Too Wild to Hold

by LETO, JULIE

  Ruby shook her head. “No idea. Maybe because he doesn’t know precisely where Claire is. If he follows his MO, he’s had her in his sights for weeks. She’s off-grid now and that might have thrown him off his game. We need to let him see her.”

  Michael opened his mouth to object, but Ruby held up her hand. “I don’t mean face-to-face. From a distance. He watched all the women from afar before he finally swooped in and took them. I’ve got agents making very discreet inquiries about the recent renters in her neighborhood, particularly properties with views of her building. One of them is going to pop as a potential suspect. It just makes sense.”

  “He could be using electronic surveillance,” he argued.

  “He could, but that’s expensive and lacks the personal, romantic touch he seems so fond of. We’re going to get a bead on him sooner rather than later.”

  “But it might not be soon enough,” he said. “Not for Josslyn.”

  “Nope, not for her.”

  Michael took a quick turn around the front garden, checking the lock on the gate and wondering how his brother had breached security. The detail he’d assigned to watch the house from the outside remained in place. Except for one glitch, his orders had been followed to the letter. Claire was safe—but at what cost?

  He was too close to this—too personally involved. He needed distance, but he wasn’t about to stray more than twenty-five feet from Claire. Not until the bastard was caught.

  “What do you think we should do?” he asked Ruby.

  She frowned. “You’re not going to like my answer.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “We have an advantage with Claire,” Ruby said. “She’s not just another potential victim. She’s not just a woman you’ve come to care about more than you should, either. She’s a former cop. She’s a successful private investigator who’s managed to keep herself out of trouble even when she’s going into dangerous situations.”

  “The unsub knows all that,” Michael argued. “He’ll expect her to be tougher to catch. Tougher to subdue. He won’t go after her in her house, not when he knows she’s armed.”

  “He hasn’t gone after any of the women in their homes. To a one, he strikes when they’re out in public.”

  “So what do we do, parade her at her favorite club?”

  Ruby shook her head. “Just the opposite. We need to shut her in and give this guy every reason to think that she’s not going out—not alone—anytime soon. He has a deadline, right? Three days after the delivery of the first scarf. Three days is tomorrow. We need to force his hand.”

  Michael grabbed on to the wrought iron gate, nearly unaware of the grime clinging to the metal or the way the rusty spots bit into his skin. Light from the nearby streetlamp flickered above the branches of the trees shielding the house from above. He had indeed found an ideal place to keep Claire from harm, but in doing so, he’d ground the investigation to a halt. He needed to act. Josslyn’s life did matter to him—and more than that, it mattered to Claire.

  “So he’s been watching her. He delivered the scarf on Thursday morning, which means he fully intended to take her by Sunday. Where does she usually go on Sunday?”

  “Church? Visiting family? Maybe she sleeps in. Whatever she usually does, you need to make the unsub think she’s not going to do it. That she has a better offer. A reason to stay in, if you know what I mean.”

  Him.

  Danny’s words drifted back into his mind. The unsub wanted Claire as a lover. He’d been watching her for months, waiting for the opportunity to make it real. Like the four women he’d taken before, Claire was single and available, but she was also the most highly desirable, descended from the woman Joaquin Murrieta had wanted above all.

  What kind of wrench would they throw into the unsub’s mind if Claire suddenly showed up at home with a lover? A man who would give her every reason to stay indoors, in bed and out of the Bandit’s clutches?

  Michael’s body instantly reacted to the images suddenly flashing in his brain of him and Claire walking up her street, pawing each other, flaunting their lust, maybe even ducking into a shadowed corner—in full view of the many windows lining her street. Then they would slowly, sensually, make their way to her bedroom, and with the shades open, show the obsessive unsub exactly what he couldn’t have.

  “Claire will have to agree to it,” he said, but he knew before he said it that this would not be an issue. She’d already proved she was willing to do whatever it took for a case.

  Ruby gave him a fortifying slap on the shoulder. “Stop looking so put out. The worst thing that happens is you two burn off a little bit of that massive sexual tension you have going on. All those pheromones are playing havoc with my sex deprived body. So unless you want me to work off my own needs with the closest single man around—who happens to be your brother—you’ll do this.”

  “Thanks, Ruby. Talk about motivation.”

  Ruby laughed. “Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

  MICHAEL SHOVED THE gear shift into Park, leaned across the front seat and kissed Claire as if her life depended on it.

  In this case, the cliché was true. Even now, they were being watched. Less than an hour ago, his team had finally identified a possible person of interest—a man who’d rented the third-floor apartment on Claire’s French Quarter street. The place had a fairly clear catty-corner view of Claire’s bedroom, and the man who rented it had paid cash, came and went during strange hours and made it a point to never talk to his neighbors. When he did venture out, he favored an entirely black wardrobe, giving the feds every reason to believe he was the man they were looking for.

  But no proof. And no sign of Josslyn.

  If the plan worked, however, the guy might tip his hand and reveal enough evidence to rescue Josslyn and make an arrest for aggravated kidnapping, stalking and rape.

