And there it was. Gage grinned in the dark. Bobby never just snuggled. She always had questions. That beautiful mind of hers never turned off after sex. No, in fact, sex seemed to stimulate it.
“Because we want to be sure no one shows up to try and remove Lexie from Melissa’s care.”
“You mean her mother, don’t you?”
“Her, or someone acting in her behalf.” A spark of anger shot through him as he contemplated the unthinkable.
“Like a lawyer?” Bobby asked, moving to rest her hand on his chest and her chin on her hand so she could stare up at him.
God, he hated having to tell her what he and Daniel feared—especially in their home, in the bed they shared. He didn’t want anything ugly to ever touch her here. But she was a deputy and in their line of work they had to deal with the horrible, ugly side of humanity.
“Gage?”
He inhaled and exhaled, slipping his hand up to smooth the hair from her face. “No, not a lawyer. Her drug dealer.”
“Her drug dealer? Why on earth would she send him after Lexie?”
“Because sometimes…” He paused and took another breath to steady the anger building inside. “Because sometimes when a parent can’t pay for their drugs, they sell their kids to their dealers.”
“They use their children as payment? Why?” she asked, quickly coming to the logical conclusion. “For sex-trafficking.”
The horror in her eyes fueled his own. The idea that a parent would use their child in such a way disgusted him, but it was reality. It was the world they worked in.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t post someone inside the Westen House around the clock?”
God love his wife. She wanted to protect the whole world. She was going to be a great mother.
“Given the weather, I doubt we really have to go to that extreme. Besides, with Wes out of town, we’re a little shorthanded.”
“If you’re sure.”
She settled against him, but he wasn’t fooled. Bobby was nowhere done with questions.
“Wes hasn’t been in contact with you since he left?” she asked after a moment.
“Not a word.”
“And you think he might’ve gone to Cincinnati to see Chloe, whom both Dylan and I haven’t had so much as a text from since before the blizzard hit?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think there’s a possibility they’re stranded somewhere together?” she asked, following it up with a yawn and slowly her breathing became soft and regular as she fell asleep.
“Yes.” He thought exactly that. Which didn’t really make him happy. The moment he married Bobby he’d inherited two little, if already grown, sisters. Anyone messed with them or hurt them, even someone he trusted as much as Wes, they’d answer to him—one way or another.
* * * * *
Sitting in his car across from Chloe’s condo, he watched the activity going on up on the second floor.
After spending the night at her place and most of the day, he’d gotten hungry. Besides, as the road crews worked on clearing the main highways he figured he was pushing his luck sticking around too long. He’d headed home, changed clothes, and meant to stay put.
But the urges wouldn’t let him.
He needed to see her come home. Needed to see the man she’d spent the night with. Needed to punish her for turning her back on him for another.
So, he’d climbed back in his car and headed back to the Mt. Adams area, picked up some tacos at the shop around the corner because it was the only thing open and the parking lot conveniently faced the front of her building. Just as he’d gotten comfortable a Jeep pulled up out front and for a minute he thought the whore had come back. Only, it wasn’t her. It looked like her—tall, thin, same facial features—only this woman had long blonde hair sticking out from beneath her hat. He’d seen the pictures on Chloe’s mantel in her bedroom. Two tall beauties book-ending a shorter version of them both. He knew she had two sisters. This must be one of them.
The guy that climbed out of the other side looked like an old-fashioned boxer—thick and compact. Definitely nothing like the man Chloe’d left with that afternoon.
They entered the building and a few minutes later the lights went on in her upstairs condo unit.
What were they doing in his woman’s home? He couldn’t help laughing. Would’ve liked to be a fly on the wall to see their reactions to the message he’d left the whore.
Removing his gloves, he unwrapped one of the tacos and took a bite. God, how did people exist on fast food? His palate was definitely too refined for this kind of food on a daily basis. But tonight he couldn’t be too picky. He hadn’t eaten all day, since all Chloe had in her house was frozen meals, spicy chips and salsa—and wine, way too much wine. And thanks to the weather not too many places had been open this late. So greasy tacos it was.
As he ate, he contemplated his options.
There were two maybe three possibilities of what would happen next. They’d already found evidence that someone had been in the condo. Do they leave? Do they call for Chloe to return? Do they call the police and wait for them to show?
If they elected the first option, he’d follow them. They might lead him to where Chloe might be hiding. If not, it might be useful to know where the sister lived. She might be useful as leverage or, yes, even a replacement.
If they called Chloe he’d be right here to see her reaction to the message he’d left in her apartment. She’d made him angry choosing that Neanderthal over him. She needed to be punished and brought to heel.
And if they called the police? Well, he’d leave. Not speed away the minute they arrived, but calmly down the street as if just driving by. Maybe he’d circle the block so he could slow down like an on-looker gawking at the police and whatever might be going on.
He smiled. Certainly no one would expect anything untoward about a Lincoln Navigator. The police would be looking for someone in an old beat-up sedan. Someone who would trash a home, not an upstanding citizen such as himself.
