The Trouble with Temptation

by Shiloh Walker

  “You got any entertainment in mind for this … party?” he asked.

  “Oh, lots.” She reached up and curled her hand in the placket of his button down shirt. “I was thinking I could take a long, lazy ride. Followed by a nice hot shower. Since you’re my guest, you’d have to join me. I don’t want to be rude.”

  His green eyes seemed to glow for a moment, brilliant with hunger.

  “Damn,” he said, his voice low and raw. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

  He leaned in and nuzzled her neck.

  She fought the urge to close her eyes.

  When his mouth slid up higher along the curve of her neck, she sighed in pleasure. “Is this a yes?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. What else did you have in mind? I like to know in advance.”

  She laughed. The sound ended in a moan as he caught her ear between his teeth and tugged. “You never like to know anything in advance, pal.”

  “Sure I do. Like … what are you wearing under these jeans?”

  He straightened up and stared at her.

  “I’ll tell you … in exchange for a favor,” she said, grinning at him.

  He kissed her, hard and deep, the hunger firing her own. She moved against him, liquid heat spreading through her. His name was an endless chant in her mind and when he pulled away, she reached for him. He caught her wrists and kissed her hands, first one, then the other. “If I keep this up, I’ll forget where we are, Hannah.”

  She panted, staring at him. Then she nodded, swallowing down a groan when she squirmed on the table. She was wet, so wet for him she could feel it, and it had her panties sliding against her when she moved around.

  “So?”

  She blinked up at him. “So … what?”

  “What are you wearing under these jeans?”

  Now she smiled at him. “Well, you still owe me a favor. I wasn’t going to ask for a kiss. You see, I need an answer about that party invite.”

  “Is that a fact?” Brannon stood there, hovering so close she could feel his breath against her lips.

  She breathed in and it seemed to draw him in. Maybe she swayed forward. She didn’t know. But he was just there and his mouth was …

  She groaned and then they were kissing and this … this was familiar.

  His tongue slid along her lips and she opened. Moving in closer, she curled an arm around his neck. He was tall, but Hannah wasn’t a small woman and she was glad of it. She only had to stretch a little to meet him and he made it easy by curving an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

  His mouth slanted over hers and he tugged her lower body closer even as he leaned in, pressing against hers. They fit. They fit so well … she knew that though, didn’t she?

  Maybe I don’t like being your morning entertainment—

  The words bounced around in her head, disjointed and not making sense. She shoved them away, curling her fingers into Brannon’s shirt almost desperately.

  One big hand plunged into her hair and he nipped at her lower lip then sucked it into his mouth, running his tongue along the curve.

  It was an intimate, rough sort of kiss and it sent hungry little shivers racing through her.

  Her belly went tight and then hunger pulsed in her as she felt his cock throbbing against her.

  “I’d love to spend the night, Hannah,” Brannon said against her ear.

  Her head fell to the side and she clung to him, the strength in her legs dissolving.

  He slid one hand under her shirt. She gasped, the contact shocking. His skin was hot. It wasn’t exactly cool out, but the feel of his skin on hers was something that went beyond heat. It went beyond intimacy.

  It went beyond everything.

  She wanted more, needed more—

  Opening her mouth, she sucked in the breath to tell him they needed to get the hell out of there.

  Tires squealed.

  * * *

  Drunk on the taste of her, it took Brannon a few seconds to process the fact that things weren’t as they should be.

  Now he liked to think he was a quick thinker and he was pretty certain his survival instincts were as good as anybody else’s. He liked breathing.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he jerked his head up as the squeal of rubber grew louder and instinct kicked in. Grabbing Hannah, he wrenched her toward him and threw her to the ground. They rolled and she screamed and he swore.

  The one thing he knew for certain was that somebody had deliberately pointed a car toward them.

  Sucking air in as fast as he could, he shoved his weight up off Hannah and stared at the bumper of the car as it whipped a right onto Market—already two blocks away and too far for him to make out the license plate. He knew the make. One thing Brannon knew was his cars.

  It was a Crown Victoria, black, tinted windows.

  About as run of the mill as they came.

  Hannah made a low noise. He tore his gaze away from the road and focused on her.

  “Are you okay?”

  She grumbled. That sound alone reassured him.

  “I think so,” she said. She pushed up onto her elbows and looked around. “I—”

  Before she could finish, a shout interrupted them, followed by the slam of a car door. “Hey! Are y’all okay? I just called 9-1-1 … shit, Brannon, is that you? Hannah?”

  She closed her eyes and lay back on the ground.

  Brannon resisted the urge to stroke her hair as he levered onto his knees and met the eyes of the Good Samaritan.

  * * *

  “No pizza?”

  Alison grinned at Marc. “I’m not hungry.”

  “What about a drink down at the pub then? They got a pretty decent wine list.” Marc wagged his eyebrows. “Soon, it will be even better.”

  “No.” She huffed out a breath that sent her bangs drifting up, before they came back down to hang in her eyes again. “Honestly, I would, but today…”

  Marc looked away. “Yeah. Today.” He tipped his head up to the starry sky that stretched out over them like a blanket. “What can we possibly say about today?”

