“I’m glued to your side. You’re not going anywhere without me.”
That shouldn’t give her the warm fuzzies tingling her nipples and creating a slow burn in her groin, not when she was still angry at him and the world in general, but it did.
“If we’re buried, I have the local rescue team on speed dial.” He tapped the phone sticking out of his left pocket. They’ll be able to locate us with GPS, hopefully.”
“Hopefully.” Better not to dwell on that.
He tilted the screen for her to see. “This is the layout of the explosives. There are two safe paths out of here. The one to the left is only safe for a tenth of a mile.
“It’s a trap.”
"Yes. The path to the right is the only safe passage out of the woods to the road. I have a couple of snowmobiles camouflaged to get us out to a small town where I have a car parked." He led her down the right path. She noticed he shortened his strides to match hers. Instead of marching ahead, they strolled, leisurely.
“Seems like you’ve planned everything.” She focused on her steps and the surroundings.
He shrugged. “I’m trying.”
He was trying, that she couldn't deny. Not only to save her but to include her. She touched his forearm. "I-I haven't said thanks for this. Any of this. Jamaica and…" She thought of their night spent together. "Everything." I did not just thank him for sex.
“I should say it’s my job, but you’re welcome.” He smiled, he actually smiled with his mouth and his eyes. Flustered, she dropped her hand and looked away. Self-preservation, Bailey. You let him get under your skin. You can’t let him get that close again.
“Notice the trees marked with charcoal on the trunk. It’s a roadmap.” He pointed to the mark on a series of trees located seven feet above. Not easy to find unless a person knew what to look for.
“Can’t see that at night.”
“No, you can’t, but I’ll be with you.”
Yeah, but it didn’t hurt to memorize the route. In case shit took a bloody turn south. A tenth of a mile later, he showed her the location of the snowmobiles.
“What about the front of the house?” she asked as they headed back.
"Same setup. We've lined the driveway with remote charges that won't detonate unless we want them to."
He had thought of everything, except… “What about afterwards? We can’t leave all these bombs around for someone to find. What if it’s a kid?”
“Everything will detonate after we leave, including the house.”
She frowned and glanced at the structure over her shoulder. “Aww. But I love the house.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he murmured, tapping away on the screen.
Emmet buying her a house. She tiptoed away from that topic and tackled the one topic she’d avoided long enough. “Is Hank here?” She concentrated on her footsteps and spotting the charcoaled markings on the trees, not Emmet or his reaction to her question.
“Yes, he was,” he said with no hesitation.
She was about to ask where, but it didn’t matter. Hank didn’t matter. They were almost back to the house when Emmet stopped which caused her to stop.
“I can’t speak for Hank—”
"No, you can't." She cut him off. "And I don't want you to speak for him. You shouldn't have too." She marched ahead, but he stopped her.
“I wasn’t finished,” he growled.
Staring into his eyes, she waited, not ignorant of the concern ebbing from their depths.
“I’m sorry—”
She slashed her hand across her throat. “Don’t apologize for him.”
“Will you stop cutting me off.”
She shook her head. “Not if you’re gonna make excuses. I don’t want to hear it.”
His mouth compressed into a grim line, but he didn’t say anything else.
“I do have something to say.”
He folded his arms and glared at her. “Shocking, but go ahead.”
Bailey ignored his sarcasm. "I said thanks already. I just want you to know…I trust you." It wasn't a lie or even a half-truth. Emmet wasn't perfect—far, far from it—but he was trying and that deserved appreciation. Even if his loyalty to Hank brought him to her doorstep, he didn't have to be here, with her, playing with bombs and putting his life on the line. Whatever the reason, he was here.
The glaring stopped, and something more dangerous entered his gaze. He reached for her, cupped her face in his calloused palms. "I trust you is much better than a thank you." He tilted her chin up, and she didn't fight him because she wanted his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, his body pinning her down, merging. She wanted him.
“Sorry for the intrusion, but I need to show you something.”
