by Jory Strong
Kelleher put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done your part. Now you’re benched. That’s standard operating procedure.”
“Because I killed a guy who shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
Kelleher speared his fingers through his hair on a sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you other than Vaccaro and I will look into it. The word’s probably already out that Traynor’s wife is coming in and we have Nowak. If Becky Traynor really has something on Dominguez and her husband, then we’ll get the ball rolling to pick up Traynor and start extradition proceedings on Dominguez. Your part’s done. There’s no reason for anyone to come gunning for you now.”
“What about the other brother?” She remembered the case and the registration papers still in the trunk of Kye’s SUV.
Kelleher’s eyebrows drew together. “We think he’s back in Mexico. There’s no sign of him. Just the abandoned van in the garage across from Nowak’s place. You still got that stuff?”
“It’s in the SUV.”
“I’ll track down your bodyguards before I leave and get it from them.” He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s coming after you, but maybe you should keep the bodyguards with you for a little longer.”
“I plan to.”
“Good.”
Savannah took a deep breath. He was probably right. It was probably safe—even if it didn’t feel finished to her. Maybe because of the kid. Holland. She couldn’t even explain it to herself why she cared so much—other than what she’d told Krista at The Dive. Holland still seemed vulnerable. Reachable.
“Will you give me a call if the girls surface?”
Kelleher shook his head. “Stay clear of this from now on. Got it? We’ll debrief you ASAP.” He put his hand on her shoulder again. “Thanks for the save. You’ve got good instincts and a fast draw. Any slower and we might all have gone down. I’ll be in touch.”
Savannah watched him go. Her emotions rollercoastering all over the place. She scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, suddenly wanting to be with Kye and Draigon more than anything else.
She stopped at her locker, intending to toss her cell phone in—then thought better of it. She was being paranoid. Hell, for all she knew Psycho II had followed The Ferret to the truck stop in the hopes Ricky would lead him to Becky Traynor. That made more sense than someone following her. She’d been watching for a tail, then Kye and Draigon had been monitoring the parking lot. It had all happened so quickly, a crazy attack instead of a sniper’s bullet, and only when Kelleher had shown up and it became obvious The Ferret was going into custody.
Savannah rubbed the back of her neck and closed the locker without ditching the phone. She was out of the loop now—unless The Ferret called with the address where Becky’s clients went to kick back, party, fuck, whatever. Then again, there was no reason why Becky wouldn’t give the information directly to Kelleher and Vaccaro.
Kye and Draigon were waiting for her in the reception area. Their expressions grim and worried. Tense.
“Let’s go,” Savannah said, wanting to make it to the car before she melted against them, because as soon as she saw them she realized that what she wanted more than anything else, what she needed more than anything else was to be in bed with them. To feel their heated flesh against her own as the numbness started fading and the reality began setting in. The soul-deep realization she’d managed to keep at bay by answering questions and rehashing the event.
She’d killed a man.
She’d killed a man who deserved to be killed. Who’d asked to be killed. Who would have killed her in a heartbeat.
She didn’t feel guilty. So it wasn’t conscience.
She’d done what she had to do. What needed to be done. Known it was a possibility from the moment she first decided to become a cop. But now the images were bombarding her. An endless loop she couldn’t seem to shut off. The words I killed a man today repeating themselves in her thoughts over and over again until they started to unnerve her.
And that was a pisser. A shocker.
A ripping away at the fabric of self-confidence.
She answered in monosyllables as Kye drove. They did the same. Their longest conversation occurring when Kye pulled into a hotel parking garage instead of returning to the cabin.
“This is probably a good idea,” Savannah said. “Kelleher thinks Jose Abrego’s brother is back in Mexico since he hasn’t been seen and you found the van in the garage. Still, we’re probably safer here. Harder for a sniper to pick us off.” She squeezed their hands. “I should have left the cell phone in my locker. The Ferret calling with a lead on the girls is a long shot. He could tell Kelleher. Or Becky could. I had no right to…”
“Hush,” Draigon said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her mouth. Forcing her to be quiet.
“I believe we are safe from both of the Abregos,” Kye said, his voice so confident that Savannah turned and looked at him, wondered for a brief instant if Kye had found the brother Vaccaro labeled Psycho I in the parking garage and had done something to him. But then she shook her head, clearing the thought. Her heart rate spiking and racing, her stomach clamping painfully at the reminder that he was unarmed.
They checked in and went to their room.
“I think I’d like a shower,” Savannah said, hating it that her voice sounded shaky. That she just wanted to close her eyes, but every time she did, she relived the shootout. Started the internal dialog all over again. Only now there were additional questions. What if Kye had been killed? Or Draigon? Why had she allowed them to come with her when they didn’t even have guns to defend themselves with?
They followed her into the bathroom, their behavior coaxing a laugh out of her, then a sigh as they began undressing her. She wanted to protest, to point out that she’d been bathing herself for a lot of years now, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t stand the thought of them being out of her sight yet. And their caring was a balm to her soul.
“You’re upset,” Kye said, kneeling in front of her, removing her shoes and socks then tugging her jeans and panties down while Draigon peeled off her shirt and bra.
