The wind whipped around his face as he drove toward the house on the mountain. A smile broke through at the thought. A mountain - granted, the place was one of the higher pieces of land in the vicinity. Supposing he was jaded because he’d seen so much of the world in his tours overseas, Dorran had to allow for the image the Latimars’ mountain stirred in his mind’s eye. He missed his homeland – Ireland – the rolling green hills spilling into valleys and rising to peeks cast in mist. That was off limits as well. There was no going back for him. The lights of the house came into sight. Throttling down, he gave the bike a deep lean in the drive and spun gravel heading up the hill.
***
A knock at the door and Meagan detoured. Giving the peep-hole a good view, she smiled for Dorran as she opened the door and stepped back. “Hey there. Let me get that beer?”
“And wine for the lady.” Dorran trailed in behind her.
Her laugh came as he followed her to the kitchen. “Logan enjoys Guinness. Do you?” she asked from the depths of the fridge.
“Sure,” he pursed his lips. Leaning on the counter, he took the offered bottle. “I brought a cabernet as well, a peace offering.”
“How sweet. Thank you. Pizza’s still hot. Want to eat?” Meagan remembered he had mentioned his hunger pains, so she nodded. “Let me get a cork screw and some forks.”
Dorran’s brow furrowed. “Forks? What for?”
His sudden bemusement proved too much. Meagan couldn’t stop the laugh. “It’s just that some of us prefer to use a fork after we’ve let the pizza cool. I kind of like the skin to remain on the roof of my mouth.”
“The roof of your mouth,” he said with quiet consideration. Now his eyes grew dark as he stared at her lips. “Got to take care of that mouth, Meagan Christiana.”
Her tongue felt thick. The silence was mortifying, but she couldn’t answer. Unable to continue staring into Dorran’s face, Meagan let her eyes fall to the pizza in front of her. Sex on a stick was her current impression of Dorran. Only a man confident in his own skin could make a statement like he had just made, and the unspoken meaning come through so loud and clear. Here he was, a leather clad, bike riding badass propped against the kitchen counter gobbling down a steaming piece of pizza minus a fork while playing word games with her. She coughed as pizza slid down the wrong pipe.
“Hey, take it easy there.” Dorran gave her a good slap on the back. “You okay?”
Meagan nodded. Her eyes filling with tears.
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Taking a good swallow of beer, Meagan wondered immediately where the flirtation in her voice had come from. Entertaining a man alone was something she hadn’t done in quite a while. She was not used to behaving with anything but honesty, especially when dealing with someone she had only met. The old-soul approach, she mused. Feeling like a stick in the mud was insecurity she did not want to investigate tonight. “Tell me about your information, Dorran.”
Ball back in his corner but with a change of subject. Keep him on track, her brain whispered.
“I discovered the DNA I matched with the Sultan also exists in several other people locally. The lab report shows close family ties to a local name, Johnston.” He re-crossed his legs at the ankles and reached for another slice. “Tomorrow, I plan on contacting a couple of them. See what happens.
Meagan let the intel simmer a minute as she drank more beer. “So are you saying the evil one has like a family? Here? Why didn’t we know this before?”
“Easy. Stretch, I just unearthed the facts myself.” He winked at her. “Yes, they live here, and yes, they are blood kin.”
“No two ways about it, this complicates things. If the Sultan has ties to this community, we will stir up some waves by confronting the Johnstons about their ‘black sheep.’” Air quotes sealed her term for the Sultan. She needed something to toss back after his nickname comment. Whoever heard of calling a girl, Stretch?
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Things like this are the reason families disown their kin.” He sat his bottle on the counter and turned to glance out the expansive window overlooking the pastures presently bathed in moonlight. “The trafficking needs documentation. We must figure out how the customer communicates with the Sultan. That’s where we’ll set a trap for him.”
Meagan noted how his eyes narrowed as he spoke. “You’re going to confront them?” As incredulous as the question sounded, she hoped he did. “You’ll need backup.”
Dorran glanced sideways at her, and a flicker of that wicked grin creased his lips. “Roger that.”
