Bond (Pierce Securities Book 6)

by Anne Conley

  “Can we run by Ignite first?” Deena Rae looked at him from under lowered lids, and Slade’s stomach dropped. With Cecil’s earlier conversation fresh on his mind, he couldn’t stop the harsh bark of laughter.

  “Not tonight.” Then he remembered why she wanted to go. She was like a terrier with a bone on this, and all he wanted was for her to drop it.

  Slade sank onto a bench near them, putting his head in his hands. Why? Why was everything so fucked up? Cecil hadn’t told him specifically who to kidnap, and as far as Slade knew it was the lawyer. But the bitch in question could very well be Deena Rae. He had to figure out a way to keep her away from Ignite at all costs. If she showed her face there, Cecil would get someone to nab her. No question. Especially if he was as drunk as he was when Slade saw him last.

  Fuck.

  If what Cecil said were true, Slade had tonight before shit hit the fan, and he still didn’t have a plan for that.

  He looked up at Deena Rae, standing there in magnificent glory. The black leather pants molded to her legs and ass like a second skin, the flash of red under his jacket bringing out some weird highlights in her hair. She wore his leather jacket. With her long legs spread wide, she stood there staring at him with crossed arms and a look on her face that asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing.

  She looked like a total badass, but he just wanted to protect her from all the bad things in his world. He knew as soon as he said that, or even did it, she would kick his ass.

  His cock stirred at the thought.

  Yup. A distraction was necessary.

  “I tell you what. I’ll take you there tomorrow night. Tonight, let me take you home with me.” Slade lowered his voice to what he hoped was a seductive growl, allowing his sudden need for her to bleed through his voice. He stood and wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her against him, longing to feel her body against his.

  She resisted, but he lowered his mouth to her neck and spoke next to her ear, “I’m tired of letting other people see you. Right now, I want you in my bed, laid out under me.” He meant it, too. He wasn’t just trying to get her mind off Ignite. Slade trying to get her in his bed.

  “Admit it. You want in my pants.”

  “Definitely want in your pants.” To illustrate, he dipped his hands to her ass and pulled her against his growing erection with a groan. “So want in these pants.”

  “Can you form a complete sentence?” she asked with a husky giggle. It was so out of character for her, but he loved it and wanted to hear it again. His fear was melting away, being replaced with a craving for her delectable body.

  “I’ll beg.”

  “Good. That had a subject and a verb. Excellent start.” Deena Rae had a self-satisfied tone to her voice, but it only spurred him on. He had to make her forget she wanted to go to the club tonight.

  He dropped to his knees, feeling the leather under his lips as he kissed her hips, clutching her backside. Slade played her own tricks on her, blowing hot air on her, hoping it would bleed through the leather. When Deena Rae’s hands gripped his hair, he knew he’d succeeded. She spread her legs, and he clamped his mouth over the juncture of her thighs as one hand ran up her torso and toyed with a nipple.

  Deena Rae squealed and pushed him back. “Okay, you win, fucker. But you’re taking me tomorrow.”

  He grinned at her. “Excellent.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Slade couldn’t drive fast enough back to his apartment. The closer he got to home, the further he was from Ignite, and the less likely Deena Rae would be to remember her initial wishes. As it was, she was being a little free with her hands, cupping his bulge lovingly as he rode, a constant reminder of what was going to happen when he got her to his place.

  By the time he pulled into the apartment complex, his balls ached with anticipation and his cock was fully erect—waiting for what was next.

  He’d planned on something different for tonight. After such a sweet date, he was hoping to make slow, sweet love to Deena Rae, but the way she’d teased him on the ride home said she wasn’t down for slow and sweet. So he’d have to save that for later.

  Right now, Deena Rae was getting a hard fuck.

  He switched off the bike, and she leaned forward, pressing her tits to his back, and licked the shell of his ear before a low, husky laugh escaped her.

  “You did good.”

