by Lisa Childs
She was enjoying it—every soft kiss. He moved from her lips to her chin and then down her throat. He flicked his tongue across her leaping pulse point. Then he nibbled on her collarbone.
While he’d told her to slow down, the man moved fast, removing her bra and panties before she even realized they were gone. She realized when he touched her there—first with his fingers tracing over the curves of her breasts before teasing the nipples. One hand moved lower, over her stomach to the small mound between her legs.
She squirmed beneath him as pressure built inside her. While his hands stroked her breasts and lower, his lips moved back to hers. The gentle kisses were gone as he kissed her more forcefully now.
Her hold on reality began to slip as he drove her crazy with those kisses and caresses. And she wanted him to descend to madness with her, so she touched him, too. She skimmed her palms over his muscular chest and down his stomach until she could encircle him with her hands. It took both and still he protruded over the top.
He groaned into her mouth. “Stacy…”
“I’m not slowing down now,” she protested. Not when the pressure building inside her was about to snap her in two. He stroked her again—deep—and she peaked. Panting for breath, she arched against him. But she wanted more than his touch. She wanted all of him, so she guided his erection inside her.
He thrust, sliding in and out of her, driving her to the brink of madness again as passion overwhelmed her. She’d never felt anything like this—such an intensity of desire and pleasure.
And such intimacy…
With him inside her, she felt so close to him—closer than she’d ever felt to another human being. He kept his mouth on hers, kissing her as deeply as he was driving inside her. And he kept touching her, running his hands all over her body as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her flesh.
She kept touching him, too, unable to stop touching him, unable to stop moving beneath him. She squirmed and arched. Then he reached between them and rubbed his thumb against the most sensitive part of her, and pleasure overwhelmed her again. She screamed his name as her body shook and shuddered with an orgasm more intense than any she’d ever felt before.
With a guttural groan of pleasure, he joined her, his orgasm filling her. He settled his forehead against hers and stared deeply into her eyes.
And she hoped that he didn’t see what that had meant to her. Everything.
She had just made love to the man she’d spent the past fifteen years hating. If lying about being engaged to him was a betrayal of her family, this was worse. Making love with him was a betrayal of herself…
“This was a mistake,” she murmured.
He sucked in a breath as if she’d struck him. “I thought you wanted it.”
“I did,” she said. And she did again—even though he was still inside her. She wanted him. “But it complicates everything.”
“Everything wasn’t already complicated?” he asked. “With people trying to kill us?”
“I was thinking more of our history,” she said. Their complicated history of hating each other.
And finally he pulled out of her.
She felt empty—more empty and alone than she’d ever felt, even when her father and brothers had been away.
He uttered a ragged sigh. “That’s right. You hate me.”
“Ah, hell,” she murmured as she pushed him back onto the mattress. “I don’t hate you. I wish I hated you…” But she was afraid that she was falling for him instead. She swung one leg across his lean hips to straddle him. “I want you…”
His hands caught her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of her butt as he stilled her. Had she reminded him that he hated her?
“I’m going to need a minute to recover.”
He lied. It didn’t take him a full minute to recover. It took him much longer to reach his pleasure breaking point, though. So she was able to enjoy herself—setting her own pace as she slid up and down him and rocked back and forth.
Sweat beaded on his upper lip and the muscles in his arms and neck corded and pulsed. He waited until she peaked again, and then he thrust up, hard, and joined her in ecstasy.
She dropped onto his chest, so exhausted that she was boneless with sexual satisfaction. She’d never been so fulfilled or so exhausted. Feeling safe and secure in his arms, she easily fell asleep.
*
LOGAN SHOULD HAVE been tired. Exhausted now. But he couldn’t close his eyes. He could not take his gaze off her. He watched as the bright sunshine of midmorning streaked through the bedroom blinds and fell across Stacy’s face, illuminating her already luminous beauty.
He would like to blame his inability to sleep on his having to stand watch and protect her. But he had made certain that no one had followed them here. And nobody knew where he’d brought her. He hadn’t even told Parker.
Not that he told Parker everything. Despite being twins, they didn’t have that intuitive connection that twins were rumored to have. They didn’t tell each other everything. Parker had his secrets—about women. Logan suspected he’d slept with a few of their female clients, which was an offense that merited termination from the Payne Protection Agency. So of course he wouldn’t have admitted to the boss what or whom he’d done.
But Logan kept his secrets, too—about women. He wouldn’t admit to his feelings for his fiancée to his twin. He wasn’t even ready to admit to those feelings to himself. For so long he’d thought he’d hated Stacy Kozminski. When they’d made love, his feelings had been intense—more intense than anything he’d felt before. He definitely didn’t hate her.
But he didn’t want to love her, either…because nobody kept more secrets than Stacy Kozminski. And he couldn’t love someone he couldn’t trust.
