Trusting Love

by Billi Jean

  But that would have to wait. So would his lessons with Sonya. First he needed to accomplish everything Duke set out for him. Not a problem really but to ensure his place in this new team, he needed to get the job done right.

  “Things were complicated. Tazz knew way too much for one. How is that, that he knew so much about where the meet was and who was at the house?”

  She shrugged a slender shoulder not taking her eyes off her nails. She had probably chipped one when she shot him.

  “How would I know what Robert McNeil knows and doesn’t know?”

  He considered her answer, feeling it out for honesty, and found nothing but the same uninterested and slightly tired-of-it-all attitude she always wore. He’d seen her fight, though. He’d even faced her on the training mats. After, he’d had to use two women to get off the steam Sonya had built up.

  The intern working on his arm poked him with the damn freezing instruments of his once more and Eric shoved him off.

  “Enough, I’ll heal. I always do. Let’s go.” He gathered his clothes, leaving his shirt off so Sonya could see the damage and all the work he put into keeping his body in top shape.

  “You are healed anyway, sir. I just needed to ensure you had no infection or lingering damage.”

  “I’m good to go, kid. Thanks,” he said, grinning when the skinny doctor blinked and nodded. He quickly left the room and Eric turned to face Sonya.

  She barely glanced at him. Didn’t matter. One big turn-on was a woman who needed his kind of lessons.

  “What now, babe?”

  “Now we check in with Duke and find out what we’re going to do to clean this up.”

  “Sure thing. The storm will pass and when it does, we get what we want. We always do, right?”

  Sonya gave him a flat stare for that, not even admiring his perfect eight pack or dipping lower to the ten inches of big cock outlined under his jeans.

  “Right. Always,” she said finally and walked out ahead of him.

  He followed with an eye on her ass under the skin-tight black stretch pants she wore. He doubted she wore panties. He’d fantasised about her not wearing any when he bent her over his knee and spanked her creamy white curves.

  He’d got off playing the Dom to women that looked like Sonya since he’d met her a few months before. Now she was within his sphere and he wasn’t going to have to fantasise much longer. Oh, he’d heard she didn’t do BDSM. But what woman who fought like her, talked like her, and had endured what rumour said she’d survived didn’t need a harsher, more demanding sexual encounter from a man? Or just the firm hand of a man who knew what he wanted. Sometimes, he knew, that was all it took—letting them know what he wanted and how to provide it.

  No way was she into the four-eyed bookish professors he’d heard about. She only needed to be guided properly, shown how hot she could come from the dominance he’d assert over her to really know what she’d been missing. His cock flooded and hardened to the point of needing him to adjust it to the side just thinking of tying her face down and plugging her ass. Women loved it and always came back for seconds. Hell, he knew all he had to do was pick one out of the hundred odd numbers from his phone and he’d have his Sonya replacement waiting for him. But he wasn’t leaving the compound. Not when he was this close to scoring more money than he’d make in his lifetime elsewhere.

  Sonya paused halfway down the brightly lit hall to speak to another doctor and he scanned the area for the blonde nurse he’d seen when they’d entered the compound’s medical facilities. She’d do for now. But soon, he told himself, eyes back on the way Sonya’s ass was shaped into the perfect heart, he’d have Sonya.

  She turned back to him and he widened his legs to give the pulsing hard-on more room in his jeans. Most women took in his bulge, even soft, and fell all over themselves to suck his cock. Sonya didn’t even glance down and he knew his rod pressed up and over his hip on display for anyone within ten feet of him.

  “Storm’s going to last for days, possibly the rest of the week,” she muttered. “Duke is out but we’re to see him first thing when he returns.”

  “That’s fine with me. Just have them give me a call on my cell when he’s back.” He caught her arm when she turned to go and pulled her right up to his bare chest. Her eyes widened, revealing more of the intense striations of green and brown in her hazel eyes. The lush curves of her big jugs pillowed up for him in her low cut top, and he took the time to admire the view before he met her eyes. “But before that, I want to know exactly what went down at DeRoy’s. I don’t like getting shot, babe.”

