by Gail Barrett
Painfully engorged now, he slid his palms over her skin, the exquisite scent of her nearly doing him in. He closed his eyes, not wanting to scare her with his need. This was Zoe. She deserved better than a fast, hard ride.
But he couldn’t hold back anymore. He found the condom in his wallet and rolled it on. He urged her legs apart, fitted himself to her warmth, and the hot, weeping feel of her nearly sent him over the edge.
“Coop,” she begged, sounding dazed. Capturing her mouth, he kissed her again, entering her with a thrust. Claiming her. Possessing her. Her soft, mewling noises made him growl.
And emotions rushed through him, feelings beyond his control. Tenderness. A soul-deep sense of rightness. A satisfaction he hadn’t felt in years.
Then pleasure deleted his thoughts, and primal urges took charge. He began to move, a slave to his body’s mandate, giving himself over to need. He kissed her again and again, impatience riding him like a bull whip as she arched to meet his demands.
She shuddered and clenched around him, gave voice to a keening cry. His breathing grew hoarse. His pace quickened as he unraveled. And then he hurtled beyond control, convulsing inside her, giving her all that he could.
An eternity later, the world stopped revolving. His breath ragged, he rested his cheek against hers, waiting for his galloping heartbeat to slow. He shifted his weight to his forearms, his body still pulsing inside her, too depleted, too contented to move.
Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes closed, her soft lips curved into a smile. She reached up, locked her hand around his neck—holding him in place.
But he had no intention of letting her go. He gathered her closer, feeling a deep sense of possessiveness, along with the need to have her again. Once wasn’t enough. He’d waited too long, had too much hunger bottled inside.
He swept her hair off her shoulder, planted kisses along her throat, and his body began to respond. “How’s your ankle?”
Her eyes stayed close, her body boneless. “What ankle?”
He laughed and nipped the sensitive edge of her ear. She shivered, her lips parting, her hips writhing in answer, wringing a growl from low in his throat.
And a sudden fear intruded—that he might never get enough of Zoe, that he was in way over his head.
But then instincts took over, the demands of his body prevailing, and he didn’t think for a long, long time.
Zoe awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep an hour later, her body utterly sated, still quivering from the amazing sex. Coop lay on his stomach beside her, the white sheets shoved down to his hips, his bare back layered with muscles, his breath steady in sleep. Sunlight peeked through the slit in the drapes, bathing his copper skin in a golden glow.
She skimmed her hand up his back, twined her fingers through his thick, silky hair. His sensual mouth was relaxed, his eyelashes black against his cheeks. And he looked so sexy, so blatantly masculine that her breath came out in a sigh.
Coop suited her perfectly. He knew exactly where to touch her, how to drive her crazy with lust, how to erase any desire to resist. One glance from those hungry eyes and she wanted to surrender, letting him have everything she could give, body and heart and soul.
He was great at sex—just dominant enough to excite her, yet tender and gentle, too. But she loved far more than his skill in bed. She adored everything about him—his enticing smell, his handsome face, the low rumble of his husky voice. The intelligence in his eyes, his protective streak, his courage and skill under fire.
He made her feel wanted, cherished, safe.
Sighing again, she fingered the short, stubby hairs at the nape of his neck and stroked the hard muscles ridging his back. Her heart twisted, the deep ache creeping back through her chest, the longing for all that she’d lost—Coop, love, a chance for a family and kids.
Her mind swerved back to her grandfather, and the hurt she’d held at bay came crashing back full force. Her grandfather had lied to her, manipulated her, stolen from her. Maybe she could never prove it, but what he did was morally wrong.
And she wasn’t his only victim. Memories surfaced of rumors she’d once ignored, that when he’d taught at the university, he’d taken credit for his students’ work. No one had dared accuse him outright, not with their grades and careers on the line. There had only been whispers, innuendos. And then he’d gone to work for the government, and the rumors had eventually died.
