Bound By Temptation

by Trish McCallan

  With a deep exhale, Emma stroked a path across the dog’s skull to her other ear. In retrospect, crashing Lucas’s trap would have been a terrible mistake. What if she’d arrived as the bad guys showed up and they’d grabbed her instead of breaking into Lucas’s house? What if her sudden presence distracted Lucas and got him killed, or her killed, or both of them? There was a reason Lucas had exiled her to this safe house. A good reason. He knew what he was doing; she’d be wise to remember that.

  She shook her head in disgust. Fear for him had frozen her brain and almost drove her into making a foolish mistake. Five hours of waiting…that’s all it had taken to whittle away at her intelligence. What would it be like when he was on deployment?

  Obviously Lucas had cause for his abandonment three months ago. She didn’t have a clue what military life was like. If she couldn’t handle five hours of waiting and worrying, how would she handle months or years?

  A dull, gray depression invaded the fear.

  Scrubbing at the ache between her eyes, she drew Cuddles tight against her side, relaxing as the dog’s warmth seeped into her cold body.

  Granted, the circumstances tonight were different then when Lucas went wheels up. She’d known he was headed into a battle, known he was facing a possible gun fight, known the danger was immediate. When he was on deployment, the details would be less concrete. She wouldn’t know the exact time his team was called out.

  Would that vagueness make things easier or worse?

  Cuddles suddenly straightened, her eyes locking on the bedroom door. She cocked her ears and tilted her head, a low, rumbling growl breaking from her.

  Emma froze, her heart suddenly slamming against her chest. Cuddles was clearly hearing something out in the hall… was it Lucas? Or one of her hosts?

  And then the dog bolted from the mattress, racing for the door, her deep-throated warning echoing through the room.

  The door swung open and a shadowy figure stepped inside. Even in the darkness, the tall, broad shouldered frame was instantly recognizable. Emma’s breath escaped in a heavy whoosh, the relief so overwhelming she went lightheaded. She didn’t remember moving or him moving, but suddenly they were clinging to each other in the middle of the bedroom. Hard, hot lips covered hers, forcing her mouth open.

  She could taste the spice of adrenaline on his tongue, feel the pulse of his life force beneath the hands she’d wrapped around his muscled neck. Nothing had ever tasted or felt so good.

  He tore his mouth from hers and leaned down slightly, glaring at the floor. “Enough.”

  Only then did she realize the dog was still barking. A smile spread, warming every cold, lonely inch of her. “I told you she’d make a great watchdog.”

  When Cuddles ignored Lucas’s command, continuing to voice her alarm with urgent growls and flurries of barking, Emma smiled down at her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. He’s one of the good guys.”

  He grunted, his hands sliding from her waist, to her hips. A trail of fiery goosebumps tingled along in their wake. With a light tug, he pulled her closer, but the sudden movement tweaked her back. Catching her breath, she froze.

  “Ah hell.” He eased closer, gliding his hands around to her back and running his palms up and down her spine in a slow, caressing sweep. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, Better?”

  Better?

  She almost groaned in pure bliss. The heat of his big body as it folded around her, along with the firm tenderness in his massaging caress was as close to heaven as she’d ever come—okay, second closest. The first had been three months ago.

  “Let’s get you into bed.” Without releasing her from his embrace or halting his sensual, soothing back massage, he stepped forward. She took an accompanying step back.

  The friction of his thigh as it rubbed between hers was delicious. Heat flashed up her legs, set fire to her belly, and then exploded outward. Her core temperature spiked. Her arms circled his waist to draw him closer, until they were pressed belly to belly, chest to chest. With each step back, his torso rubbed against her breasts. She could hear his heart rate increase and his respiration pick up, feel his erection prodding her belly.

  Her heart rate and breathing accelerated, matching his. Even in this they were harmonized. Smiling, she found the hollow of his throat with her mouth and suckled. He jolted against her, his arms tightening—only to loosen again, as though he’d remembered her injuries.