  He didn’t have words, so he got off the bike, yanking her over his shoulder and striding to his apartment building. She only laughed at him.

  Slade unlocked the door and got them inside before he pressed her against the wall and mauled her mouth with his, his hands impatiently working the fastener on her pants.

  “I need inside you. Now,” he murmured between kisses. To her credit, she obliged, yanking her pants down her legs and stepping out of them. It was a bit of a shame; he’d wanted to peel them off her himself. But he was too impatient right now.

  As Deena Rae moaned her approval, Slade shoved the jacket off and lifted her shirt over her head before feasting on her tits, her nipples pebbled into stiff peaks.

  Deena Rae was apparently as impatient as he was, since she yanked his jeans open and started shoving them down his thighs. He kissed her one more time, then wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up by the ass, pressing her against the wall.

  Her legs went around his waist, and it was perfect. He’d fantasized about this, not long ago, but it was better than he’d imagined. Her smooth, long legs gripped his hips, her wet heat inviting him in.

  With one solid push, Slade thrust inside her tight folds, reveling in the feeling of her surrounding him with her warmth.

  It was a hard, fast, frantic coupling—Deena Rae dug her nails into his back as he grunted his way in and out of her. Slade closed his eyes and held his breath as he pummeled into her, his need overriding everything else. He dipped his head, pulling a nipple into his mouth, and heard Deena Rae shriek as she fell apart. Her pussy gripped him, and he stilled, feeling her pulsing around him as she spasmed and came. When she had finished, he resumed his thrusts, chasing his own release, pounding her into the wall with each flex of his hips.

  This was definitely banging.

  Slade pistoned in and out of Deena Rae, who continued gripping him with her arms and legs, until he felt the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. The tingling pressure started at the base of his spine and bright lights went off in his peripheral vision. He slammed his eyes shut and threw his head back as he let out an inhuman sound, spilling his seed inside this woman who did things to him he never ever wanted to admit.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Deena Rae sort of dreaded going in to the office the next day. She’d had such an amazing evening with Slade. For some reason, she just knew today was going to suck. She was incapable of having multiple good days in a row. And as good as yesterday had been, today would surely be killer.

  It was the way her life worked.

  So, almost cringing, she walked into the Pierce Securities office, head down, hoping nobody noticed her.

  “Deena Rae? You got a minute?” Damn. Simon was calling from his office, so she walked in, head high, waiting for it to all fall apart on her. She hadn’t done anything, but she just knew she was in shit for something.

  “Yes, sir?” She gingerly sat in the chair across from his desk, forcing eye contact.

  He slid a file across his desk to her and she grabbed it, flipping it open. It was some insurance scam, a giant yacht having been stolen off Lake Travis. She glanced back to Simon then down to a picture of the yacht. It wasn’t huge, but it was nice.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your new assignment. I’m taking you off Hodges. Andrew’s got him now.”

  Her eyes snapped up to his. “Why?”

  Simon leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his desk and leveling his eyes at Deena Rae. They were kind and soft. She liked him, but something was wrong. She wasn’t finished digging up dirt yet.

&nbs
p; “It’s been brought to my attention you are dating an informant.”

  “So? He’s not a client, nor a target. He’s helping me out.” She gripped the arms of her chair. Fucking Andrew was listening when she’d told Ryan about Slade, and fucking fucker had tattled.

  “Well, a good lawyer can get any evidence we collect thrown out if we do things this way. It’s called a conflict of interest. That’s why I’m so adamant about no romantic entanglements. It’s got to be like this.” Simon was talking to her like she was a child, and Deena Rae was trying not to get pissed off at him. He was her boss. Besides, it wasn’t him she should be pissed at. Clearly. The rules had been stated early on. She knew them. Understood them.

  She’d heard whispers about him getting involved with an informant when he was a cop and it blowing up in his face, but she knew no details about it. Only that he was making his horrible personal experiences the basis for some antiquated company policy.

  But she wanted this job, so she sighed, forced a smile on her face, and said, “Of course. I understand.”