  And most importantly, Michael would have the rock solid proof that would keep Claire safe.

  He leaned back only enough to break the kiss. She’d swiped on a layer of strawberry-flavored balm, and when he licked his lips, his senses yearned for more.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  Even in the dark car, he could see Claire’s eyes glisten with determination—and to his surprise, desire.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “He’ll be watching,” Michael reminded her.

  “That’s the whole point. Besides, we’re pretty hot when we think someone’s watching.”

  She moved to open her door, but Michael popped out and ran around to get it for her. Maybe he was taking his vow not to let her out of his presence too far, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Not with Claire.

  She slid out of the car, then leaned provocatively against the door so that he couldn’t resist pressing his entire body flush against hers and kissing her again. She snaked her hands around his neck and rocked her pelvis against his. If she was teasing him for the benefit of the unsub, he didn’t care. The sensations ricocheted through his body and he couldn’t resist grabbing her by the ass and pressing her even closer while he kissed her until she could barely breathe.

  “You’re not playing fair,” she murmured.

  He slid his hands up her waist, his fingers teasing just along the edges of her T-shirt. “Neither are you.”

  “Then I guess we’re perfect for each other.”

  She grabbed his hand, barely giving him time to lock the car before she dragged him up the stairs of her porch. There, under the porch light, Claire’s tongue tangled with his, making it oh-so-easy to forget that not only the unsub was watching them, but so were Ruby and two other agents he’d posted on Claire’s street.

  But only Michael had the job of watching Claire from inside. Once they crossed the threshold, the only person privy to what they did in her bedroom would be the suspected Bandit.

  Amid laughter and sensual tickling, Claire used her keys to unlock her front door and then pulled him ins
ide. She moved to flip on the lights, but he stayed her hand while he turned her deadbolts and pushed her slide lock into place.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Stay here.”

  As hard as it was to force himself back into FBI mode, he left her by the door and did a quick sweep of the interior of the house. Once certain the place was secure, he returned to find her leaning saucily against the door.

  “Satisfied?” she asked.

  “Not hardly.”

  She popped open the top button of her jeans and sashayed toward him. “I’m not going to think about the fact that some crazy man might be watching us.”

  Sliding her hands into his hair, she pulled herself up and placed a feather soft kiss on his lips.

  “We can’t forget,” Michael insisted. “Not for a minute.”

  “Ruby’s outside, right? With your team? They’re watching the whole street, including his front and back doors. Even if he wanted to come and join us, he wouldn’t make it inside.”

  On this, she had a point. Before Michael had given the green light to this operation, he’d made sure that the only way the unsub could reach them was via the cell phone Claire carried in her pocket.

  Claire jogged up the stairs ahead of him and the view of her round backside burned away any lasting concerns. For this brief moment in time, they were doing precisely what they needed to be doing. For the case. For themselves.

  When she rounded the corner into her bedroom, he snagged her by the waist and spun her into his arms. She squealed in surprise, but melted in to him even as he fumbled along the wall to turn on the overhead light.

  She tugged at his shirt, made quick work of his buttons and then pushed the material off his shoulders while he attempted to untangle his limbs. The minute he was free, she shoved him gently backward so that he tumbled onto the bed.

  He blinked, frozen as she moved directly into the line of sight of the window. Slowly, she drew her T-shirt up, higher and higher, revealing her café mocha skin inch by sensual inch. About mid-way up her torso, she stopped, her eyes darting warily to the side.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She tried to laugh and shake off her sudden hesitation, but she remained still, unmoving.

  “Maybe it’s my imagination, but it’s like I can feel his eyes on me.”

  “They probably are,” he said, scooting forward and bracing his hands on his knees. “We can stop now, Claire. Maybe he’s seen enough.”

  She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and tossed it on the bed.

  “Not until he calls.”

  “Then focus on me. I’m watching you, too, and believe me when I tell you that I’m enjoying the show way more than he ever could. I know firsthand how beautiful you are. How free. How giving.”

  He stood, unbuckled his jeans and dropped them. He watched her eyes widen at the sight of him, naked and vulnerable not only to her, but likely to some freak. When he sat back down, his erection slapped against his thigh. He was hard. Ready. What happened inside this room was between them. Someone else might be watching, but no one else mattered.

  “Let my eyes be the only ones you feel.”

  With quivering slowness, she resumed her removal of her shirt. Inch by fabulous inch, he spied her slim belly, lacy bra, irresistible shoulders. She shook her head, mussing her thick hair and in a burst of playfulness, she tossed her shirt at him.

  He clutched it like a lifeline.

  Next, she unzipped and shimmied out of her jeans. In nothing but a bra and the same style of pale pink panties she’d worn the night before, she stood before him, all curves and delicious latte skin. When she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, he saw her gaze dart to the window.

  “I can’t wait to taste you,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough with want.

  The straps loosened on her shoulders, but she kept her hands beneath the cups, keeping her lovely ladies contained until he thought he might lose his mind.

