Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security Book 2)

by Marie James

  “Sorry to leave you alone for so long.”

  “We had a good chat. I hate resorts, but she made the place they stayed at sound amazing.”

  I sigh into his neck when he clings to me tighter. I can tell something isn’t right.

  “You have bad news.”

  I swear if Deacon Black somehow managed to talk Wren out of being with me, I’ll track him down and stomp on his toes.

  “Yeah.”

  I’m struck like lightning with emotions. My hands begin to tremble, and tears I thought dried up on silken sheets in California threaten to fall.

  “I have to go to work.”

  I pinch his side until he yelps and jumps away from me.

  “I thought something terrible happened.”

  He rubs at his injured side. “This is terrible. Do you not remember the things I promised to do to you after lunch?”

  I bite my lip, my legs threatening to give out under me. “So many promises.”

  “Do you remember the thing you said you’d do?”

  His hand cups his junk, readjusting what I can only guess is the beginning of an erection. He pulls his hand away. No, make that a full flag.

  “I said I’d try,” I clarify.

  “Do or do not, there is no try.”

  “Don’t speak Yoda to me, Wren Nelson. He wasn’t talking about anal when he said that.”

  “Don’t back out now.”

  I take a step back when he reaches for me. “I’m not backing out. But I said try.”

  “You have your safeword,” he reminds me.

  He lunges, and I squeal like a maniac when he clips me with his fingers but isn’t fast enough to catch me. Simon hisses when I run past him, and Puff Daddy is back on the curtain rod screaming like a murder is taking place in front of his eyes, but when Wren finally catches up to me, all of it fades away. Only the two of us exists, and right now, that’s exactly what I need.

  “I hate that I have to leave you.” His words are whispered in my ear, his arms wrapped all the way around me.

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Too long,” he mutters, his nose sweeping up the side of my neck.

  I close my eyes and absorb the sensation of chill bumps as they race down my arms, sending up a silent prayer that it will always be like this with him. I need both the soft and sweet and the aggressive and dominant. It’s a lot to ask for but somehow Wren checks every single one of my boxes.

  “How long?” I ask again.

  He takes a step back. “Couple hours. I want you here and naked when I get back.”

  “Okay,” I tell him when I turn around, but I can tell that he knows I plan on disobeying. I mean, why have rules if they aren’t meant to be broken?

  Chapter 37

  Wren

  “It all checks out.” I hand the folder to Deacon with a frown.

  If he’d allow some of this shit at home, I could’ve given him this information without having to leave Whitney alone in my apartment. Me being here is a waste of time.

  “Anxious to get home?” The smirk on Deacon’s face makes me want to rearrange all of his features, but it turns out I’m not a violent person.

  “Already tired of your wife?” I snap, but it doesn’t faze him.

  “She has an eye doctor appointment, if you must know.”

  She doesn’t, but I imagine she’ll explain why she made an appointment to her OB/GYN four months before her annual is due when she gets home. Knowing this reminds me I really need to unlink our calendars.

  “So this thing with Whitney is serious?”

  “I’m going to marry that woman one day.”

  He grins, and as strange as the sight would’ve been four months ago, it looks really good on him right now.

  “You wanted to see me?” Flynn says, popping his head around the door to my office.

  “Yeah. I need you to take care of this.” Deacon hands over the folder, and I school my face as best as I can when Flynn opens the folder and glares down at it.

  “Is this a fucking joke?”

  “Nope.”

  I roll my lips between my teeth.

  “Is it punishment for the bullshit Wren pulled while you were gone?”

  “Hey!”

  “Nope.”

  “It has to be. Get one of the other guys to do it.”

  “Can’t,” Deacon says, looking just as amused by Flynn’s irritation as I feel.

  “You have to. This isn’t a job for me.”

  “You were requested personally.”

  “Requested by whom?” He looks back down at the information I just pulled for Deacon. “I don’t know this damn guy.”

  “He knows you, and he’s paying a lot of money. It’s a simple job, Flynn. You can handle it.”

  Flynn’s jaw clenches, his fists crumpling the folder in his hands. “I’m not a fucking babysitter.”

  “We all have to take jobs we don’t like,” I tease.

  Deacon snorts, but Flynn doesn’t look very impressed.

  “Is this a joke? Am I being fooled right now?” He looks from our boss to me and back again. “It has to be, because there’s no way you’re sending your second-in-command to New York to babysit some movie star’s teenage daughter.”

  “She’s twenty, nearly twenty-one,” I correct, but my friend doesn’t seem to change his opinion with the information.

  “You leave tomorrow.” Deacon nods at both of us before walking out.

  “I’ve booked your plane ticket and sent all the necessary information to your email. Make sure you pack a couple pairs of sneakers because the girl likes to give her bodyguards the slip.”

  I pat him on the back before walking out of the office. My work here is done.

  My cheeks hurt from smiling when a text from Whitney comes through. Yes, the sight of her bare pussy makes my cock hard, but the blanket under her naked body isn’t mine. I’m a detail-oriented man, and she’s well aware of this. She knows what the image is telling me, and that’s why when I get to our apartment building, I press the button for the ninth floor and not the twelfth.

