Tricks

by Cambria Hebert

  Instead of pulling my legs beneath me, I stretched them out and rested my feet on the coffee table.

  I looked up to see the muscle in Ma—Tucker’s jaw jump, and he went quietly into the bathroom. I heard the opening and closing of the cabinet and he reappeared with a small first aid kit.

  I glared at him. “My knees are not important right now.”

  He laid the kit beside my feet and sat down beside me. He didn’t lean back, but sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. From this angle, I could see the broad expanse of his muscular back and a clear view of the tattoo that made me realize he wasn’t Max.

  In a single line down the right side of his back were five black stars. Each one looked exactly the same.

  I watched them move as he reached forward and unlatched the kit, laying out some supplies on the wooden coffee table.

  “Tucker,” I said, halting his first aid attempt and grabbing onto his arm. “Tell me.”

  He abandoned the Band-Aids and ointment, sitting up and looking forward, keeping his gaze directed away from me.

  “A couple days ago, the FBI showed up on my doorstep. They wanted me to step into Max’s life, to tell no one, and to finish what he started.”

  “The FBI asked you to come here?”

  He nodded.

  “Max didn’t just die, did he? He was murdered.” The FBI didn’t knock on just anyone’s door.

  “Yes, and I’m going to get the bastards who took his life from him.” He vowed, sounding deadly calm and utterly serious.

  “Does this have to do with his job?” I knew that lately Max had been under more pressure than usual, but he would never open up and tell me what was going on. I should have pushed harder. I shouldn’t have taken no for an answer. If I hadn’t, maybe Max would still be alive.

  “Apparently some of the higher ups at his firm were involved in corporate espionage and money laundering. The Feds went to Max to work undercover—as a mole of sorts—to get physical evidence of the crimes.”

  “How could he agree and not talk to me about it! I could have helped him!” I all but shouted and shot up from the couch. I couldn’t sit still another moment. I began pacing the living room, thinking of the ways I could have helped him.

  I was a lawyer for God’s sake. I worked for one of the most powerful and influential law firms in New York City. I could have helped him gather the information he needed. There were ways to gather information quietly so no one had to know.

  “I don’t think the Feds gave him much choice,” Tucker said, grim.

  “So he went undercover and the people he was trying to bring down found out and killed him for it” I surmised.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you fit into all of this?” Maybe I was still muddy headed from the crying and everything else that happened tonight, but I wasn’t making the connection.

  “Before Max died, he got the evidence the Feds needed to put these guys away.”

  “Why aren’t they in jail, then!” I demanded. The lawyer in me started thinking of the case I could build and what judge would be the best to reside over the case.

  “Because the Feds don’t know where he hid the flash drive with the evidence on it.”

  I stopped pacing and looked at him. “And they sent you here to find it.”

  He nodded.

  Realization slammed into me. “That’s why they came for me,” I said to myself, the missing piece from my attempted kidnapping finally falling into place.

  “What?” Tucker said.

  “They think I know where it is,” I whispered.

  “What the hell are you talking about!” Tucker demanded, standing up from the couch.

  I told him about the night the men came into the apartment and tried to drag me away. He listened with a gloomy look on his face.

  As I talked, I thought of something else. “Those men tonight, they weren’t really trying to mug us, were they?”

  “No. When I walked into the office today, quite a few people were surprised I was still breathing. They intend to finish the job. They don’t know where the drive is either, and they want us dead before we can take it to FBI.”

  “We have to find that drive. Those men who killed Max have to pay.”

  Tucker glanced at me, a determined look spreading across his features. “My thoughts exactly.”

  19

  Tucker

  Her tears unnerved me. I was use to grief, but I wasn’t used to seeing it so clearly displayed.

  I hadn’t pegged her as an emotional type, so the feeling of her cool tears against my chest and the sound of her body-wracking sobs came as somewhat a surprise.

  But in a sick way, her tears relieved some of my own sorrow. It was nice to be able to share that he was gone with someone. It felt good that there was now someone else who felt the absence of my brother like a bullet wound to the chest.

  When she cried, I held her, not because I was hoping she would cry less, but because her tears were my tears. She didn’t know it, but Charlotte cried for both of us. The release of her sadness somehow released some of my own. I hadn’t realized how heavy of a burden carrying his death was. How truly angering it was watching the world go on around me as if nothing changed, when in fact everything was changed.

  Finally, someone else understood. And while I didn’t wish the pain of death on anyone, I was relieved I didn’t have to feel it alone.

  Except now she was in danger.

  More danger than anyone realized. Those men came for her the night they killed my brother. They came for us again tonight. Now more than ever I was sorry I bated Wallace Jr. today because if Charlotte paid the price, I would never forgive myself.

  “Have you looked through the apartment?” she asked, studying the room.

  “Yes. And Max’s office. But we can look here again. You might think of places to look that I hadn’t.”

  She nodded and the movement caused her to sway just slightly on her feet.

  “You need to sit down.” I told her, standing up.

  Her eyes went directly to my chest.

  I ignored the flash of heat in my system and turned away, going to the kitchen to retrieve some water bottles from the fridge. “Here,” I said, placing it in her hand and guiding her to the couch.

