Divorced, Desperate and Deceived

by Christie Craig

  “Mmm,” she said, and started rocking against his fingers.

  The gentle back and forth brought her soapy backside sliding against him, and the pleasure almost took his breath away. Having gone without the real thing for so long, he knew he could come from this. But not wanting to appear like a randy virgin, he held himself in check.

  Kissing her neck, mesmerized by the sight of his fingers disappearing into that patch of red hair, he shifted his hand down and found her tight opening. He slipped a finger inside, moving it in and out with the easy rhythm she herself set. Then, sliding his thumb up the crease of her sex, he found the little nub that drove most women crazy.

  He heard her gasp, and the rhythm of her movements increased. In. Out. All the while, his thumb moved in tiny circles over her hot spot. She began to make soft noises, light purring sounds that were sexy as hell. His balls tightened and his dick throbbed.

  He pleasured her the best way he could: slow, easy. He was eager to learn all the right moves—the moves she liked best. He took in her every reaction. With the side of his chin pressed against her temple, he watched. Watched the way her hips rocked back and forth, watched her nipples grow tighter, watched the way she curled her pink-painted toes. A sense of power mingled with the deep primal lust that grew inside him. She was almost to heaven, and he loved knowing he was the one sending her.

  He felt her shudder against him, felt the feminine muscles in her sex spasm around his finger. Her knees gave way, and thankfully he caught her before she fell. He pulled her against him. His throbbing cock snug between their bodies, he leaned down to kiss her face.

  She jerked her eyes open, tried to push away, but when her foot slipped in the bottom of the shower, he caught her a second time. “Slow down,” he whispered, giving a halflaugh. “You’re going to cause us both to fall on our asses.”

  The house looked like some weekend fishing retreat, and Joey could smell a lake not too far off.

  “You want to take the front?” Foster asked. “I’ll go around back.”

  Joey had been about to turn around and head back to the car. “Thought you said you didn’t think they were here.”

  “I don’t. But we can’t leave until we’re sure.” The trooper kept his voice low.

  “Fine.” Joey started toward the front of the house, hoping beyond hope that the place was empty. If Hunter were here, he would probably shoot first and ask questions later. It was what Foster was betting on, too—which was the reason Foster wanted Joey to go in first. It was the same reason Donald wanted Joey to take the front door at the redhead’s place. Both thought he was expendable. But now Donald was the dead one, and Foster didn’t seem far behind.

  But how far? After debating his options, Joey realized if he killed Foster too soon, Lorenzo might contact Pablo and Corky to finish the job on the redhead and Hunter and himself. His best bet was to go along with the plan until…until he couldn’t go along anymore. If by some miracle Joey was able to save the redhead and Hunter without taking out the trooper, then he would have to decide whether the jerk was a real threat to Lola. A threat that required elimination with prejudice.

  And if he was? The image of soft brown eyes flashed in Joey’s head. If Foster was really a threat to Lola, Joey would make sure Foster never had another chance to hurt her.

  The trooper disappeared into a dark patch of trees as he walked around the back of the house. Joey moved closer to the porch and listened. Nothing. The muscles in his gut relaxed a little.

  But, moving to the window, he peered inside. And in the corner he saw the tiniest bit of light flickering under a door. Christ Almighty! Maybe Luke Hunter and the redhead were here. Which meant Joey had to take Foster out.

  His gloved hands began to sweat again, and he wished like hell he’d thought this through. Should he burst inside, risk getting shot by Hunter and take on Foster from the inside, or should he follow the trooper around back and try to take him on there? The visual of Freddy crumpled up in the trunk of his car filled Joey’s head again. Fear of winding up like that, of having a bullet put in his head, made the next step harder to make.

  Joey’s stomach roiled, but he fought that nausea and moved closer to the front door. His footsteps on the wood porch sounded loud. He flinched. Taking in a pound of oxygen, he tried the doorknob. Locked.

