He liked his hook-ups to be nameless, quick, and never with anyone he’d run into again.
It made it easier.
It made it safer.
Well, for him.
He could picture himself tangled up with her, and she’d cry, he’d feel bad, and then they’d have a mess on their hands. He really hated when a woman cried. It reminded him of his mother, and his sister, Jaxon.
That was entanglement, and it was always bad news.
Still…he had needs.
By the time they got the body onto the sliding tray, he had talked himself out of doing anything stupid. He was a man of great control. To do what he did, you had to be. Somehow, he found that tiny thread and held on.
His mind was made up. He was going to get the stuff to transport, and head back to sit in a tree.
Trees were safe.
Women like her…they were bad news.
She’d want too much from him. Things he wasn’t willing to share with anyone. Women, the good ones, always did.
As Doctor Faust turned around, he was right there. She walked right into his body. Lushness met that hard military build, and they both stopped.
“Sorry,” he said. “I must have gotten in your way.”
“You’re not sorry at all. In fact, you’re looking a little smug, soldier.”
He watched her with unblinking green eyes. “Am I?”
She let her gaze drop down his body, past his chest, to his belt, and right to where all the good thing were hidden on a man. “Yeah, you aren’t sorry at all.”
Jagger knew he was hard.
He was shocked she’d point it out.
He’d been fighting a raging hard on all day—in fact, since the second he’d seen her. With each minute, he’d wanted to taste that forbidden fruit. He was disappointed that it would be trouble in the end. If he thought he could satiate that thirst and walkaway, she’d be naked, on the floor, and trapped beneath him.
“Well, you really can’t prove it,” he offered smugly.
Oh, she loved when a man was all cocky and hard. It made it that much more fun. She’d love wiping the smirk off his face. She’d met many Jagger Armstrongs in her life. They were almost always soldiers, always damaged, and always hot in bed.
She was going to make her point.
“I think I can.”
He laughed. “Yeah, okay.”
When he went to walk away, she grabbed his arm and tugged. He turned, and that’s when she attacked. Roxy didn’t give him a chance to think.
She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his hips. As she did, her mouth found his, and the kiss was nothing short of explosive. She felt it to her toes.
The Marine?
He stumbled back, but managed to stay on his feet.
What was to come was going to be a whirlwind of heat, fire, and frenzy.
Jagger barely held on.
The last thing he remembered was taunting the doctor, and then her tongue was in his mouth. Yeah, and her delicious girly bits were pressed to his erection.
He was thinking about her skirt.
Jesus.
He was going to burn up—even in a cooler. That said a lot.
Someone moaned.
His shirt was pulled over his head.
Her hands wandered.
Then someone bit him on the neck.
Jagger nearly dropped her. He couldn’t believe this woman was ravaging him in a morgue cooler.
Him.
She was all over his body—literally.
He wasn’t disappointed, but his brain couldn’t seem to wrap around it.
When she broke the kiss to tug his shirt off, he was breathing heavily, and so was she.
Instead of speaking, he pressed her to the wall, balancing the doctor on his hips. Her hands were in his pants, and he wasn’t going to be able to be sane for much longer.
“Are you…?”
She cut him off with another scorching kiss. When her teeth sank into his lip, all sanity left him. He did something so crazy that he’d remember it until he was an old man.
He reached between her legs, found her wet panties, and tore them from her body.
Then he drove himself into her with one forceful push.
Bare.
A stranger.
In a morgue cooler.
That’s when they both moaned, and she came on his dick. Jagger could barely hold on as she tightened down on him. It didn’t slow him down.
He pounded himself into her. If she wanted sex, he’d supply it.
This was raw.
Hard.
Wild.
This was fucking at its finest, and he couldn’t stop himself. Well, he probably could if he tried hard enough, but why would he want to?
He’d slept with a lot of women, but Doctor Faust?
Yeah, she was the hottest ride ever.
She whispered in his ear, and he nearly came. She wanted harder, when he was already pounding himself into her. The dead in the cooler were going to wake up soon.
As he was driving into her body, slamming them into the cold metal behind her, he needed more. His hands found her blouse, and he ripped it open.
She moaned.
He nearly exploded when his hands found soft mounds of wonderful smelling doctor. Roxy’s perfume was that of a rich bitch taking a lowly slum with some soldier.
It drove him insane.
Her skirt was torn next, so he could watch his erection slide into her body.
Jesus.
This was amazing.
She pulled his mouth to hers, and she plundered, moaning into the kiss. Her body was shaking around his, and he knew she was going to tumble again.
He couldn’t hold on.
This wasn’t meant to be a marathon.
This was meant to be a sprint, and he was out of energy. He wanted to end it, and now.
“I’m going to cum,” he muttered, and he swore her legs tightened around his hips. “Doctor,” he warned, knowing he should pull out. He didn’t have much time left.
She broke free to stare in his eyes. “Cum in me.”
