“Sully is too smart to use a plane we can trace to him.”
“Probably.” Mick shrugged while keeping his gaze focused outside the window. “If the weather clears long enough, I’ll take a run out to the airfield while it’s closed. Break into their records to see what I can find.”
“Need a warrant,” Dez answered. They’d never get a warrant on such flimsy cause. “Help me up.” She lifted a hand in his direction. “I think my legs fell asleep.”
He lifted her easily to her feet. “Another difference between us. I don’t need a warrant. I can get in, find the information, and get out. Law and justice aren’t always on the same side, Dez. The bad guys use the law to get away with murder. They buy off cops and judges and anyone else in their way. If you do everything by the book, they walk because they know how to manipulate the system. That’s why no one has ever busted Sully. You need the law behind you. I just need to know I’m right.”
“Another difference? Are you keeping score?” The wind outside seemed to blow an icy chasm between them. It was in Mick’s tone, in his attitude since he’d gotten back, in the way he didn’t touch her although they sat side by side. She was trying to keep Mick close, wanted to keep the team together, and he was focusing on their differences. Angry tingles spread up her leg matching the anger pounding in her blood. There was more between them than a strong difference of opinion. They shared a common hatred of drugs and criminals like Patrick Sullivan. “You’re spending an awful lot of time dissecting our differences.”
Mick scrubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw. “Awful lot of time sitting on my ass thinking. Blake never should have joined the task force. We’d have gotten Sully faster working on our own.”
The implication was a slap, whether he’d intended it or not. They’d have gotten Sully faster without her. She tried not to take his frustration personally, but failed. “What has you so pissy?”
“You’re a rule follower.” Mick dug his hands through his hair as he stalked to the other side of the room.
“Since when? If I were a rule follower, my happy ass would be in the task force bull pen, and Nate would probably be dead.”
At the mention of Nate, Mick’s shoulders went rigid. Oh yeah, he didn’t want to talk about Nate.
“This isn’t about me being a rule follower.” Her voice rose to a level that should have embarrassed her. She was an idiot to get into this argument. “It’s about you. You want to go off on your own.” This was Mick’s way. When the slow grind of undercover work ate at him, he’d take off for a few days to release some steam. He’d come back with his head screwed on straight, but this round, they didn’t have time for him to take off.
“Sitting on our asses isn’t getting us any closer,” Mick said, frustration evident in his harsh bark. “There’s one sure way to get Sully up here. We can end this.”
Dez punched her thigh to get the blood circulating, but stabs of pain continued to poke at her nerves. “You want to use Nate as bait.”
“I’m not saying we dangle him on a string, but we’re in a unique position to investigate what’s going on here.”
“Not on your life. We’re not using a kid.”
He stood on the other side of the room, his stance rigid. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re so uptight, you won’t even consider my option. That’s why I’m pissy.”
She should have left. She knew his moods, his weird idiosyncrasies. He was ready to blow. “Mick, we’ve been friends a long time. In the interest of friendship, I’m warning you. Quit being an ass.”
“What? I’m an ass because I disagree with you?”
They’d danced around this subject ever since the ambush that killed Nate’s parents. For Mick, losing his brother left him raw inside, and most days, he buried that shit deep, but seeing Nate—blond hair, blue eyes, the right age—brought memories of Tommy to the surface. Mick was reacting from a trigger of pain and memory, and he didn’t mind taking it out on her. She stamped her foot to clear the last intense bursts of nerves under her skin. “This is a child’s life. That used to mean something to you.”
Mick’s deep eyes reflected fire, red hot and angry, spitting and snapping and burning up fuel faster than a Hummer. His entire stance said screw you.
“What’s your problem?” She pushed him with words, because they needed to have it out. Clear the air.
“What’s my problem? You.” He shoved into her space, got up close and personal, and she pushed right back, smacked her hands against his chest and shoved. Mick the Mountain didn’t move. He couldn’t be pushed unless he wanted to be.
Well, she knew the buttons well enough. He wanted to use Nate? Then the gloves were off. She didn’t mind using the memory of Mick’s brother to make her point. “Do you think Tommy would want you to be an overbearing SOB?”