  She’s purposefully disobeying, just like I hoped she would.

  As quiet as a church mouse, I use the key I had made when I had her door fixed. If she didn’t want me to sneak in, she would’ve used the deadbolts, forcing me to knock to gain entry. She’s swaying her hips, dancing to a song blasting from her phone inside her closet when I find her. I wrap my arms around her the second I step inside, and she startles.

  “You said a couple of hours.” She giggles, but that isn’t the game we’re playing right now.

  “You’re going to have to start following my rules, or you’re going to have one hell of a sore ass.”

  She groans when I grasp her hip with one hand, a warning not to move, and use my other to tug a scarf down from a hook on her closet wall.

  “Look at you, compliant and obedient. Such a good girl.” I tie the scarf around her eyes, and the second I press a kiss to her cheek, the game begins.

  “Stop!” she screams, her bare foot coming down on the top of my foot.

  “Fuck!” I hiss, reaching for the injury.

  It gives her time to escape the closet. Simon scampers out of her way when she bolts from the bedroom, but I catch up to her at the end of the hall, gripping her hair at the base of her neck and stopping her in her tracks.

  “There’s no sense in running. You know how this ends.”

  “Please,” she begs. “Please don’t.”

  “If this isn’t what you wanted, you should’ve been in my apartment, not here. You knew you were lighting the fuse on a bomb you wouldn’t have a chance of surviving.”

  “Please. Please don’t!”

  I bite at her neck, my cock thickening to the point of pain when she moans.

  “Are you going to start listening?” I punctuate each word with a rip in her clothing.

  Her t-shirt tears from her body first, perfect breasts bouncing loose, followed by the holes
I tear into the crotch of her yoga pants. My mouth waters at the sight of her fresh skin, but my mind can’t focus there for very long.

  “Where are your panties, you filthy girl?”

  “Y-you don’t like them,” she hisses, her arms flailing as she continues to try to get away from me when I press a finger to the tight little rosebud of her ass. “Please don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, you’re going to be sorry. I’m going to make sure of that.”

  My fingers find her heat, shoving in without warning, and she freezes, her mouth open on a soundless cry. She’s still trying to process her reaction when I force her to bend at the waist over the arm of her sofa. Her breath leaves her in an oomph from the force.

  “Wren! Don’t!” she yells when I line the flared head of my very angry cock at her entrance. There’s no fucking stopping me now. We’re too far to take a step back and reevaluate.

  Her feet leave the ground when I slam inside of her, and as her heat engulfs me, I thank whoever the genius was that created fucking sweatpants, making them so easy to shove down and handle things.

  I’m depraved as I rail into her, the sight of her pale skin only visible in the holes I’ve made in her clothing. I want to nip and bite every exposed inch, but that would make my hips slow, and release is the single most important thing to me right now.

  “I’m going to fuck you raw, and maybe then you’ll reconsider the next time you think defying me is a good idea.”

  “Oh God! Why are you doing this to me?” she whimpers, the sound muffled by her face in the couch cushion.

  “Jesus, Whitney. You drive me nuts. Fuck, baby. Why do you make me do these things to you? I’m going to come.”

  “No!” This scream makes me pause, but only for a second, not even long enough to cause a stutter in my hips. “Not inside of me. I’m not on birth control.”

  “I own this pussy. I decide where my cum goes. Shut the fuck up and take it.” I drive into her even harder, my balls like rocks against my body.

  The second the words are out of my mouth, she fucking clenches my cock like a vice. Her orgasm nearly leaves me breathless, the pulsing enough to make me moan, and then I explode, filling her with every drop my body can manage.

  I pull her up without pulling from her body, desperate to see her face. I pull the scarf from her face to find her eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering against flushed cheeks.

  “Clean my cock,” I hiss, pressing on her shoulders until she’s on her knees.

  My cock hasn’t flagged at all, and I hiss when her lips touch the tip. This is fucking torture. I’m too sensitive for the attention, but I clench my hands at my side, and let her go to work.

  Her eyes open, taking me in as I watch her, and once she’s done, once my dick isn’t covered with our combined orgasms, I force her to her feet and crash my mouth against hers. We moan in unison, hands holding each other, hearts pounding out the very same rhythm.

  “Did I just get you pregnant?” I whisper against her lips.

  She smiles, and my fucking heart stops.

  “No, you idiot.” She steps back and slaps me hard against the chest. “I’m on fucking birth control.”

  “That was fun,” I tell her, my hand caressing down the side of her face. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “I loved it,” she answers, her cheeks still flushed from our afternoon adventures.

  “I love you.”

  Her eyes shine as she watches my face, her head tilting to lean into my touch, and fuck if it isn’t enough for me. Just the way she’s looking at me will keep me the happiest man for the rest of my life.

  “I love you, too.”

  Maybe I was wrong. Now I’m the happiest man in the world.

  Chapter 38

  Whitney

  I pull the phone away from my ear and smile.

  Wren’s laughter finds me even though my cell is eight inches from my face.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Flynn,” Wren snorts. “I’m going through footage from last night, and this girl just gave him the slip again.”

