Say No To Joe?

by Lori Foster

  In a near whisper, he asked, “And if I need you?”

  Her back to him, one hand on the knob, she paused at the door. “I suppose we’ll just have to see—when you’re up to par again.”

  The door closed with a quiet click behind her. Very slowly, Joe’s smile spread until he laughed out loud. He had her. She’d as much as agreed, thanks to his seduction tactics, and he wasn’t even up to full speed yet. Just wait until he felt a hundred percent and could really turn on the heat.

  He forgot his aches for the moment and, out of habit, reached for the balisong knife he always kept on the nightstand. Closed, it looked like a slim, harmless tool. Opened, it exposed a lethal blade. He’d carried such a knife for years.

  With one flick of his wrist, it opened like a butterfly spreading her wings. The handles folded back and the razor-sharp blade extended. Just as easily, Joe flipped it closed again. He only locked the handles into place when he wanted to actually use the knife. The rest of the time, he played with it, perfecting his timing, his dexterity. Open, closed, open, closed. The quiet snick, click was familiar to him, soothing.

  He heard the shower start, and an image of Luna naked and wet crowded into his brain. Lush breasts, full hips, honey-tinted skin … Snick, click. Snick, click. His heartbeat thumped, heavy and slow. He’d have her alone in his apartment for the next couple of days. Just showering and eating had left him much improved, a fact enforced by the ease with which he manipulated the knife. Even two days ago, he couldn’t have practiced the smooth movements so familiar to him.

  In a few days, he figured he could give her a taste of what she’d been denying for three long months. Anticipation rode him hard, and long past the time he heard Luna settle in on the couch, Joe lay awake thinking about it. Finally, sometime past midnight, he dozed off into broken sleep, tormented by the craving that wouldn’t abate.

  When the soft creak awoke him, he at first thought it was Luna coming to him. His whole body tensed—then he heard a quiet grunt, the sounds of stealth, and his instincts kicked in. In one fluid, silent motion, Joe left the bed, all pains pushed to the back of his mind so they couldn’t interfere with how he functioned.

  Someone had broken into his apartment. And Luna was out on the couch alone. If the intruder scared her, touched her—Joe would kill him. It was as simple as that.

  Chapter Four

  When a hard hand pressed over her mouth, Luna lurched awake. Panic surfaced, raw and real, and she tried to scream, but the big body pressing on her made that impossible.

  A voice breathed into her ear, “Shhh. It’s me,” and she went still, her heart racing in relief even as she struggled to orient herself. Joe slowly released her mouth and in a nearly soundless command, said, “Don’t move.”

  On her back, her gaze able to make out only the moon shadows on the ceiling, Luna held immobile for a single heartbeat. What in the world had happened? Why was he whispering? Joe started to move away, and clarity struck. In that moment, Luna realized there was a threat of some kind. She heard a faint noise in the kitchen, and Joe intended to investigate.

  Determined to keep him close and away from danger, she grabbed for him. She didn’t think about what she did, she just did it. Her hands barely touched warm, hard flesh before he reacted.

  Fingers spread wide, he flattened one palm on her upper chest and forced her down to the couch again. “Do not move.”

  Uh oh. Joe sounded deadly, not like the Joe she knew best, full of teasing come-ons and melting sensuality. But like the man she knew he could be when necessary, the man she needed with her in North Carolina.

  Hard, unstoppable, cutthroat—the man who could handle any situation, the man who grinned with excitement while jumping into danger.

  Luna had witnessed this side of Joe once before when he’d assisted his cousin Zane in removing a threat. He’d been so lethal then, so dangerous, that she’d felt herself reacting to the power of him.

  She was no less awed now. She was, however, determined to assist him, given that he wasn’t in his best shape at the moment.

  Quickly, without shadow or sound, Joe left her. Luna pushed up on one elbow, but she couldn’t see or hear anything more than the thundering of her own heartbeat in her ears. Her palms began to sweat. She slid off the side of the couch, crouching onto the balls of her feet and her hands. If you dare get hurt, Joe Winston, she silently cursed, I’ll … Well, she didn’t know what she’d do. Visions of his already bruised, battered body invaded her brain. He wasn’t up to this. He wasn’t his normal invincible self….