  She suckled again, his scent flooding her, fanning the fire in her blood. He smelled like soap and shampoo and—

  Soap? Shampoo?

  She pulled back, he’d taken a shower before coming to her? She lifted a hand to his head and the dampness beneath her fingers confirmed her suspicion. Suddenly a host of questions ruptured the sensual haze. She pulled back, bracing her palms against his chest and pushed, trying to gain some distance and a good view of his body. Had he been injured?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly loosening his hold and giving her the space she’d silently demanded.

  “Are you hurt?” She scanned his chest, as well as his legs. He didn’t look hurt, he didn’t move like it either.

  “I’m good.”

  His face was a gray blur in the shadows, impossible to read, but he didn’t sound like he was in pain. Good! That was good. But that shower bugged her. She couldn’t say why, but a little voice inside her insisted it was important. He’d taken a shower for a reason.

  “Tag? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Lucas’s arms tightened, drawing her close again.

  Afraid of being pulled back into that carnal fog, Emma took a giant step back. His arms fell away. Instantly she felt bereft—cold and alone.

  “What about the rest of your teammates? Was anyone hurt?” She hated the thought of anyone taking a bullet for her, or a knife, or anything that could do physical damage.

  “Everyone’s fine,” Lucas said.

  She could feel the strength of his gaze in the darkness, the power of his hunger. His need sparked hers. Her breasts swelled, her nipples tightening, and a flush of damp heat swept down through her core—softening her, preparing her.

  “So what happened? Did the guy who followed us show up?” Her voice emerged breathless and rushed.

  “They showed,” Lucas said in the casual voice of someone desensitized to drama. He paused to run a hand over his head and his voice gentled. “You’re safe now. The guy after you was killed by his wingman. The rest of the bastards are hired muscle, in it for the five grand. None of them know what their leader was looking for.”

  Emma took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s over?”

  He stepped closer and raised a hand to stroke her cheek. “Yeah, it’s over. We’ll want to take a look at that loveseat of yours, see what Ned was after. But the guy who trashed your house and tried to grab you won’t bother you again.”

  Thank God.

  She stepped back into his embrace and leaned against his chest, sighing as his arms closed around her again, sealing her in that wonderful furnace of masculine heat.

  “Thank you, for everything. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” She felt his mouth move against the top of her head.

  “You’re welcome.” A long pause and then. “Does this mean you forgive me for being such an ass last spring?” Tenderness softened his voice, even as a tendril of caution threaded the question.

  Yeah, about that…

  “I’ve come to realize you were right in your assumptions.” She forced the admission out and felt him go completely still against her.

  “How so?” he asked, the question flat, as though he was already distancing himself.

  She swallowed hard. Would the truth push him away again? Destroy any chance they had together? Maybe. But he needed to know. It was only fair. He’d walked away the first time to protect her from this pain. The past five hours had taught her why. She needed to step up and offer the same protection. Give him the choice of walking away to protect himself this time.

  “I
was worried sick about you tonight,” she admitted tightly. “So worried I almost jumped out of bed and went over to check on you.” Would have if not for Cuddles’s intervention. She paused, drew a raw breath, and forced the rest of her confession out. “And no, I can’t imagine going through that hell for months at a time.”

  Rigidity infused the still body against her. He took a giant step back, his arms dropping.

  “Lucas.” She could hear the entreaty in her voice. “You were right that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. But I do now. And what’s between us is worth investigating, it’s worth seeing where it leads, it’s worth seeing what happens, even if that leads to pain.”

  “Maybe.”

  But the flatness in his voice told her he didn’t agree.

  “The condo is a crime scene, so I brought the insulin and dog food over. They’re in the kitchen. Try to get some sleep.” Turning, he walked away.

