by Sara Fawkes
Jeremiah’s arm was under my head; I could smell his scent all around me. The weight of his body rolled me onto the bed, pressing my belly to the tangled sheets.
Teeth nipped my ear as the head of his penis eased back, then pushed again at my forbid-den entrance.
“God, you’re so tight.”
The strain in his voice made me smile in-to the pillow. He’d massaged lube generously to both himself and me while I slept, and moved with delicious slowness farther inside me. I tilted my hips up, silently allowing him the access he wanted, and he kissed my neck in gratitude. There was no frenzied rush to the finish, no need for anything except the contact. His movements were languid, his breathing heavy. He was turned on, and that knowledge brought out the same in me.
“I love having you like this,” he murmured in my ear, rotating his hips and pressing inside me. “Laid out beneath me, mine to do with as I please.”
I love. It was the first time I’d ever heard him say those words like that. Part of my mind registered the significance but filed it away to ponder later, too tired and distracted right then to look too deeply. “Anything you want,” I whispered back, then gasped as his hand slid beneath me and palmed my breast, brushing a hard nipple with his thumb.
“I have what I want right here.”
Joy bloomed inside me, and I turned my head to look back at him. In the dark, all I could see was the reflection of his eyes. “I love you.”
He didn’t answer, and I hadn’t expected any more. But the tempo of his thrusts changed, becoming more forceful, his breathing more ragged. I pushed my face in-to the pillow, glorying in the act of giving him pleasure. Small moans worked their way free from my lips as I felt him reach his peak.
“I love you, Jeremiah Hamilton,” I whispered into the pillow as he came above me, the muscles of his abdomen vibrating against my back. One last dreamy sigh escaped me, and then I felt him pull out and curl up next to me. He pulled me tight against him, nuzzling my neck.
We stayed like that for several moments as I felt my limbs once again grow heavy. “I need to clean up,” he said softly, kissing one cheek.
“Another condom?”
“It’s easier this way. Go back to sleep.”
Slumber had never been far from my consciousness. Jeremiah wrapped the blankets back around me as he stood off the bed, and I snuggled into the warm cocoon.
I had a brief memory of arms enfolding me and lips whisper something in my ear soon after, but I was too far gone into sleep to remember what was said.
It wasn’t yet light outside when there came another knock on the door. We were instantly awake, and Jeremiah crept silently to the door while I waited on the bed. The dark-ness made it difficult to see anything, which only heightened the uneasiness inside me.
Another knock sounded only seconds later, three soft taps followed by a dull scrape. Jeremiah crouched to the ground and opened the door a crack.
“We found something.”
Chapter 15
There were very few people in life that I took an instant disliking too, but the odious little man standing across from me ticked me off the minute he grabbed my ass.
I thought Jeremiah was going to rip his head off, but Ethan stepped between him and the small man. “Easy. Let’s not get into a fight before we get our information.”
The informant gave a nasty laugh as he let himself in behind the bar. “Cute lass you got there, mate.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Wanna trade up for a real man?”
The man’s words made my skin crawl. He reminded me of the troll dolls my mother had decorated her office with when I was a kid. His ears and nose were overgrown to the point of absurdity, making his already beady eyes look even smaller. He had a perpetual smirk on his face, as if certain nobody would mess with him and wasn’t above using that to his advantage.
Two large guards stood beside us while odious little man poured himself a drink. I glanced between them and Jeremiah, who had already gotten himself back in control.
“Digging at the bottom of the barrel, aren’t we?” he murmured, low enough that only Ethan and I could hear him.
“He can help us,” Ethan replied. “Ronny’s a rat, but a well-connected one.”
“Oy, I heard that!”
“You were meant to, jackass,” Ethan muttered, glaring at the small man. The two bodyguards shifted, as if waiting for an order, but were waved off by their boss.
“Jeremiah, this is Ronny Fitch. He says he has information on Alexander Rush.”
Jeremiah dubious, but he managed to hide any disdain. “Tell us what you know.”
“Oh no, that’s not how this works.”
Ronny waved his drink at us, grinning.
“First, we discuss payment.”
“How much?”
“One million.”
“Done.”
Ronny’s eyebrows went up. “I’m talking cash, and up front before you get your information. And the price just jumped to ten million,
since
you
obviously
came
unprepared.”
Jeremiah growled, and I laid a hand on his arm. The tension in the room rose, but Ronny didn’t seem to notice, pouring himself another drink and slamming it back. The pub we were meeting in hadn’t yet opened; the sign out front said we still had three hours before lunch, which meant no witnesses. The bodyguards beside us were bigger than both Ethan and Jeremiah and had a combat-trained vibe about them.
Jeremiah’s glare was fixed on the smug little man behind the counter. “I can get you your money, but we need the information first.”
“Oh ho, you really think so?” He reached under the bar, and we all tensed until he pulled out a newspaper. He flipped through the pages, licking his fingers to grab the pages, then folded it back and laid it atop the counter. “Read it and weep, buddy.”
