Dark Obsession: Shadow Destroyers, Book 4

by Dark Obsession

  The moment her foot touched the curb, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Her hand closed around the hilt of the kukri beneath her jacket out of habit. A quick scan of the area didn’t amount to much, but the feeling that she was being watched remained.

  After another few seconds the sensation retreated and she had to acknowledge the familiar surroundings could be messing with her head. How many times had she walked some of these streets, wondering if anyone had figured out how different she was, if they were staring at her?

  God, she needed to get out of this place before she lost any more of her edge.

  Resigned to face the past, she followed the numbers posted at the end of each row of buildings until she was headed in the right direction. Her heart picked up speed with every step. She rounded another corner, then another, soon starting to feel a little like a rat in a maze. Who knew that many local people had enough stuff to store to warrant this number of storage units?

  Scanning the numbers above each roll-top door, she stopped in front of one that was dented and curled up at the bottom of one corner. Even though she had it memorized, she checked the number on the key to be sure she hadn’t stopped in front of the wrong unit. She hadn’t.

  Doubting it could be just a coincidence that only this unit had been damaged, she bent and slid the key into the lock. She’d only lifted it a few inches before it jammed. Swearing under her breath, she wrenched hard and it gave way, rolling up above her head.

  “Fuck.” She’d known something was wrong even before she caught a glimpse inside, but this…

  Boxes of her father’s stuff that she’d packed up had been ripped apart, clothes and papers strewn across the cement floor. A box of video tapes lay tipped over, books and photos scattered everywhere.

  Glass crunched beneath her feet as she stepped inside, and she bent to pick up the smashed frame. She shook out the shattered pieces, a lump forming in her throat at the picture of her cuddled between her parents on a blanket at the beach.

  She was five or six years old in the picture and in the midst of a hardcore daddy’s girl phase, judging by the boys swim shorts she was wearing. She remembered her mother had tried to sway her into picking out something pink and frilly, but she’d wanted shorts like daddy.

  Carefully, she set the picture down, wishing it could be as easy to distance herself from the past, and concentrated on finding any sign of who was responsible and what they’d been looking for. There weren’t any expensive electronics or anything valuable worth taking. Had the culprit been looking for something specific?

  Either way, the timing of the break-in—fairly recent if they hadn’t contacted her or had time to repair the door—and the launch of more experiments were too close together for her liking. Much, much too close.

  Footsteps sounded outside, and Rae instinctively stepped to the side, out of immediate sight. Whoever it was hesitated, then continued at a slower pace. The end of a bat came into view first, pushing a rush of adrenaline into her system. Long, thick fingers were curled around the grip. Definitely a man.

  Snatching the guy’s wrist, she twisted and applied enough pressure to make him howl and drop the bat. It hadn’t hit the ground before she turned into his body, flipping him and jamming the heel of her boot against his throat when he landed on his back.

  Stunned, the fortyish man blinked up at her, his dark bushy brows scrunching together. “Rae? Rae McAvoy?”

  “Mr. Tuttle?” So much for getting in and out of town without running into anyone. She held out a hand to her high school physics teacher, helping him up.

  He winced, rubbing at his lower back. “Guess I deserved that for sneaking up on you.”

  “What are you doing creeping around with a baseball bat?”

  Mr. Tuttle gestured to the camera mounted on the corner of the opposite row. “When I saw the door up on the monitor, I thought whoever had broken in the first time might have come back.”

  “In the middle of the afternoon?”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “Took a knock to the head the last time, so I’ve learned to be a bit more cautious.” He surveyed the damage inside the unit. “You rent this space?”

  She nodded. “How come I wasn’t contacted about the break-in?”

  “I only bought this place a couple months back and the original owners were not the best record keepers. Not much rhyme or reason to their filing system. I knew this unit had been paid for a year in advance, but was still working on tracking your contact information.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  He shrugged. “He was a big guy, dark hair, dressed all in black.”

  “Can you remember anything else about him?”

  “Not really. You back in town to visit or to stay?”

  “Just for the night.” As much as she’d always liked Mr. Tuttle, she kept her tone deliberately cool in hopes he’d take the hint that she needed to deal with the mess.

  As perceptive as always, he nodded, stepping back outside. “If you need any help cleaning up or anything, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  Mr. Tuttle turned away, stopped. “Lazy eye.”

  “Sorry?”

  “After he knocked me over the head, I remember him leaning over me and I swore he had a lazy eye. The right one. My wife thought I was probably just too dizzy from the knock to the head to see straight, but I don’t think I was.”

  Lazy eye?

  A memory flashed through her brain before she could suppress it, and she felt like she was twelve all over again, her stomach nauseous from the sedative they used to relax her. The sedative her father’s assistant Burke had always given her.

  Burke with the lazy right eye.

  It had taken Rae nearly an hour to sift through the mess before she was certain the red lockbox was gone. If not for the break-in and the streak of red paint on the floor she’d noticed before she’d left—like someone had dropped the lockbox—she might not have been so convinced it had been among her father’s possessions.