  The door closed behind him, sealing the room in darkness, and cold, and the first whispers of grief. Emma just stood there. Frozen. Empty. Alone. It was weird how the ache in her knees and the sting in her hands seemed a hundred times worse suddenly, as though her hands and knees were throbbing in sympathy with the ache in her heart.

  * * *

  The last thin strand of hope, that Emma was right and they could work past the spousal fear inherent in special operations, vanished the next afternoon when Lucas walked through Chris’s door to pick her up. She met him in the living room, her body sluggish, her face haggard, her eyed rimmed with red. Even the vibrant gold of her hair looked muted—tarnished.

  His gut tightened into a cold, ferocious knot. It had been dark in the bedroom the night before and he hadn’t gotten a good look at her face. He hadn’t witnessed the damage caused by those hours of fear as she waited for him. It was impossible to ignore now though. Impossible to shrug away.

  He should never have let things go so far. He’d known damnit. He’d known the worry and fear would extinguish her vitality and steal that joyful smile.

  He’d known he’d destroy her.

  Sometimes being right fucking sucked.

  “You ready?” he asked her, forcing calm into his voice.

  Neither Chris or Lyndon had returned from work, but he knew from talking to Chris that she’d called in sick at the hospital and gone back to bed after dosing and feeding her dog. From the look of her, the extra sleep hadn’t helped.

  She nodded, avoiding his eyes and picked up a plastic bag on the counter. From the clink as it rolled against the tile, it must contain the insulin vial. After settling the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she gingerly headed for the patio door, Cuddles glued to her side. The terrier mix nailed him with a vicious glower as she passed, pulling her lips back in a silent snarl. Lucas didn’t blame her. If he could, he’d scowl at himself too and then kick his own ass.

  “You should consider staying another night,” he said quietly, fighting to keep the roughness from his voice. The thought of her returning home, alone—unprotected—it clawed at him, left bloody gouges.

  She stopped to stare at him, her brown eyes distant and dull. “You got the guys after me, right? They’re dead or in jail?” She didn’t wait for his reluctant nod. “Then it’s safe to return home. I can’t stay here forever.”

  Maybe not forever. But she could stay for a couple of days, at least until he got used to the thought of her leaving, of never seeing her again. Grimacing, he rubbed his tight chest, swore beneath his breath and followed her to the sliding door.

  She stumbled slightly as they stepped onto the patio.

  Dammit. What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d known she was hurting. He should have driven, rather than walked over.

  “Hold on. I’ll get the Jeep.”

  “It’s okay.” She shot him a quick sidewise look. Whatever she saw brought a quiet, almost sad smile. “Honestly, the walk will do me good. I’m stiff more than sore, the exercise will limber me up.”

  Without looking at him again, she struck out for his condo. Silence built, throbbing between them as they walked, side by side, across the courtyard. Her stride didn’t falter until they got close enough to see the yellow crime scene tape barring entrance to his condo’s sliding glass door.

  “How long before the police will let you back in?” Emma stopped to stare.

  “Not long,” Lucas assured her, fudging a bit on the truth.

  Rio had told him the scene would be released once the investigation was complete. How long that would take was a big question mark. Although everyone had left for the day, he suspected at least the crime scene techs would be back.

  “How much trouble did you get into?” Worry flooded her face.

  The knot in his gut twisted tighter. Christ, he hated seeing that look on her face.

  “None.”

  She directed a look of disbelief at him. “A man died in your living room and the police didn’t say anything?”

  He shrugged. “The detectives asked a lot of questions. But there’s clear evidence they broke into the condo, clear evidence we didn’t fire our weapons, and ballistics will prove that the shot that killed Ned Bristol came from his own man’s gun.”

  She frowned as though she didn’t believe him, but followed him past the patio, around the corner, and out to the parking lot. The silence continued as they drove across town to her house.

  “Samantha’s going to meet us at her shop around five,” she eventually said in an absent voice. “She gave me the address and it’s not far from my house. We can head there after I drop off the insulin. It will be pretty close to five by then.”