And as for forensics?
He glanced at the gloves lying in the passenger seat next to the bag of tacos. He’d worn them the entire time he’d been in her apartment. And DNA? He patted the pocket of his coat that contained the two pair of panties he’d orgasmed in. He’d had enough sense to bring those home with him. The one thing he’d left behind was her sheets and pillow cases on the bed.
His heartbeat gave a little jump.
Certainly no one would expect he’d actually slept there?
No, they’d think it was some punk who came in, trashed the place and disappeared. They wouldn’t find him. He was too smart for them.
That’s what attracted him to Chloe, her brain. He’d assumed she’d choose someone with the same intellect and interest in a superior life style. What did she do instead? She let her hormones overtake her and chose a muscle-bound ape.
A police car, a black SUV and a white van marked as Crime Scene Unit on the sides arrived. Two uniformed cops climbed out of the cruiser, while a man and woman in plain clothes exited the unmarked car. A team of two got out of the van and went to the back to collect what looked like tool boxes before all six headed for Chloe’s building.
Interesting.
He’d assumed only the uniformed cops would show up first. Whoever was inside had assessed the situation correctly and had enough pull to get the big guns up here quick. As much as he’d love to stay and watch all the drama, maybe even catch Chloe returning, it was risky to be seen sitting in a running car on such a cold winter night.
Wiping off his hands on a napkin, he scanned the area to be sure no one was actively watching him. He put the car in gear and drove half way down the block before turning on his headlights. A patient man, he’d wait for another day to teach Chloe to whom she belonged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’m much safer, here with you.
She’d said that, and snuggled up against Wes’s hard, warm body, Chloe knew it to be true. It
felt right. Not just now, but from the moment he’d invaded her office yesterday. No, even before that. When she’d come to Westen last month for Bobby’s wedding.
From the moment she’d arrived in town, he’d irritated her both verbally and with his constant presence at her side. Yet, she’d relaxed enough not to spend every waking moment looking over her shoulder until she’d left to go back to Cincinnati. From that moment until she’d seen him standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows in her office, it had been as if she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him.
That he’d taken the precaution of looking after Dylan’s safety even before he came to be by her side, spoke volumes to the kind of man he was. Dependable, efficient, prepared.
God, she was making him sound like a boy scout. Which was so wrong, because despite all those qualities she’d just named, there was something dark and powerful inside him. Something that made her trust him to protect her, no matter what it took.
Was it the abandonment of his mother at such a young age? Was it being raised by his grandparents? Was it his military training? Or the secret missions he’d survived? It was a combination of all these things. Early on she’d learned that no one event can forge a person, but the series of events that make up a life. Her parents dying was one event. Bobby stepping up to raise her and Dylan, another. Fighting bullies in school, both physically as a kid and then verbally as she matured, were more instances of experiences and memories that shaped her.
And right now she wanted to make another memory with him—one of passion and desire.
Shifting her body, she slowly came up to straddle him, her gaze locking on his. “I need something from you.”
He slid his hands around her waist and down to her hips, urging her in tight. “And what would that be?”
“Make me forget my anger.” She leaned in and kissed him slowly, letting her teeth pull on his lower lip for a moment. “My fear. My worry.”
“I think I can do that,” he said before claiming her mouth.
She slid her arms around his neck, running her fingers up through his thick, short dark hair. Sparks matching those cracking off the fire shot through her. With a growl from deep inside her, she pressed her body tight against his, taking control of the kiss by invading his mouth with her tongue. The mixture of wine from dinner, the chocolate from their dessert and the sensual feel of his tongue meeting hers triggered more excitement to course through her.
This man.
Her body needed him like the dry earth of a drought craved water.
Reaching between them she pulled the hem of his sweater upwards, breaking the kiss only long enough to pull the thick wool over his head and toss aside. Once again she wrapped her arms around his neck, the heat of his body filtering through her own clothes.
Geez, how could he feel like a furnace in the dead of winter?
Before her mind could process the answer, he moved. Not breaking the kiss and with a firm grip of her ass cheeks, he lifted her as he stood. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching him to her and adjusting her mouth to his as he carried her through the cabin to the bedroom.
He paused and grunted. The door slammed closed behind them. Darkness surrounded them. She didn’t care. Seconds later, they landed in the middle of the bed they hadn’t made from their earlier love making session.
Hands worked fast. Clothes flew onto the floor. The foil pack crackled as he opened the condom.
Then finally, he slid in deep.
“Yes,” she moaned at the fullness of him inside her.
Gripping his hips tightly to hers with her legs, she arched her back to meet him thrust for thrust. The pace quickened. This joining a pounding rush of need between them. He reached above her head to clutch the headboard, his chest rubbing her breasts with each hard drive of his body into hers. Desperate to take him with her over the edge of the sensual precipice she neared, she slipped her arms down and around his torso. As her body convulsed in passionate release, she raked her nails down his back. He rewarded her with a shout and the tensing of his body as he fell over into the abyss with her.