“Back off, Dez.” His low tone grumbled like the ground after an earthquake.
She smiled, tilted her head in that smartass way he loved so much.
“You wanna fight?” he asked. “Bring it.”
Not a problem. She never backed down from a fight. “How old was Tommy when he died—about Nate’s age? And how did you feel about someone using Tommy to get to Craig and Miranda?”
“That’s enough.”
“It’s not nearly enough.” The words spilled from her mouth too fast to stop, but she kept her voice low so only Mick could hear. The result was an angry hiss. “You’ve lost track of why you’re here in the first place.”
“Oh, I know why I’m hunting Patrick Sullivan.” He hunched over her like a lion ready to pounce. “What I don’t know is why I’m here. You’ve got us playing house. That kid isn’t your long-lost son.”
The words lit her fuse, sent fireworks exploding through her system. They’d both pushed too far, said irreversibly cruel words, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She jabbed a hand toward the hall. “There’s the door.”
“In a heartbeat—Detective—if the roads were clear.”
“A properly motivated man could find a way through the closed roads. If you’re so afraid this undercover operation is going to rub off on you, see ya.”
“Just like that?”
“Definitely.”
He glared down, chest heaving, and breath panting. He held the position so long she wanted to squirm, to look away. A muscle in his jaw ticked. This was the angriest she’d ever seen him, and she’d pushed him there.
Deep down, they were still good friends. The stress and the enclosed space had worn away the niceties and left them with more fight than sense. It was time to reel it back. She took a deep breath and let the anger go.
It was then she noticed how close they stood. Not touching, just bare heated air between taut bodies. Anger darkened his eyes and rode his skin, reminding her that for all his good humor, Mick was a dangerous man. His toned body leaned over her so that she had to arch back to maintain eye contact. “I’m sorry for what I said about Tommy.”
The blizzard blew bitter against the windows, but inside, it was as hot as a Texas summer. The contrast sent a shiver whistling up her spine. His voice was gravelly when he finally spoke. “You picked a fight with me.”
He might be big, but he wasn’t stupid. She let loose her best sarcastic grin and felt her eyes open wide in mock innocence. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Risky move.” Mick grabbed her biceps and lifted until she rose up on her toes. “I didn’t know you were a gambler.”
The air between them combusted and blasted Dez with unbearable heat. His effortless strength shouldn’t turn her on, but her pulse picked up to match the ticking pulse in Mick’s grip. “Wasn’t a gamble. I knew you wouldn’t leave.”
“No,” he admitted, glancing down at her lips. “But it could have backfired. There was a good chance I’d go all crazy on your ass.”
“You like to think you’re tough.” She leaned into him to nip at the pulse thrumming in his neck. Licked her lips. “But I could take you.”
“I am to
ugh.” The low rumble of laughter rode her skin like a coarse caress. “Oh, and you’ll take me, Destiny. Every inch.” The promise in the threat softened her knees. She’d rattled the cage and awakened the beast.
Chapter Thirteen
Dez leaned closer to the beast she’d unleashed. Maybe she was a gambler. He tasted of man and spice as she worked her way up his neck to his jaw. Still on her toes, her calves quivered, but she needed the extra height to reach his lips. Firm and male, they lifted into a predatory smile when she nipped him. Without warning, he yanked her tight against his chest. She was no longer standing on her toes, but dangling in Mick’s immutable grip.
One of his large hands cupped her buttocks while the other tangled in her hair. Her heartbeat shifted into high gear. The way his eyes glowed said he knew how he affected her, yet she had no idea if he was turned on or still angry. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. He kissed her then, the slightest brush of his firm lips over hers, a tease, but her body responded with heat sliding down her abdomen.
Using the hand in her hair, he shifted to expose her neck. The man mastered her with his mouth as he kissed the pulse in her throat, the one beating for him. His powerful hands held her immobile, while his mouth owned her with sensuous and gentle torture. He lavished serious time and attention to her neck, the soft skin behind her ear, before sucking an earlobe into his mouth. Tension shot desire straight to her core, but the torment had only begun. He moved down her body like he had a checklist to all her erogenous zones marked on a diagram.