  Lucas simply nodded. It would have been helpful to get a look at the loveseat earlier, but Emma’s friend had lost her phone, so hadn’t received Emma’s messages. By the time Emma reached her, a good chunk of the day had passed, and Samantha was headed into a meeting—one she apparently couldn’t miss.

  By the time he pulled up in front of Emma’s house, the silence between them had built to a shrill crescendo. She thrust open the passenger door and stiffly climbed out of the Jeep before he’d even turned off the engine. Cuddles leapt out after her.

  Lucas joined the pair on the sidewalk and stopped to complete a slow, thorough scan of the neighborhood. No vans or SUVs with tinted windows lurking down the street. Just a couple of sedans parked alongside the road, in front of houses. He studied a tiny, white haired woman shuffling down the sidewalk across the street with a towel covered bread pan in her hands.

  “How ‘bout you give me the insulin and your keys and I save you a trek up those stairs?” Lucas said, glancing up the steep path to her front porch.

  She must have been stiffer than she’d let on, because she handed over the requested items with no hesitation. He jogged up the slope to her porch, took the steps two at a time, and slipped the key into the front door’s lock. It stuck halfway in. Swearing, he jiggled the hell out of it, but it still took a good minute before the damn thing slipped fully into its housing.

  Mentally, he made a note to change out her locks.

  He’d just slipped the insulin bottle into the top shelf of the refrigerator door when his phone rang.

  He glanced at the caller ID—Rio.

  “Yeah?” he asked as he shut the fridge door.

  “We ID’d your dead guy. Edward Bristol. He was released last week from Avenal.”

  Nothing new there. The captive he’d interrogated had said as much.

  Deep, angry barking broke out on the street below. His heart warping into his throat, Lucas jerked around to look out the open, living room window. The old lady from across the street was talking to Emma, her cake pan still in hand. Cuddles was bouncing up and down on her front feet, barking like crazy.

  Emma had been right about one thing: Cuddles was a great watchdog. Too bad she barked at everything.

  “What did Bristol get sent up for?” Lucas turned away from the window.

  “Drugs.” Rio’s voice sharpened. “But get this. Ball
istics came back on the Carmichael murder. The same gun was used in a jewelry store robbery four years ago where a security guard was killed. The perp made off with half a million in diamonds. No suspects and the diamonds were never recovered.”

  Son of a bitch—half a million in diamonds?

  “How much you want to bet Bristol’s gun is a match for both murders? I guess we know what’s in the loveseat,” Lucas said dryly.

  “Not necessarily. It could be a coincidence. The jewel thief could have dumped the gun after killing the guard and Bristol ended up with it. He got sent up for drugs. It’s just as likely he was after drugs.”

  Lucas shrugged. Diamonds or drugs. The bastard wouldn’t be after either in his current condition.

  “We’re about to head to Samantha’s storage shed,” Lucas said, wincing as Cuddles’s barking escalated to wild baying. That dog was going to make Emma the most unpopular person in her neighborhood if she kept that up.

  He turned to glance out the window. Emma was gone.

  What the fuck?

  It took seconds to reach the door and throw it open. A cake pan lay on the sidewalk below, partially covered by a red towel.

  Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

  Terror caught his breath and slid through him in an icy, burning rush. His heart skipped a beat and then slammed into hyper drive.

  Vaguely, through the ringing his ears, he heard Rio’s voice droning on.

  An urgent howl clawed at the air. Lucas bolted onto the porch in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of Cuddles charging after a blue, battered sedan.

  And then the car took the corner. Cuddles followed and they both disappeared from sight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Emma glanced in the rearview mirror, her fingers clenching around the steering wheel as Cuddles barreled around the street corner. The dog was running so fast her claws scrabbled for purchase. Emma flinched, holding her breath as Cuddles lost her grip on the pavement and almost slid beneath an oncoming car. If only the crazy old woman in the passenger seat had allowed the animal into the sedan with them, instead of kicking her away.