Jeremiah stepped forward and picked up the paper carefully. I peeked over his shoulder and read the headline: BILLIONAIRE MIA, ASSETS FROZEN
PENDING INVESTIGATION
I looked over at Ethan, then up at Jeremiah. He was busy reading the article, but from the way his brow drew lower and lower I could tell it wasn’t good. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, suddenly nervous but trying not to show it.
“You’re shit outta luck, mate,” Ronny crowed, saluting Jeremiah with his glass.
“And since you can’t pay my fee, our business is done.”
“I thought you already knew about this,”
Ethan murmured as Jeremiah crushed the newspaper in his hand. “We can figure something else out.”
“You really think he has information?”
Jeremiah asked in a low voice.
Ethan looked between the self-satisfied ass behind the bar and Jeremiah. “I think he’s our best shot.”
“What’s wrong with you lot, you deaf? I said scram!”
One of the large bodyguards stepped forward and made the mistake of grabbing Jeremiah’s arm. He exploded into action, twisting around and pushing the bodyguard into the bar. The other guard went for Jeremiah and Ethan got in the way, engaging him as I skittered sideways away from the fighting. Chairs were overturned and tables toppled as the men went at it, and I moved away further toward the door.
Jeremiah managed to get his assailant onto the ground while both Ethan and the man he was grappling with fell to the floor. I winced at the sound of flesh meeting bone, but the loud crunch of bone breaking ener-gized me. The way Ethan was cradling his left arm didn’t look good. He still had his legs wrapped around his attacker’s waist, however, blocking blows with his good arm.
Grabbing a nearby chair, I waded into the fight, slamming it over the man above Ethan.
The chair barely fazed the burly man, who reached for me, but the distraction was enough for Ethan to get the upper hand.
Even crippled, he managed to get several blows in before the guard went after Ethan’s bad arm. The former Ranger grunted, body spasming in pa
in, then Jeremiah was there pulling the big guard off his friend.
Immediately switching his attention to the new target, the beefy man threw a round-house punch, but Jeremiah stepped inside and boxed the other man’s ears. A swift kick to the other man’s knee and instep had the burly guard toppling into a nearby table and onto the floor. Ethan snaked an arm around the big man’s neck and pinned him to the floor in a chokehold. Jeremiah didn’t waste any more time, but stalked back to the bar.
Ronny, seeming to just realize he was de-fenseless, cowered against the back of the narrow bar. He took off sideways towards the back edit but Jeremiah jumped forward over the bar, grabbing the lapels of Ronny’s brown jacket.
“C’mon mate, I didn’t mean...”
Jeremiah slammed him down onto the countertop. Ronny howled, the smirk long gone from his face. He grabbed his bloody nose, eyes wide and gleaming with pain.
“You want to give me that information for free now?” Jeremiah said, leaning down close to Ronny’s terrified face. “Mate?”
*
“Why do I feel like I’ve seen this movie before?”
The address Ronny had, after some per-suasion from Jeremiah, turned out to be a solitary cabin out in the middle of nowhere.
We’d moved far from London, firmly en-trenched in the countryside. The house in question was down a long winding road that was in full view of the house. No trees dotted the landscape, although the grass could have hidden a car in places.
“How can we be sure this isn’t a trap?” I murmured.
“It’s undoubtedly a trap.”
Well, thanks for that pep talk. “Then why are we going there?”
“Because I have no other way to be absolutely certain this is the place. And there is no we here, I will be going into that house alone.”
“Bullshit.” Ethan’s voice was low but fierce. “There’s no way I’m letting you take that on alone.”
My eyes fell to Ethan’s bandaged arm, and I wondered somewhat cynically how he could help us now. I’d found a first aid kit in the pub and managed to splint up Ethan’s injured arm, but he really needed to go to the hospital to have it fixed. He didn’t look in-clined to leave though, clearly as eager to get into danger as Jeremiah.
“I need you to take Lucy someplace safe.”
His words drew the bald man up short.
“You want me to watch her after what I did the last time?”
Jeremiah looked his former squadmate and security chief in the eye. “Is there anything I should know right now that would prevent you from doing this?”
Ethan glanced down at his arm, then back up. “No.”
“Are you being blackmailed by our target, or in any way colluding with him?”
“No.”
Something warred in Jeremiah’s eyes, and then he clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “You ever do that again,” he said, “and I’ll kill you.”
Beside me, Ethan chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”
I let out a frustrated breath. Men. “This is all very touching, but I’m not leaving Jeremiah’s side.”
“Yes, you are.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m not. Look,” I hurried to say before he got too logical, “I’m already as much of a target as you; if that creepy meeting in the airport said anything, it’s that I’m a part of this now. I’m safer with you than away.”
“So he can hit two birds with one stone?”
“Well, would you rather I get killed in a car bomb while you were investigating the scary cabin over there?”
That silenced him for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. If I’d learned anything in my time with Jeremiah, it was patience, but the emotion was hard-won and difficult at that moment. I took his hand in mine. “Why get Ethan involved in this anyway?” I continued, trying to drive my point home. “He’s still trying to re-concile with Celeste and, as far as we can tell, the authorities don’t think he’s connected.