Jesus!
He was going to Hell because he didn’t hold back. All those months of need boiled up, and he stopped thinking like a smart man, and rolled right into horny, out of control man.
It was a dangerous place to be.
He poured into her, and she came along for the ride. He couldn’t stay on his feet, so he dropped to the floor.
It was one hell of a war.
Jagger wasn’t sure who had won.
Unfortunately, now came the awkward part that he hated more than anything. Not only had he just boned the rich doctor in the morgue cooler, he left evidence of his departure.
He prayed she was on birth control, or he was three days past screwed. He’d never been so careless.
He’d never been so distracted.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Neither spoke.
Just as Jagger was about to start making excuses, trying to escape, something happened that he never saw coming.
She pulled a Jagger.
She actually climbed off his body and acted as if nothing was wrong. She peeled off the tattered clothes right in front of him.
And he watched like some idiot at a peep show. On his knees, he stared at the woman he’d just screwed like he was having an out of body experience.
When she stepped out of the panties, discarded the skirt and blouse, and searched for her lab coat, she acted like it was perfectly normal to bone some Marine in a cooler.
He was staggered.
“You’re an animal,” she said, shaking out her now loose brown hair.
He didn’t know what to say.
He couldn’t think.
“For the record, that’s a compliment.”
“Thanks?”
Jagger wasn’t so sure it was.
He was having a hard time thinking. Here she was, standing practically naked in front of him, and he was clueles
s as to what the hell had just happened.
She was gorgeous.
There was a flush to her flesh, and she was so lush with curves that he found something astounding had happened.
He was still rock hard.
After all that, he still needed more.
That fornication didn’t even take the wind out of his sails. Taking her like that had added to the fire.
He was screwed.
“I’ve never done that in here before, so thanks,” she offered. “That was better than a coffee break,” Roxy stated, buttoning her lab coat. It would pass as a dress until she could get to her office, find some replacement clothes, and get changed.
“Did you just thank me?” he asked.
“Yes, isn’t that proper procedure? You rocked my world, and I say thank you?”
He realized the cold, ugly truth.
“You just used me to get off.”
That horrified him.
She had absolutely pulled a Jagger.
He knew because this was a play from his book of sleaze. Find the woman, take her, say thank you, promise to call, and then disappear.
Holy shit!
He found the female him.
This couldn’t be good.
“Uh, I don’t get why you’re complaining, Jagger. You got off. I know because you’re running down my leg.”
He stared at her.
He was officially speechless.
He’d bedded in with a platoon of Marines. They’d taken turns screwing the locals and telling the tales, but this finally had him shocked.
Roxy picked up his shirt and handed it to him.
“I think I should be insulted.”
“Why?” she asked. “I don’t get it.”
“You jumped me, and now you’re acting like it was…” He stopped talking. He was in dangerous territory. He was about to make a fool of himself.
He knew because he’d seen countless women do it with him.
So…this was how all the women felt after the fact.
Fate was a bitch.
Jesus!
He’d definitely fallen into this one.
“Are you really angry about this?” she asked, helping him pull on his polo shirt. Really, she wanted to count the tattoos on his back. There were six on his chest, twelve across his arms and shoulders.
They were pretty damn sexy too.
Well, that answered that mystery.
Jagger wasn’t sure what he was at that point. He wanted to be insulted, but he saw the irony of it. This was his payback. For once, he was the other person in the aftermath. Right about now, he’d grab the woman’s phone, enter a fake number, and kiss her goodbye. They’d never cross paths, and it wouldn’t matter.
He’d gotten off.
His needs were met.
He was over the lust, and no longer as horny as hell.
Only that wasn’t what had happened in that cooler. In fact, it was the total opposite.
He wanted more of her.
Jagger had only gotten a taste, and he wanted to dive in, spend hours with her, and learn everything.
Women liked him.
They wanted him.
She...Roxanne Faust didn’t give a shit. It was clearly on her face.
“Are you checking out my tattoos?” he asked.
“Yeah, I needed to get you shirtless to count them. Now I’ve answered my question.”
Yet again, he was horrified.
She did use him.
It’s like when he was curious if a woman’s breasts were real. He’d sleep with them and have his answer.
Shit!
What the hell was going on in the universe?
Where was he?
He’d fallen down some sick and twisted rabbit hole where he was on the other side of the looking glass.
“Are you okay? You’re bright red.”
“I’m confused, and oddly, still turned on by the depravity that happened in here.”
She looked down and laughed.
Yeah, he really was still hard as a rock. He’d yet to re-tuck himself. Well, she wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.
“Need my help?”
“NO!”
That was the last thing he needed at that moment. If she touched him, he’d take her all over again, and until he figured out what kind of witchcraft she was wielding, that was a horrible idea.
He needed to think.
Jagger needed to regroup.
