The Mission (Clairmont Series Novel Book 2)

by L. J. Wilson

“I’d offer you a drink, but I’m guessing you don’t…”

  “Then you’d guess wrong.”

  Right… the Wild Turkey…

  She flashed a smile at him. “I’ll help myself.” She poured a full shot glass and downed it. She winced a bit as the liquor rolled through her throat. “It’s been a while.”

  “The booze?”

  “The everything.”

  “Meaning?”

  She poured herself another shot but only drank half.

  The tequila he drank felt apparent again, off-kilter numbness weaving through his body. Kiera approached, offering him the rest. What the hell, it was his booze. He downed it. “So exactly what are you doing here?”

  “How much explanation do you need for this to work?”

  “I mean here. In this godforsaken hole. Did you rob a liquor store back home, kill somebody?”

  “Much worse.”

  Alec widened his eyes.

  “They caught me with a tube of lip gloss, earrings, and a bedroom floorboard filled with trashy romance novels.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  She shrugged. “The fact that they also caught me naked with the Pruitt boy might have had something to do with it.”

  Alec half smiled. “More than once?”

  “No, but he was the fourth boy.” She stood so close her breasts brushed against his chest, the faint smells of perfume and lust wafting off her. He supposed her story didn’t matter. Kiera inched her fingers in between them, starting a tough-to-misinterpret unbuttoning of his shirt. “How about we skip past the part where my presence surprises you?”

  “Presence I could get my mind around…” He grabbed her hands as they reached for his belt buckle. “This…”

  Standing on her toes, she kissed him before he could get another word out. “After you left, I couldn’t get the idea of fucking you out of my head. Do you want to spend more time asking stupid questions?”

  Alec thought for a second—then he didn’t and released her hands. Fuck it, boldness was certainly in her wheelhouse, everything from pointing a gun at him to wrapping her hand around a… He closed his eyes. Clearly his dick had no issues with the offer. Alec had handled his share of aggressive women—but mostly in bars, backstage at rock concerts. Never missionaries. He didn’t even care for the position. It made him ask, “This, um… this seems a few light years out of schoolmarm character.”

  She shrugged and shimmied his pants lower. “I asked around. I understand the woman you’re traveling with belongs with the other man.”

  Alec’s jaw clenched along with his stomach.

  “Ah, that’s not a fact you like.”

  He shook his head. “Not a fact that affects me—can’t speak for her bad choices.”

  “Fair enough.” She kissed him again, and this time Alec kissed her back, his hands moving through her hair. “I also heard you were alone.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m lonely.”

  “Really?” she said, her mouth grazing his jaw as her hand caressed a hard as hell dick. “How else do you describe you and a bottle of tequila in a room that, I know for a fact, doesn’t get pay TV ?”

  “My choice.”

  “Choices are good. Assume I’m here to add to the selection.” Her mouth, her body, felt like a warm tropical indulgence. When she dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth, it all seemed like temporary consolation. Escape from the reasons he’d come to this godforsaken piece of the world right down to his fight with Jess. Alec burrowed his hand into her hair. Forgetting this way held more promise than tequila, plus the bonus of no hangover. She rose again, as if the blowjob was just an appetizer. It was ample enticement. Alec’s hands were on the dress, then under it, skimming the supple skin of her thigh. She wore silky panties that were at extreme odds with the clothing she’d been wearing earlier. He slid his hand beneath the barely there fabric, cupping her ass.

  Kiera pressed her body to his. “Earlier, whatever you thought…” she whispered. “A lot of that is true. I am the schoolmarm you met…” She inched back and smiled.

  He didn’t return the gesture.

  “That’s what you thought, isn’t it?” she said. “Schoolmarm?”

  “Seemed logical, while this seems…”

  “More like a fantasy?”

  He blinked at her. No, actually, this fantasy hadn’t crossed his mind. But it sure as hell seemed to be describing hers. Like the woman on the airplane, Alec didn’t debate the offer. In fact, as Kiera slipped back onto her knees, any conscious reasoning went to hell. Damn. It beat the hell out of the mood he’d been in before she showed up. Alec dove into the moment, leaning just enough to deposit the shot-glass onto the table. His breathing turned lusty; another minute and days of frustration were going to explode in her mouth. She must have sensed that he was at a precipice because she rose to face him. Alec’s instincts took over.