Whiskey’s voice was a cold dose of reality. He stood on the right side of the tree line with an iPad in his hand, leering as if he knew something he shouldn’t. Cheeks flaming, Bailey yanked away from Emmet and didn’t stop until she reached her bedroom.
◆◆◆
Emmet snatched Whiskey’s iPad from him and glanced at the coordinates. “This could’ve waited.”
“Yep. It coulda. You may not thank me now, but I’ve just saved you a world of hurt.”
Emmet looked up from the screen and tracked Whiskey’s gaze to Bailey entering the house. “What are you flapping your lips about?”
“Her, and you. Kaboom.” He made a mushroom cloud with his hands. “That’s what will happen when Hank finds out you got a stiffy over his daughter.”
Emmet headed for the house. “Hank doesn’t give two shits about his daughter outside of using her to get to his enemy.”
Whiskey fell in step with him. “You’re wrong, dude. He doesn’t show it, but he cares.”
Emmet snorted. “If you had a kid would you use them as target practice?”
Whiskey shuddered. “I am never having a kid. Never.”
Emmet gritted through clenched teeth. “Well, I wouldn’t. When I have a kid, dust will be afraid to touch it.”
Whiskey held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t doubt it, especially since you already have the mother picked out.”
Emmet turned on Whiskey. “I don’t have anything picked out. I’m here to protect an innocent woman from a madman, and her father.” There, he finally spat out what he refused to acknowledge.
“Okay. I hear you.” Whiskey gave a toothy grin. “And after this shindig is over, I’ll help you pick out a ring.”
Chapter Fifteen
Bailey entered her bedroom. Halfway to the bathroom, she paused. Call it a sixth sense, woman’s intuition, whatever, but suddenly she was certain someone had been here while she was out. The one camera she and Emmet placed was still in position, along with the sensor on the window.
Copying how Emmet did things, she started with the crown molding, then the light fixtures, and found it in the picture frame. A small hole in the corner of the canvas. The tiny camera blended in with a depiction of a cloudless night sky. A middle finger to anyone watching and she yanked it out. So much for trusting Emmet. What a fool!
Furious, she held the camera in the palm of her hand and noticed it was different from the ones Emmet had placed, in size and shape. This wasn't him. He hadn't placed this camera.
Bailey slammed open her bedroom door and marched into the living room. Emmet and Whiskey and the two other men were in a deep huddle in front of a laptop. The whispering ceased as she approached. “Don’t stop on my account. I’m here to return some property.”
She slapped the camera down on the desk, next to the laptop, studied the gathering fury on Emmet’s face and Whiskey’s neutral expression, and had her answer. She picked up a paperweight snowball with a little village inside and smashed the surveillance device into a thousand pieces. Then she scooped them up and blew the remains into Whiskey’s face.
“You want to see me naked? Ask.”
“That wasn’t—”
Emmet’s fist cut off the rest of his sentence. She leaped back,
out of the way of the two men swinging at each other.
"It wasn't me." Whiskey groaned after a gut shot. Emmet flipped Whiskey onto his back and placed him in a chokehold. "I was in the field. You saw me." He gasped.
Whiskey was in the field. He’d met them outside. That brought Bailey’s attention to the two who’d never bothered to share their names. One of them had to be the one.
Emmet shoved Whiskey away and stepped over his prone body. “Which one of you snuck into her bedroom and placed that camera?”
The blond with the Fu Manchu goatee spoke. “I was under instructions.”
“From who?” Emmet demanded.
Bailey spun away. The man’s answer wasn’t necessary. She already knew. Reentering her bedroom, she closed the door, blocking out the sounds of Emmet and whatever his name was, fighting. It didn’t matter that he placed the camera when he wasn’t the one behind the placement.
“I have to get out of here but can’t because I’ll end up dead.” But after this was over… A sharp knock on her door, then it opened and closed behind Emmet.
“Hank told him to place the cameras, but not where. He did that on his own, but he won’t be doing that again. Whiskey is getting his replacement.”