  She tilted her head and pursed her lips in a sigh. The way she did that made his cock jerk under his jeans, rubbing the head roughly against the fabric because, like all real men, he went commando style.

  If Sonya felt the eager jerk, she didn’t indicate it. “I bet you do,” she purred, running a hand down his chest to right above the ten inches of power bar he had in his jeans. He narrowed his eyes and hissed out a breath between his teeth at how good her fingers felt.

  “But I already told you, surfer boy”—she caressed her hand back up his chest to right below his jugular—“everything there is to know about what went down. And for the record? I don’t mix business with pleasure.” With that she pressed on his throat until he let her arm go.

  She stepped back and finally eyed his body. He didn’t hide his erection. Hell, he locked his knees and jutted his hips upward to showcase the thick rod.

  “Like what you see, babe? All you have to do is ask and it’s all yours,” he told her with a rough laugh. There was always a bit more to it than that, but he’d save that surprise for later.

  “Mmm, well, while impressive, you’re simply not my type, handsome.”

  Damn he loved how she played hard to get especially when he knew sooner or later he’d have her on her knees, crying for what she now denied.

  “I bet if you gave me a ride, you’d change that mind of yours, babe.”

  She laughed softly and blew him a kiss and a wink. “I just might, I just might.”

  He let her walk away, watching the slow rise and fall of each ass cheek as she went. The black leather high heel boots made his mouth water, but anticipation, he knew, always made the sex so much better. Although, he scanned the hallway for the big-titted blonde, right now sex was required.

  He found her at the nurse’s desk, looking bored and eying her dark purple polish much the way Sonya had been examining her red nails. She was a blonde, not a redhead, but she had fuck-me lips and a smile that matched the promise in her blue eyes. The jugs she had under her tight white uniform were just what the doctor ordered.

  She eyed him with enough interest to make his body break out in a flush of anticipated release.

  “Can I help you, sir?” she asked and there was so much in that soft spoken question that he smiled.

  “Aw, I like that, sir.” Her blue eyes flared with interest and he leaned in closer making a show of reading her name tag “I think we can help each other, Mindy, that is, if you know how to follow orders.”

  “Oh?” She set her nail file down and gave him one hell of a hot smile. She was beautiful, clearly a woman who took some care of herself. She might even work out to be more than a quick fuck if he was snowed in with her for days, maybe weeks. Her sharp gaze dipped down to his chest then to his hips and attention focused on the package under his jeans. “Orders sound interesting.”

  “Sir,” he reminded her.

  “Oh, sir. Mmm, that does fit, doesn’t it?” she asked catching his line so quickly he knew he’d hit gold. The build-up from the drugs made sex necessary and right now, as much as he liked to teach a woman her place, he needed to fuck like nobody’s business.

  “We can make sure it fits, babe, don’t worry your pretty little head over that.” He bent and breathed in her flowery perfume, making sure to exhale along her throat. She shivered.

  She’d do.

  For now.

  Chapter Four

>   Kristen finished up the last of the chores just as the icy wind picked up and the freezing temperatures dropped to something a great deal colder. The horses were fed and their water full. She’d shovelled enough snow off the path to her small barn to make it easier to keep up with even if it snowed all night. Her Jeep was tucked in, ready to go if things cleared early. By the heavy clouds and dense snowfall, things were not slowing down any time soon.

  “So much for only a few feet, huh, Rowdy?”

  Rowdy wagged his tail, tired out from corralling the new barn kittens more than helping her with the blizzard preparations. He’d been beside himself when Kit Kat had left her three-week-old kittens to have some alone time, possibly hunting for her dinner. The kittens had escaped their stall by squeezing under the door and each time they did, Rowdy would bark and carefully pick them up and jump over the top of the stall door to place the kitten back where he thought it belonged. He’d done this, until in complete doggie frustration he’d parked himself inside the stall. When Kristen had peeked, he’d had four kittens snuggled up asleep all over him. If she’d had to guess he’d looked sheepishly happy with the situation. He’d still given Kit Kat his version of hell for leaving the kittens when she’d come back to her stall.