  She’d managed only two cautious steps when a crash sounded and bodies came tumbling past her. “Joe!” Luna jerked to her feet and fumbled for the lamp on the end table. It came on, but immediately went off again when Joe lunged against a big masked man, knocking him into the table and upsetting the lamp. Luna let out a very undignified screech of surprise. The lamp crashed against the floor and the light bulb blew with a pop.

  “Damn it,” she hissed, and she ran toward the kitchen, fumbling on the way, almost tripping in the unfamiliar darkness of his apartment before feeling for the light switch on the wall. The fluorescent light flickered on, blinding her and sending slanted light and misshapen shadows onto the two men.

  Joe was on the bottom. The husky man straddling him wore black leather gloves and a dark ski mask. He drew back one enormous fist, aiming for Joe’s face.

  The strangest feeling went through Luna. Fear melted under a volcanic tide of red-hot fury; her heart settled into a slow, fierce beat. Without her mind’s permission, she found herself going forward, swinging up the fallen lamp and preparing to bludgeon the intruder’s head.

  She didn’t get the chance. Joe’s feet wedged under the other man and he suddenly went flying toward the front door. He hit the wall with a dull thud that left him dazed. In slow motion, his corpulent body sunk down to the floor.

  “Joe!” Luna reached for him, but Joe was upright again and stomping forward as if he hadn’t suffered a single hurt. There was no limp, no favoring his ribs. His chest expanded; his shoulders bunched. Menace pulsed off him in waves. He wore that awful little smile that didn’t bode well.

  He appeared so massive and strong and capable, Luna caught her breath in astonishment.

  Apparently the intruder felt the same because he’d already charged to his feet and was at the door, frantically turning the lock and jerking it wide open. Joe caught him before he could go out. Using a hand on his shoulder, Joe spun him around and landed a fist against his nose with sickening impact. The intruder howled and fell backward through the doorway, fetching up against the hallway wall and quickly scrambling for balance.

  Joe started through the doorway, too, intent on following.

  “Joe!”

  He didn’t slow.

  The idiotic man didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. Luna dashed after him. Panic, fear and annoyance filled her voice as she gave a frantic yell. “Damn you, Joe Winston.”

  Joe paused for a single heartbeat, casting her a quick, dismissive red-eyed look. His gaze immediately shot back to her. Eyes narrowing even more, he looked her over, head to toes and back again. Only then did Luna recall her state of undress. She’d been in bed, wearing no more than a black T-shirt with the word Intuitive in silver script and black satin panties. But thank God for that, because during Joe’s moment of distraction, the intruder’s pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  Joe jerked back to attention. “Stay inside.”

  “Oh, no.” Luna reached for him, but since he was mostly naked, there weren’t many places to grab. She caught a handful of material at the seat of his shorts, almost stripping him the rest of the way when he didn’t slow. She released his boxers rather than leave him bare-assed. “Joe …” She detested begging, but heard herself say, “Please.”

  She darted around him, putting herself in front to block his way. Dumb. In an instant, she felt her shoulders pushed to the wall. Eyes flaring with desperation, she wr
apped both hands around one bulging, rock-hard biceps. “If you go after him, I’m following,” she threatened. “Do you hear me, Joe Winston? I’ll be right on your heels, I swear it.”

  Fury rippled through Joe. He pressed his chest into hers, surrounding her with his heat, his anger. “You’ll do as you’re damn well told,” he roared, and Luna would almost swear his fury parted her hair.

  “No.” Breathless, defiant, she waited to see what he’d do over her denial. His jaw locked, his nostrils flared with his rage.

  They both heard the front door of the apartment building slam shut. The man had gotten away. In the darkness of the night, he’d probably already disappeared. There were more than a few alleys to dart down, buildings to hide behind. Luna’s knees went weak in relief.

  But only for a moment.