  The simple, blue dress had a simple zipper down the back. The schoolmarm stepped out of it, Alec quickly shedding his clothes. Suddenly he didn’t want the blowjob. He just wanted to fuck her— hard. Directness was to both their advantages as Kiera discarded her undergarments. It worked for him. Alec wasn’t in the mood for foreplay pleasantries. A furious exchange of groping and kissing ensued. Breathy gasps dominated as the two fell onto an already messy, unmade bed. Alec’s mouth trekked down Kiera’s body the way it did other women—urge providing a solid substitute for feeling. Pale, hidden from the sun flesh, met with his anxious mouth. He might have labeled her body virginal, but she’d clarified that possibility. A moan of pleasure pulsed from her throat as Alec indulged in erect nipples, Kiera encouraging him with every inch of her body.

  Sexual scents filled the air, overtaking perfume and the taste of booze. Alec dragged his mouth across her stomach and hipbone. Her back arched as Alec slid a finger inside her. She gasped tense but pleasurable sounds, all of Kiera telling him that whatever her story, she had no qualms about the one playing out here. Seconds later, she caught him off guard by becoming the aggressor. Kiera lurched forward and gripped him around the shoulders, kissing him hard.

  “Fuck me… just fuck me... now,” she insisted.

  A warning went off in Alec’s head, but it was too easy to ignore as Kiera kissed him again. He reached to the nightstand and his wallet. Alec tore open the condom wrapper, sheathing himself. The two of them were stretched across the short side of the mattress, Alec pushing her long legs apart. He glanced upward, making the error of eye contact. This was meaningless sex. They both knew it. And Alec, he didn’t have use for any other kind. But in her face, awash with raw desire, Alec saw something troubling. It was something that did not belong in this room—a vibe that was overtly vulnerable. Alec didn’t respond to it, not in any human way. Instead he jerked his head to the right.

  She obliged, turning over and shuffling to her knees. Yeah. She definitely knew this routine. He didn’t hesitate and thrust into her, the ambiance reverting to the fuck she’d come for. Other than the physical act, the only other contact was minimal and necessary. Kiera seemed to get his disinterest in intimacy, touching herself as she cried obscenities of satisfaction. It was the grand finale Alec needed, clutching the pillows beside them as the moment came full circle for him.

  The directness with which Kiera had ambushed his room spiraled along with the manmade passion. Alec didn’t even offer her a drink as she dressed, relieved that she didn’t appear intent on hanging around, or worse, spending the night. As she struggled with the zipper on her dress, Alec pretended to be busy straightening the bed covers. When she got as far as the door, he guessed he’d dodged any bullets marked personal. But as he turned toward her, the scene unraveled.

  “Tomorrow,” she said, her hand on the knob, “when you leave… I’d like for you to take me with you.”

  “Take you with me?” The panicked feel of “you jackass…” shot through Alec.

  “Yes. I know you came here to figure out what happened to your parents. But you’re
missing some big puzzle pieces. My guess is you’re headed to Good Hope, Pennsylvania. I want to go home. You can get me there. If you do that, I’ll take you to someone who can tell everything you want to know about Evie Neal and Ezra Kane.”

  1979

  Good Hope, Pennsylvania

  Reeling from the Reverend’s grasp, Evie raced like fire down the path that led to the cabin. She stopped at the wooden stoop. Panting hard, she pressed one hand to the doorframe, steadying herself. With the other, she touched her puffy lip, glancing at the torn blouse sleeve. She stepped back, feeling colder than the spring ground that met with her bare feet. The moon lit her bloody fingertips, her mouth throbbed. She cupped a hand over it, thinking she might be sick. Evie focused on gathering her wits—separating in her mind what had nearly happened with the Reverend and her vow to Ezra. By the second, everything she ever knew kept changing.

