by D. C. Stone
He paused and gave her an incredulous look. “Baby,” he said through a short bark of laughter. “Trust me, that isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds.” More laughter rumbled in his chest. “If you want me to give it a shot, I will, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She met his grin with one of her own, shook her head, then flipped down beside him and whipped her panties over her hips and down her legs before the next breath. Then she turned to see his progress. He stared at her with wonder then flashed a blinding smile. She matched it.
He pulled off his boxers in record time then rolled atop her, his hips between her legs, their intimate parts lined up but him not yet inside.
His face hovered so close, his arms under her shoulders, and his palms holding the back of her head. She felt trapped … in a good way. Protected. Safe.
Then he shifted and pushed insider with one long thrust.
Her neck arched at the feeling of being stretched so full. His pelvis rolled against hers, rubbing along her clit in the most delicious fashion. Lids dropped halfway in pleasure, she tilted her head back and met his eyes. He held her gaze as if he were trying to solve all the world’s problems.
“You feel so good, Red,” he said with a growl. “Hot.” He pulled out and thrust forward again. Her body jolted and her breath caught. “Wet.” Thrust. “Tight.” Thrust. “You grip me like a tight glove.” Thrust.
His words pushed her higher and higher. His thrusts, followed by a roll of his hips, caused the tightening coil in her stomach to tighten.
“Come with me,” he said and picked up the pace. One hand left from under her head and wrapped around the top, preventing her from hitting the headboard. They’d shifted on the bed under his thrusts. She didn’t pay attention to any of it outside of how he made her feel.
The full feeling between her legs spread within her stomach until she reached for what he gave. It built and built, then hovered, suspending her for a moment where the world stopped spinning, her heart stopped beating, and her lungs ceased pulling in air.
Then she let go. “Chris!” she shouted. His hips pounded furiously, and he groaned, the sound bouncing off the walls. His hips dove between hers over and over, prolonging the pleasure until she couldn’t take anymore.
She bit down on his shoulder and sucked the skin there between her lips.
He hissed and pulled her close, then fell to his side, bringing her with him.
“Jesus,” he said, and she released the skin with a pop.
She smiled against his skin then gave in to the exhaustion promising her peace. She closed her eyes and fell asleep with him still inside her body.
****
Chris lay awake long after Samantha had fallen asleep in his arms.
He couldn’t dispute her feelings for him, that was certain. Falling asleep in his arms while he was still semi-hard inside her irrefutably knocked any argument out of his head with that.
He also couldn’t deny things were moving really friggin’ fast. Getting wrapped up in Samantha had done everything he’d always told himself he’d never do … he had the starter family right here in his cabin he’d built away from civilization, intending to keep to himself, right on down to the kid on the way and the loving-family dog.
The side of his mouth kicked up despite his troubled thoughts.
He didn’t think DA could be called a family-loving dog, but in his mind, that was exactly what he’d be to them. That was an irrefutable point he couldn’t miss. His partner was one hundred percent attached to his doc, just as his handler could see himself doing, should he get his mind straight and figure out what he wanted. As it was, he was damn pleased at the protective nature DA had with Sam, especially since she was expecting. Almost like instinct. He also couldn’t deny the connection he felt to her, but was it love? He didn’t know. He’d experienced different forms of love in his short life, from the unending love of his adoptive parents, to that of his brothers—both in the service and within his adoptive family, to that of the love he had for his friends, Charlie being on that short list. But the love of a real relationship wasn’t a feeling he’d ever experienced before, and he didn’t know if this bone-melting need to be with Samantha at all hours of the day and night, of the need to protect her until his last breath, was something he’d call love.
Was it?
And the feeling that had screamed through him when he’d heard she was in the hospital—shit. He’d never had such an ugly emotion take root, never felt the dark danger of hatred as much as he had at the thought of another man putting his hands on Samantha, and in anger of all things. Even now, he tucked her closer as if to protect her in this house full of Spec Force operators and a trained military working dog.
He adjusted the both of them, slipping out of the heat of Samantha with a soft sigh then pulling her closer when she snuggled into him and closed his eyes.
It had been a day and a half with everything they’d been through and he was wiped.
After what felt as if it were minutes, a vision popped in his head of two little boys, both visions of what he’d been like as a child. The image faded in and out of his mind, but this time instead of fighting to discover, to see more, he relaxed and let the picture play out in his head.
“Hey, Cooper,” he said.
His identical self looked back at him with a lopsided grin he’d grown accustomed to seeing in the mirror. “Do you think she’ll bring home ice cream tonight?”
The little Chris shook his head, feeling an overwhelming sadness rise in his chest. A sadness built on hopeless dreams that they’d have a better life than this. What had they ever done wrong in all of their seven years of life to deserve such bone-wrenching hunger pains? “I doubt it. Want to see if we can find some coins in the couch and go down to the corner store for some candy?”
Cooper pouted. “But I really want some ice cream. She promised last week. Said she’d get us big scoops of chocolate ice cream this time.”
