Marked (Tortured Heroes Book 3)

by Jayne Blue

  “Shh,” I said then silenced him with a kiss. I started the slow, tantalizing rhythm that would undo us both. “And I just wanted to be with you.”

  He reached up and stroked my nipples, heightening the pleasure I felt and driving pulse between my legs. I was soaked. My juices quickly coated the both of us. I wanted to go slow. I wanted to savor every second we spent together. Because he was right. He couldn’t stay with me the way he was now. We both had jobs to do. I didn’t know what any of it would mean down the road, but for now I just needed to feel this.

  Before long, my movements became more erratic as the driving heat between my legs grew. Huck got harder inside of me and I felt his balls hitch and his cock jerk. He was close. I was closer. He kept me steady with one hand on my back, the other making circles around each of my nipples. He tweaked and pulled as I arched my back and gave into the sensation.

  “Come for me, baby,” he commanded. And I did. Curling into myself then spreading out, I let the waves of pleasure take over. My head started to spin and that core of sensation exploded around me. Huck filled me so deeply and his own pleasure started to take over. As soon as I crested down, he flipped me. He draped my legs over his shoulders and thrust into me so deep and strong.

  He came quickly, overpowered by the same need that split me apart. Split me apart and remade me as he poured himself inside of me. This. Yes. This. No matter what happened tomorrow, I wanted to savor every second, every drop. Then Huck gathered me into his arms and held me close.

  It was still dark when I woke in Huck’s arms. His rhythmic snoring gave me comfort. I placed a hand flat against his chest and felt his strong heartbeat. His heart. He’d given it to me last night. He’d trusted me. I leaned down and kissed his chest.

  “I love you,” I whispered. He answered with a sharp snore then rolled to his side.

  A cool breeze wafted through the window, raising gooseflesh on my arm. I slid out of the bed to shut it. The wood creaked and I gritted my teeth, hoping I wouldn’t wake Huck. I liked him when he slept. He was all fire and bluster in the daytime. Like this, he seemed vulnerable, and his face had a sweet, childish quality with his bottom lip in a permanent pout.

  I pulled on a pair of checkered pajama pants and a tank top then padded to the bathroom. It was four in the morning and in about two more hours, we’d have to start the day and make good on all of the promises we’d made. I wasn’t done glad-handing for the president, and Huck had to go back to the Detroit Field Office. For now though, he was mine.

  I grabbed Huck’s dress shirt off the floor and slid my arms into it. We must have left a window open in the front room too so I went out to shut it. The gas fire cast a flickering orange glow over the room but a shadow slashed across the floor. The front door stood wide open. I looked back at Huck. He snorted again and rolled to his back.

  Movement caught my eye and I turned back to the front room. Gemma stood in the doorway. Her hair hung wild. She wore a pair of jeans and her shirt was torn at the sleeve.

  “Is everything okay?” I whispered, walking toward her. Tears streamed down her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. She looked past me. A shadow fell over her face. At the last second I turned to my side to see what she was looking at. A hand covered my mouth wrapped in a foul-smelling cloth. An arm came around me, pulling me toward the back of the cabin and away from the bedroom. I bit down as hard as I could and tried to scream. But the second I inhaled, a haze drifted into my vision then the world fell away.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Huck

  The scream sliced through my subconscious like a thousand tiny knives. I jerked awake and tumbled to the floor. My Glock was on the nightstand beside me and I grabbed it then reached across the bed for Jillian.

  My heart sank to the floor as my brain caught up to what my body already knew. She wasn’t there. The bed was empty.

  I crawled along the wall until I reached the doorway. Slowly I edged along the doorjamb until I was on my feet. I clutched my weapon to my chest and let out a hard breath. Then I burst into the other room.

  Nothing.

  A curtain blew in the breeze and the front door stood open.

  “Jillian!”

  No answer. I took a step toward the door. My foot connected with something soft. I pitched forward then righted myself. She lay clutching her side and whimpering.

  Jillian. No. Not Jillian. Her hair was all wrong. I leaned down and turned her.

  “Gemma! Jesus. What happened?”