  Chances were Burke had it, though why he’d been interested in it or how he’d know about the storage unit to begin with had been weighing on her mind ever since she’d finished up and headed back to the hotel.

  Knocking on the door adjoining her and Parker’s rooms—she’d put her foot down when he’d even hinted at sharing—she strode inside, setting the takeout she’d picked up on the table.

  She might not have to listen to him bitch about her ditching him if his mouth was stuffed full of burger and fries.

  It took her a second to realize the sound of running water was coming from Parker’s bathroom, and not the one next door. Her gaze fell to the clothes on the floor beside the bed, and the long rip in the crumpled T-shirt lying on top of the pile.

  A groan rose above the sound of the shower. She was across the room before she could process that she’d skipped being annoyed that he’d run into trouble in the hour and a half she’d been gone, and jumped right to being worried.

  One foot through the door, and worry quickly became the last thing on Rae’s mind. A gap in the shower curtain gave her one hell of a view. If not for him leaning into the front of the shower enclosure, his head resting on the forearm he braced against the wall, she might have missed the water sluicing down his chest, drops of it snaking down his abdomen. Down past his trim hips.

  Down to where his other hand was wrapped around the base of his shaft, pumping softly.

  Another cold shower had seemed like a good idea, but two minutes in and Parker knew it was a waste of time. The icy water was only taking the edge off the need that had been clawing its way to the surface since last night. Hell, clawing inside him for the last six years, and after last night it wouldn’t be fully satisfied until he was buried deep inside Rae.

  And thanks to his fucking brilliant on-the-fly plan to blackmail her into letting him go along with her, that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. He was lucky she let him off the plane in one piece when she’d been angry a
nd armed enough to have skewered him six ways to Sunday.

  Christ, what the hell had he been thinking using the fear he’d glimpsed in her eyes to gain the upper hand?

  Right, he hadn’t been. Not with the head on his shoulders. Not with any reasonable part of his anatomy, which was pretty much the problem. Now that her arousal was once more his drug of choice, he didn’t have two sweet clues how he’d managed to keep his hands off her for the last two months. Or how to make up for this morning.

  In hindsight, maybe there might have been a better way to have kept her from kicking him off the plane than blackmailing her, but like a lot of things between them, he couldn’t take it back even if he wanted to.

  Apologizing had been out too since she’d ditched him at the earliest opportunity. Although he knew he deserved worse, he’d still been pissed off. Too bad he hadn’t been able to stay mad. Furious worked much better than thinking about throttling her. Any image that started out with his hands around her throat inevitably ended up with them down her pants.

  Giving up on the arctic blast, he dialed the heat back up, groaning when the water slid down his back in a hot rush. Needing to be able to actually see the soap in his hand, he grabbed the bar he’d brought along, leaving the sliver the hotel provided still wrapped in its package.

  By the time he soaped his chest, the change in temperature had reawakened his lust. One accidental graze against his erection and his jaw snapped shut. He closed his hand around his cock, sliding up to the head in one lazy pump.

  Pleasure shot through him, and he closed his eyes. Leaning against the wall, he dropped his head to his forearm, letting the water run down his back as he tightened his fist, stroking a little faster.

  Christ that felt good.

  Like the cold water though, he knew that stroking himself to climax would only heighten his need for her. The fever that simmered beneath his skin didn’t care though. It hungered for the release, as it had when he’d gone back to his room after their encounter in the stairwell.

  As much as he ached to come, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Not without Rae.

  So he thought about her as he thrust hard into his hand, imagining she’d joined him in the shower and he had her pinned between him and the wall. In his mind he rammed his cock deep inside her, pumping furiously. Her nails scored his back, her cries of pleasure echoing in his ear.

  Parker groaned, the needful sound ripped from his chest as he gave himself over to the vision in his head.

  Awareness crackled across the back of his neck, and he knew he was no longer alone in the bathroom. The door hadn’t creaked and she hadn’t made a sound, but he knew Rae was there. Watching him.

  Knowing she stood only a few feet away, watching as he worked his hand up and down his shaft, only made him grow harder, almost to the point of pain.

  Continuing to run his hand along his cock, slower now, he lifted his head. Her gaze slammed into his and her lips parted, but whatever she’d been about to say was lost as her attention dropped to his arousal.

  Though he hadn’t made a habit of getting himself off in front of her when they’d been together, she’d walked in on him a few times. A few very memorable times. Just thinking about the way she’d gone to her knees before him, her tongue sliding up and over the head of his cock, made him throb harder.

  But this time was different. He felt different, stripped down, his desire for her leaving him raw and exposed.

  Her eyes momentarily met his. “I saw the rip in your shirt and thought…”

  Rip in his shirt? Christ, he didn’t care, not when every second she stood there, watching him pump his fist along his shaft, brought him another second closer to orgasm.

  She shook her head. “I’m…sorry…” She retreated a step, managing to look both uncertain and turned on. She licked her lips.