  Rowdy was by far one of the things that kept her sane. She rubbed his head and smiled at how pleased he looked.

  “We did good today, huh, boy? But I’m tired,” she told him and stretched her arms over her head and arched her back to get the kinks out of it from shovelling. The air was so chilly it made her nose tingle when she breathed, but she didn’t mind it. After today’s workout she’d not even need the bottle of Jack she usually used to fall asleep.

  At the thought she dropped her arms and considered the light. She couldn’t take a hike now, it was getting too dark and the storm, and snow, made it dangerous. The trees acted as a buffer for some of the snowfall, but not all. But the need to punish herself more, to exhaust her body so her mind would shut up, beat at her.

  A ghost of a whisper skittered over her neck and she turned to examine the corner of the barn. Rowdy perked up his ears and a low growl erupted from his chest.

  “What is it, boy? You feel it too?”

  The next thing she knew, a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, stood for a second leaning heavily against her barn, then like a slow motion movie, he toppled face first into the snow bank she’d created from all her shovelling.

  Rowdy went nuts but with a word from her, he stopped and settled down by her side, his hair up on his ruff and his tail straight out from his body, indicating he was not at all happy with the situation. He growled again, but when the guy didn’t move, he gave her a quizzical look.

  “Yeah, how ‘bout that?” she asked softly and walked over to the motionless figure half covered in snow. She spotted blood on his sweater at the same time as she registered the clean-shaven strong jaw and dark short hair and his size. He was big, not heavy fat, but large, possibly over six foot with broad shoulders.

  “Hey, mister? Uh, mister?” She nudged him with a boot against his shoulder and barely moved his body. “Hello?”

  He didn’t stir. Didn’t even blink an eye when Rowdy barked again.

  “I know, but shhh, let’s see what we can see here, okay, before you eat him for your next meal, okay?”

  Rowdy huffed a breath but seemed to settle down at her calm tone or because the man hadn’t moved. She hunkered down but kept a firm grip on Rowdy’s collar. He sniffed the man’s face and if that didn’t wake him nothing would. A low worried sound came from Rowdy when he sniffed along the man’s shoulder and side.

  Kristen peered over her dog’s shoulder and spotted blood lower on his side. She also caught sight of a gun and a knife on him tucked into his pants. He wore serviceable boots for the snow, the kind of military grey washed cargos so many people wore, but on him they looked like professional gear. She frowned at the thought, and reached out to touch his temple. He was hot to the touch even though he was dressed in only a sweater—no jacket, no hat, no gloves, nothing to protect him from the winter weather.

  An ear bud ran from his ear to down his shirt collar. It looked like a com unit, not a pair of headphones.

  There was blood on his hand, the kind she imagined a man got on him when a lot of blood was spilt. Maybe his. She hoped his. She hoped not someone else’s. The thought stopped her from turning him, but only long enough to scan the woods. There was no one there, but that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be. The snow was coming down harder now and his tracks had filled in partly. If someone had followed him, would they be able to find him here?

  “Well, we’ll deal with that later, huh, Rowdy? Right now he needs our help.”

  Rowdy gave her a soft nudge of his nose as answer and she petted him quickly. If he wasn’t freaked out, she shouldn’t be either.

  Eyes back on the man, she gripped his shoulders and shifted him with effort onto his back. He slid down the snow pile and landed awkwardly at her feet, but didn’t wake. He was handsome, in a rough kind of way. He had plenty of scars, so she guessed he was some kind of military or maybe a mobster. Who knew, but right now, his face was pale, almost grey, his wounds had turned his forest green shirt into a ghastly scarlet and he was unconscious. He also, she thought, looked familiar.