  Joe wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and stared hard into her face. His breath was hot, his bare body hotter. She thought she could feel the thumping of his heartbeat against her breast. Frustration rolled off him in suffocating waves.

  “He’s long gone, Joe,” she told him. “Give it up.” He still seemed poised for pursuit, so she added, “We should call the cops.”

  “I could have had him.”

  Oh, boy. She hadn’t been prepared to see him like this. Knowing how he could be and finding herself the recipient of that mood were two different things. Luna tried to reason with him. “Have you forgotten that you’re hurt? What if he’d had friends waiting outside? Or if he’d pulled a gun?” She couldn’t help frowning in annoyance. “You’re also in your damn underwear.”

  “So?”

  It figured that Joe wouldn’t care about something like that. “Well, your neighbors are peeking out at you now.”

  His head swiveled about, and he took in the curious faces of the nearby residents to the left and right of his apartment. His hand tightened on the back of her neck until she went on tiptoe. To an elderly man, Joe said, “Call the cops, will you, Rob? Someone broke into my place.”

  “Sure thing, Joe.” Rob looked thrilled for the chance to take part in the action.

  “Marilyn,” he said to a forty-something woman with two kids peeking around from behind her. “I’m sorry we woke you.”

  “That’s all right, Joe.” She glanced between the two of them. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “He’s not,” Luna told her, and became the beneficiary of another glare. She shrugged, a little apologetic, but not much. She’d done what she thought best. She’d do it again if necessary.

  “I’m fine,” Joe said again, then told Marilyn, “I’m sorry we disturbed you. Go on back to your bed.”

  The woman gave Luna a curious and somewhat pitying look, then ducked inside.

  “Why’d she look at me like that?” Luna asked, trying to ignore the fact that Joe still had her pinned to the wall. His hand on her neck was in no way hurtful, but she wouldn’t exactly call it a loving embrace either.

  “Probably because she’s smarter than you.” So saying, Joe turned and marched her back into the apartment. Once through the door, he kicked it shut, but didn’t release her. Luna found herself pressed to the wall again, and this time Joe didn’t hold back.

  “Don’t you ever, ever, get in my way again. Do you understand me?”

  It would be most unwise to provoke him while he was in this mood. She should soothe him, calm him down … “You’re not my boss.”

  Joe’s eyes flared, the blue positively glowing with molten rage. “You could have gotten hurt.”

  His roar damn near stopped her heart, but still she shrugged. “I wasn’t.”

  Teeth grinding, he said, “Luna—”

  She reached up and touched his jaw in a butterfly caress. He was warm, alive. Safe. Her voice shook when she whispered, “God, Joe, you about scared me to death.”

  A muscle ticked in his temple. His gaze, burning into hers, dipped to her mouth—and stayed there. He drew a fast, short breath, then another, and suddenly he was kissing her.

  Or rather, devouring her.

  Luna hung in his arms, her senses devastated by the heat and taste and rock-hard feel of him. His tongue thrust in, his mouth grinding against hers almost brutally. One hot palm opened over her breast and massaged, squeezed, shaped. He gave a groan of pain or pleasure, she wasn’t sure which.

  She tried to gather her wits, but the bombardment of her senses was too much. She wanted this, she wanted him. His pelvis pressed into hers, insistent, moving in a parody of the sex act, further demolishing her control.

  She turned her face away to gasp for air and managed to inhale his hot, male scent. “Joe.”

  He reclaimed her mouth, refusing to let her move, to withdraw. Overwhelmed by the onslaught, she gave up, wrapped both arms around his strong neck, and held on. Oh, God, she should have remembered how his kiss affected her, but she hadn’t, and now it was just too delicious to resist.

  Everything changed with her surrender. His hold tightened, those massive arms of his keeping her plastered to his body, but it now felt cherishing rather than restrictive. His kiss gentled, went deeper, slower, longer. She could hear his rapid breaths and her own shallow panting.

  With no forewarning, Joe stroked one hot palm down her back and straight into her panties. Stunned by the impact of his long fingers there, Luna arched forward in surprise, a small cry escaping her, but it didn’t deter Joe. He swallowed the sound, spurred on by her response.