  She sobbed and curled into a ball. She was hurt. Her shirt was torn and blood soaked the front of it. I looked around the room. Jillian was gone. I pulled Gemma against the wall and crouched down, putting myself at eye level with her. Tears streamed down her face. Her hair stuck to them. I pulled her hair out of her face and shook her forcefully.

  “Tell me what happened, dammit. Where is she?”

  “I tried. T-tried to stop him.”

  “Stop who? Tell me.”

  A ball of acid formed in my chest where my heart used to be. Gemma looked up at me with pleading eyes and everything slammed into place. The letters. The courthouse evacuation route. The insider.

  “Who?” I shook her again. “Goddammit. Tell me what I’m dealing with.”

  She shook her head. “He c-conned me. I’m such an idiot.”

  “Gemma. Listen to me. I believe you. I know you never wanted Jillian or Rhonda or anyone else to get hurt. But right now, I need your help. If you want to fix this, you have to tell me where Jillian is.”

  She nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I swear to God, Ross just said it was a shakedown.”

  A shakedown. A fucking shakedown. I wanted to throttle Gemma and hurl her against the wall. She was falling apart on me and every second that went by where I didn’t have eyes on Jillian could be deadly.

  “How was it supposed to work, Gemma? Who was Ross working with? Was it Pierce?”

  She sniffled and rubbed her eyes again. “Judge Pierce? No. No. I’m so stupid. So stupid. Ross seemed so sweet and kind. He told me he owed money to some really bad people. If he’d told me who they were I never would have stuck around. God … even I know you don’t mess with the Moldonados. But he owed them so much money, Huck. They were going to kill him for it. He swore that he wasn’t really planning to use those pictures. That’s all it was supposed to be, I swear. You have to believe me.”

  “I do, Gemma. I do.”

  “I didn’t know they were going to send those threats. They just asked for the envelopes and Ross said it was to send the pictures so they’d be sure to get to her. Then when she saw … when she knew … it’s that RICO case, you know? They wanted to get her off it and Ross told them he could help. Ross didn’t want this. Oh God. I don’t think he knew they were really planning on trying to hurt her. He said he loved me. He was so worried when I got hurt. That wasn’t supposed to happen. So, after that, he tried to stop it.” Her eyes went wild and she dug her fists into my upper arms.

  I dropped my shoulders. “Ross tried to stop it. He didn’t want them to kill her. He tried to warn her, didn’t he?”

  She nodded and hiccupped. “Yes. I swear to God. He was trying to put an end to it. And then … Huck … they did that to him. They shot him. And they said I’d be next if I didn’t help.”

  “I know.” I pulled Gemma toward me and held her. If she didn’t feel safe, she’d be no good to me. Blood dripped from a gash in her shoulder. I couldn’t see how deep it was in the moonlight, but she was clearly in shock. She was in real danger of passing out on me.

  “You told them where Jillian was staying?”

  She sobbed louder and nodded. “It’s too late. He came. I tried to get in his way and he cut me. He took her.”

  “Where?” I couldn’t help it. I shoved Gemma back hard and gave her a shake. “Tell me where they went.”

  Trembling, she raised a finger and pointed toward the back door.

  “How many? Can you tell
me that?”

  “I only saw one. He’s big, Huck. He’s got a gun.”

  I let go of Gemma. “Yeah. So do I.”

  I left Gemma and headed out the back door. The woods were quiet and dark. A branch cracked to my left and I headed for it, praying I wasn’t too late.

  Gun drawn, I hugged the trail, trying to avoid fallen leaves and branches, anything that would give away my position. He couldn’t have gotten far if he left on foot. My heart lurched thinking of all the things he could have done to her in the precious seconds I had to waste with Gemma.

  Another branch cracked. A muffled cry to the right of me, maybe twenty yards ahead. It took everything in me not to call out to her. If Jillian could hear me, I hoped to God she knew I was on my way.

  Hang on, baby. Stay alive. No matter what.

  “No!” Jillian screamed. Due east. Maybe fifteen yards but uphill. Shit. He could probably see me. I dove behind a thick tree.