But they’d been true. She’d bet on that. And Coop had recognized her grandfather’s weak character at once. So why hadn’t she? Why had she clung to an idealized version of the man and deceived herself?
Frowning, she trailed her fingers along Coop’s arm, her mind still lost in the past. And the truth kicked her right in the gut. She’d hadn’t wanted to see the truth; she’d been too afraid. She’d feared that her parents might have been guilty. She’d feared that her grandfather might be a crook. And she’d feared that she wasn’t exciting enough for Coop, that a quiet bookworm like her could never hold him, that he’d eventually find someone new.
And her grandfather had seen that insecurity and played right into her fears. He’d told her Coop didn’t love her, that he was only amusing himself for the summer and had no intention of marrying her.
And she’d been too scared to question him closely, too worried that if her grandfather had lied about one thing, her entire world could collapse.
A profound feeling of sadness gripped her, a deep regret cramping her throat. She’d let her grandfather chase away Coop, define who she was. She’d followed his advice, his rules, seeking his approval, so careful to stay within bounds.
Coop had dared her to break out. He’d challenged her to be free. To be herself.
She snuggled closer against him, relishing the comfort and strength of his arms. She traced the contours of his dark, lean face, that wicked, sensual mouth. He was such a gorgeous man—dangerous, potent, intense. Far too appealing in every way.
And she’d forfeited him without a fight.
She’d been an utter fool.
He opened his eyes just then, and the scorching heat scrambled her pulse. “If you don’t stop touching me, you’re going to regret it.”
She sucked in her breath, held his hot gaze. “Is that a promise?”
He rose, then pulled her beneath him in a movement so fast that she gasped. He nudged apart her thighs, his big body trapping her in place, his thick arousal sparking desire.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her excitement building. His gaze scalded her breasts, igniting flutters of heat in her veins. He stroked her hair, framed her face with his callused hands, and she parted her lips, already on fire for his kiss.
But he stopped. And without warning, a different kind of emotion stole into his eyes—something beyond the desire, beyond the lust, something far more intimate.
Longing swelled inside her, a yearning so sharp that it hurt. But then he shuttered his eyes, masking his expression, and the moment passed.
Shaken, she struggled to rein in her wayward feelings and keep her expression light. This was an affair, a casual fling, a respite from the danger they faced. They had no future together—no matter what their past. She couldn’t weave fantasies about this man.
Then he brushed his lips over hers, his kiss surprisingly gentle, inciting a rush of desire in her blood. She arched beneath him, her breasts aching, her body hungering for the rapture of his touch.
Casual? Who was she trying to fool?
Her life had exploded around her. She didn’t know who she was, what her family had done, whether she’d even survive this ordeal.
But from now on, she was going to be honest. No more wishful thinking, no more fleeing the truth.
And there was one fact she couldn’t deny.
She was still in love with Coop.
Chapter 11
Zoe jolted awake a short time later, her heart pounding with violent beats, an urgent feeling of danger thundering through her nerves.
She lay dead
-still on the mattress, completely, excruciatingly alert, the pleasure from Coop’s lovemaking erased by the smothering fear. What had awoken her so abruptly? What noise had she heard?
She sliced her gaze from the still-closed door to the sunlight glinting around the edge of the curtains, to Coop sprawled facedown beside her in the twisted sheets. Nothing stirred. Nothing seemed out of place.
So why was she suddenly so scared?
The faucet dripped in the bathroom. A semi passed by in the distance, its Jake Brakes emitting a drawn-out blast. The silence was thick, oppressive, her lungs so constricted she could barely squeeze in air.
But something had jarred her from sleep.
Suddenly, a faint scratch came from the door.
A tinny taste filled her mouth. Her palms grew slick and cold. She touched Coop’s shoulder, and he lifted his head, indicating that he was awake and had heard the noise. He rolled off the bed, motioned for her to get up, and began tugging on clothes.