  His fingers squeezed, then slid into the cleft of her behind, low, deep, finding her vulva in a bold, tantalizing exploration. She shuddered in response.

  Joe gave a rumbling growl of triumph and lifted his head. Their gazes met, hers melting, his burning. He pushed one finger slowly into her—and a knock sounded on the door.

  “Police. Open up.”

  Without moving, Joe squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

  Luna trembled from head to toe. His finger was still inside her, hot, deep, teasing. “I … I gathered that’s what you had in mind.”

  “No way.” He drew two deep breaths before looking at her again. His hand shifted the tiniest bit, rasping against sensitive, intimate flesh. “What I want to do to you, with you, is way beyond fucking, honey. Way beyond.” Keeping their gazes locked, he withdrew his hand in a slow, sensual caress. “You remember that, okay?”

  Luna had no idea what he meant by that, but the very idea both alarmed and excited her. Joe stepped back, moved her aside, and opened the door.

  The door.

  She couldn’t breathe, was more turned on than she’d ever been in her entire life, and she now had two young uniformed officers staring at her.

  Good Lord. Color flooded her face. If she survived this night, she’d strangle Joe for sure. “Excuse me,” she muttered with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. Her wits were scattered, and her body tingled to the point she knew she couldn’t deal with anything more than modesty. On wobbly legs, she headed for the couch to retrieve her sheet, then wrapped it around herself. Joe, damn him, stood there with an erection that a blind man couldn’t miss.

  The cops quickly surveyed him. “Do we have the right place?”

  “Yeah, come on in.” Joe stepped back and held the door wide for them. He seemed as comfortable in his boxers now as he had been naked earlier. And somehow, despite his state of undress, his bruises and sleep-rumpled hair, he looked more imposing, more in charge, than the two policemen.

  “I’m Officer Clark, and this is Officer Denter. There was a breakin?”

  “That’s right.” Joe sent Luna a searing look. “I almost had the bastard, too, but someone doesn’t know when to stay the hell out of my way.”

  Luna lifted her chin, insulted and further embarrassed with the way the cops examined her. “You’re in no shape to play macho-man.”

  One of the officers agreed. “She’s right. You look like an elephant stomped on you.”

  “But not
just now,” the other officer said. “Those are older bruises?”

  “Yeah, and I’m betting they’re from the same asshole who visited tonight.” Very briefly, Joe filled them in.

  Officer Denter crossed his arms over his chest. “So despite being bludgeoned nearly to death—”

  “It looks worse than it is.”

  “—you still managed to fight this guy off tonight and send him running?”

  Shrugging, Joe admitted, “I’ve been in the business. I know what I’m doing.” With little embellishment, he told the officers the variety of jobs he’d held.

  To Luna’s disgust, they each looked impressed and very respectful.

  “So someone doesn’t like you?”

  “Lots of people dislike him.” Luna made a face. “At the moment, me included.”

  Denter nodded at the bedding on the couch. “So I see.” Joe groaned, drawing Denter’s notice back to him. “You okay?”

  Limping to the couch, Joe carefully lowered himself to the soft cushions—right where Luna had been sleeping. “With any luck, I’ll live.”

  The other cop approached him. “Do either of you need an ambulance?” He spoke to them both, but he was looking at Joe’s colorful ribs.

  “I’m fine,” Joe insisted. “He must have come in through the kitchen window. He didn’t get a chance to take anything, and he left without saying a word.”

  “So you think it was an attempted burglary?”

  Joe shook his head. “No, I think he was here for an entirely different reason.”

  “To finish you off?”

  “Most likely.”

  Luna shivered at the cavalier way Joe said that. “He wore a ski mask and black leather gloves, so you won’t be turning up any prints. But I figured you’d want to know about it anyway.”

  The cops shared a look. “You were right to call us, but …”

  “Yeah, I know. Unless someone saw something, you’ve got nothing much to go on.”

  “We’ll check on witnesses,” Denter told him, then went in the direction of the kitchen. Officer Clark followed.