  A shot rang out, zinging past me. Too close. But he gave his position away. I couldn’t fire back without knowing where Jillian was. Peering through the branches I saw the boat launch just past the next clearing. He was headed that way. Fuck. If he made it there with her it would be too late.

  I dove forward, heading for the cover of three tall pine trees. Their needles stuck to my skin and burrs stabbed into my bare feet. A dead branch tore a hole in my sweat pants. Another shot cracked. I dodged left as it whizzed through the branches no more than an inch from me. Sweat poured down my back and my breath left me in a whoosh. Too close. Too fucking close.

  “Where are you, mother fucker?” I whispered. Slightly above me, he was shooting fish in a fucking barrel. I dropped to my stomach; rough stones tore into my abdomen, stinging me. I commando crawled forward. The clouds broke above and a bright full moon cast light upon the ridge.

  I saw them in silhouette. Jillian was alive. He had her in an arm bar around the neck. She struggled fiercely as he held his arm out and aimed his gun straight at me. I took a gamble.

  “There’s no way off this peninsula!” I shouted, then rolled beneath one of the pine trees as a third shot rang out, whizzing just above my head. My whole body shook from the cold and my heart raced.

  “Huck!” Jillian cried out. Her next cry was muffled under his hand.

  “End of the line,” I said, my voice choked as I struggled to catch my breath. “The President of the United States is staying a quarter of a mile up the hill. In about thirty seconds these woods are going to be crawling with Secret Service agents and sharpshooters. You’re done, man. Let her go. Gemma Sanders gave you up. You’re out of time.”

  He never said a word. Never argued. Never made a fucking sound. Thank God for the full moon that night. Without it, I never would have seen him shift his weight and pull his arm back. I rolled out from under the pines and raised my weapon. One second separated life from death as he aimed his gun at Jillian’s head.

  Aim low. He’ll jump when you pull the trigger. Eyes open. Exhale. Squeeze. Release. Pray.

  I didn’t hear the shot. I almost never do. Jillian did. She dropped to her knees just as my bullet entered the man’s brain. He lurched backward, his body convulsed in a grizzly dance. Then he fell sideways and didn’t get up.

  “Jillian!” I called to her. I couldn’t be sure he was dead and if not she was still in the line of fire. She was already on the move, racing down the hill toward the sound of my voice. I got to my feet just as she stumbled toward me.

  “Huck!” she sobbed and barreled into my arms with enough force to knock us both back over.

  I kissed the top of her head and staggered back to my feet. My head spun from the adrenaline. Zinging vibrations still pulsed up my arm from the recoil. “Stay here, baby. I have to make sure he’s down. Don’t you come out from behind those trees until I tell you.”

  She nodded and tucked herself amid the pine needles. My legs felt like rubber as I made my way up the hill. I saw the gun gleaming under the moonlight and kicked it far away. The guy was dead. His sightless eyes stared heavenward, that blessed moon reflected back in them.

  “Huck!” Jillian screamed again. Curious, she was at my side again though I swore I’d left her back by the pines. “You’re hurt.”

  I cocked my head to the side and meant to take a step toward her. Wild fear lit her face as she looked at me. My eyes followed hers. The last thing I saw before the blackness came was blood pouring out of the gunshot wound I’d never felt in my side.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jillian

  “Open your eyes! Dammit. Huck! Don’t you dare go to sleep!”

  I gripped Huck’s hand. He was so cold. So fucking cold. With each tremble, more blood poured out of him.

  “Ma’am. You need to step back. We’re going to take care of him. We’ll do the best we can.”

  But I wouldn’t let go. Not ever. They hauled Huck’s limp body onto the stretcher. I ran alongside, holding his hand as we ran toward the helicopter. God. It took so long. We were so far away. They’d found a place to land right next to the cabin but we had to get Huck out of the woods.

  “You got her?” One of the paramedics barked his question to a Secret Service agent. Pratt. His name was Pratt, I don’t know why it mattered to me to remember right then. He was with the president before. He’d taken me to meet him. Dustin Pratt.

  Pratt put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back. “You’re slowing them down, Judge. Let them work. I’ll take you where you need to go.”

