Storming His Heart

by Marie Harte

  He looked just like Thorne, and the pair of them bore a strong resemblance to their uncle. Storm looked enough alike to prove that all of the Buchanans had good genes. Not a bad-looking family, but he’d be damned if he’d admit that out loud.

  “Thank you, Rafe.” Max tugged at his cuff links. “At least one of you Westlake idiots has a hint of manners.”

  Crap. The man had read his mind.

  J.D. blinked. “Hey. I didn’t insult you.”

  “You were thinking it.” Max sighed. “Now if you don’t mind, I have things to do after this meeting.”

  “Just one thing, Uncle Max. Did Christine ask you, or did you ask her?” Storm wanted to know.

  He hemmed and hawed.

  “Right. She asked you. Pay up.” She held her hand out to her brothers, who grumbled but paid her the money they apparently owed. “Suckers.” She stuck out her tongue and pocketed the money.

  Entranced by Storm’s playful side, Rafe started when J.D. slapped him on the back.

  “Loverboy, time’s a-wastin’.”

  Rafe turned to answer with a smart remark only to find Jurek regarding him with a very odd expression.

  Not wanting to even try guessing what his boss was thinking, Rafe led the others into his living room. Storm sat next to him without him having to ask. He ignored the annoyed glances her brothers gave him. “You don’t want to hear this, Jurek, but Storm and I think we found a big piece of the puzzle.”

  Jurek frowned. “Why don’t I want to hear this?”

  “Because we’re talking about Richard Glass.”

  The room grew silent until Luc asked, “Who the hell is Glass?”

  Max’s mouth thinned. “Remember last year when your cousin almost died on the Guest case? Glass is the man who sold her out. And he didn’t stop with Alex, he turned on Hunter too. One of his own.”

  “So we kill the asshole,” was Thorne’s not-surprising answer.

  “You can’t. Rafe already did that,” J.D. said. “But if what Rafe thinks is true, Richard Glass has a few friends left over at Westlake.”

  “We went over that six months ago. Damn it,” Jurek swore. “I can’t believe it’s one of mine. Not again.”

  “Maybe it’s not, Jurek,” Max said. “Perhaps one of your people isn’t doing anything to seriously damage Rafe. Maybe it’s simple payback, someone out to scare him. That would explain why you didn’t sense the threat to your own.”

  “What I don’t understand is why go after Storm in the first place? What connection did she have to Rafe before all this?” Jurek asked, puzzled.

  Rafe answered, “Richard Glass. Storm had some problems with Glass at about the same time I was investigating him.”

  “Glass?” Thorne sounded puzzled. “I know some idiot named Dasher gave her problems, but that was before we were working for Max. We just consulted for him then. Besides, Dasher stopped after I talked to him.”

  Storm turned to her brother. “You talked to him?”

  “I might have used a fist or two. Come on, he was being a dick. But I didn’t know he was with Westlake. You never said anything.”

  She shrugged. “Things were pretty tense between Buchanan Investigations and Westlake then. I didn’t want to add to it. Besides, you were helping Alex, remember? Before things got too out of control, Dasher—or Glass—disappeared.”

  “That’s right. What exactly happened to him?” Luc asked.

  Jurek described Glass’s demise, and to Rafe’s discomfort, the Buchanans seemed to look at him with new respect.

  He quickly changed the subject. “That’s history, but something from that time is affecting things now. For the past few nights I’ve been having dreams about Glass.”

  Luc sat straighter. “Glass. His name was Richard Glass, right? Maybe the mirrors aren’t really mirrors. Maybe they’re reflections on glass instead.” He turned to his uncle and brother. “Make sense?”

  “What are you talking about?” Storm looked to her brother.

  “I’ve been having dreams, nightmares really, about death and mirrors.” He went into detail, looking almost relieved to share it.

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Two mirrors, right? We know Glass died, but if you dreamt about two mirrors, two sheets of glass, then I’m betting Richard Glass has a relative no one knows about.”