  Then Evie almost retreated. If she went inside the cabin, if Sebastian saw this, neither Ezra nor the Reverend would matter. He’d never leave Good Hope without her. Evie blinked into a well-lit night and down the path. Then she faced the cabin door. She realized it wasn’t a choice. The only thing to do was to accept what was. Evie turned the metal knob. The door swung wide. At the same time, so did the bathroom door. Sebastian came out wrapped in a towel. He smiled. “We have to stop meeting like…” Through fading light, Evie’s tousled state registered and he charged across the cabin floor. “What the hell happened?” His wide eyes turned fearful. Sebastian touched the corner of her mouth, his fingertips coming away bloody. “Evie?” he said, looking at her blouse sleeve, ripped from its seam. “Tell me who… Not Ezra? Did he come back?”

  A thousand thoughts whirled, but Evie couldn’t hold onto a single one long enough to speak. She thrust herself into his bare chest. The moment his arms where around her, Evie knew she belonged there. In all of Good Hope, in all her life, she’d never felt so safe.

  But Sebastian’s breath grew as uneasy as hers. “Evie, tell me what’s going on. Now…” But he didn’t let go, his hand pressing hard to the back of her head. “If it wasn’t Ezra…” Then he pushed away, holding her firm by the shoulders. “The Reverend. He did this.”

  She nodded, wet lashes fluttering.

  “Because he found out about us?”

  “No. Because he wanted… the same.” Her explanation was small and unclear. But she saw Sebastian grasp every word. His face lit with fury. He grabbed his pants from a chair and yanked them on. Turning for the door, Evie caught him by the arm, the muscle so tense it was like gripping an iron beam. She found her voice, screaming for him to stop. “You can’t… Don’t! It will only make it worse. Nothing happened.”

  His gaze careened over her. “Nothing happened? Let me get you a fucking mirror. Enough, Evie! And he won’t get away with it, not this.”

  “He didn’t,” she said, scrambling to find calm. Hysteria would only incite a vengeful hunt. “I… On a side table, there was a painting Ezra made for me. It sat on a metal easel. I grabbed for it… struck him with it. The Reverend, he fell to the floor, and before he could get back up I ran… to you.”

  “Because it’s where you belong. I should have never let you go back there. I’m sorry if that’s what it took to prove it.”

  “Maybe not.” Evie shook her head. “Do you… Well, do you think it’s punishment for what you and I… because we…?”

  Sebastian scrubbed a hand over his face. “Tell me you don’t really believe that.”

  “In my heart…no. In my head…”

  “That’s where we’re going to start, Evie—in your head. I’ve kept quiet because I didn’t want to be the person to unplug everything you’ve ever known. But you need to know a few truths you won’t find in Good Hope. Maybe now,” he said, his gaze trailing over her, “you’ll believe what I’m about to tell you.”

  They sat near the fire, one chair facing another. Sebastian did most of the talking. Evie heard stories she would have called lies from anyone else. Stories she might not have believed before today. She didn’t want to hear the harsh facts—not even from Sebastian. But as he revealed his true mission, the criminal means by which the Reverend earned money, and how Sebastian was working to thwart his efforts, Evie knew that every word was a new gospel.

  Sebastian Christos was a ruffian by trade, a man who’d done dubious things. But the more he spoke, the more it was apparent he’d done so for a greater good. He was untamed and unpredictable. His future was as shaky as snow in a globe. Despite it all, Evie knew an honest man sat before her.

  When he was done, he leaned back in the chair. Evie held the towel he’d been wearing, dabbing at her lip now and again. It had stopped bleeding some time ago. Mostly she’d been wringing the towel tighter with each unnerving detail. Sebastian’s focus shifted from an explanation and onto the torn blouse. His jaw was rigid and an angry breath sucked into him. She wanted to cover the mark on her arm, and Evie tried adjusting the sleeve. It kept falling, a welt rising like a wax seal—official validation of the truth, she supposed. “It will be fine,” she said.

  “Which part?”

  The question was direct and the answers made her shudder.