The notion he used that move anytime he wanted a woman to drop to her knees and beg was the only way Meagan kept herself upright. Turning, she tidied their mess and in doing so moved out of reach while she attempted to ease the burning between her own legs.
Christ on a crutch but this guy was made of kryptonite, her little voice cried.
Blocking the voice, Meagan worked on cooling her blood with some deep cleansing breaths. Soon, her brain reengaged. His back was turned to her, so he didn’t see her examination of his body from across the room.
He’s the kind of man your mama always warned you about.
Her little voice was getting on her nerves. One minute, the voice was spouting negativity and the next the positivity was through the roof. Mentally marking off all the reasons this was a bad night for anything more than business started her overactive brain spinning. Reaching for the last of her beer, she took a deep swallow.
You don’t need any more of that! The little voice snapped out the observation with too much straight-laced authority.
Meagan ignored her tight-assed voice and instead, imagined what his hands would feel like on her body.
His breath on her neck had her jumping back, the image, effectively gone. “What the hell?” One look into his eyes and she could have sworn he’d been in her thoughts. How else could he have known she wanted him to kiss her. Dorran’s had gone all liquid, and those big hands of his were on her arms, lifting her to her toes. He leaned in and sniffed near her ear. “You smell like a woman, Stretch. All simmer and sauce.”
She blinked. It took her mind a full four seconds for the comment to register. Meagan wondered what came next.
“I want to kiss you.” He growled low in his throat. “This is the only warning you’ll get. Better let me know whether you can handle it. Okay?”
That answered her question. “Give me your best shot, ace.” Her chin firmed under his keen eye. “I may be just a woman, but I’m no kitten.”
His mouth curved into a wicked smile as a low growl sounded in his throat. Dorran leaned into the kiss. With the slant of teeth and tongue, he explored the inside of her mouth without hesitation.
Her nipples tightened as her belly clinched. The sensation of being completely consumed played out along the peripheral boundary of her conscious grey matter. The hybrid could kiss! Her feet dangled off the floor before he allowed her to come up for air. She held on. Her legs were like rubber. Light-headed and wet, she felt like she’d drunk a whole martini in one gulp. Intoxicating waves of pleasure raced along her spine. “Can I have another one of those?” Her voice sounded weird. He shifted, and she clung to the only lifeline she had.
“My pleasure.”
The words heated her face. The floor was nowhere to be found. Her heart beat in her ears. God, but she wanted him. His gaze skimmed her neck, and something suddenly pulsed between them. The next thing she knew, he’d released her and stepped back.
“I better get going. Thanks for letting me share the news.” Taking a step toward the door, he raised a hand. “Don’t move. I’ll let myself out.” With those casually rushed declarations, Dorran disappeared out the door and into the night.
Like bubbles in champagne, the moment tingled on her tongue and along her mouth. Meagan stepped to the door, the need still vibrating through her. Damn, she could still smell him on her body. That soft as butter leather scent clung to her clothes
and skin. A short pop of Guinness lingered on her tongue. Gingerly, she reached up and touched her lips. Tender and happy, her mouth wanted more. There was no denying the simmer in her lower belly came from Dorran. “If he can kiss like that, wonder what else he’s capable of?” she whispered to the room at large. Where had he gone in such a hurry? He was getting into the kiss, she couldn’t be mistaken about that fact. Could she? Why had he bolted? Deflecting the feeling it may have been her, she locked the deadbolt and turned away.
The clock on the wall read eleven o’clock. With a lot to accomplish in the morning, Meagan turned for the bedroom. She had a long day tomorrow. Admitting she was disappointed things had ended so soon meant she liked being kissed by the biker hybrid. Didn’t it? Meagan padded to the bedroom and snatched up a night shirt. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she wondered at the shift in the room temperature. She thought he had liked kissing her. The change had been so quick she couldn’t pinpoint what made him change his mind. “Something spooked him.”