  I studied her bloodied knees as she uncapped the water and took a drink. It seemed like forever ago those guys jumped us. It seemed like I’d been here for weeks, rather than days.

  I heard a sniffle and I glanced at her. She was crying again.

  Damn, women were leaky.

  There wasn’t anything I could say so I kept my mouth shut. I was likely doing her a favor anyway. I wasn’t the kind of guy who had an arsenal of pretty words to make a girl melt. My arsenal was loaded with guns. And grenades.

  But I was good at dressing a wound.

  I sat forward, grabbing up an antiseptic wipe and ripping it open with my teeth. The smell reminded me of the battalion aid station (otherwise known as BAS) when I was enlisted and had to go to sick call.

  “We don’t have time for that,” Charlotte said, glaring at the wipe.

  “So you’re one of those patients.” I quipped.

  “Excuse me?” She sniffed.

  “The kind who battles the nurse even when they’re just trying to help.”

  “Are you comparing yourself to a nurse?” she asked, lifting a delicately arched brow.

  “I have an excellent bedside manner.” I wagged my eyebrows at her.

  She smiled, but then it quickly fell away. Guilt clouded her eyes.

  “Smiling doesn’t make you any less sorry that he’s gone.” I told her quietly, sitting on the table directly in front of her and reaching for her leg.

  “I know, but it feels wrong.”

  “I get that,” I said. It was the truth. Sometimes living after someone else dies was worse than the pain of them not being there.

  I eased my hand around her knee, cupping the sensitive skin and drawing her leg out so her
foot rested on the edge of the table in between my legs.

  “This will probably sting.”

  I didn’t wait for more of her protests, but began cleaning away the dried blood. It was still lightly bleeding and I got angry all over again for what those guys outside tried to do.

  Jackasses.

  It took two wipes to clean the area and then I dried it gently with a piece of gauze. Because it was still oozing blood, I chose a large Band-Aid and covered the pad with a thin layer of antibiotic cream. She said nothing as I smoothed the large patch over the scraped and bruised area carefully. If my fingers lingered over the silkiness of her skin, neither of us acknowledged it.

  Then I reached for her other knee. When I lifted it into place I couldn’t help but notice the goose bumps raised along her flesh. I glanced up; she was watching me.

  “Are you cold?”

  “A little,” she said, glancing away.

  I snagged a blanket off the side of the couch and motioned for her to sit forward so I could wrap the softness around her shoulders. When she leaned back, I tucked the ends around her, over her arms but taking care to leave her hands free so she could hold the water.

  The blanket slipped off one arm when I pulled away and I hurried to push it back into place.

  My hand brushed over her breast.

  Little sparks of electricity shot up and down my limbs. Her indrawn breath caused my insides to tighten. Slowly, I withdrew my hand, the back of it brushing up against her again, and it was impossible not to notice the way her nipple responded even through her clothes.

  I remembered the perfection of those dark pink nipples, the way they puckered right in the center of her full, perky mounds…

  And I shouldn’t be thinking this way.

  I turned my attention back to her knee, ripping open another antiseptic wipe. As I ripped, it flew out of my hand and landed on the floor between the sofa and the table. I bent forward to retrieve it.

  The sudden movement caused her foot to brush right up against my cock.

  I jerked like someone threw scalding hot water on me. The desire was instantaneous. The need was overwhelming. Of course I began to grow hard; the single brush of her against that part of me was enough to make me come in my pants.

  I swear since the second I laid eyes on her, every moment we shared had been some kind of foreplay. Never had any woman teased me so badly without even meaning to.

  I snatched up the wipe and sat back, making sure her foot was not within touching distance of my pecker. ‘Course the damage was already done.

  I didn’t look at her for fear it would just make me throb more. Instead, I focused solely on her scrapes and getting her injury cleaned up. She made a slight hissing sound when I swiped at the open wound, and I gentled my touch, realizing I was taking my sexual frustration out on her.

  “Sorry,” I murmured, still not looking up.

  The abrasions on this knee weren’t quite as bad as the other. It was not bleeding at all. After a little bit of internal debate, I decided not to cover this one, choosing instead to let the air get to it.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, putting aside all the supplies and finally raising my eyes to hers. They seemed greener than before, as if the green specks inside the hazel had expanded.

  “Nowhere that a Band-Aid can heal.” Her cheeks were still wet from her tears.

  Gently, I placed her foot back on the ground, and then I reached up to wipe away what was left of her sorrow.

  She turned her cheek into my touch.

  My heart literally stalled in my chest.

  “I can’t believe he’s really gone,” she whispered.

  The pad of my thumb grazed the top of her cheekbone.

  “Someone tried to kill me the night he died. They tried to kill me tonight.”

  “They won’t stop until we’re dead or they’re in jail.”

  “So much death,” she said. “I need some life.”

  Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. The need was unmistakable. Her desire mirrored my own. My touch turned not so gentle and the next thing I knew, I was yanking her forward to cover her mouth with mine.