This time, being yet another instance in which they’d gone over a week without their mother being around. She’d get like this every few months, slipping off to put that disgusting liquid in her veins and hang around with her latest boyfriend. Their father had been no better when he was around. The guy was always feeling up on other women other than their mother, sometimes right in front of her, too.
Chris tilted his head toward the living room, trying to get his twin’s attention away from the darkening sky outside. He didn’t think she’d come home tonight. She would have already been there. “Let’s go search the couch. Maybe we’ll find enough to get you an ice cream.”
Cooper’s lopsided grin grew. “Let’s go.”
They both scrambled up and made a dash for the living room. Turned out, they did find enough to buy Cooper an ice cream, but only enough for that. Chris ate a piece of moldy bread that night, his stomach aching with hunger and sickness after the meager meal. But he’d put on a brave face for his brother, who seemed to have a different outlook in their situation. One that was very childlike, very innocent. Chris saw through their situation for what it was … their sad existence.
And that night, Cooper had fallen asleep with chocolate around his mouth. Chris didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to take this away from his brother. He wanted him to have something to look forward to.
Instead, Chris stayed up half the night listening for their mother.
He never heard her come home because she never did.
Chapter Nineteen
Sam eyed her clinic as they parked across the street, wincing as she took in the black soot rising up and over her storefront sign. This would be a huge undertaking, cleaning up her practice and getting it ready for reopening. Thank God for insurance. She hoped it covered everything.
Chris shut off the truck just as his phone rang. “Gotta take this,” he said, putting the device up to his ear. “D, what’s going on?”
Biting down on her lip, she faced the dark building. She needed clothes, badly. Wearing the sam
e pair of pants for the past few days left her feeling all kinds of disgusting. And despite Chris telling her she could borrow a pair of his pants to wash hers, with his team running in and out of the cabin, she didn’t feel comfortable wearing sweatpants three sizes too big for her. She wanted her own clothing. And with everything happening, the fire, Manuel still missing … she needed that additional piece of comfort. Being in the early stages of her pregnancy meant she could only wear her pants for a few more months, but she’d take it for now.
“Listen,” Chris said into the phone. “I have to talk to you about Hails.”
Yikes, not a conversation she wanted to be around a second time. She eyed the front door, her mind spinning up a million possibilities of what could occur if she just darted inside and grabbed her things really quick. The sun shone above, bringing the misconception of heat because the wind and season had finally moved in. It was cold outside. Enough to cause her southern girl skin to prick with goose pimples every time she stepped outside.
The townsfolk walked up and down the sidewalk in front of her clinic, jackets in various forms of dark colors but scarfs as bright as the sun above. A police cruiser drove down the road, slowing as it came to a pedestrian crosswalk. Just a normal fall day in Nyack, N.Y.
She grabbed the handle and motioned to her clinic, catching Chris’s gaze. He tossed his head toward Delta Alpha, who sat in the backseat, long pink tongue lolling out of his mouth as if he had not a care in the world.
She shook her head. Chris dropped the phone with a quick word to his brother. “Take DA, babe.”
“The glass. I don’t want to risk his paws.”
Chris’s lips tightened and he eyed the clinic and surrounding area. She could read his expression as if he’d spoken clear as day. He didn’t want her going inside by herself, even with townsfolk all around and the peace of the day like a caress on her skin.
“Seriously, there’s too many people around. I’ll be fine, Chris.”
He tossed her a look that promised retribution should she get even a scratch, then nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, his focus obviously on the conversation he had with his brother. “I’m not sure how to say this,” he started and thinned his lips. Whatever else he had been about to get into got lost as she shut the truck door, shivering as a gust of cool air took its frosty swipe at her.
She jumped over the curb to the parking lot then darted across the street, checking for cars. Her hands shook and her body trembled in the cold as she fumbled with the lock to her front door. This season change had come out of nowhere, going from a balmy eighty degrees last week to fifty overnight, it seemed. Apparently, she needed to go shopping for some cold-weather jackets along with all that maternity clothing … and soon.
She shook herself as she stepped inside, brushing off the chilly weather. Inside wasn’t that much better, seeing as she hadn’t turned on the heat. It wouldn’t do much good, though, since the front window of her shop only had a piece of plywood over it.
Taking an immediate right, she darted up the stairs, grabbed the smaller piece of her luggage, and tossed what she needed, along with a few extra pieces inside—a girl could never be too careful, before zipping it up and hauling it from the bed. It didn’t do any good to focus on what had happened the last time she’d been there, and she pushed it firmly from her mind. This was her place, her home now, her future, and she needed to get over any hang-ups she had about it before she could move on. The best way to do that was plow right through it. At least, that was something her mama used to say.
She struggled to get the luggage downstairs but had a feeling that was more due to what she packed and how tired she was versus being unable to do such a task. Perhaps waiting for Chris would have been the thing to do so he could carry it down the stairs, but she was focused on being an independent woman the past few months. Carrying her own suitcase was something an independent woman might just do.