  She crouched down closer to him, examining his face and with a shock, why he was familiar rushed over her. He resembled a man she’d once known and now, she knew that man was gone. She touched his left eyebrow where a scar had sliced through the shape of it, pulling it slightly upwards. The shape of this man’s jaw was different and his nose was off centre at the top as if he’d broken it there several times and his lips were thinner. Maybe it was his colouring that reminded her of Robert McNeil. Lots of men had black hair. It wasn’t that.

  “Well, I suppose we get him inside, huh, boy?”

  Rowdy glanced from her to the guy then back again, as if weighing that, then wagged his tail. So, Rowdy wasn’t against the guy completely. Interesting.

  She exhaled, realising how tense she’d become. A new layer of snow filled her pathway already. Soon the storm that she’d been hearing about all week would be right on top of them. There was no chance of getting down the mountain now even if somehow she could get the guy in her Jeep. She’d checked her phone an hour ago and it hadn’t worked. No doubt the storm had knocked down power lines and phone lines farther down.

  That meant she had to let this man into her house—possibly for a very long time. Dread settled in her stomach at the thought. She’d be stuck in a small cabin with him for days, possibly weeks.

  Why oh why did I pick this isolated spot to hide from the world?

  She blinked the snow out of her eyes. Hell. She was officially in hell.

  “No help for it, we’re going to have to bring this guy,” she muttered and walked off to find the necessary sled, rope, or possibly horse, to help her haul his unconscious body into the cabin.

  Robert woke slowly, so slowly he had time to panic over the reasons it took him so long to get his unresponsive body and eyes to listen to his orders. When he got his lids up, he was faced with something he couldn’t process until a bark vibrated through his aching skull, helping him understand that a dog hung over him.

  “Rowdy, back away and give him some space. Oh—” The sweet voice broke off and the furry face moved back, replaced with a vision from his dreams. “You’re awake. Good, I think that’s good. You’ve been…”

  She dropped her hand from where she’d been fidgeting with something at her neck and waved at his prone body. “Well, um… Did you know you’ve been shot?”

  Her words swirled around him making no sense past the double image of her in a summery dress, asking him for help, to the vision of her now, wearing a loose purple sweater that hung down the rounded curve of one of her shoulders. Her dark hair was up in a twist revealing every inch of her beautiful Latin features for his hungry eyes.

  How long has it been since I’ve
seen her?

  Her accent sounded stronger now, the Hispanic flavour of it more apparent mixed with the slower tones of the west he’d grown up with. Or maybe he’d not heard it for so long it sounded that way.

  “Can you hear me? I said you’ve been shot.”

  He blinked and the world stopped playing games with him. The past disappeared but Kristen still hovered over him. Kristen. Why had he come here instead of the second safe house? Obviously his head hadn’t been working properly. Or maybe he had been thinking properly. Walters was a problem. Sonya too, if she had really changed sides. Here at least he was safe from either of them finishing him. But here, he was in as much danger. Maybe even more, he thought, looking into Kris’s brilliant dark eyes.

  “Um… Maybe he’s still out, Rowdy.”

  “Kristen?”

  She’d been about to stand up and at his rough whisper, she sat back with a soft ‘oh’ passing her lips and frowned at him. “You know me?”

  It was too late to take back the name, too late to lie, and he was too damn tired to care. He was shot, sick of hiding and holding back everything for the mission that never seemed to end. There would always be another mission, but there might not be another chance like this. He tried to think of all the reasons not to tell Kristen who he was, but the overwhelming desire to have someone—especially this woman—see him and know who he had been, and wanted to be again, burst through every defence he’d set up to keep his desires down and under control.

  “It’s Robert, Robert McNeil—”

  “Robert McNeil?” she repeated, saying his name with a Latin flare he remembered. “Robbie?” she murmured, shocking him with a nickname he’d not heard in years. His sister used to follow him around calling out for him using that name. Hearing it from this woman sent a slice of something right to his throat.