Meagan washed her face and crossed to the bed. Forcing wicked thoughts of Dorran from her mind, she closed her eyes. Meagan wondered what tomorrow would bring. No two ways about it, with Dorran, anything was possible.
Chapter 9
The next time Meagan saw Dorran, she would act as if nothing had ever happened – like it didn’t matter. Still trying to convince her brain of that fact was another matter she had to work out. The wine had helped, and she finally dozed off around midnight. By then, she’d mapped out a defensive plan of action for the next time she saw him. He wouldn’t forgive her for the sucker punch. So what? He deserved it. Besides, he probably figured she was too young for him. What had Katie told her when she had talked to her? Dorran was already thirty. Heck, nine years and his past in the military meant he went for a more seasoned kind of female than Meagan – or so Katie had decided.
At the shelter, she worked on staying busy. Sorting through donations, Meagan decided to push all thoughts of the hybrid hottie out of her head. The odds he was fucked up anyway were high. Hadn’t Logan and Duke come back with more baggage than a normal man could survive? If it weren’t for Aubrie and Katie’s love and support, they might have become delayed casualties of war after so long stateside.
The bins in the cramped storage room were filled. The dog food was stored according to formula type and the six month’s supply of puppy pads, a generous soul had donated, were packed in plastic boxes for safe keeping. Mice and bugs be dammed, Meagan thought with a sarcastic grin.
“What are you doing in here?” Sue’s question startled Meagan, and she jumped.
Wheeling, she pointed to the arrangement of goods. “I was organizing the latest donations. See how much easier it is to find things?”
Sue’s hard examination stung. “Fine, we’ve got incoming, so I need you to bathe. Turning, she left Meagan standing in the middle of the room. If she didn’t love the animals so much, an attitude like Sue exhibited would have run her off from the shelter long ago. With one glance backward at her tidy organization, she trudged up front ready to take the next dog back for a bath and worming.
“He’s a basset hound, the woman chirped as she strained to haul him up in her arms. The woman shrugged. “I named him Cisco. He seems to like the name.” Her scowl spoke of disappointment. “Found him outside my front door this morning. I checked with the neighbors – no one has a dog like him. Sitting the hound down, she drew in much needed air. “I can’t afford him. He eats too much. Plus, he’s got mange.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You all can find him a home, right?”
Sue nodded as she examined the spots of skin showing on the dog’s behind and legs. “We’ll do our best. But if the shelter stays this full for very long, his luck will run out soon.” Glancing at the woman, she cocked a brow.
Unaffected the woman waved her hands. “He’s got a better chance here than out there on the highway.”
Meagan watched as Sue hung a tag on the donated collar around the dog’s neck. There was some truth in what she’d said, yet Meagan knew exactly what the odds were at the Ouachita Parish Animal Shelter. With nothing more than a four by ten run in the heat and cold, he stood a much greater chance of contracting a disease or death by a needle than death by a car.
Turning, she led the hound to the bathing area and began the job of saving a life if only for a little while longer.
With the bath complete and the worming done, Meagan set about clipping the dog’s overgrown nails. A special salve was rubbed into his mange areas, and she shared a flea/tick preventative with him before putting his collar back in place. “Now, fella, you’re ready for your 15 minutes of fame.”
“He cleans up nice.”
Meagan jumped. “Crap!” What was it with people today? Everybody wanted to scare the wits out of her. She turned to see Dorran standing next to the chain link fencing of the run. “Yeah, well, he’s a looker, so it’s not hard. I wish the black ones were so lucky.
“You mean the ones who aren’t any particular breed and don’t have much in the way of adorability to win the interest of a prospective owner.”
She glanced at him before putting the dog in his run. He could be so nerdy sometimes, she decided. “That’s right.” Remembering she’d heard he’d been bitten by a werewolf, Meagan wondered how he could harbor much compassion for canines. Maybe he saw what she did in the less fortunate ones. “One of those things that would make a great college graduate study I’m sure. But here on the ground, all we can do is the best we can. Some of the less appealing do make it out but the majority…” She trailed off as the pain crept back into her chest. “Most don’t.” The click of the lock sounded like finality between them. She recalled the last time she had seen him. “What brings you by today? More intel on my mystery man?” Meagan wasn’t in a forgiving mood this morning.