She sprang up, yanked on her shorts and T-shirt, stuffing her underwear into her pocket along with the flash drive. Then she grabbed the backpack with the GPS. Who was there? The FBI? The police?
The terrorists?
A queasy feeling rushing inside her, she shoved her feet into her shoes, then hunted desperately for a way to escape. But unless they could open the door to the adjoining room…
A sudden thump from outside made her mouth dry, and she whipped around in dread. The flimsy door wouldn’t hold up long. One swift kick, and they’d be dead.
While Coop gathered his weapons, she rushed to the adjoining door. Locked. But Coop pulled a credit card from his wallet, slid it down the edge of the door, and popped it open with shocking ease.
He jerked open the door and peeked inside, then motioned for her to go through. She rushed past him—and skidded to a halt. A man lay snoring on the bed. This was going from bad to worse!
Signaling for her to wait, Coop crossed the room to the window, and edged the curtain aside to see out. But the sleeping man snorted, making her heart skip. They had to get out of here fast.
She hurried into the bathroom and eyed the window beside the sink. This room was at the end of the building, and the bathroom faced the alley on the side. But it was still only yards from their attackers, and the slightest noise would tip them off.
She gritted her teeth and pulled on the window, but she couldn’t get it to budge. Frustrated, she adjusted her grip and tried again. Then Coop shouldered her aside and shoved it up with one hard thrust.
They both peered out. The side alley was empty—for now.
Coop leaned close, his breath warm on her ear. “Climb out and hide beside the Dumpster.”
He laced his fingers into a stirrup, and she clung to his shoulder while he boosted her up. She scrambled over the sill and leaped to the ground, then scurried to the Dumpster to wait.
She huddled beside the metal bin, trembling with tension, the stench of garbage penetrating the heat. What now? They couldn’t go back to the truck, so how could they get out of town?
Coop hoisted himself over the sill and dropped silently to the ground. He padded over and crouched beside her and slid the rifles under the Dumpster where they wouldn’t be found. Then he tugged out his pistol and checked the rounds.
Her pulse still spasmodic, she watched his quick, sure hands handle the weapon, his eyes feral and dark. And a profound sense of gratitude swamped her. She was so far out of her element. What would she have done without Coop?
He pulled her head close to his and whispered into her ear. “Wait here. I’ll check the front. When I signal, run to the garage—it’s that boarded-up place next to the café. I’ll watch our backs.”
“Be careful,” she whispered. He squeezed her neck in a gesture of comfort, and they both rose.
He checked the alley, then darted to the edge of the motel and peeked around the front. She waited, her gaze riveted on Coop, adrenaline pounding her nerves.
He beckoned, and she sprinted toward him. “Go!” he whispered. She rounded the motel and raced across the deserted parking lot, terrified that she’d hear shots. Coop’s footsteps thudded behind her. She heaved in the broiling air. She stumbled up the small, grassy incline to the café next door and rushed past it to the garage.
Then she stopped, whirled back. Coop came up beside her, and she sagged against the wall. “Who was it? The men from the ghost town?” He nodded, and her anxiety rose. “But how—”
“Later. Let’s get out of here first.” He strode to the back of the deserted garage and began examining the line of junked cars. She trailed him, wishing she could help, but she had no idea how to hot-wire a car.
He stopped beside an old station wagon and climbed inside. While he fiddled with something under the dashboard, she glanced at the Dumpsters behind the café. How had those men found them so quickly? How had they known which room they were in? And where in the world could they hide now?
The station wagon rumbled to life with a belch of exhaust. “Come on,” Coop called, and she hobbled around to the passenger side and got in.
She scooted across the boat-wide seat, the cracked vinyl scraping her legs. Coop released the brake and punched the accelerator, and they lurched across the deserted lot. Then they swung into the road, scraping their tail pipe on the pavement, and roared past the motel.
Zoe swiveled around and peered through the dusty rear window. “I don’t see them.”