A phone rang, shattering the silence of the town house and scattering Logan’s thoughts. Beside him, Stacy tensed and jerked awake. In a fearful whisper she asked, “Who knows we’re here?”
“Nobody,” he soothed her. And that was probably why someone was calling—to find out where the hell he was. “That’s not the landline. It’s my cell.”
He’d left it on the bathroom counter with his gun. So he had to leave her to answer it. He had to unwrap his arms from around her warm, nude body. Then he had to slide across the bed. Cold air rushed over him, chilling his naked skin as he padded into the bathroom and grabbed his phone.
If it was Parker…
But it wasn’t Parker’s number on the caller ID. He answered, “Logan Payne.”
“Payne, Captain O’Doyle here.”
He’d recognized the number; it wasn’t one he was ever likely to forget, but one he hoped he would never have to use again. “Captain, I didn’t think you were serious about that job offer—at least not serious enough to call so soon.”
“It’s nearly noon, Payne,” the captain replied with a chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d be waking you up at noon.”
“You didn’t wake me.” And it was noon? How had he stayed awake all night?
“Too much adrenaline to sleep,” the captain replied. “That usually happens after defusing a monster like that bomb.”
It wasn’t the bomb that had had adrenaline rushing through his body. It was Stacy.
“And I was serious about that job offer,” O’Doyle continued. “But that’s not why I called. I got back the initial report on the bomb.”
“The monster?”
“No, that one’s pretty professional.”
“The first one wasn’t?”
“No. It was crude and amateurish. If it’s the same bomber, he’s a fast learner and vastly improved for his second attempt.”
“When I was back on the force, whenever we were chasing a serial killer, we wanted to find his first kill because that was the one he would have made his mistakes on…”
The captain chuckled. “You are good, Payne. You’re wasted on private security.”
He glanced through the open door to where Stacy had fallen back to sleep in the be
d—her beautiful face and naked body completely bathed in sunshine now. “No. Not wasted at all.”
Not as long as he could keep her safe.
“So what did you find on the first bomb?” he asked.
“We learned that the components to buy it were stolen from a hardware store just down the block from the jewelry store.”
“Were there cameras? Witnesses?”
“No cameras, and it happened after the place closed. No one sees anything in that neighborhood, you know.”
“Of course not.”
“But we know what day the store was broken into.”
And when the captain named the day, Logan’s blood chilled. It was the same day that Stacy’s father had died in prison. Why had someone chosen that day to make the bomb and set it in Stacy’s apartment?
Because of her father’s last words? The words she’d refused to share with anyone else—even with her family?
“I thought you’d be more excited about the news,” O’Doyle said.
“I’d be more excited if we knew who actually made the bomb.”
The ATF agent chuckled. “Thought you’d want me to leave some work for you to do. Let me know if you figure it out…”
“When,” Logan corrected him. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Because it had just occurred to him how he might do that.
He hung up on the ATF agent and returned to the bed where Stacy slept. But he didn’t join her on the soft mattress and the silk sheets. He just stood over her, watching her sleep as he must have most of the morning.
He wanted to keep her here—in this private town house where nobody knew where they were. He wanted to keep her safe. But she would only be truly safe when the threat against them was eliminated.
“Stacy…”
She didn’t stir.
“Stacy!”
She jerked awake like she had when the phone rang. “What? What’s wrong?”
Everything.
“You have to get up,” he said. “You have to get dressed.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why are we leaving? Does someone know we’re here?”
“Nobody does,” he assured her.
“Then why can’t we stay?”
He wished they could. He wished they could just pretend the outside world didn’t exist. But they didn’t have that choice. They had families. Businesses. Responsibilities. And they couldn’t take care of any of those if they were dead.
And while nobody knew where they were now, somebody might figure it out. So they needed to figure out who that somebody was first.
“We can’t,” he said. “We need to leave.”
“Where are you taking me?” she asked as she sat up and the sheet slipped lower, revealing all her sexy curves.
He just wanted to take her over and over again. But if they made love, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to. He would want to stay forever in this place where they’d made love.
“Are you taking me to another safe house?” she asked.
He shook his head and reluctantly replied, “I’m taking you to prison.”
Chapter Fourteen
I’m taking you to prison.
His words rattled her. After that horrific day she’d watched her father die, Stacy had never intended to return to River City Maximum Security Penitentiary. Yet here she was, walking through the high fence—with armed guards standing watch in high towers.
Her stomach knotted with nerves and grief. As much as she had loved seeing her father, she’d hated coming to the prison. But since it was the only way she could spend time with him, she’d overcome her fears and reluctance. But she wouldn’t be able to see him today.
She wouldn’t be able to see him ever again. Because of this place, she’d had to bury him. And she used to blame this man for his death. But this man was now her fiancé.