  First contact singed me and I groaned. Her lips were like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter’s day: warm and welcoming. Her passion slid all the way down my throat and coated my insides, lighting me up like a match and setting my blood on fire.

  I pushed my tongue past her lips and swept inside her mouth, exploring the sharp edges of her teeth, the smoothness of her inner cheeks, and the texture of her tongue. I didn’t stop kissing her even when my lungs begged for air. I needed her kiss far more than my lungs needed oxygen.

  When at last I pulled back enough to draw a ragged breath, she made a sound of protest and came forward, catching my lower lip between her teeth and sucking it back into her moist mouth and rolling it around her tongue.

  I shoved my hands beneath her arms and pulled her roughly into my lap. She straddled me with ease, wrapping those long legs around my waist and pushing herself more fully into my lap. When my hard length brushed against her middle, she shivered and rocked against me.

  Our teeth smacked together when I deepened the kiss, slipping my tongue just a little farther inside her mouth. I wanted to be in her; I wanted as much of me as I could get inside her.

  With both hands I squeezed her ass and she rocked against me again, making a little sound of pleasure. Charlotte broke the kiss and sat back, looking at me with eyes wide and swollen lips.

  “It’s never felt like this before,” she said, her voice a low whisper.

  “Darlin’, you haven’t felt anything yet.”

  I knew then I was going to sleep with her. I was going to have sex with Charlotte and I was going to enjoy every single second of it.

  She was going to enjoy every single second of it.

  There would be no more death tonight. There would be life.

  And lots and lots of sex.

  20

  Charlotte

  He reached for the end of the fabric tied into a bow at the side of my neck.

  I didn’t stop him.

  Slowly, he pulled, dragging out my anticipation and creating an agonizing ache between my thighs. When the bow was no more, he abandoned the strips of silk, parting them and sliding his fingers around to deftly open the buttons at the base of my neck.

  Everywhere he touched I felt the kiss of longing. The only thought in my head in that moment was, Don’t stop.

  When he reached for the hem of my shirt and glanced at me for permission, I could do nothing but nod my head.

  He didn’t have to be told twice. The silk was lifted up and away, disappearing where I couldn’t see it. His hands curved around my hips as his eyes drank me in.

  “Holy fuck, Charlie. You’re gorgeous.” He said it like a prayer, like he somehow stumbled across something sacred.

  My knees began to tremble. The need within me was so great my body was having a hard time keeping it in.

  Tucker released my sides and drew his hands upward, toward my gray-and-white satin pushup bra. I knew my chest was amply displayed for him, the tops of my creamy breasts peeking out from the soft fabric.

  Both his palms slid over my breasts, covering them, squeezing them lightly. He released a ragged breath and began to knead them, massaging them with his fingers and thumbs. My skin began to tingle and this incredible urge to arch my back to display them even more shamefully filled me.

  He dipped his fingers beneath the edges of the fabric and yanked the cups down. It was a lightning fast, abrupt movement. The bra was still hooked around my torso and the material bunched beneath my breasts, pushing them upward toward his touch. The cool air brushed over my already heated skin and I felt my nipples tighten.

  The ends of my hair hung loose, tickling the already swollen and sensitive touch, giving me the urge to shake my head just to feel the silky strands heighten my pleasure even further. But Tucker wanted to be the one to deliver my pleasure.


  He used the backs of his hands to push my hair back over my shoulders and flicked his thumbs across each of my hard nipples. I jolted with bliss and his mouth curved upward in an all-knowing smile.

  It was as if he knew all the secrets to my body and he couldn’t wait to share them all with me.

  He continued the exquisite torture tracing a wide circle around my nipples, dragging his nails lightly across the skin and then pinching them both at exactly the same time.

  I gasped as warm liquid slicked the inside of my panties. My skirt had ridden up, exposing some of the white cotton of my crotch, and I inhaled, noting the air around us was beginning to smell heady with the scent of desire.

  He bent his dark head to take my breast into his mouth.

  I stopped thinking.

  He suckled at the delicate flesh, pulling it into his mouth and rubbing over it with his tongue. Then he would release it to lick at my nipple like it was some kind of delicious dessert. Just when I thought he would move to the next one, he reached around to deftly unhook the material and toss it away, completely baring my torso. My breast filled his hand completely when he palmed it, lifting it up so he could dive down to lick and suck the underside.

  I moaned and my head fell back. Giving in, I arched my back, offering up every inch of my chest to his lips.

  As his mouth worked my nipple, nipping at its hardness and then lapping at it with his slightly rough tongue, his hands slid around my bottom, where he took handfuls of my butt and squeezed. The motion caused me to rock against him, my slick heated crotch coming into contact with the rigid length of his penis.

  Tucker stood abruptly, not letting me go, and started toward the bedroom. I anchored my legs around his waist and hung on for the ride. As he walked, his mouth found my other breast and he sucked it into his mouth and growled. The sound vibrated my flesh and I pushed myself farther against his mouth.

  I felt swollen with need. Shaky and desperate for release.

  The bedroom was dark, the only light in the room coming from out in the hall. Tucker laid me across the bed, kneeling between my thighs and looking down at my half-naked body.