  Jurek shook his head. “That was one of the first things we looked into when we learned he’d been selling secrets. But according to his files, he was an only child. We’ll take another look. J.D., check it out. We also need to see who else might have been involved with the tampered missions from a year ago.”

  “Okay. I’ll run the access list again, see if we can find a name that stands out. The problem is that there are quite a few who come up, and they’ve all checked clean.” J.D. sighed. “Show me to a computer.”

  Max sat forward. “Any computer? I thought all that information remained on your encrypted network.”

  “Any computer,” J.D. answered, not bothering to explain himself.

  Rafe nodded to his study. “Use the one in there, but don’t touch anything else.”

  “Yeah, right.” J.D. left the room chuckling to himself.

  “Crap. He’s going to do something to my system.” The last time he’d asked for J.D.’s help on his computer, the jackass had left a gay porn pop-up that turned on any time he typed the word the.

  “That takes care of that,” Jurek murmured. “So far we have one person tied to both Storm and Rafe—Richard Glass. We know Glass is dead and at this point are unaware of any survivors or anyone tied to him. Rafe, didn’t we determine after his death that he’d had no close associations or friendships with anyone else in the organization?”

  “Correct. Glass had totally cut himself off from everyone at work. He did a good job and had a great success rate on our investigations. There was no reason at the time to even suspect him of selling us out.”

  “No reason but my instincts and your keen insight. Have you seen anything at all about this?” Seen—as in, had a vision.

  “I’ve been trying, but I can’t see anything.” He paused, conscious of all eyes on him. “I guess I can try again.”

  Jurek nodded. “Maybe having us all here thinking about him will stir some psychic energy you can tap into.”

  Rafe stood, prepared to try to foresee in the peace and quiet of his bedroom. He’d never been comfortable zoning out around other people. Being outside of himself made him feel vulnerable, and he didn’t like being out of control of his own body. “Give me a minute and I’ll—” When Rafe met Storm’s gaze, her light gray eyes faded to black.

  Lewis Greene stood over the bloody corpse of a woman. Someone called his name and he turned around. Then everything blurred. A new scene. Sound merged with light as Lewis’s body fell atop an unidentified man’s, riddled with bullets. Streaks of blood mingled and pooled together on the ground. As Rafe stared into the dark red liquid, he watched the shape unfold into a dress.

  Legs and arms appeared, and a body slowly filled the rest of the dress. Storm’s eyes peered out at him for a split second, but he could tell the woman wasn’t Storm. She smiled and swung long brown hair, like silk, through the air. A gloved hand shot out and captured her, lashing her to her captor. Rafe looked to the owner of the glove but could see nothing. He could only hear the harsh, grating laughter of madness…

  “Rafe? Rafe?” Storm repeated. For the first time since he’d known her, he heard a frisson of real fear in her voice.

  Shit. He hadn’t wanted that to happen, for her to see him like that. He hadn’t been sucked into a vision since he’d seen Storm almost run down. What the hell did it mean? “I’m good. Just give me a minute.”

  Rafe rose from the couch, where he must have collapsed, and staggered down the hall to the bathroom. Since he’d all but flown into this latest forecast, he knew they didn’t have a lot of time. Something bad was coming.

  He splashed water on his face and had just finished composing himself wh
en someone handed him a towel. He glanced at Luc in the mirror.

  “Thought you might need a hand. I know what you did wasn’t easy.”

  Rafe met Luc’s gaze in the mirror. Understanding, discomfort and a bemused anger stared back at him.

  Rafe dried his face and admitted, “It really takes a toll. Gives me the shakes every time.”

  Luc sighed. “Yeah. It takes me a good couple of hours to get my strength back. They don’t know what it feels like to be that exposed.” He didn’t say anything for a moment, then flushed. “Anyway, if you need anything, yell.”

  Storm’s brother left as silently as he’d come.

  Luc Buchanan’s resentment toward his psychic gift made complete sense to Rafe, though he doubted the other Buchanans clearly understood it. Oddly reassured by Luc’s support, he felt another link to Storm snap in place.