  The sliding glass doors off to the left caught his attention. Joey moved off the porch and heard an owl hoot in the distance. Backing against the wall, he peered inside. Air seemed to be trapped in his lungs as his gaze shifted around the room. But it was empty. No one was there. Yet in the far corner, a closet door stood ajar and a sliver of light spilled out onto the floor.

  The silence once again penetrated Joey’s senses. His gut told him this wasn’t right; Hunter and the girl weren’t there. He hoped that was true.

  He reached for the sliding glass door, and it opened—did everyone in Texas leave their doors unlocked? He walked into the room. A musty, unused smell flavored the air. He gazed around at the poor condition of the room’s furnishings and realized the owners probably didn’t lock the doors because there wasn’t anything of value left here. It was like his boyhood home.

  He moved through the house, suddenly confident no one was there and then went to find Foster. With any luck the other address would be just as empty and tonight he wouldn’t have to kill or be killed.

  Luke stared at Kathy’s beautiful back. The shower spray hit her shoulders and sent a cascade of water running down it, and right before he reached out, she turned around. Her cheeks were bright red. The flush spread all the way down to the tops of her breasts.

  “I’m sorry,” she said before she even met his gaze.

  He studied her, baffled. “For what?”

  “For just standing here while you…did all the work.”

  He still didn’t get it. “What were you supposed to be doing?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “Maybe reciprocate.”

  He grinned. “You were kind of busy enjoying yourself.”

  “Yeah, selfish of me, wasn’t it?” She halfway smiled.

  He laughed, then pulled her close. “I certainly wouldn’t mind some reciprocation, but just so we’re clear: Watching you come just now was friggin’ fabulous. It’s everything I wanted. You don’t have a damn thing to apologize about.”

  She raised her head and rested her chin on his chest. “Really?” Her eyes were huge.

  “Really.”

  “In that case, thank you. That was…amazing.” She rose on her toes, pressed her hands to his wet chest and kissed him.

  “That’s the second kiss initiated by you,” he pointed out, whispering against her lips.

  He was considering stepping out of the shower and grabbing the condom in his jeans. But shower sex, great as it was, generally happened fast; and with only two condoms, he wanted to make the most of each. So he ran his hand down her back and deepened the kiss, thinking—

  A sudden sharp pain ended the kiss.

  “Damn!” he muttered against her lips, yanking his toe from the jaws of what he hoped was a puppy and not a baby gator that had made its way up the drain. When had the stupid beast slipped into the shower stall?

  “What?” Kathy asked.

  Luke looked down. “First he pisses on my foot and now he tries to eat it. How the hell is this dog named Goodwill?”

  The animal barked and attacked his ankle again.

  “Out!” Luke roared, and he literally had to shake the dog loose. There was no blood; the dog had only been giving him love bites. But Goodwill also didn’t get the hint; he shook his head, crouched down playfully on his front paws, barked, then went after Luke’s other foot. Luke adjusted the water spray, but Goodwill started biting at the water, as if this too was a game.

  Kathy laughed. “He must have heard your threesome speech.” She pressed a hand against Luke’s chest and eyed the dog, which was standing unrepentantly in the spray of water. “He’s so cute! Tommy is going to love him!”


  While Kathy stared at Goodwill, Luke stared at her. Damn, she looked good naked and wet, even cooing over a dog who’d just tried to remove his big toe. His body ached for release, and he passed a finger over her lips. “Yeah? You’re not the one he’s pissing or chewing on.”

  Kneeling, she gave the puppy a nudge out of the shower. “Now go be good,” she told the dog. Then she stood.

  Her gaze met and held Luke’s. She stepped closer and placed her palms on his shoulders. The spray of water hitting his back was warm, but not as warm as her touch. Slowly, sensuously, her hands slid down his chest. Down they continued, all the way to his dick. And the moment one of her soft, wet palms wrapped around him, he almost came.

  He grabbed her hand and turned off the water. “Okay. Shower’s over.”

  “Over? Why?” she asked. Her face was serious.

  “Because…the rooster is about to crow, and it’s not done with the chicken yet.”