  “Tell me what you want, Evie.” He leaned forward, pressing elbows on his thighs, hands clasped in front of him. “Right now and for the rest of your life. Because if even one part is left up to me…” Sebastian sat back again, calmly finishing the thought. “Reverend Kane will need more than a prayer when I get through with him.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” Evie had settled that much in her mind. “I don’t want to think about what he’s done or the corrupt ways he’s misled good people.” She closed her eyes, realizing the impossibility of convincing anyone in Good Hope of what Sebastian knew—the stories of the mission. The depravity was almost too much to comprehend, let alone resolve.

  But in the wake of devastating truths, she felt at peace. Evie knew what she wanted, which was to shut everything else out. In all her life, she’d never needed anything so badly nor been able to reach for it so readily. Evie stood, met by an odd longing—the desire to erase a false life. With Sebastian seated in front of her, she began undoing the pearl buttons of her ruined blouse. He seemed to know this wasn’t for him or even meant as a lure. He folded his arms, watching as if bearing witness.

  She discarded the garment by dropping it into the fire. Flames lapped around it until the blouse was no more than a fiery glow of fabric and freedom. Still sitting, Sebastian’s eyes locked with hers. Evie unzipped the skirt and let it fall, nudging it aside. It was then the air and their twined gazes turned more sensual. Evie tugged the tie from her hair, fingers spinning through the braid as if undoing her life. Yellow-gold waves capped her shoulders, and Evie guessed this was the woman Sebastian wanted to see. A half step forward invited him to reach.

  He drew her body close to his, but he did ask, “Evie, are you sure?”

  She answered by unhooking her bra. He didn’t wait for more words, suckling each breast as her fingers wove through his thick dark hair. Breathing was more about desire as his mouth moved from one side to the other. She felt his fingers loop around her underwear. In a single fluid motion, the cotton fabric slid downward and Evie stepped out of it. When he touched her, Evie’s body trembled, and his fingers reached to the nub of flesh that ached for all of him. He tugged her closer, and Evie stood, straddled over either side of his seated frame. Sebastian pushed the chair back, knocking it over as he dropped to his knees. His face pressed into her mound and Evie had to grip the fireplace mantel to keep upright. That exquisite thunderous tremor built within her and Evie fought it, wanting Sebastian inside her when this happened. But she couldn’t or didn’t know how to find the words. She dug her hand into his shoulder. “It has to be together,” she said. “It has to be more powerful than anything that’s happened today.”

  She peered down and he glanced up. “It will.” She had no control over this part of Sebastian, and as his mouth fil
led with her, his hands braced her body.

  “Please…” But she was lost to him and the moment as he literally kept her from collapsing as she came. “Bash …” tore from her lips and Evie couldn’t imagine anything more consuming. But as he rose, she sensed more of a beginning than closure. He never broke contact with her body, unfolding his tall frame until she had to look up. She was grateful for the support of his body as it held onto hers. Evie pushed past the sting of her mouth as he kissed her… again and again. But it wasn’t enough for either of them. Sebastian’s hands roamed anxiously over her as she unzipped his pants.

  Immersed in more emotion than Evie thought possible, she slid in his arms, turning her back to him. It was only to gain her bearings, temper, the pace. It did no good. Sebastian took sweet advantage, caressing her breasts, his touch slightly less gentle. Evie tipped her head to the side and Sebastian alternated kisses on her neck with words.

  “I… I’ve seen other men love people… women. Watched how they behaved, the things they’d do for them. I never thought I’d feel that… I didn’t know it was in me.”

  Evie’s lungs filled—no, it was all of her—as the last of the coldness inside her warmed. She understood the weight of his confession because she felt it too. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

  “But I have to tell you,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I hope this is all of it.”

  “Why?” she said, a small smile invading her bruised lip. “Because to feel anything more would be the end of me, Evie Neal.”

  She absorbed the name. It was who she was. But the thought drifted off as Evie felt the physical half of his claim press against her. As Sebastian reached past the flat of her belly, his body tried to inch hers right, toward the bed. Her only response was to hold her hands to his as they mapped her body.

  “Evie,” he said, warning in his voice. “If we don’t take this down a notch… I might not think about this in ways that work best on feather mattresses. You don’t know what you’re asking for, how I want to…”