  Hell, the woman shouldn’t need him to tell her they had even that in common. Her brother could foretell events, and so could Rafe. The list just kept growing, but did she see that?

  As frazzled by Storm’s rejection as he was by his vision, Rafe recognized the irony in his situation. Woman troubles made everything else pale by comparison. He could almost thank her for taking his mind from his worries, if only he hadn’t seen her face for that brief moment at the end.

  He rejoined the others and described what he’d seen. “I’m not sure about the end though. I swore I saw Storm’s face, but I know for a fact it wasn’t her.”

  “Perhaps it’s fear for her safety leaking into your foresight, a need to protect?” Max offered.

  “Maybe.” Rafe needed more time to figure out her part in this mess. He felt a responsibility to keep her safe. She’d been targeted. Obviously someone wanted her, but for what?

  “Where do we go from here?” Thorne asked.

  J.D. entered the room with a list in hand. “I may have an answer to that.” He read off ten names. “These names keep surfacing when I look at the problems in our recent caseload. Four women and six men. I’ve already crossed five of them off. Due to the operational tempo they were on and Jurek’s personal interaction with these folks, we can safely exclude them. But the other five? Now I’m not so sure.”

  Jurek looked at Max and the two of them shared some silent communication. Thorne nodded.

  Before Rafe could complain, Luc growled, “Do you mind? Not all of us speak on your psychic frequency.”

  Max apologized. “Sorry, it’s faster to think than talk. Most of the folks on your list are administrative, according to Jurek. What if we plant our resident mind reader in their midst? They don’t know who Thorne is, since most of those at Westlake familiar with us are limited to Jurek and a small circle of his best agents.”

  “True.” Jurek nodded.

  “So we pretend Thorne’s a new agent needing assistance and have him say some key words to generate thought patterns.”

  Thorne nodded. “That’s how I found out what Locklen was up to, and how I got the codes—ah, I mean, that would work,” he ended lamely when Max glared at him.

  Max shook his head. “The word discreet completely bypasses you, doesn’t it?”

  Rafe noted that Thorne didn’t deny it.

  “What do you think, J.D.?” Max asked. “Could you introduce Thorne to the five names on your list? With the right questions asked, Thorne might just be able to tell you who’s guilty.”

  J.D. glanced at Jurek, who nodded. “We’ll start with payroll and work our way up.”

  Jurek stood. “Thorne, come to my office at ten tomorrow. We’ll start then. Meeting adjourned. Good luck on your date, Max.” He waggled his brows.

  “Jackass.” Max turned from Jurek and stood, motioning for Storm and Thorne to join him.

  J.D. waved and left, talking to Luc.

  Jurek walked to Rafe’s side and slapped him on the back. “Everything good? Security hasn’t reported anything odd in the week they’ve been guarding you.”

  “I feel stupid for having them out there, but at least they’re keeping an extra eye on Storm, so that’s something.”

  Jurek considered him for a moment. “That is something.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Jurek didn’t answer. Hell. Was the boss upset? Could he see Rafe’s burgeoning feelings for the woman from a rival company? Rafe’s hopes for a long-term future with Westlake weren’t looking so promising.

  But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care. His focus wasn’t on his career, but on a woman.

  Jurek shook his hand. “Keep in touch. I’ll expect your daily reports. On time,” he reminded.

  “Got it.”

  “Good luck.” Jurek’s broad smile nearly blinded him. “With that woman, you’re going to need it.”

  Before Rafe could respond, Jurek departed, allowing Thorne Buchanan to take his place.

  “Something you wanted? A fight maybe?” Rafe glanced at Thorne’s clenched fists.

  Thorne relaxed. “Easy, Savage. I just wanted to remind you to take care of my sister,” the large man said gruffly. “And to thank you. Storm said she’s just fine here. For now,” he added, destroying Rafe’s hopes that Storm might have meant something far more permanent.

  And how crazy was that?

  Then Storm drew next to him. Right in front of her brother, she took Rafe’s hand in hers. The warmth that filled him was indescribable.

  He glanced down at her and felt something inside him give. He smiled back at her and squeezed her hand.