  Kathy grinned, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his chest. When he looked into her eyes, he saw a glint of self-confidence that hadn’t been there earlier, and her grin widened. “But the chicken already chirped.”

  “Ahh, but the chicken can chirp twice without needing a time-out.” Laughter suddenly spilt from his lips. “Are we really standing here naked talking about chickens and roosters?”

  “You started it,” she chuckled.

  “No, you did earlier.” Running his hands over her smooth back, he realized that being with her was better than he’d ever imagined; through her, he’d found that part of himself he’d lost. His chest swelled with a sense of belonging, of rightness. He loved her. There wasn’t any other logical explanation. Why couldn’t they have gotten together earlier?

  “Okay, maybe I did mention it. But about this…time-out. I’m a patient chicken,” she said, and slid her thigh between his legs. Her hand slowly inched down his belly. “I could suffer through a time-out.”

  “No suffering allowed.” There had been a time when the thought of love or long-term commitment would have emotionally sent him scrambling for cover, but not now. Now he wanted to love her so completely that he’d mark her as his forever. Without a doubt, he wanted the “more” she was so disinclined to give.

  A niggling thought surfaced, that he needed to tell Kathy about his first marriage, but he sent it packing. He didn’t want to spend their time rummaging through his past. Tonight was about pleasure.

  Her hand started moving downward again. “I could reciprocate…”

  He caught her fingers in his and walked himself and Kathy out of the shower, leaving the warm shower mist behind. His skin tingled from the cool air, but it wasn’t near enough to dampen his lust. “I’ll take a rain check. I’ve got other plans.” Then he pulled a white towel from the stack neatly folded on the shelves and draped it around her shoulders.

  “What kind of plans?” she teased, holding on to the ends of the towel.

  “Good plans,” he countered. “Naughty plans. I’ll show you.”

  But as he took one step out of the bathroom, the ringing of his cell phone put his naughty plans on hold. And with all his blood down south, he swung around, snatched up the phone and hit the Talk button before he realized what he’d done. Or rather what he hadn’t done. He hadn’t checked the Caller ID.

  Shutting his eyes in frustration, he answered with a brusque, “Hello?” He prayed it was Calvin.

  “Bradley?”

  Fuck. His gut knotted. It wasn’t Calvin, and even worse, the caller wasn’t someone wanting to speak to Harry Johnson.

  “Listen to me,” the caller said. “My name’s Jason Dodd. I’m a cop, and I’m friends with Kathy Callahan. I think we met once. I don’t know what you’re into, but whatever it is, I’m sure I can help. But first I want to talk to Kathy. I need to know she’s okay.”

  Luke pulled the phone from his ear and hit the End Call button before Dodd could trace it back to any particular cell tower and thereby get their approximate location.

  Kathy moved behind him. “Who was it?”

  He felt her press against his naked back, felt the nubby cotton material against his legs and knew she’d wrapped herself in the towel. He’d finally gotten her naked, and now she was covering herself up. But then her hand moved around his waist to rest low on his abdomen. That sweet yet erotic touch had things heating up again.

  Who was it? The question vibrated through his head. “Wrong number.”

  A heaviness filled his chest, as if the air he breathed had turned to water. The weighty feeling felt vaguely familiar: guilt. And not just any guilt, but guilt for lying.

  It had been a long time since lying had felt morally wrong. Lying meant survival, at least in his situation. Lying was required. How was this any different?

  Did he not feel warranted in his decision of not involving the local authorities? Hell, yes. It didn’t matter that the local authorities were Kathy’s friends. And because he knew she’d disagree, not telling her the truth was just one way of not complicating things—things like her getting upset about him hanging up, things like her insisting he let her call Dodd back. Things like her getting angry and not letting him toss her down on that not-so-good mattress and make love to her ten different ways.

  Shit. He raked a hand over his face. Was that the reason he’d lied to her: because telling her the truth might prevent him from getting laid? No wonder he felt guilty.

  He turned, letting his gaze roam over her towel-draped body, eager to remove that covering. Desire still burned in her eyes.