“Mick.”
He grunted as he had earlier, his mouth too busy teasing her nipples through the soft fabric of her shirt. Bracing her hands on his muscled shoulders, Dez arched back, opening herself to him. He groaned his approval while he continued the amorous offensive. Pressure built, exaggerated by the barrier of clothes between his mouth and her nipples. A craving started deep inside. She was hungry for his touch, for her hands on his skin, so she pulled at the cotton, forced him away long enough to pull his shirt over his head.
The man was built like a gladiator. She traced the line of his muscular shoulders, down his cut biceps—one still bandaged—to sketch all over the beautiful ink. The room was too dim to see the gorgeous detail, but she let her hands wander and learn. She followed the maze of ink to the Celtic knot over his heart, knew it was as good as any lock, keeping people out, keeping his emotions in.
She leaned forward and kissed the skin over his heart, the moment a solemn promise.
“Destiny.” He called her name, tied it up in a passionate promise, and in that instant, he owned her heart. The man was strong, inside and out, and he was true. The most loyal man she’d ever met, and the most determined. Nothing stopped him when he set his mind to a goal. He’d saved her neck more times than she could count. He had her back, like he had Blake’s. But who was there for Mick?
He was a flirt. She’d seen him work his magic at the club, but he never let anyone in. An ache started in her heart as she stared at the tattoo and the meaning beneath it. She wanted to be the one who got past the locks. How long had she felt all this for him? When had friendship and a common goal mutated? She cared—when had that happened—and hurt for the man who’d never been a boy, had never been free, because he was so wrapped up in revenge there was no room for anything else.
Man, she was an idiot. She’d fallen for Mick, even before they’d added sex to the mix, and the sex only dug a deeper hole in her heart. The man knew his way around a woman’s body, a fact he proved as he stripped her clothes, and then ran calloused hands down her bare skin, skimming her hips to land where ass met thigh. Yeah, he had a thing for that particular piece of anatomy. She ground back into his touch, and he reacted before she’d taken a full breath. He cupped her butt cheeks and yanked her into his warm body.
His erection, encased in denim, flexed against her stomach. She rubbed against him like a cat, and he responded by taking her mouth with his. Gone was the patient, gentle man. His kiss had bite as he devoured her. Naked, she didn’t have any barriers left, and he was overdressed. She pressed a hand between them to unbutton, unzip. They undressed him without breaking the kiss, and then she gave into temptation and climbed him, lifted herself and twined her legs around his waist.
The muscles under her hands didn’t seem to strain as he walked them back to their room, dropped her on their bed. Their room. Their bed. Because, damn it, they were together. Good or bad, they existed outside of their hunt for Patrick Sullivan.
He followed her to the mattress and kissed his way down her body. He knew how to touch, to incite, to take her to the edge and rip her back. He explored every inch of skin and owned every piece of her heart. Tears stung her eyes. She wasn’t looking for emotion. She didn’t want connection. Connection never seemed to work for her. Up to now, she’d done better on her own. She’d have run if she’d known all she felt for him, but now that she was here, she gave herself to Mick, body and soul. It was too late to go back.
He took her body up again, licking and fingering her into a frenzy. She arched into his mouth, her hands in his soft blond hair, and she shattered. The orgasm exploded in her brain, rocked her body while Mick used his fingers to extend the pleasure. When the wild ride came to a stop, his tiger-eyes glinted right before he flipped her onto her stomach so fast he stole her breath. “We’re nowhere near finished,” he said, his voice gritty and full of sensual promise.
The heat blasting off his body warmed her, even as he held himself off her by inches. He stroked and caressed, inching closer to her core with each movement. When his touch moved to her lower back, he dropped a kiss at the base of her spine. “I love all the virgin skin. A blank palette. Have you ever thought of getting a tattoo?”