  He crooked his finger. She took a step nearer, striking a pose that emphasized her every intoxicating curve. Impatient, he snared her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. The minute her backside pressed against his sex, his body surged with a wave of desire equal to a tsunami. But he held his breath, determined to make this last.

  Starting at her shoulders, he placed a trail of kisses along her collarbone to the hollow of her neck. Her skin, so soft and pliant, acted like the strip on the side of a matchbox, igniting and inflaming him so that he couldn’t resist running his tongue down until he could slip the tip just inside the lace of her bra. He flicked her erect nipple and the fire spread from him to her. She loosened her grip and the bra melted away.

  She tangled her fingers into his hair and tugged. The pain was exquisite and potent, urging him to squeeze her bottom until she arched her back in full offering. He no longer cared whether she’d forgotten the man outside. All he wanted was to taste her, pleasure her, fill her mind with nothing but the crazy, wonderful madness that was pure sexual delight.

  She might not remember who was likely spying on them through the window, but he did.

  And he wanted that bastard to get one message and one message only: mine.

  Her cell phone rang.

  Instantly, she tensed. He clamped his mouth around her areola and sucked in hard, destroying any thoughts that might be lingering in her brain beyond the very basic, animalistic urge to take what he was offering.

  “Michael,” she pleaded, but he did not stop. He continued his sensual assault, slipping his hands beneath the barrier of her panties, guiding her legs until they were wrapped around his waist. When her sweet center met his full erection, his mouth grew hungrier, his teeth unyielding and nearly cruel.

  The phone continued to ring.

  “Mi—”

  “Make him wait,” he murmured against her skin, loving the texture of her moist, puckered nipples beneath his insistent thumbs. “You’re not waiting for his call, sweetheart. You’re enjoying the attention of a man who can’t get enough of you.”

  Michael swung her around, laying her flat on the bed. The phone stopped trilling for a second, but then began again. He used the music to gauge his speed as he dragged her panties down her legs.

  He bent down and kissed her breasts again, then her belly, and then the sinfully scented curve of her pubic bone, just above the sweet center he intended to taste very, very soon.

  But first, he reached up and yanked the chain on the light of her ceiling fan. The blades continued to stir the air in gentle eddies, but the darkness doused the scene so that no one could see her—no one but him.

  “What are you doing?”

  He grabbed her cell phone and set the ringer to vibrate.

  “He’s seen enough.”

  “But he’s calling. That’s what we wanted.”

  He tossed the phone onto a plush armchair tucked in the corner near her closet, then returned to his position just above her. His eyes adjusted to the dimness so that the streetlamps threw enticing shards of light across her beautiful, nude body.

  “He’s calling because he’s furious. He’s watching another man live out his fantasy, but now we’ve cut the lights. He can’t see anything. That really has to get under his skin.”

  “But if I don’t pick up—”

  “He’ll leave a message,” he replied, running his hands up her arms until her hands entwined with his. “And my agents will intercept it and trace it. If it’s more than a rant, they’ll call me. That call I’ll answer.”

  “But if he’s so angry, Josslyn—” she argued.

  “—is not with him in the apartment,” Michael said. He laid his body over hers and locked her hands above her head, effectively keeping her precisely where he needed her to be. “And if he’s holding her at another location and we piss him off enough, he’ll have to leave to get his revenge. And Ruby will be right behind him.”

  With that declaration, Michael dismissed the case from his mind. It was wrong. It went against everything he’d eve
r done, everything he’d ever believed in, but he could not help himself. He’d prepared for every scenario except one—going through the motions of making love to Claire without actually finishing what they’d started. With her writhing so lusciously beneath him, he couldn’t imagine any other outcome but pressing deep inside her, sliding in and out of her until she cried out his name in unrestrained ecstasy.

  But even as the head of his erection met with her sweet, moistened skin, she squeezed her thighs and denied him entrance.

  “What if the guy across the street isn’t the Bandit? What if it’s someone else? Someone we don’t know about.”

  He tried to contain his impatience, tried to ignore the fact that in any other circumstance or with any other woman, he would have asked the same question.

  “And what if you stop enjoying your new lover long enough to answer an unknown caller? What if that tips him off that what he’s been watching isn’t real?”

  She wasn’t entirely convinced, but she relaxed enough so that he knew she wasn’t going to bolt. But the moment of need had ebbed. He reached across and retrieved the phone, turning it so that the large LCD screen on the outside showed nothing but two missed calls from an unidentified number. Seconds ticked by and there was no message. No third call.

  He tossed the phone aside again.

  “See? He’s lost interest. But I haven’t. If you don’t want to do this, that’s cool. Now is the time to stop. But I want you, Claire. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything more than I do right now.”

  She blinked, as if what he’d confessed surprised her. That confused him. Did she have no idea how powerful she was?

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  He took her hand and pressed it against his cock. The moment might have splintered, but blood still rushed through his system like a tidal wave of hot lava.

  “Does this feel like an exaggeration?”

  “No,” she said with a whimper, wrapping her hand completely around him and squeezing tight. “It feels like heaven.”

  14