But she knew the reprieve wouldn’t last. Their pursuers would discover that they’d escaped and give chase. And there was only one road crossing this part of the desert—with no good place to hide.
She turned around, still breathless, and turned her worried gaze to Coop. He frowned out the pitted windshield, his dark brows gathered in concentration, his strong hands gripping the wheel.
“How do you think they found us?” she asked.
She thought at first he wouldn’t answer. He kept staring at the sun-drenched highway. Sagebrush and cactus zipped by.
“Maybe through the cell phone,” he finally said. He tugged it from his front pocket and handed it to her. “They might have triangulated the signal.”
“How? We haven’t used it. We haven’t even turned it on.”
His gaze collided with hers, and the guilt she’d glimpsed earlier flashed back. “You’d better remove the battery, just in case. Take the battery out of the GPS, too.”
He pulled his gaze back to the road, and doubts buzzed through her like a swarm of angry bees. Surely she’d imagined that guilt. Exhaustion and stress must have scrambled her mind.
What would he have to hide? He’d helped her, made passionate love to her, rescued her multiple times.
She removed the battery from her cell phone, determined to suppress her doubts. They were in this ordeal together. She had to put her faith in him.
Because the devastation would destroy her if he’d lied.
Rarely did Coop screw up so badly.
He gunned the Chevy’s engine, sending the old station wagon roaring down the two-lane highway, its front end shimmying like a sidewinder crossing the sand. He’d been careless, led the terrorists straight to their motel room—and nearly gotten Zoe killed.
He grimaced in self-disgust, furious at how badly he’d failed. He should have been making plans, anticipating problems, and using his brain—instead of letting his body take charge.
This case was far more dangerous than he’d imagined. Those terrorists had military-grade equipment at their disposal, the ability to triangulate Zoe’s cell phone or GPS—which meant the government could be involved.
But that didn’t make sense. Since when did the government employ terrorist hit men? And why would they want to kill Zoe?
He eyed the boulders dotting the landscape, appalled at his mistakes. If he hadn’t turned on her cell phone, if he’d kept his mind on protecting Zoe instead of making love…
He tightened his grip on the wheel. He’d screwed up, all right. And now t
hey were in way over their heads.
“I can’t get the battery out of the GPS,” Zoe said. “I need a screwdriver to open it up.”
“Then toss it out the window—but before you do, check the distance to Seco Springs.”
She bent her head over the GPS, the hot wind blowing through the open window whipping her hair. “Sixty-one miles,” she said a moment later. “Why? What’s there?”
“Rider McKenzie. A guy I went to boot camp with.” He waited until she’d flung the GPS out the window, then glanced in the rearview mirror. Heat shimmered across the desert. Blue exhaust billowed behind the car.
“Look, Zoe…” He didn’t want to alarm her, but she had to know. “We’re seriously outgunned here. The fact that they found us so quickly proves we can’t do this alone. And Rider has contacts everywhere. If anyone can help us solve this mess, it’s him.”
Fear crept into her eyes again, and he hated that he’d put it there. “You’re sure we can trust him?”
“Yeah.” He had no doubts about that. “I’d trust him with my life.”
Zoe turned her face toward the window. Minutes ticked by, and the hot wind batted her hair. “All right. Let’s go see your friend.” She glanced his way, and the trust in her eyes nearly did him in.
He jerked his gaze back to the windshield, the car’s belts squealing, the front end sliding all over the road. And he knew one thing. From now on, he had to stay focused. There’d be no more touching Zoe, no more hot sex.
No matter how much she made him burn.
They pulled into Rider McKenzie’s driveway as the sun began to drop in the sky. Coop eyed the sprinkler flinging water on the withered front lawn, the open windows in the ranch-style stucco house. “He’s home.”
He turned off the engine and climbed out, his gaze sweeping the shaded street. A young woman pushed a stroller along the sidewalk. A group of teenagers played basketball several driveways down. After their panicked flight from would-be assassins, the quiet, domestic scene struck him as bizarre.