Her mind still reeling from the orgasm and her body ramping up at his touch, she didn’t have the energy for more than a slight shake of her head. “Thought about it. Don’t know what I’d get. Where I’d put it.”
He laughed low. “I have a few ideas.”
“I bet.”
“Right here. Something with color, vibrant like you. A blue butterfly. No.” He ran a calloused finger over the small of her back. “Butterfly isn’t you, even if the symbolism fits.”
“How?” Her voice hitched when his touch slid between her legs.
“Transformation. The way you changed your name. Changed your life. But a butterfly is easy, curling up in a cocoon and waiting out the change. That’s not you.”
No, change had never been easy. She’d have said it, but he slid a large finger through her folds to tease her entrance. Found her wet. Ready. He moaned, teased her for several minutes before resuming his exploration. “A phoenix,” he decided. “In flames, red and orange.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“Trial by fire. That’s you.” He ran his hands around her hips, lifted and rubbed the front of her hipbone. “Or here.”
His hands aroused her body, a heated flush flowing from his touch as he explored, giving ideas for where he’d add body art. Under the hair at the back of her neck. Her left shoulder blade. The inside of her wrist, before his hands moved south to cup her buttocks. “You have a beautiful ass.” And then she felt a pinch on her butt cheek.
Not a pinch, but a—“Did you just bite me?”
“You told me to bite you. This morning.” A deep laugh warmed her skin. “I warned you about the smartass grin.”
She didn’t have time to process his words before he lifted her hips and drove into her core in one swift stroke. Full. Unbelievably full. Oh God was all she could think, a high pitched moan the only sound. At this angle, he went deep—she closed her eyes as he stilled, gave her time to adjust—before he pulled back and thrust once more, filling her so she didn’t have room for thoughts, for fears, for worries. Mick filled her body, owned her mind, possessed her soul.
He’d held back earlier, gave her soft and gentle. Not anymore. Grasping her hips, he took her fast and hard. Her eyes rolled back, the pleasure s
ending her into sensation overload. Color exploded behind her eyelids as an orgasm slammed through her body, zipped up her spine. It was too much. Mick Donovan was too damn much.
She fell to her elbows, dropped her head to her arms, and still Mick slammed into her. The new angle had him pounding against her G spot and she was too tired to ward off the tingling, too tired for another round, but her body disagreed. Sensations overwhelmed her until she was his to command.
He slammed to the hilt, his rough breath and the sound of flesh slapping flesh filling the room. He was relentless, out to prove he owned her body and soul.
She stopped fighting, gave herself to his touch. His hands manacled her hips controlling her movements, the speed, the depth. He swelled in her. So close. Too much. His stance widened, spreading her hips open for him, his shaft rubbing her G spot, before he shifted a hand to press against her pubic bone, stroking her inside and out.
An explosion detonated, shredding her. Internal muscles tightened, flexed against Mick’s shaft. “Destiny.” He moaned, thrust to the hilt, and erupted.
When they came out of orbit, he shifted her body so she lay prone, trapped under his weight, unable to move.
Tonight the fight unleashed the real Mick, the one she always suspected existed behind his calm exterior. Passionate, powerful, and insatiable, this Mick was far more dangerous than he appeared. He owned her, and she’d do everything in her power to prevent him from ever discovering how lost she was, how completely and utterly in his grip.
Chapter Fourteen
The air turned cold before Mick had the strength to move. He rolled to the side, wrapped a leg across Dez, and leaned up on an elbow. A lovely flush covered her skin in a rosy glow. The passion in her eyes faded until she was able to focus, her blue eyes meeting his gaze. “You wrecked me.” Her voice was smoky and low.
“Same goes.” That was an understatement. Whatever had just happened between them took sex to a whole new level. He wasn’t sure he liked how deep she’d gotten under his skin. He wanted to leave what they had at the physical, because he wasn’t a forever guy. Something inside him needed to keep her distant but didn’t know how. Not with her. Maybe she knew him too well for him to hide. He rubbed a knuckle between her breasts and across her ribs. “You picked a fight with me. On purpose.” Not many people were that brave. Or that stupid.
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