Dorran leaned against the frame of a nearby run. Tension rolled off him in waves. Gone was the casual demeanor verging on the edge of cocky. “You had breakfast yet?”
His stance, all cool calculation, grated on Meagan’s nerves. He looked damaged this morning. Well, good. So was she. Who did he think he was that he could waltz in anytime he wanted? Her mouth thinned as she shook her head. “Nope.”
“I wanted to take you to the coffee shop – have some breakfast – talk.”
“Talk?” She was getting good at one-word replies. What was he up to anyway? After last night, she had told herself not to get too hung up on this one. He wasn’t the hanging around type. What was his game?” Meagan would lay odds on a few more attempts at getting her under him before he got the message.
“Yeah, talk. You know people have been doing it for a long time. It’s catching on, so I’m told.”
She snorted out a breath. She needed to handle this. “What the hell?” Walking past him, she headed for the sink. “I’ve got to wash my hands. I’ll meet you up front.”
“Okay, Stretch.” He slung the words over his shoulder and didn’t miss a step as he headed toward the door.
“Stretch, my ass,” she breathed between clenched teeth. “I guess Dorran thinks I’m the flavor of the week. Well, we’ll show him.” Drying her hands, she smoothed her hair. “Attack me like that and then go cold as ice on me. I don’t think so.” Muttering under her breath, Meagan sauntered up front. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat. Want anything from the diner?” she asked Sue from the office doorway.
“No, thanks.” Sue was busy with intake paperwork. Giving Meagan a narrow look, she asked, “You get that dog taken care of?”
“Yes, Cisco’s in run number three.”
“Good.”
“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
“Later.” Sue’s dismissal was typical.
Stepping out into the chill of the early morning, Meagan glanced up at the clouds doing their best to hide the sun. The temps weren’t where she would have liked them to be, but at least the sky wasn’t dropping buckets of water on them today. The outside runs usually flooded whe
n that happened. She noted Dorran seated on his bike – the motor idling. Stepping to her truck, she opened the door. His whistle stopped her.
“Ride with me.” His teeth shone sparkling white in the overcast light.
“Though she hated stirring up more to think about later, she went with the idea of riding behind him on his bike. For one, she had never ridden a Harley before. And second, she found a need to feel his body next to hers even if that’s where it ended. “Give him something to remember,” she added under her breath.
The wind whipped at her hair flying from under the helmet Dorran gave her to wear. Light and sound blurred as they rode the few miles to the diner on Main street, downtown, Cheniere Station. A time or two she wanted to scream when the bike took an unexpected dip around a curve. Dorran accepted the movement of the massive glob of metal between his legs with an ingrained skill, one Meagan was sure spoke of hours in the seat. His large hands firm over the handle bars kept the bike under control even over the bumps and potholes of their little town’s neglected roads. A quick glance over his shoulder proved what she was glad to see, the muscles bulging with the power necessary to keep them upright.
Meagan held on by wrapping her arms as far around him as possible. The fear mixed with the thrill of the ride gave her goose bumps. Closing her eyes, she sucked in air as the mighty metal beast dropped dangerously close to the ground around Dead Man’s Curve. She felt him shift and throw the bike into the turn without slowing down, braking or hesitating. Her legs clamped the frame, and her arms ached from the grip she had on him. After a few more miles, she learned to lean in with him as they took the curves of the road. He patted her right knee with approval.
Then when Dorran laughed out loud, she felt the vibration rocket through her body. She caught herself enjoying the thrill though she was convinced he found her fears amusing. She buried her head in the leather of his jacket and did her best to ignore his taunt. His scent surrounded her. Leather, male and something spicy she couldn’t place. Why did she agree to ride with him? Now her insides were all jumbled, and her body burned in places he had awakened the night before. Damn him to hell! Peeking up as Dorran throttled the bike down to park, Meagan breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it, and she had lived.
Blood Born Page 7