“I’m having a harder time with this than I expected,” Savannah admitted.
Draigon cupped her breasts, kissing along her shoulder, her neck, his body hot and hard against her back. “Forgive me. I failed you. It was my duty to protect you, but it was you who protected me instead.”
Kye stood and pressed against her front. “Forgive me as well. I was thinking only of the moment when The Ferret would be in Kelleher’s hands and I could speak to you about a permanent bond. The burden of this death should not fall on you.”
Savannah wrapped her arms around his waist and closed her eyes, savoring being held between two fiercely masculine bodies. Their combined presence making her feel as though she was in a living, breathing cocoon. Their warmth easing some of the tightness inside her. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m a cop and I was doing my job. I’ll get through this.”
“The taking of a life should not be a casual occurrence,” Draigon said, smoothing her hair out of the way and nuzzling her ear. “Rightly or wrongly done it should leave its mark on you. The first time is the hardest, the most painful. The one that lingers the longest in your thoughts no matter whether the death was in self-defense or in accordance with the law.”
Savannah turned her head slightly, shivering when the move centered her ear over his mouth and he explored the shell with his tongue. “You’ve had to kill someone.”
“Yes.”
Kye brushed her check with the back of his hand. “As have I. We will help you deal with this and in the future you will never have to know this kind of pain again.”
“You can’t guarantee that. Even if I quit being a cop, which I have no intention of doing, it could still happen again. I could still end up killing someone.” She gave a shaky laugh. “Thousands of hours of playing shoot-em-up games with my brothers plus growing up on a ranch where killing livestock
is… I thought I was prepared for this.”
“You did what needed to be done,” Draigon said, making her moan when his tongue explored her ear canal as one hand fondled her breast and the other stroked over her belly on its way to cup her mound.
“If something had happened to either one you…”
“Nothing did,” Kye said and she whimpered when his mouth assaulted her other ear, his fingers spearing into her hair as his free hand also cupped a breast, tweaking and rolling the nipple, reminding her of the hours they’d spent suckling her, loving her.
“You guys make it hard to think,” she whispered.
“Then don’t think about anything but us,” Draigon said. “Let us care for you as is our right, our duty.”
It sounded old-fashioned. Strangely formal.
And yet it fit him. It fit them.
“For now,” she murmured.
“For always,” Draigon said, his hand leaving her cunt as Kye knelt once again and buried his face in the down of her pubic hair, licked along her slit then circled her clit. Striking it. Sucking it. Filling it with blood and sensation until the hood pulled back to expose the tiny, pleasure-vulnerable head.
She arched and shuddered. Unable to think of anything other than the white-hot shards of sensation pulsing through her clit, the feel of Draigon’s tongue exploring her ear, his palm rubbing against her tender nipple as her womb fluttered.
“You already wear our bands,” Draigon whispered, leaving her ear canal and sucking her earlobe into his mouth, holding it there, tugging gently, biting, before releasing it. “Agree to a permanent bond.”
His fingers tightened on her nipple, tugged in the same rhythm as Kye sucked on her clit. Making her remember the perfect synchronicity of their movements when they pleasured her until she agreed to wear the bands—bands she’d since noted matched the ones they wore except for the lack of stones. Her right wristband engraved with the creatures found on Kye’s band. Her left identical to the one on Draigon’s wrist.
“You’re not playing fair,” she was able to say this time and Kye laughed against her cunt, dipped his head and plunged his tongue into her channel in a long French kiss before lifting his face and saying, “Isn’t there a saying, All’s fair in love and war?”
“You’re forgetting my favorite saying,” she managed between waves of delirious pleasure. “I don’t get mad, I get even.”
Kye chuckled. A husky sound of masculine confidence as he licked over the tiny head of her clitoris. “We can take anything you can dish out, beloved, and will come back for second servings.” He sucked the swollen knob into his mouth, taking her to the point of orgasm before releasing her. “Agree to spend your life joined with us, Savannah. Agree to a binding ceremony,” he said, punctuating his demand by spearing his tongue into her channel.
She closed her eyes against the pleasure. Knowing in a matter of minutes she’d be willing to promise them anything if they’d only allow her to come. Thinking again of the conversation she’d had with Krista days earlier. Understanding completely why Krista had fallen for Adan and Lyan if they were anything like Draigon and Kye.
“Open your eyes,” Draigon whispered. “Look in the mirror and see your bond-mates pleasuring you as is their right, their duty.”
Savannah did as he commanded and heat rushed through her body at the image captured in the full mirror. Kye kneeling in front of her, his face buried between her thighs as her fingers speared into his hair, holding him to her. Draigon behind her. His face chiseled perfection. His expression one of love, lust, determination.
He nuzzled her cheek with his, cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over the ultrasensitive nipples so she arched, moaned, saw the flash of exquisite need in her own face. Whimpered when Kye renewed his assault on her clit, his lips surrounding it, sucking as his tongue danced over it until she was panting, pumping into his mouth, desperate for release.