  Storm had really looked forward to seeing her family, so it surprised her how much she wanted to be alone again with Rafe. Once everyone left, she sat on the couch next to him, snug against his side. Best of all, he’d pulled her there.

  He cleared his throat. “You have an interesting family.”

  She laughed. “That’s the word. Interesting. But I love them.”

  “It’s obvious they love you.” Rafe stroked her cheek and tucked her against his chest.

  So close, she could feel his heartbeat in tune with hers. They raced together in lust, and, she hoped, toward the love bursting inside of her. Though everything about the situation screamed for caution—she’d just met him, he was a loner, they didn’t move in the same circles—her heart wouldn’t be denied.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Go ahead and ask whatever it is.”

  “How did you know that I had a question?”

  “It’s written all over your pretty face. You get that look before you start ripping into me.”

  “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

  “Beautiful women have a way of making a man do whatever they want. I’m on to you, baby.”

  He thought she was beautiful? Men had often told her the same, but Rafe sounded like he really meant it, especially because he’d said it in an offhanded way.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m curious about you. From what you said before, it sounds like your parents had a great relationship with you and with each other. So why didn’t you ever marry?”

  Rafe raised a brow. “Who says I haven’t?”

  “You said you’d been engaged. You were married?”

  “No, but you shouldn’t assume things.”

  She didn’t appreciate his sly grin. “Ass.”

  “See? Never assume. You made an ass out of yourself right there.”

  She tried not to laugh. “I’ll admit you’ve been a pain in my ass since I’ve known you.”

  The teasing glint in his eyes turned dark, sensual. “You know, that’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.” He pulled her closer and forced her to straddle his hips.

  “Rafe?” she breathed, unable to resist when he closed the space between them and kissed her.

  Like clockwork, her entire body melted into a puddle. Under her, Rafe’s arousal fitted to the dampness growing between her legs. “That’s it. Right there.” He rocked against her, finding her clit as if the clothing between them didn’t exist. “I’ve been wanting to do
that all day.”

  “You should have.” She moaned and ground against him, kissing him again.

  Rafe took control, slipping his tongue between her lips and a hand down her pants. He kissed her with a voracious need, his fingers quickening between her thighs.

  She broke the kiss, panting. “God, I don’t know how you keep doing this to me. I’m going to come.”

  “Do it. Come hard.” Rafe sucked on her throat and groaned. “Then let me use that cream to lube your ass. I want more. I want to fuck your ass, baby. Let me take all of you.”

  She shivered, caught in the lust and growing connection between them. She’d never had anal sex and hadn’t exactly wanted to try it. But Rafe had a way of making her doubts vanish. Their clothes swiftly disappeared. Standing chest to chest, Rafe feasted from one nipple to the other, making her crazed. She was wet, her body sensitized to his every touch.

  “Please,” he whispered before kissing her with enough passion to scorch the room.

  “For you, anything.” And everything. I love you. She rained kisses down his throat and chest.

  “We need a bed for this.”

  They quickly made their way to his bedroom. He didn’t give her a chance to do more than squeal as he tossed her to the bed.

  “A real he-man, aren’t you?” she said on a gasp when he covered her with his body.

  “Oh yeah. Now where were we? Oh, that’s right. Time to make you come.”

  He kissed her, alternately teasing her mouth then breasts as he tugged at her answering need. Desperation grew, the familiar call of primal desire building as he played with her body like he owned it.

  His fingers splayed over her belly then delved lower, seeking the heat of her.

  “Yes,” she hissed as he began fucking her with his finger.

  “Christ, I love how wet you get for me.” He kissed his way down her body, then sucked hard on her clit.

  She saw stars when he introduced another finger, then added a third. The pressure inside her and over that bundle of nerves at her core became too much. She came on a cry, basking in the waves of release.

  He continued to stroke her but removed his fingers until only one remained. He got it nice and wet and slid it lower, coating the rim of her anus with moisture. Then he stopped circling the area and pushed a fraction inside. “I’m going to slide it in. Nice and easy, baby. Trust me, you’ll like this.”