  “It was interesting.” Alison delivered those words with complete and utter sincerity.

  “Interesting.” He snorted.

  “And it sucked.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, trying not to think about the look the senator had given her on his way out the door. All she wanted to do was lock herself up inside her cute little house out on the river and grab a pint of Häagen-Dazs, curl up on her couch, and forget today had happened.

  She’d deal with all the emails and phone calls tomorrow. Or maybe Sunday. She was off for the whole weekend. She could have one day to totally veg out and pretend the world didn’t exist, right?

  Marc looked so crestfallen, though. Pushing off her car, she acted on the impulse that had been living inside her for the past two months. Grabbing him by the collar, she tugged him down.

  He stiffened in surprise.

  And then, as she kissed him, he made a funny little hmmmm under his breath.

  Alison had sworn off men six months ago after her ex had emptied her bank account and taken off with her ex-best friend. But she’d known within a few weeks that Marc was worth breaking the rules for. She just had to make him see that, make him realize they had something going on between them besides this … friendship.

  She laughed to herself. He thought it was a friendship, although after that kiss she’d given him, maybe he’d realize it was something more. He was so adorably oblivious. What they had was smoking hot tension. She just had to make him see that.

  Soon, she told herself. Very soon. If she wasn’t so on edge about the senator and everything that had happened, she would have said yes to the pizza and probably pushed for a lot more, too.

  But she was a mess, she was stressed, and she needed to decompress … alone.

  Pulling back, she turned back to her car. As she slid inside, she shot him a wide grin. “Ask me again next we
ek. You’ll probably get a much different answer, Marc.”

  * * *

  A fast drive down a dark country road could do wonders for the brain. Alison had always loved taking a drive when she was moody and tonight was no different. Her mind had settled more and she realized that while today had sucked, it could have gone much worse.

  The bottom line—Senator Henry Roberts was nothing more than a well-dressed thug and he’d finally been exposed. He came off as the typical, well-to-do businessman. He pressed the flesh well and made white-bread types feel real secure when he told him he was pushing for them when he was in office. Fighting for your way of life—that was his motto.

  Sneering at the idea of it, Alison parked her car. Out of habit, she looked around. Everything looked as it should. The porch light was on and she didn’t see anything out of place.

  “Fighting for your way of life—as in anything that didn’t disrupt you. Never mind all the others out there who suffer, never mind all the others out there who don’t have the rights you have.” Her despondency had given way to anger and she was just fine with that. She functioned better when she was angry.

  House key already in hand, she climbed out of the car and started for the front door. She skimmed the area as she walked. She’d been jumped once in college. She wasn’t going to be a victim again.

  Once she was inside, she locked up and took a minute to rearm her alarm system.

  Then, she headed into the bathroom.

  First things first.

  After a shitty day, the one thing guaranteed to make all things better was a nice, hot bath.

  * * *

  The typical security system would deter the typical thief.

  Joseph Smith wasn’t a typical thief.

  He wasn’t a thief at all—and his name wasn’t Joseph Smith, either.

  He was what some people called a troubleshooter. Others were more upfront about it. They called him what he was. A hitman.

  He was quick, he was clean, and he didn’t play with his targets. Such actions had been the downfall of many people in his line of work.

  He hadn’t been surprised when he’d received the call earlier.

  He did have to say he was disappointed.

  The senator really should have waited, but Henry Roberts was a rash and foolish man. The video that had now been viewed upwards of a million times was evidence of that. Most people in the country—and plenty of people outside of it—knew of the McKay family. Anybody with half a lick of sense would have known they weren’t the sort you could push around, threaten, or bribe.

  But the senator was used to throwing his weight around. Too many people had given way to him. He was good at finding out secrets and wielding them as a club. He wouldn’t have found much on the McKays. Joseph Smith knew this, because out of curiosity, he’d looked. He was, after all, the curious type. The biggest secrets the McKays had were that the youngest had dated a crackhead in her college days and had then gone on to get involved with a man who’d beaten her.

  She was a stupid sort of girl—or she had been.

  He doubted any of them would cower and hide over those pitiful bits of information.

  Roberts should have just let whatever the imagined slight was go.

  He hadn’t. Now he could just sit back and watch as the dregs of his career passed him merrily by.

  It made no difference to Joseph.

  The man had asked—no—demanded this one final job. He’d ignored Joseph’s subtle suggestions that he give it some time. That was fine, just fine. Joseph would do as he was told. But the job would come at a cost.

  Joseph would have to disappear after this.

  It would get hot fast.

  Too many eyes would look to the senator, and he had no doubt the senator had been gathering up information on him. Joseph would do the same in his shoes. Actually, Joseph had done the same and he’d wager he’d done a better job of it.

  He’d put the finishing touches on that tonight and then he’d fade away into obscurity.

  He enjoyed his job, but he enjoyed his freedom more.

  He might resurface under a new name sometime down the road. But then again, he might not.