  “I need to be with him,” I sobbed. “He’s dying. Can’t you see that he’s dying?”

  “Come on,” Pratt said. “There’s room for us in the chopper and I’ve been instructed not to leave your side. I’ll take care of you.”

  No. That was Huck’s job. He took care of me. He’d come for me just like I knew he would. Only now he might die from it. One more person I let get close to me was gravely hurt because of it.

  Gemma came out of the cabin, flanked by another paramedic and two officers from the Smith Mountain Lake police. She looked at me with pleading, sorrowful eyes as she clutched a thick white bandage to her shoulder. She was bleeding too.

  Pratt led me to the waiting helicopter. They got Huck’s stretcher secured and Pratt lifted me with his hands around my waist. I scrambled in beside Huck. He murmured something.

  “I’m here. Baby. I’m here. Just stay with me. Promise me.”

  He tried to lift his head but erupted into a fit of coughing. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and he fell back against the stretcher.

  “We gotta move!” one of the paramedics shouted to the pilot and the chopper blades picked up speed, lifting us off the ground.

  Water. Why does everyone think you need to drink so much water when someone you love might be dying? Pratt stayed by my side like he said he would. I wished I had the strength to be nicer to him. But every question he asked me made my head hurt. I just wanted Huck. His heart had stopped beating just as we landed. They shoved me aside and whisked him away. Oh God. They took him away.

  Pratt kept his distance after the third time I’d barked at him. I knew I was an asshole for doing it but couldn’t find another way. Until a doctor came out and told me whether Huck was alive or dead, I stayed in a kind of suspended animation. I buried my face in my hands.

  Pratt’s phone rang and he jumped out of his chair. He shot me a look then moved further down the hall to take it, covering his mouth with his hand. I put my face back into my own hands and pushed back the tears and hysteria that hovered just below the surface.

  Chaos. My life was chaos. Huck had to be all right. He had to be.

  Approaching footsteps drew me out of myself. My shoulders sank. It wasn’t the doctors. Two men in suits came toward me. God, I couldn’t handle more Secret Service agents or more questions.

  “Judge Key?” The older one took the chair next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. It was an overly familiar gesture but I was too tired to pull away or even argue.

&nbs
p; “I don’t have any answers for you right now,” I said, my expression flat.

  “My name is Terry Loomis.”

  I looked up. He was older than I imagined. Dark hair, graying at the temples where he still had it. He had a kind face with a broad nose and full lips.

  “Huck’s boss. He did his job.” The last bit came out in a half sob.

  Loomis nodded and rubbed my back. Again, any other time I might have bristled at the overfamiliarity but now I was just done. Wrecked.

  “I’m Rick Chandler,” the other man said. He took a seat on the other side of me. “I’m a close friend of Huck’s. The Marshals Service flew us down as soon as we heard.”

  I barked out a bitter laugh. “We’re all he’s got, aren’t we? He doesn’t have a next of kin.”

  Loomis and Chandler exchanged a look. “Well. No.”

  “It’s bad,” I said, wiping my hand across my mouth and straightening my back. “His heart stopped on the way in. He was hit in the abdomen. There was so much blood. I don’t think he even knew he was shot. He kept his cool the entire time. He was so far away I never thought he could make that shot.”

  Rick smiled. He had rugged, rough good looks. I supposed some women might even find him scary looking. He was almost as big as Huck with broad shoulders and thick, dark brows that seemed in a permanent scowl.

  “Have they filled you in on what we know?”

  I shook my head. “Gemma. Right? My secretary? She had something to do with it? She was hurt too. Is she all right?”

  Loomis nodded. “She called for help. She was involved with the plot against you, yes. And we’ll get to the bottom of it. But she’s the one who called 911 and got help on the way. She’s in a stable condition downstairs. She’s being questioned by the FBI and so far she’s cooperating. Now we can’t say for sure but it looks like the Moldonado crime family is behind all of this. But the man Marshal Huckman shot is dead. He had ID on him and we’ve already got agents swarming his house. We have every reason to believe he was acting alone on this. He was a hired hitman. It’s over, Judge Key. We’re going to keep a detail with you for the time being, but you’re safe now.”