“Tell me you didn’t kill him.” She wouldn’t be responsible for someone’s death over a camera.
“I didn’t, but I don’t know what Hank will do to him.”
Hard to miss the hopeful note in his voice. Bailey wasn’t sure she didn’t like it.
“I’m going to check out the room, make sure you didn’t miss anything.”
Once more, she followed behind him, double-checking his search. When they were done, the only cameras remaining were the ones he’d placed. And those, he removed. “It’s not enough that I want you safe. You need to feel safe, and cameras won’t do that.” He pocketed the devices and headed for the bathroom.
“You don’t think he put a camera in there?”
“He’d better hope he hadn’t.”
It didn’t take long for him to find a camera hidden in the light fixture in the shower, and a second camera in the large mirror. Both cameras would’ve had a perfect view of her naked.
“He’s dead.” Emmet headed for the exit.
Bailey jumped in his path and stopped him with one hand to the center of his chest. “Stay.” Why did she do it when the sane, rational side of her demanded she keep her distance? She needed a hug, to be held close to someone’s heart and cherished like she mattered, for just a little while, and maybe that would be enough to stave off the cold seeping into her bones, changing her forever.
He started to argue until she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. She held on tight and pretended she was somewhere warm and sunny with umbrella drinks and suntan lotion. A place where no one wanted her dead because of a father she managed to forget she had. She imagined everything was different, everything except the man she clung to, everything but him.
Back to her senses, she pulled away, ducking her head as she separated their bodies. It would be great if he’d leave now so she could forget she’d made a fool of herself.
Not a chance.
Emmet picked her up and plopped her onto the counter. He caged her with his hands, blocking an escape on either side of her body. “Eyes on me, Bailey.” His tone thick with a hunger she recognized. Her nipples pearled, her core clenched and slickened, ready, needy.
Schooling her face to not betray her, she obeyed and raised her chin. Heat blazed from his icy eyes stoking the embers of a blaze that always seemed a breath away from igniting in his presence.
His fingers stroked up from her hips to her waist, over her breasts, her throat, to thread into her hair. His thumbs hooked under her chin, tilting her head at the perfect angle for the first brush of his mouth. She sighed and parted her lips in a blatant invitation for him to take what he wanted.
First, he licked into her, gently teasing his tongue along her bottom lip. Then, in an ever-tightening grip, he fisted her hair and drew her head back. The press of his mouth, the glide of his tongue, the nip of his teeth, she shuddered at the unbridled passion and clung to his arms even as the rest of her went boneless from the pleasure. No one had ever kissed her like this. She was ruined, utterly ruined for any other, just from one kiss.
He broke away to trail kisses down her throat. Panting, she brought him back to her. “I want you so bad, but-but, they’re right outside the door.” She’d never been shy before, wasn’t sure why it mattered now—
He silenced her with another kiss and licked into her mouth. “The shower. Get in the shower.”
Shirt and bra, boots, then jeans and panties. Emmet helped with the last part. Finally, naked, she leaped into his embrace and wrapped her body around him while he palmed her ass, kicked off his boots, and made for the glass enclosure.
Back pressed to the cold tiles, Bailey gasped into his mouth. He swallowed the sound and murmured an apology as he traded places. At some point, he reached over and flipped on the hot water, turning the shower into a steam bath.
Water pelted her. Pelted him. His wet clothes plastered to his body. She helped peel the sweater off his chest. It hit the tile with a soggy splat. The jeans required both their efforts but gave way to their passion. Finally naked, steam swirled around their bodies, leaving them covered in mist.
She eased down his body, going onto her knees. Those eyes of his burned into her as she took him in her hand, the first time she held his girth and licked up the warm, steely length of him.
His taste—salty, earthy—had her wet and aching. But she wanted to do this, him in her mouth, at the back of her throat, losing control. Up one side and down the other, there wasn’t anything better than watching his abs clench and release with each stroke of her tongue. Even better was his hooded gaze. How could she ever think his gaze was cold? Wrapping her lips around him, she drew him in, circled the flushed crown and the bundle of nerves underneath.