  She didn’t, but whatever. She had known today would suck.

  Deena Rae stalked into the office she shared with Andrew to find him engrossed in something on the computer. Probably porn. Asshole.

  Slapping him upside the back of the head, she snarled, “Get to the gym, you fucking fucker.” Okay, so witty name calling was not her forte when she was pissed.

  On her way down the hall, she heard Andrew’s footsteps as they followed her. She whipped her t-shirt off, exposing her sports bra, and stepped between the ropes of the old boxing mat they had.

  “Come on, asshole. You’ve been wanting a piece of this, come get it.” She put her fists in front of her face and started the dance. Andrew took a minute to close his gaping mouth. “Come on!” Deena Rae shouted. She was beyond pissed. Andrew was the only one who’d heard her conversation with Ryan about Slade. She didn’t think Ryan would tattle on her. It was definitely Andrew.

  Simon had followed them into the gym, probably hearing her yelling, and stood at the doorway, leaning on it. The look on his face said he wasn’t happy but would allow it—until they went too far.

  Deena Rae let the anger flash through her as Andrew took off his shirt. She didn’t think Andrew was a bad guy. But he’d taken things too far, and she was sick of it.

  “You’ve been so obsessed with my vagina, you asshole. I guess you think I’m going to get my poor little self in trouble on this job, so you had to tell the boss man I’m whoring around? Is that it? Or are you jealous you haven’t gotten in my panties yet?”

  To his credit, Andrew didn’t say much. He just squeezed between the ropes and walked up to her. “Look, we’re friends, right?” Hands splayed, he attempted an innocent gesture.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely NOT.” Deena Rae took the first swing, which Andrew dodged before lunging and making a half-hearted swing at her. His movements were slow and well-thought-out, which meant he broadcasted them with his feet.

  Deena Rae swept them out from under him, taking him to the mat. She could fight. When her parents had died, she’d thrown herself into all things law-related, including self-defense. Because of her height and build, and the fact she was a fucking female, Deena Rae had focused on jujitsu. When men attempted to get her on the ground, for whatever reason, she was totally in her element.

  So as soon as she got Andrew down, she clambered on top and wrapped her long arms and legs around him in strategic positions, cutting off his air supply. Of course, he wasn’t expecting it because he thought she was a normal chick.

  His mistake.

  “I really like this job, asshole,” she sneered into his ear while he flailed underneath her, gurgling as she tightened her choke on him. “With the exception of one slimy asshole with a dick the size of a gherkin who’s trying to ruin it for me.”

  Simon watched silently as she tried desperately to kill Andrew.

  He started pounding on the mat, and Deena Rae gave one final squeeze to let him fully get her message before releasing him and getting up.

  With a resigned sigh, she turned to Simon. “What’s the story on the yacht?”

  Slade was still sleeping when the ping of his phone woke him up. He hoped it was a good morning text from Deena Rae. Groggy, he rolled over and rubbed his eyes, trying to get the grit out of them. Maybe a “thanks for banging me against the wall, again on the kitchen cabinet, and once more on the floor” text. Tossing his feet over the side of the bed, Slade reached for his phone and checked it as he adjusted his morning erection. It was from Cecil. Well, there went the desire to put his morning wood to use. He swiped his phone awake, and then all the blood rushed from his face, leaving him lightheaded.

  It was a picture of his mom, beaten to a pulp. Nausea rose in his gut as Slade stood, grabbing a pair of pants to slip on. Cecil had gone too fucking far. Swallowing, he looked at the picture again.

  His mom’s curly hair was twisted and messed up, like she’d been rolling around in a bar fight. That’s what her whole body looked like. Her top was torn, her lips bloodied, her eyes swollen shut, and a red place shone on her cheek.

  And she was tied to a familiar chair from Cecil’s club.

  Unable to look anymore, Slade embraced the fury that encompassed him. He saw a red-hot rage.