He needed something…
Roxy grinned and pulled a card from her pocket. She scribbled her number on the back. “Well, if you change your mind, give me a call. I’ll make myself available.”
As she walked past him, she slapped him on the ass. “Thanks for the ride, soldier. It was hot as hell, and I’ll never forget it.”
Then she was gone.
Jagger stood there for a good three minutes, pondering over what he’d just done.
WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAD JUST HAPPENED?
Chapter Eight
Ravenswood
Newspaper
Station
She really hated walking into that den of vipers, but Bishop Killion had no choice in the matter. If she wanted to buy them some time and keep the media off Lucian, she had to play the game.
It was days like this where she didn’t like being a cop. While it would be easy to go in, exert her power, and make people miserable, that wasn’t how the world worked.
The truth was, she had to tread lightly. Even if Lucian never spoke to her again, she owed him a little peace of mind. She’d keep her word.
Like she should have years ago.
Inside the building, she stopped at the reception desk. “Can I speak to York Spencer?” she asked.
The woman glanced up. “Can I ask what this is about?”
She had to make it good.
If she wanted his help, she needed to put enough bait on the hook. “It’s about a one-on-one with one of his reporters regarding the double homicide in Ravenswood.”
That worked.
The woman called up to his office.
There was talking, and then she was smiling at her.
Bishop could feel the greedy little eyes of the reporters observing her every move. Oh, she was being watched, and it was creeping her out.
When she glanced around, she noticed they were all around her. It was like one of those horror movies where the walls had eyes. No one in that area missed the fact that they had the town’s sheriff in their midst.
This never happened.
It was clear they were going to make the most of it. The reporters, much like a hyena looking for scraps, began moving toward her.
She hoped York was fast. At any minute, they would be all over her.
They were scavengers.
The six reporters, circling her, reminded Bishop of vicious sharks, detecting chum in the water. She was the one bleeding over all of this.
Great.
Her day kept getting worse.
When the elevator opened, a smiling man headed her way. She’d like to say this was her first run in with York Spencer, but it wasn’t. Her father had dealt with him a million times before.
Miles had a good working relationship with the guy, and Bishop hoped she could ride her father’s coattails on this one.
So much was on the line.
“Bishop Killion! You grew up!”
She smiled at him, playing nice. “Mr. Spencer, thank you for seeing me.”
The man stopped in front of her and shook her hand. He was smiling a little too big. Bishop knew why. He was trying to set up the angle that would buy the newspapers the most of what she had to offer.
He was scheming.
At least he was consistent.
“I need your help, Mr. Spencer.”
He led her toward a coffee area, and once in there, he sent everyone out.
Bishop could almost hear his wheels turning.
This sucked.
“What can I do for you?”
“Yeah, I saw it. I’d apologize, but you know how Wendy is. When she smells a story, she goes for it.”
Yeah, well, this story was Lucian’s life, and he’d had a rough enough one. He didn’t need that bitch riding his tail—again. He’d barely escaped, and she didn’t want to see him get hurt. Wendy was all about Wendy.
“Can you get her to dial it back?” she asked. Bishop knew there was no point in hoping the man could stop the piranha. All she could hope was for an intervention of sorts.
“I can’t stop her from doing her job, Bishop. You know that. The people in this town need to be aware of what’s going on. It’s our duty to keep them informed.”
She was aware.
Spoken like a true vulture.
Here’s where it became a game of negotiations on her behalf. “The mayor sent me.”
He didn’t look impressed. In fact, he ran his hands through his silver and black hair as he fixed it in the reflection of the refrigerator beside them.
Time to sweeten the pot.
“He wants me to do a one on one.”
That had his attention.
“Really? I can grab a reporter and get them to jot down everything you have to say.”
“York, I need to keep this low key for now. If you scratch my back, I’ll make sure one of your reporters, of your choice, gets the whole story.”
“Of my choice?”
“Anyone but Wendy. No offense, but she works for the rag paper, and I don’t deal with snakes. If you want me to give you everything when this case is over, and I do mean everything, you’ll let me deal with someone reputable.”
He thought about it.
“Gaylor Zimmer is working the story for the Chronicle. He’s fair, he’s good, and he doesn’t write from a biased angle. He’d do a damn fine job of interviewing you.”
There was that name again.
Her back was to the wall—a suspect or Wendy.
Yeah, she’d take door number one.
“I’ll sit down with Gaylor when this is closed, and I’ll give him access to everything I have on the case.”
“Full access?”
She wanted to run from the room to save herself from having to deal with this bullshit, but she couldn’t.
This was for Lucian.
She’d have his back.
“Full access.”
“What about files?”
“As much as I can until it goes to court, and then after, I’ll make sure the sheriff’s office releases everything to him first. He’ll have everything before it becomes public knowledge. I might even slip it to him early, if he claims it’s an anonymous source.”
Oracle Seeing (The Phoenix Files Book 2) Page 16