angry. With good reason.

  Alyssa eased the door shut behind her. Quietly, she approached the edge of the bed. “You know,” she said softly, “You’d think one near death experience would have been enough to make me realize what was most important in my life. Sadly, I needed two.”

  Jayce’s hands stilled inside the second drawer from the top. His head snapped up like someone shoved a spear down his spine.

  Gulping down a ball of cowardice, Alyssa forced herself to continue. “As I was sitting there last night, I realized how insignificant that night ten years ago is, in the scheme of things. I’ll never forget it, but when you’re staring at what might possibly be the last ninety seconds of your life, you get a whole new perspective. And all I wanted…was you.”

  Slowly, Jayce turned around. His gaze searched hers, his frown shadowing his eyes. He shook his head. “I don’t think you know what you want, Alyssa. And I’m making this easier on all of us—I’m taking myself out of the list of options.”

  Alyssa’s stomach turned over. She dropped a hand to the covers and wrapped her fingers in the soft cotton, holding on to it to stop the violent twisting. “Jayce, I made some big mistakes. I should have come to you after the attack. But I didn’t, and I can’t undo that. But I also didn’t go to Brice. I ran into him one night when I was dangerously drunk.”

  Jayce’s frown darkened, but he made no attempt to turn away. She took his silence as encouragement and held his gaze, braving the truth with her eyes wide-open. “He saved me from myself that night, and I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t. I’d lost everything—you, my dreams, my family. I was hell-bent on self destruction. And I’ve never told him all this.”

  A flash of bewilderment passed behind Jayce’s eyes, and his posture relaxed a fraction. In the beat of silence that spanned between them, he moved to the bed and sat down. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he bent his head, looking at the ground.

  Alyssa resisted the urge to reach out and touch him, sensing if she did so, he’d withdraw back into his shell of anger and hurt. She blew out a short breath, wrapped her hand deeper into the covers. “As far as I know, all Brice understands is that he asked me if I’d talked to you, and I fell apart. I was so drunk the whole story about the attack came out. He’s the only person I’ve ever told, and that’s the only night I’ve ever been able to talk about it. Even Brice doesn’t understand why I can’t spill it all out to you. But it…” She looked to the window, searching for how to explain in a coherent way. “It…gets stuck. It’s like I see pictures, hear voices, and I can’t put that…into words. I know exactly what happened. But telling it is…is too much.”

  To her surprise, a warm hand settled on her bent knee. She glanced down at her lap, smiling faintly at the sight of Jayce’s motionless fingers. When she turned her head to face him, his eyes shone with a depth of feeling Alyssa
couldn’t describe. He blinked, and the strange sheen of moisture she was so unaccustomed to invaded those warm fathomlessly dark depths. She covered his hand with hers.

  “I didn’t go to him last night, Jayce. Not like you think. I heard him come in and went down to tell my best friend to stop blaming himself. I told him I wanted to rebuild a future with you, and he needed to move out.” Sliding her fingers between Jayce’s, she gently squeezed. “My legs hurt, I was exhausted, and I simply passed out on the couch.”

  When Jayce remained silent, his thumb brushing absently alongside hers, Alyssa searched his face for some hint as to what he might be thinking. “Jayce, I want to be with you. For now. For always. Say something, please.”

  His throat worked in a hard swallow, then a second time, and she began to realize he was fighting emotion, not clamming up in silence. He gave a faint shake of his head. “I…can’t.” His words came out clogged and hoarse.

  Alyssa gathered his hand in both of hers and brought it to her mouth to press a kiss against the back of his knuckles. She tipped her head, rubbing her cheek across those scarred digits. “I love you,” she whispered. With a soft laugh she added, “I’m not sure how I feel about this whole disarming bombs for a living thing, but I’m willing to try to wrap my head around it.”

  The lighthearted remarked served to free Jayce from whatever thoughts locked him up, and he chuckled. “You don’t have to. I’m retiring.”

  In the next instant, she found herself in his lap, his arms crushing her close, his lips searching for hers. She offered them freely, surrendering into the power of his kiss with a soul-deep sigh. The clawing pressure of his fingers against her back eased, and what began with desperate need transformed into slow languor. His hands slid through her hair, roamed down the length of her spine. She traced the hard contours of his chest with gentle fingertips.

  Jayce broke the kiss and laid his forehead against hers. “You have no idea what I’d give to be able to undo everything that happened to you.”

  Alyssa leaned back to look him in the eye. “You can’t. And I don’t want you to. I probably need some…help.” The admission was hard to swallow; she’d been trying to deny it so long it felt like failure. The next confession, however, was even more terrifying. But with another deep breath, she let it escape. “I don’t think I can do it alone.”

  Jayce smoothed his palms down the side of her head, framing her face between his hands. His gaze held hers. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

  Nodding, Alyssa leaned into his embrace and rested her head on his strong shoulder. Strangely, knowing Jayce would be at her side, she wasn’t afraid anymore. He was right—she should have come to him years ago. Maybe by now the mountains left to climb would seem like small hurdles already achieved. Nevertheless, they would tackle them together, and she didn’t doubt for a moment they would succeed.

  Jayce folded her close and rested his cheek atop her head. “Is it too much to ask you to marry me, again, baby doll? Is that too fast? Too soon?”

  “No.” Eyes closed, she laughed quietly. “I think that’s just what I need.”

  A low, playful growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned backward, carrying them both onto the bed. He fitted his hands around her hips, tucking her securely into place. “Good, because, while I’m willing to wait another decade for you to agree, I’d rather spend the next ten years making up for lost time.”

  Alyssa wriggled her hips. “Making up how?”

  Jayce’s teeth latched onto her earlobe, and he gave it a lazy tug. “Scoot down a little, and I’ll show you what you missed out on this morning.”

  Laughing, Alyssa obeyed. When she settled into place against the steely length of his confined erection, her stomach hollowed delightfully. Oh, yes, this was exactly what she needed. Years, and years of making love to Jayce.

  With a contented purr, she rocked against his hard length and fused her mouth to his.

  About the Author

  Tori St. Claire grew up writing. Hobby quickly turned into passion, and when she discovered the world of romance as a teen, poems and short stories gave way to full length novels with sexy heroes and heroines waiting to be swept off their feet. She wrote her first romance novel at seventeen.

  While that manuscript gathered dust-bunnies beneath the bed, she went on to establish herself as a contemporary, historical, and paranormal author under the pen name, Claire Ashgrove. Her writing, however, skirted a fine line between hot and steamy, and motivated by authors she admired, she pushed her boundaries and made the leap into erotica, using the darker side of human nature and on-the-edge suspense to drive grittier, sexier, stories.

  Her erotic romantic suspense novels are searingly sensual experiences that unite passion with true emotion, and the all-consuming tie that binds—love.

  Look For The Next Book In Tori St. Claire’s Sexy Black Opal Series

  D E A D L Y S U R R E N D E R

  January 2014