As they went through security, he watched her carefully—his blue eyes intense. He acted concerned and regretful. But if he were either of those things, he wouldn’t have forced her to come back to this place. After they cleared security, a heavily armed guard escorted them to another part of the prison—away from the visiting areas and cells.
She had been there once—after her father died—to collect his last effects. The guard opened the door to the reception area for the warden’s office. A young secretary glanced up from her desk. She flashed Logan a big smile and then spared Stacy a sympathetic glance. “You can have a seat. It’ll be a few minutes before Warden Borgess can see you.”
Logan nodded at the woman before steering Stacy toward chairs at the other end of the reception area as if he didn’t want the secretary to overhear the conversation he anticipated them having.
“I don’t understand why you think we had to come here,” she said for the umpteenth time. But he had yet to answer her. So they actually hadn’t had much of a conversation yet. “If it’s to find out what my father’s last words were, you’re wasting your time.”
“And keeping that secret is probably how you’ve endangered your life,” he said.
“I’ve endangered my life?” she repeated, anger replacing her sadness at being back at the prison. “You’re blaming me for the bombs and the shootings?”
He glanced toward the secretary, who was either fascinated with their argument or probably just with him. Then he lowered his voice, as if that might make Stacy do the same. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve blamed me,” she said. “When you confronted me at my father’s funeral, you thought I was the one shooting at you.” And that same day they’d become engaged and then hours later they’d made love. Maybe grief over her father’s death had addled her mind so that she’d acted more impulsively than she ever had in her life. But making love with him had actually been the most impulsive thing she’d ever done.
“I didn’t think you were personally shooting at me,” he said.
“You thought I put my brothers up to it.”
“That was before I learned you really don’t have that much control over them.”
She felt as though she no longer had any control over any aspect of her life. Hopefully the ATF had cleared her building so that she could go back to the store and the workshop behind it. She needed to design something. She needed to control something—even if it were only metal and stones. But even if her building was reopened, it still wouldn’t be safe—not until she and Logan caught whoever was trying to hurt them.
That was why she had put aside her fears and anguish and agreed to return to the place where her father had suffered and died. “I don’t understand what you think we’re going to find out here.”
“Neither do I.” Warden Borgess stood in the open doorway to his office. But he held out his hand to Logan and shook it heartily. Then he awkwardly patted Stacy’s shoulder just as he had the day her father had died. That day he’d been full of guilt and regrets. “I still can’t understand what happened to Mr. Kozminski. None of the other prisoners had ever showed any ill will toward him…” He shook his head.
Logan’s brow furrowed. “So that attack on him was not provoked?”
Stacy gasped that he could still think so little of her father. But then he still believed that he had killed his father.
“Absolutely not,” the warden said, as astonished by the comment as Stacy was. “Nobody had bothered Patek until that day.”
“Is it possible to speak to the prisoner who attacked him?” Logan asked.
Fear clutched Stacy’s heart, squeezing it tightly. She didn’t know how Logan had confronted the man he believed had killed his father; she didn’t want to ever see the monster who’d taken hers. She’d already had enough nightmares about him.
Borgess shook his head.
“If you asked, he might be willing to speak with us,” Logan said.
The warden shook his head again. “No, it’s not possible. The man died that very same day.”
Stacy gasped again. “What?”
; “I tried to let you know,” the warden said, “but you didn’t return the messages I left for you.”
She hadn’t wanted to hear from the warden again—or from anyone else associated with the prison that had taken away her dad.
He continued, “I figured you were busy planning services for your father.”
She nodded. She had been busy planning the services. But Logan Payne had forced those plans to go awry. Instead of mourning her father, she’d gotten engaged.
“Who killed him?” Logan asked.
Borgess shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You must have seen something on security cameras.”
“The camera in that area had malfunctioned that day.”
“So it was premeditated. Someone had messed with the camera before they attacked him. That someone must have had easy access to that area.”
“All the prisoners do,” the warden replied a bit defensively. Had he thought Logan was implying that a guard had killed the man?
Was that what Logan was implying?
“I’d like to see the visitor logs for that prisoner,” he said.
Warden Borgess narrowed his eyes. “As I understand it, Mr. Payne, you’re no longer with the River City Police Department. Aren’t you private security now?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. Stacy’s life is in danger and I’m trying to find out why someone set a bomb in her apartment on the day her father died.”
The warden’s eyes opened wide with alarm. “Are you all right, Miss Kozminski?”
She nodded. “Logan defused it.”
The warden turned back to her bodyguard/soon-to-be husband. “You must be very good at your job, Mr. Payne.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Logan repeated. “That’s why I need to see who’d been visiting the prisoner who killed Mr. Kozminski.”
“From your years with the River City Police Department, you must remember the law and the privacy rules that prevent me from giving you that information without a warrant,” he replied almost regretfully.
“What about Stacy’s father? Will we need a warrant to see his logs?”