Do you want him or his wife targeted by Alexander?”
Beside me I saw Ethan shift. “I owe you,”
he said in a low voice, the words obviously meant for Jeremiah.
“Not this much.” Jeremiah’s lips were a hard line as he gestured to Ethan’s splinted arm. “You need to take care of that quickly.”
“I’ve had worse and you know it.”
“You have,” Jeremiah agreed. He jerked his chin toward the cabin. “I don’t know what this is, but we have to check it out.”
Ethan stared Jeremiah in the eye. “I can’t let you go in there alone.”
“I know, but I have to do it myself. Goodbye, Ethan.”
The bald man’s hands curled into fists, and he glared at the cabin. Then he sighed.
“If you die in there, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Well, I forgive you, if that helps any.”
Some of the tension left Ethan’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “it kind of does.” He looked at me, then back to Jeremiah. “Take care of yourselves. Should I leave the car?”
Jeremiah shook his head, and we watched as the bald man got into his vehicle and drove away. “The car would have been nice,” I said wistfully, not looking forward to the long walk.
“A car would be seen by anyone in that cabin. There’s a good chance they’ve already noticed us anyway.”
I stared at the small cottage. “So what are we going to do,” I asked, “walk right up to it?”
“Not quite. You stay here, and I’ll go check it out.”
I glared at him. “Like hell.”
Jeremiah gave me a droll look. “Do you have training to sneak into an open location like this undetected?”
“Well, no, but... Why are we even here? If you know this is a trap, why are you playing right into it?”
“If we run, he’ll chase us, keeping one step ahead, and we won’t even know we’re dead until it’s too late. If we play into his little game, there’s a chance he’ll slip up and give us the chance to take him down.”
“That is the stupidest...” I groaned loudly.
As much as I didn’t want to be left alone, I also didn’t want to go into that cabin. “What am I supposed to do if someone comes down the road?" I asked in a sarcastic tone. "Hide in the grass? Maybe pretend I’m some kind of rock and hope they don’t notice.”
Jeremiah just stared at me for a moment and then, surprisingly, he wrapped me in his arms. “This is going to be okay.”
I had no idea until I felt his arms around me how scared I was. Everything welled up suddenly: the fight earlier, the running and hiding and thievery to get where we were. I’d held myself together pretty well, but there on that English dirt road, I wanted nothing more than for this nightmare to end so I could have a good cry. The safety in his arms was an illusion, and I hated that.
No. I will not break down out here.
My breathing was shaky as I stepped away, out of Jeremiah’s arms. I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right: this exercise wasn’t for me. “Fine,” I said stiffly, “I’ll stay here and try to keep out of sight.” Easier said than done on a hill with no trees, but I figured that was a given.
He laid a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be right...”
A car sped around the corner suddenly, startling me. Jeremiah shoved me behind him as another came from the opposite direction, stopping just short of us. Several men and one woman stepped out of the vehicles.
“Freeze!”
We stayed still as more cars swarmed around us. They approached us carefully, guns drawn. Jeremiah slowly put his hands on his head, and following his lead I did the same.
They cuffed Jeremiah first, making sure he was compliant and fully restrained before they turned to me. The cuffs bit into my wrists, and I winced as they shoved my arms up and pushed me against the side of one car. The door across from us open, and a familiar dark haired agent exited.
“I told you I would find you, Mr.
Hamilt
on.”
“Agent Gautier, we need...”
“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. Hamilton.”
To the agents behind us, Marie said, “Put them into the car and let Felix know we’re coming in.”
It seemed fate wanted me to see inside that little cottage after all. This, as it turned out, was neither as quaint nor as scary as I’d imagined.
Agents bustled around the modern interior; it was too many bodies for the small cab-in, but nobody seemed to care. Jeremiah and I, still cuffed, were set down on the couch and left mostly alone. We stayed silent, not attracting any attention, but there was no escape from Marie when she finally confron-ted us.
“Do you leave a mess everywhere you go, Mr. Hamilton? You know what we found at your last location? One of my agents unconscious, the other having swallowed a bullet from his own gun.”
I swallowed at the news, remembering the fear in the agent’s eyes when he’d mentioned his family. Marie paced before us, her low heels clacking against the wood floors.
“And we have yet,” she added, clearly agit-ated, “to find his immediate family to inform them of his death.”
A shard of ice went through me and I began to tremble. Jeremiah moved over, bumping his shoulder into mine, letting me know he was there.
“While you were gallivanting across the countryside playing your little games, we’ve been searching everywhere for a madman before he strikes again.”
“His vendetta is against the Hamilton family.”
“That may seem so to you, but so far as I can tell none of you are the ones who have been hurt.” She clenched her fists and stopped pacing, glaring at us. “Yet here I have one agent dead and several more in Dubai. Who knows how many more innocents he will slaughter before he finally gets his supposed “targets.”
“I’m not asking for preferential treat-ment.” Jeremiah tried to stand, but the agents behind us clapped their hands onto his shoulders, pushing him back to the couch. “Look, we know he’s after us, we just need to get him into the open.”