  It’s been several weeks since we got back from California and every second has been filled with smiles, laughter, and love.

  I never would’ve imagined my stalker would turn into the love of my life, but here I am, walking down the street to meet two friends and listening to him cackle like a hyena with a wide smile on my face.

  “Again?” I grin wider. “How many times is that now?”

  “I’ve lost count. You’d think a trained former FBI agent could keep an eye on this girl, but she’s making it impossible for him.”

  I chuckle as I step to the side to let another couple in love pass by.

  “Where are you? It’s noisy.”

  “I have that lunch date with Pam and Anna, remember?”

  “That’s right,” he says, but his laughter fades away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Trying to find her on the next camera.”

  “And it’s just that easy to follow her in the city?”

  “New York has tons of cameras.”

  “That you’re accessing legally, correct?”

  His laugh tells his answers. His lips lie. “Of course.”

  We don’t really talk about work, but sometimes he lets it slip when he’s telling stories about his friends.

  “Oh shit. Deacon isn’t going to be happy about this.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Hey, babe, have fun, but I gotta go.” There’s a crackle on the line. “Hey, Ignacio. Don’t we have a rule about kissing clients?” The phone goes dead, and I’m still plastered to the wall of a flower shop.

  “There you are!” Anna wraps her arms around me for a hug, and just like every time before, I’m a little shocked at how free she is with her affection.

  The first time I saw her after her honeymoon, the conversation was light and polite. She must’ve deemed me as one of her closest friends because every time she’s greeted me since has been with a beautiful blazing smile and a hug. I let her warmth envelop me, and I hug her back.

  “Where’s Pam?”

  “She’s meeting us. Let’s go, I’m starving.”

  “Didn’t you text me that you spent the morning puking?”

  She laughs like I’ve told a hilarious joke.

  “And that’s the way it is sometimes according to the books I’ve been reading.”

  “And Deacon?”

  “He’s ecstatic, reading the same books. He’s going to be the best dad.” Her arm hooks in mine and we make quick work of getting to the café. “Who were you on the phone with?”

  “Wren,” I answer.

  “Planning your filthy afternoon?”

  My cheeks no longer heat. Since we’ve become fast friends, I’ve spilled my guts to Anna about what Wren and I do, only keeping certain details out of the conversation because some things aren’t meant for other’s ears.

  “Talking about Flynn,” I clarify. “Seems he’s having a little trouble in New York.”

  “That girl is giving him a run for his money,” Anna confirms. I keep my mouth closed about what I overheard Wren just say on the phone because it’s not my story to tell. “All of the guys are getting cheap thrills from the trouble she’s causing for him.”

  I can just picture the serious man with a sexy British accent give that girl the business for getting into trouble once again.

  “Have you thought about what you want for lunch?” I ask to change the subject before I blurt what I heard.

  “The left side of the menu?” she answers.

  “Isn’t that breakfast?” We’ve met at this café twice a week for the last two weeks, so we’re all pretty familiar with it.

  “The baby wants pancakes,” she says with a quick wink.

  My phone buzzes in my hand, and I frown when I see Pam’s message.

  “Shit is going down at the office. Pam can’t make it.”

  Anna pulls her own phone from her purse. �
�Deacon hasn’t said anything to me. I just left there ten minutes ago.”

  I know it has something to do with Flynn and him kissing a client.

  “You know how those guys are. Running out of coffee pods means Def-Con One.”

  “True. Let’s have lunch.”

  We order at the counter and wait to the side for our food before finding a seat. I’m barely pulling the paper from my straw as Anna shovels scrambled eggs into her mouth.

  “Does he not feed you at home?”

  She grins, mouth full of eggs.

  “So I told you about Jones.” For some reason, I’m comfortable talking to her about the terror I went through weeks ago. Maybe it’s because she was in her own hell for a while when she sought Deacon out after discovering her friend missing.

  “Yeah,” she says, mouth still full.

  “He’s in jail, but I just couldn’t get those women out of my mind.”

  She swallows before taking a sip of water. “Didn’t you say one of them was stepping out with Jones?”

  “Amanda, Theold’s wife was, but Rebecca seems to be innocent in all of this. Well, I sent her all the information I had.”

  She gasps, her cheeks tugging up in a smile even though her mouth is full. “Really?”

  The question comes out garbled due to the food, but I’ve quickly learned Anna-speak while she’s eating.

  “Yep. I felt like it was the right thing to do.”

  She nods her agreement.

  “I hope she leaves him. She’s been with him longer, and he married the other woman.”

  “So messed up.”

  “I agree. Now I have to figure out how to tell Wren.”

  “Tell Wren?” Her brows draw together in confusion. “Didn’t you tell me you two don’t talk about work?”

  “This isn’t work, really. My job with Jones was over the night he came to my door with the intent to kill me.”

  Her nose scrunches because she had Russians trash her apartment after she fled when she thought her ex-best friend had been murdered next door.

  “We promised not to lie to each other, and since most of the stuff we’ve fought about were lies of omission on his part, it doesn’t feel right to keep it from him.”