  As if it weren’t bad enough he’d threatened his girl—because the more he thought about that conversation, the more he realized that’s what it was—Cecil was messing with his mama. She hadn’t been the best of moms, but Slade loved her nonetheless. Without his mom, he wouldn’t have anybody. Lori had been there when he was growing up with a father who was too busy with his “real” family. Lori had been both mother and father, and as immature and selfish as she was, she’d done her best.

  Gripping the phone in his hands, Slade called Cecil.

  “You got my message?”

  “What did you do to my mother?” Slade growled at the self-satisfied man.

  “I’m calling it insurance. I’m going to text you an address. That’s where this bitch who’s trying to take away my kid lives, but I’m pretty sure you already know that. Bring her to me and I’ll quit messing with your mother. Don’t bring her, and your mommy dies alongside you.” Cecil chuckled into the phone, and the sound curdled Slade’s blood. “She’s a good lay, but a little too needy. Is she why you owe me money? She told me her son gave her everything she ever wanted. You’re too sweet.”

  “Text me the fucking address. But after that, we’re done. You understand?”

  He could hear the motherfucker’s grin. “Perfectly. You bring her to me and we’re even Steven,” Cecil sing-songed.

  A minute later, Slade had the address in his hand and his curdled blood boiled. He was so fucking fucked. This day could not get any worse.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Deena Rae barely heard her radio as she drove home from work, even though it was blaring Britney Spears’ “Work Bitch” at full volume. She was anxious to get home and watch Slade, either from her bedroom window or someplace closer. With no clue exactly what the status of their relationship was, she felt like she was too old to sit him down and define it for her. But watching him would center her or some shit like that. She wasn’t a yogi master or anything, but she knew that Zen shit would help her mental facilities.

  But she needed him. Deena Rae needed to see him, feel him, hear him, and preferably make love to him after the day she’d had. Her new assignment was stupid. Some douche asshole had sunk his own yacht because he couldn’t make the payments and was trying to collect insurance on it. What a waste of time and planetary breathing space—an asshole who didn’t understand the concept behind money and credit. She’d much rather being doing something about Cecil and his custody shit, but this was her case.

  And while the high of kicking Andrew’s ass carried her through the rest of her day, she still felt the let-down of losing the case she’d worked so hard on.

  When Deena Rae got into her apartment, s
he dropped her bag by the door with a thud and went straight to her bar for a filthy fucking martini. She wasn’t fucking around tonight.

  “You still want to see the back rooms?” Slade’s voice had her snapping her head up to look at him. Her tunnel vision went from the alcohol to him—all sleek muscles and dangerous looks. He’d been sitting on her couch, so still she hadn’t noticed he was there.

  Something was wrong. His voice was tense, his features marred with something akin to worry or sorrow. He must be taking his dad’s death hard. She could relate. Every time she was over her parents’ deaths, she’d remember something totally random—like her dad’s laughter—and grief would wash over her like it was all fresh. And Slade’s was fresh. He had to be hurting, even if he never liked the man. Maybe that made it all worse.

  Maybe she could still get what Simon needed and slip it to Andrew or something. He’d laud it over her head every chance he got, but she would be know she was the one who’d done the dirty work. She’d prove, at least to herself, she was perfectly capable.

  Deena Rae trusted Slade. After dinner last night, where she’d fessed up about this case in more detail and heard his side of things, she didn’t think he would take her in to turn her over to a madman, even though he was acting really weird.

  “Sure.”

  Slade sat on her couch, knees spread, hands limp at his sides. At her words, he slowly stood.

  “Let’s do this, then.” Slade reached for her hand, gripping it tightly, and tugged her to the door. He was probably the only man since her father to make her feel dainty. But he was giving off a weird vibe.

  He was clearly in a hurry; his words were clipped, and he seemed like he was trying to get something over with. But Slade patiently waited for her to get her wallet and keys out of her bag so she could lock up. She patted the bulge in her back, making sure her piece was secure, then smiled at Slade.