Slowly, Chloe opened her eyes. Wes leaned up on his elbows, staring down at her, his face unreadable in the darkness.
“Feel better?” he asked, no humor in his voice.
Good thing. If he laughed at her shameless behavior, she’d have to hit him. And right now, she didn’t think she could make a fist, much less put any punch behind it.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. Softly, slowly. A kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes.
Damn. Good thing it was too dark to see in the room. She was already embarrassed she’d cried on him earlier.
Breaking the kiss, he shifted to the side, sat on the edge of the bed, then disappeared out the door, giving her a brief glimpse of his naked body as he went into the bathroom to deposit the condom. Turning on her side, she watched the fire through the open door. Wes appeared again. He went to the fire, doing something with the fire poker.
Good lord, there wasn’t one ounce of fat on that man’s body. Each muscle well defined. The only thing marring all that masculine beauty? Long red strips where her nails had scored him.
She couldn’t help the inner fist-pump. She liked that she’d left her mark on him.
A moment later he hurried back into the bedroom, scooted in beside her and pulled the covers up on them both. Lying on his back, he pulled her in tight beside him.
Her head resting on his chest, she heard his heart beating strong and steady beneath her ear, the soft hairs of his chest tickled her cheek and nose.
“I’m glad you left the door open,” she said. “I hate the dark.”
“I didn’t think there was anything you were afraid of, counselor,” he said, with a hint of teasing in his voice.
“Bad things happen in the dark.”
He brushed her face with the knuckles of his hand. “What bad things, Chloe?”
“My parents died at night.”
“What happened?” he asked gently.
“Daddy was a professor of engineering. He was invited to speak at the University of Kentucky in Lexington. Since it was their anniversary week, Mom went with him, leaving us home with Bobby. The second night there was a banquet and awards ceremony, which my parents attended. It’s only about two hours away, so they started home.”
She paused, thinking back to that terrible night. “It was a sudden rainstorm. The kind that pops up and the roads get slick before anyone realizes it. Even though they were on the highway, a drunk driver plowed into them from behind, sending them careening off into an embankment of trees.”
Inhaling slowly, she ran her hand over the hairs on his chest. “The police came to the house just after midnight. The doorbell woke me. I slipped out of the room I shared with Dylan. The house was dark except for the light coming up the stairs from the front door. Bobby stood there talking to the policeman. I’ve never seen her so pale and frightened.”
Wes’s arm tightened around her, his heartbeat still steady beneath her. His body, strong and solid, just like him.
“Bad things can happen in the daylight, too,” he said after a few minutes.
The last mission. That had to be what he was talking about.
Slowly she slid her arm around his torso until she was hugging him in the loosest of hugs and waited. When he didn’t continue, she took a breath, and just like with a scared or hesitant witness, she gently prodded.
“What happened on that last mission, Wes?”
And there was the question.
Wes had been asked that very thing in the debriefing once he and Bulldog were finally safe on U.S. soil. What had happened? Or as his commander with the Agency had put it, What the fuck happened, Strong?
Straight up and with no flowery description, he’d told the suits in the room with him the facts of the mission. They hadn’t really wanted to know more than him admitting he’d fucked up. Not
only had he lost the asset, but out of the six men on his team, only he and Bulldog had made it out of that jungle. It hadn’t taken them long to cut him loose. All of forty-eight hours after he was discharged from the hospital.
What he’d told them wasn’t what happened.
“The mission was compromised before my team even set foot in Venezuela. It was to be a simple extraction. A businessman on holiday was taken hostage. At first it was believed to be a simple express kidnapping.”
“Express kidnapping?” Chloe asked. Her breath whispering across his skin eased some of the anger humming just beneath the surface.
“Tourists are kidnapped by gangs, driven to ATM’s around cities, forced to withdraw money until they max out their cash and use their credit cards to buy high-ticket items. Usually, if they’re in a rental car, their vehicle is stolen, leaving them stranded in a city where they know no one.”
“How frightening.”
“It is, but it’s usually over quickly.”
“Are people hurt?”
“If they resist or try to fight, they’re beaten into submission. Rarely are they killed. Usually they’re only detained for a few hours.” He hesitated.
“What was different this time?” she asked.
Damn, the woman was smart.
“The guy panicked. Still acting the CEO, he flashed his Black Amex card around and figured they wouldn’t hurt him if he told them how much money he had and how valuable he’d be as a hostage. Fucking idiot,” he ground out. Still angry at the guy for putting them all in danger and subsequently getting his men killed. “So instead of a few hours of inconvenience and some embarrassment he bought himself days tramping through the jungle, which is where my team came in.”
“I thought you worked for the government?”
“Technically, I still do.” He hurried on before she could question that statement. “The CEO happened to be a contractor for a technical company—one that developed both physical intelligence equipment and the security programs that ran them.”
Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4) Page 19