Draigon’s fingers captured her areolas then, his face becoming a taut mask of masculine intention. His attack on her nipples in perfect sync to Kye’s assault on her cunt and clit. “Agree to go through a binding ceremony with us.”
“Yes,” Savannah said, crying out as they relented, as orgasm shimmered through her.
Chapter Eighteen
They’d done it to her again, Savannah thought, used her body to get what they wanted. But how could she be mad at them? Especially when waking up with two gorgeous sex gods on either side of her was exactly her idea of heaven.
She eased to a sitting position. Glanced at the clock on the bedside stand and wasn’t surprised to discover they’d slept through both breakfast and lunch.
Every part of her tingled as she took in the bronzed bodies, the hard muscles, the long hair spilling across the pillows and across their chests and shoulders. Damn, who’d have ever guessed men with long hair could be such a turn-on for her?
But they definitely were. Though it was a bit of a problem that they knew exactly how much she craved them. How much power they had over her. She was totally and completely hooked. Couldn’t imagine sleeping solo now. But maybe it worked both ways. They were both pressed against her as though they couldn’t stand to be apart from her even in sleep.
Savannah sighed and studied the bracelets they’d put on her wrists the first time they used her body against her. She’d known on some level that the things were more than just pieces of jewelry. But after last night…
Her womb fluttered. She was starting to think the bands might be their version of engagement rings.
You already wear our bands. Agree to a permanent bond.
Agree to spend your life joined with us, Savannah. Agree to a binding ceremony.
Was there any other interpretation possible?
Savannah didn’t think so.
It made her a little nervous, but she wasn’t freaking out—yet. Then again, she’d pretty much always lived by the seat of her pants. On gut instinct.
She loved Kye and Draigon. She thought she had a future with them. She wanted a future with them. And like she’d told Krista, she did believe in love at first sight. Or at least the possibility of recognizing a soul mate—or two—at the same time she was in the throes of lust.
A laugh escaped as she thought of all the wedding chapels in Las Vegas. Obviously she wasn’t the only one who believed in love at first sight.
She absently played with strands of their hair, reliving the night, the almost non-stop sex starting in the shower after she’d agreed to a bond with them and then moving to the bed. They’d taken her on her hands and knees, anally, coaxed her into riding them, switched off who was lying on top and fucking her—brought her to orgasm so many times that there had been no room for anything else but physical sensation.
A small smile played over her lips. They’d done it for themselves, no doubt to reinforce their claim on her, and while she doubted either Draigon or Kye would admit it—to compete with each other. But mainly they’d done it for her—to keep her from thinking about killing a man.
And it had worked.
The repetitive loop of images and questions had stopped. Even now, revisiting what had happened, she felt…calm, accepting. It was a righteous kill. Unasked for, but unavoidable.
And she could live with it. She was okay with it.
Savannah slipped out of bed. Stretched. Only barely suppressing a groan when her body began cataloguing exactly how well they’d loved her the previous night.
Another laugh escaped. She might have to become a nudist. Because right now, the thought of clothes was pure torture.
Still, she couldn’t resist snagging one of their shirts as she made her way to the kitchenette, buttoning only a couple of the buttons before making a pot of coffee and pouring herself a cup, then moving to the window. Thinking.
She was on administrative leave. Officially. Definitely. On the bench, as Kelleher had said. Sidelined. Out of the loop and off the investigation.
Which meant she should do what? Go on vacation—maybe e
ven a honeymoon?
Savannah closed her eyes and leaned against the sun-warmed windowpane. The obvious thing, the thing she probably wasn’t going to be able to avoid, was a serious discussion with Draigon and Kye about the bands, the binding ceremony, their home—wherever the hell that was. She grimaced. Somehow she had a feeling the conversation wasn’t going to go smoothly.
With a sigh, she opened her eyes and took a sip of coffee. Admitted to herself as she did it that what she really wanted to do, what she needed to do in order to put this thing behind her was to find Holland and make sure she was okay. To make the offer of help one more time. If she could just do that…then she could walk away from this.
Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned and smiled, not surprised to see Kye a few steps away, naked. He glided to a stop and immediately reached for the shirt buttons, undoing them so the shirt spread, revealing her breasts, her belly, her cunt.
“I believe this is my shirt,” Kye said, his cock stirring at the sight of his bond-mate. Their bond-mate.
The Ylan stones pulsed in anticipation of migrating to the bands on her wrists. Their vibration against his skin warning him that it was now too dangerous for him to mate with her. To risk touching his bands to hers as they were intimate unless they were in the transport chamber and he and Draigon were taking her in the binding ceremony. Once she wore the Ylan stones there would be no hiding their true form from her, no hiding their thoughts or emotions from her.
“Are you saying you want your shirt back?” Savannah teased and Kye’s heart filled with happiness, with relief that she’d put the events of the previous day behind her.
He reached out and stroked her side, loving the feel of smooth skin over sleek muscle. His cock echoing his thoughts, rising like an explanation point between them. “Yes, I think it’s safe to say I want my shirt back,” he said, pulling her to him and taking her coffee mug from her hand, setting it on the windowsill so he could enfold her in a loose embrace. “But perhaps we had better eat first.”