His head hit the tile with a thud, and he hissed sharply, "Bailey."
To the back of her throat, she took him, sucking, licking his erection, loving the smooth, velvety hardness on her tongue. She alternated her feasting while grinding him like a pepper mill between both her hands.
Back arched, he rocked into her mouth, a rhythm they found together. “Don’t stop,” he growled.
She hummed her agreement and reveled in her mastery, her control, his pleasure. No one else. She popped him out of her mouth and ran her thumb over his slick head, down his veined shaft. His hips jerked violently, and she took him back into her mouth.
Another lick, another swirl of her tongue, another squeeze of his shaft, and finally, a squeeze of his balls. His body tensed, and he barked out a curse over the background hiss of the shower. His lips peeled back from his teeth. He swelled and convulsed in her mouth. The taste of him swamped her. She took all his orgasm down, sucking deeply as he bucked and trembled.
She released him and licked her way up his body for a kiss. “I’m incredible. I know. You can tell me so when you catch your breath.” She nipped his chin and danced under the hot spray, out of his way.
Emmet flicked off the water and snatched her to him. “You are incredible.” He swept her off her feet and brought her out of the bathroom to the bed, then backed away. Still, she lay as his smoldering gaze stroked her in a tangible caress. In the cool bedroom, she felt hot, fevered, from her hair follicles to her nipples, to her wet core, to her curled toes.
He yanked open the night table, retrieved a condom, and tore it open.
“You need to get on birth control ’cause I want to feel you, skin to skin, nothing between us.” He sheathed himself.
Asking her to get on birth control meant one thing. He planned on sticking around. She bit her lip to keep the burst of joy inside. “I can do that.”
With one hand, he twined her hair around his fingers and pulled her head back for a raw kiss as his other hand did a slip-n-slide between her thighs.
“I’ve never said that to anyone.”
Right there! At that moment, with that statement, she knew she’d gotten beneath his armor, beneath his skin, as he had gotten beneath hers. Maybe she wasn’t in this alone, this war that had come to her doorstep, this man she was about to welcome into her body, into her heart.
She blinked and bit back a yelp as he flipped her over and propped her ass up. Spread wide, she cranked her head around to watch him meld their bodies together. Inch by exquisite inch, he buried himself inside her. She groaned long and loud from pleasure almost too much to bear.
“Pillow, babe.”
She stretched out, grabbed the nearest pillow, and bit into it as he grabbed her ass and hauled her to him. They crashed together, flesh slapping from the intensity of his thrusts. Lost, utterly lost, in pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, begged him not to stop, sobbed into the pillow as she threw her hips back.
From the corner of her mind, the part clinging to a thread of sanity, the rational Bailey remembered they weren’t alone in the house and ordered her to glue her lips together. Whimpering, she tried to obey, until he reached around to rub her clit. Lightning ignited in her veins. Her entire body lit up. Body torqued, toes curled, knees locked together, trapping his cock inside her. Her orgasm consumed her and didn’t stop until she was a limp mess.
She came back to herself wrapped in now familiar arms, surrounded by familiar heat, inhaling a familiar masculine scent, feeling loved, even if neither had said the words…yet.
Chapter Sixteen
Pleased, Emmet studied the firs dusted with fresh snow. The forecast called for another kilometer to blanket the area tomorrow. The additional powder would camouflage the area nicely after all their activity and wouldn’t hinder the explosives.
How much longer? They’d been here four days, prepared for Armageddon the last two. There wasn’t a time limit on these things, yet he sensed Rogers’ haste.
He’d had never been a patient man. Collateral damage wasn’t something Rogers tended to factor. Quite a few times Hank had to rein him in with a firm set of boundaries or risk mass casualties. He liked to make a mess and leave a statement, even when discretion was warranted.
Plain Jane and the Hitman Page 11