  From under the bed, he listened to the sound of running water.

  He’d had most of the evening to plan. Getting inside hadn’t taken much effort. He’d simply walked around the perimeter of the house and found a bedroom window. Of course, the signs of the security company were prominent, but while he’d anticipated she’d have a motion sensor, those were typically placed in a public area—one with high traffic.

  He’d come in through the bedroom and he’d stayed there. He’d been prepared for her to walk through the house. Many women were becoming more safety conscious, and wise of them, too. But while she’d done a quick walk through, she hadn’t checked every room. If she had, she might have noticed the curtains rippling in the breeze caused by the hole he’d created when he cut through the glass.

  Now he just waited.

  The sound of water running made him smile.

  She’d take a bath.

  That would have her nice and relaxed. Off-guard, too. Once she was in the tub, he’d make his move.

  He decided he’d even be quick about it.

  He rather admired what she’d done.

  The senator was an idiot and he’d been brought low by a smart woman with a smartphone.

  Sadly, though, Joseph Smith was a businessman and he always saw his jobs through.

  But he didn’t think he’d take the senator up on the bonus.

  Roberts had offered an extra ten grand if Joseph made the Maxwell woman suffer for the humiliation she’d caused him today.

  Personally, Joseph thought she deserved a gold star.

  After a few more moments, the water stopped running. Then he heard sloshing and a long, heavy sigh.

  Slowly, he slid out from under the bed and hovered there on his hands and knees, waiting.

  When all he heard was more sloshing coming from the tub, he rose and stood.

  His feet were soundless as he moved out of the spare bedroom and down the hall. He hadn’t had a chance to learn the layout of the house, but he’d spent too much of his life doing this and he’d discovered that most houses were cut from one of a few basic designs. He was already oriented to where the front and back doors were from his outdoor perimeter check, as well as windows for potential quick exits.

  The light slanting through the narrow crack in the door was one of the interior rooms that had no window, but it was the bathroom.

  The splashing sounds of water grew louder as he drew closer.

  Pressing his back to the wall, he edged up to the slit of an entrance and peered inside.

  He couldn’t see much thanks to the angle so he shifted to the other side of the door and tried again.

  Perfect.

  The mirror was positioned so he could see in without obstruction and he studied Alison Maxwell’s profile. While he’d watched the video that had been uploaded, he had gone out of his way to avoid learning anything personal about her. He knew the things he needed to know—where she lived, if she lived alone, if there was a hulking brute of a dog he’d have to deal with. He refused to kill animals.

  But he hadn’t known anything about her.

  And this was his first time seeing her.

  She lifted a glass of wine to her lips and sipped.

  As she lowered the glass back down to the rim of the tub, he eased the door open, slipping a hand into his pocket.

  Poor girl.

  She’d done the world a service really.

  * * *

  “It was the senator’s men.”

  Gideon grimaced. Shooting Brannon a look, he said, “I’ll be sure to talk to him, but you know it’s going to be hard to prove anything.”

  “I don’t care what you prove. I don’t even care if you talk to him.” Brannon stood out in the hall of the emergency room. One of the doctors from Hannah’s OB office had come in—she was
in there with the ER doctor now. They’d already done an ultrasound and Hannah seemed to be handling this better than Brannon was.

  Brannon wanted to put his fist through something—preferably the senator’s head.

  “So … you don’t want me to investigate?” Gideon said slowly.

  Brannon angled a look toward his friend. “Oh, no. Please investigate.”

  Recognizing the tone in Brannon’s voice, Gideon put his notepad down and then turned away, pacing for a few seconds before he came back to stand in front of the other man. “Brannon, you need to stay away from the senator. He’s put himself in a hole and he’ll have to dig himself out. He might try to cause you all some trouble, but he can only do so much. Let me handle this.”

  “He tried to run us over,” Brannon said. He jabbed his finger toward the room where Hannah was waiting. “She’s pregnant. God knows what that could have done. And you want me to let you handle this?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want you to lose that temper of yours,” Gideon said. His eyes narrowed slightly. “I know what happens when you do and you look like you’re close to the boiling point.”

  Brannon wisely said nothing.

  Taking a step closer, Gideon gestured toward the closed door. “She’s got enough going on. She may never get that week of her life back. She’s pregnant. And even though she doesn’t let on, things aren’t as easy for her. She needs you and it seems like for the first time in your life, you’re ready to actually commit to something—to somebody. Don’t let that pompous prick pull you away from what’s important, Brannon.”

  The door opened and Hannah appeared. She looked pale and wan.

  Brannon wanted to cuddle her close and destroy anything that threatened her.

  “Hannah.” Gideon nodded at her.

  She gave him a tired smile.

  “You need to talk to me again?” she asked.

  “No.” Gideon nodded at her. “You get some rest and if I need anything, I’ll be in touch.”

  He gave Brannon a telling look and then left.

  * * *

  “Rest.”

  Brannon stared at the images on the screen while the OB on call continued to tell Hannah what he wanted from her.