  Reaching out, he ran the back of his hand over her cheek, and she bit her lip again. The expression was part sex-kitten, part shy virgin. “Wanna tell me about those naughty plans?” she whispered.

  Oh, hell yes, he did. He wanted that and so much more.

  Slipping her hand into his, she led him out of the bathroom and didn’t stop until they came to the sofa bed. Then, looking right at him, she unknotted her towel. It fluttered to the floor.

  It took everything Luke had not to forget right and wrong. Not to push her back on that mattress and devour every inch of that body he’d wanted for so friggin’ long. She put one fingertip on his chest. Then, slowly, she snaked it lower.

  He caught her hand right before she caught his cock. “Wait.” Damn, he couldn’t do this. He stared at the phone.

  “Wait—for what?”

  He drew in air and released it in a huff. “That wasn’t true.”

  “What wasn’t true?” Her hazel eyes, huge with desire, blinked.

  “It wasn’t a wrong number.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Joey and Foster got back to the car. Joey’s toe throbbed, but he ignored it.

  Foster got behind the wheel. He pulled off his gloves, grabbed his phone, hit a few numbers and listened. “Shit,” he said, and dropped the phone in his lap.

  “What?” Inside the car, Joey removed his own gloves and hoped for the best. Maybe Hunter and the girl were already miles away.

  “That was a message from the trooper on duty. They say Hunter stole a blue, older-model Dodge Charger about two blocks from where he ditched the van. I’ll bet my right nut that I passed that bastard on the way there this afternoon.”

  “The man’s good,” Joey said, and he realized he actually admired Hunter. The guy was a hell of a lot more of a role model than Lorenzo, whom his scummy companion seemed to idolize.

  Foster must have picked up on the vibe, because he frowned. “He’s a walking dead man—at least you’d better hope it ends up that way. If not, Lorenzo will be giving orders for some other guy to do to you what you did to Donald.”

  “Shit happens and then you die,” Joey said, hoping that was only true for Donald. And Lorenzo would have to find him first.

  “What?” Foster asked.

  “Nothing. Just something on a hat Donald bought this morning.”

  “Speaking of Donald,” Foster remarked. “Did you bury his ass good?”

/>   “Good and buried,” Joey replied. He cupped his hands and felt the blisters making the skin tight. It’s more than he deserved and, if it comes to that, more than I’m going to do for you.

  “It wasn’t a wrong number?” Kathy repeated, confused, her mind more on getting Luke in bed than the phone call. Her body still throbbed with the pleasure he’d given her. She, Kathy Callahan, had come just from a guy’s fingers. That had so not happened before. Tom had always had to—

  Stop! Luke was right: She had to axe Tom. Thoughts of her ex didn’t belong here tonight. And maybe it was time for her to stop thinking about him altogether. Don’t think about Tom. Don’t think about Tom. She needed to think about…

  Luke. Her heart swelled as the vision of him playing ball with her son suddenly flashed through her head. Then she remembered the time she’d found Tommy’s turtle dead, and Luke had stayed at the house to cover while she went to the pet store for a replacement.

  She hadn’t known his name was Luke then, of course. There was still so much about this man she didn’t know—but also much she did know. And what she knew, she admired.

  Except for the fact that after tonight he would be leaving. Her throat suddenly felt tight.

  “It wasn’t a wrong number,” he said again.

  Oh, yeah, she was supposed to be thinking about the wrong number thingamajig. There had to be a good reason he wanted to talk about that.

  “So who called?” she asked.

  “It was your friend’s husband—Dodd, I think he said his last name was.”

  “Jason?” Okay, his reasons for discussing this suddenly started to become clear.

  Feeling as if nakedness wasn’t conducive to the conversation, Kathy picked up the towel at her feet. But when she did, Goodwill decided he wanted it, too. It took several careful yanks, while naked, to get the puppy to give up. Finally, the towel again around her, she looked at Luke.

  “How did Jason know to call—?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Johnson has reported the car stolen, and he told them that I took his phone.”