A light to the isolation room caught her attention at the bottom of the stairs. She frowned at it, wondering how long it had been on. Since she’d been there a few days ago, when the attack happened, and had left in an obvious rush to go to the hospital, perhaps she had left the switch on, but couldn’t recall doing so.
Leaving the case by the front door, she skirted the front counter, took a few steps, and then stopped dead in her tracks as a man rounded the corner to the back room. Her heart jumped right into her throat, pounding a fierce tune of fear.
Eyes the color of the night stared back at her with contempt. She took a step backward from the force of that look. There was no iris, no light shining there. Only pure death and hatred. His lips slashed across his face in a sneer, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of being in her company for one additional second.
And he was the same man who had been in asking questions about DA last week. He took a step forward, showing signs of an old or new injury in his pronounced limp. In his hand, he held a lethal-looking black gun pointed at her.
For the love of—! She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, yell at the top of her lungs. Why her?
“What do you want?” she asked, proud that her voice didn’t tremble. Her body shook, but she hoped it was only her that noticed.
His sneer grew more pronounced, curling high so she could see sharp incisors within his mouth.
“You walk around like it’s your right.” He limped closer and motioned at her hands, which she immediately raised, palms out.
“Who are you?” she tried.
“In my village, the women show respect, even cover their eyes. How dare you speak to me,” he hissed.
She backed up for every limping step he took forward until her back met the ledge of the counter. Her mind spun with questions, but the anger and hatred in his eyes stopped her from asking questions. In almost a surreal state, she watched as if looking from above as this stranger advanced on her. She couldn’t get her legs to catch up to her brain, screaming at her to run!
The man whipped out his arm, the force of his blow cutting across her cheek. She went to the ground as pain erupted. She’d been hit before, suffered abuse for years. Why did some men feel as though they had the right to hit a woman at will? Anger built like a balloon in her chest, causing her blood to boil until she felt ready to erupt with violence. At least DA hadn’t come in with her. She tossed her head back and glared up at this stranger. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
He smiled then, a slow, alarming grin that spread over his face as if she had finally asked the right question.
“Not to sound cliché or anything, but I’m your worst nightmare. I will go down in history as one of the greatest.”
She didn’t see the needle until it was too late.
****
Chris opened the door to the clinic and stepped inside, his phone ringing in his pocket. Samantha. A little bemused, he answered it on the second ring. “Babe, I just walked in. Where are you at?”
“Sergeant Gonzalez,” a familiar voice said down the line.
As if he channeled his partner, his hackles went up and his hand went for the Beretta at the small of his back. He ducked next to the counter as if he were taking cover, his instincts immediately kicking in. Crab-walking toward the partition that separated the waiting area from the back of the clinic, he scanned the area, looking for a threat. Because now he knew without a doubt. Months of suspecting, of sightings, of feeling it in his damn gut, he knew without a doubt Tayseer was in Nyack.
“What the hell do you want, you sick fuck?” he asked.
Tayseer tsked. “You Americans and your disrespect. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Having done a precursory check of the main floor of the clinic, Chris rushed up the stairs to Sam’s apartment. His heart pounded in his chest and the rushing beat filled his ears. Samantha wasn’t here.
“Chris?” Sam’s voice came down the line, her words slurred, as if she had just woken up.
“Sam! Sweetheart, are you okay?”
“She’ll be fine, as long as you do what I want.”
To think Sam was with him, within his clutches, put a horror through him he hadn’t ever felt. “Where is she?” Chris took the phone away from his ear and pushed it against his leg, finding her apartment empty. “Fuck!” His shout bounced off the walls and echoed back to him. He smacked his face, urging the rising panic to go back down. He needed to keep his head, needed to think this through. Keep that level of calm that had always helped him in high-stress situations. But all he kept seeing were those pictures of what Tayseer had done to other families, the horrible blisters, the boiling skin. Except now, all he could see was Sam’s face on each rotting corpse.
He took a deep breath and fought like hell to bring himself under control. Everything in him wanted to fight, wanted to tear this asshole on the phone to shreds. And he would. All he needed to do was get close enough.
Samantha…
He put the phone back to his ear, straining in the silence to hear everything. An engine hummed down the line. Sounded like they were driving somewhere. “What do you want?”
“Do you know how long I worked on it?” Tayseer asked as if this were a lazy day and they were two friends.
Chris fought to roll his eyes and curse again. The it in his question being the chemical weapon he’d worked on for years. And that was only from the intel they had. Not necessarily the entire story. “There was no way that weapon could make it to the United States.”
“That was not for you to decide!” A horn blared in the background. A thump sounded, as if someone dropped the phone.
“Tayseer!” Chris shouted.
“Pick up the phone, you bitch,” he heard from what sounded far off. A loud smack came next. Samantha cried out and Chris growled.
“Your little bitch is finally following orders,” Tayseer said.
“You lay one more goddamn hand on her,” he started and didn’t finish. He let it hang in the air, but in his mind, he thought of everything he wanted to do, everything he would do.