  Yeah, definitely turned on. He didn’t need to be close to feel the vibe coming off her, not when it stoked the fever inside him until he reveled in it, wanting more.

  “Stay.” He wouldn’t have blamed her if she took off the second the word left his mouth. Desperate for release, he sounded more demon than human.

  When she didn’t move right away, he took that as a damn good sign, and rocked his hips, thrusting harder into his hand. Her nipples were hard beneath her shirt, making him wish she’d lift it up so he could watch her tease them with her fingers.

  “Parker…”

  He felt her whisper as though she’d breathed it against his ear, and it shoved him closer to the edge.

  Something flashed across her face.

  “Don’t look away,” he growled, scared she was going to bolt. If her gaze on him was the only thing he got to feel, it would be enough. He needed it to be enough.

  His heart thumped against his ribs, his hand working faster. So close.

  She didn’t break eye contact once, her gaze turning hot and greedy, as if like him, she wouldn’t be satisfied until he came.

  Release dragged its scorching fingers down his spine, and he groaned and shuddered until he was spent.

  Holy fuck. He braced both hands on the shower wall, still reeling from the intensity of his release and unable to say a word when he heard Rae turn on her heel and bolt from the room.

  Chapter Nine

  Rae had thirty seconds to get herself under control before Parker strode out of the room, another damn towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

  It wasn’t long enough. She averted her face, willing the flush she felt all over to fade faster.

  God, that had to be one of the hottest things she’d ever witnessed. On a good day Parker was sexy as hell, but that, in the bathroom, all his muscles straining toward orgasm, his expression hungry as he pumped his hand…

  She pressed her thighs a little closer together but it did nothing to stem the heat and moisture in her sex. Needing something to occupy her hands, she opened up the paper bag on the table and stole one of his fries. Then another.

  “That’s the second time you’ve run out on me today.” Low and rusty, as though he was still recovering from the release that had made him thrust hard into his hand even after he came, his voice pulled the heat back up her body.

  “There won’t be a third,” he tacked on, probably to push her buttons and get back at her for leaving without a word.

  It worked. “I didn’t ask you to come with me.” Stuffing another fry in her mouth, she managed to face him—towel and all.

  “Someone needed to.”

  She snorted. “The whole white knight thing is a stretch, don’t you think?” Acting like he was protecting her when threatening to tell the team the truth still wasn’t sitting well with her.

  Seeming frustrated—with her or himself?—he ran a hand through his hair. “That for me?” He spotted the food on the table.

  “Only if you put some clothes on.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind my lack of clothing a few minutes ago.”

  She shrugged and stole another fry. “Tick tock.”

  He grinned and made a move toward the table.

  Rae snatched up the bag, and they both knew she could be out the door with it in a blink.

  Deciding food was apparently more important than hanging out in the buff, Parker—thank God—snatched up his clothes.

  “What happened to your shirt?” The damn shirt that had sent her into the bathroom to investigate in the first place.

  He nodded to the pointed corner of the dresser. “Ripped it on that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Talking myself down from choking you.”

  She rolled her eyes, a retort perched on the tip of her tongue—until he let the towel drop.

  Another salty fry bit the dust. She chewed thoughtfully, refusing to let him shock her into betraying how aroused she’d been in the bathroom, how aroused she still was. He had to be picking up enough of a vibe, but she’d be damned if she was going to be obvious about it.

  He’d pounce the second she did, and then she’d be fo
rced to make a choice she wasn’t ready to make.

  After handing him the food, she filled him in on her trip to the storage place and the break in. He ate without interrupting, but she noticed that when she mentioned that the culprit might be someone who worked with her father, he set his half-eaten burger aside.

  “How long do you think you can put off talking about your dad and what happened?”

  “Another couple decades at least.”

  He frowned, but surprisingly didn’t press her for more information as she’d expected. “Do you have to be a smart ass all the time?”

  “Didn’t realize it was inconveniencing you.” She headed for her room, anticipating him following her.

  He didn’t disappoint.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket, dialing the field office. “Got any information for me?” she asked when Darcy answered. She’d called in the request for information on Burke when she’d been sure the lockbox wasn’t among the mess.

  “Mostly dead-ends so far, but it seems he used a few aliases over the years. It’s just taking Brax some time to follow all the threads. So,” the agent prompted, “sleep with him yet?”

  Hoping the volume wasn’t loud enough for Parker to overhear, Rae pressed the phone tighter to her ear. “Darcy,” she warned.

  “Just screwed around a little?”

  “Call me the second you’ve got something.”

  Darcy sighed, and it reminded Rae of the way Jordan and Quinn sounded with one another when the two best friends talked about things aside from slaying demons. “I’m just saying that no one would hold it against you if you two decided to kill some time while waiting for the information. Could take us hours to come across something useful.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “Getting under him would be a much better use of your time.”

  The visual that comment inspired was not helping Rae at all. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. Hand him the phone and I’ll tell him.”