He tugged at her hair, pulling her away. “I’m not going to come in your mouth tonight. Put a condom on me, princess. You’re going riding.”
She ripped open a second foil wrapper and rolled the clear, tight sheath over his long, thick cock. Her pussy pulsed, anticipating a repeat performance. She positioned herself over him, and he lined his cock up with her entrance. If she had any plans of controlling this, he disabused her of the notion. Once his tip was in, he gripped her hips and pulled her down.
“I want to see you play with your clit as you fuck me, princess.” He bucked his pelvis to get her going.
Tru knew this performance was for his pleasure, just as her striptease had been. She closed her eyes and rocked her hips.
“Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She did, and she watched shades of wonder pass over his features as she masturbated on his cock. He played as he studied her, lightly rolling her sore nipples between his thumb and forefinger until she whimpered. Then he squeezed sharply.
“You would look lovely in a pair of clover clamps.” He clamped his hands on her hips and took control of the rhythm. “With a single chain connecting them together.” He lifted her several inches and fucked her at an impossibly fast rate. “Weights that would swing as I pounded into you, and you’d cry out, not sure whether you were doing so out of pleasure or pain.”
It sounded like a lovely, impossible dream. She said nothing because it wasn’t a negotiation. He was fantasizing, and she liked his fantasy.
Suddenly he lifted her off him. In a flash, he positioned her on her elbows and knees, and he knelt behind her. He entered her pussy as if he owned it, sliding in and staking his claim. Then he grabbed a handful of her hair and slapped her ass. He fucked her with quick, shallow strokes. “Touch your clit, princess. I want to hear you come one more time.”
With the electricity that raced through her body from the hair pulling and the excitement from the sharp slaps he delivered to her ass, she didn’t need to touch her clit. By the time her trembling hand got there, her pussy had gone into convulsions. She cried out, the sound going on and on, drawn out by his relentless thrusts. Just when she thought she was going to die from pleasure overload, he buried himself deep and shouted his climax.
The Abiding Tide/Day 2—Draft
Bike riding on an oceanside trail............4
Kayaking excursion...................................5
Dinner with a hot FBI agent...................2*
Dessert with a hot FBI agent...................5
*C’mon now—he interrogated me about the case.
Chapter Eight
An annoying chirp noise, like the sound a smoke detector makes when the battery has run low, roused him from a deep sleep. The bed was unfamiliar, as was the woman with her naked back and bottom plastered to his right side. Traveling this much, he sometimes lost track of reality, but not this time. The woman sound asleep next to him wasn’t someone he’d soon forget. Tru Martin was an amazing woman—beautiful, bold, intelligent, submissive, and she had a great sense of humor. If he played his cards right, he might be able to keep seeing her even after he left The Abiding Tide.
The chirping noise happened again, and he realized it was the alarm on his phone. Time to get up. Brandy would be expecting him to be ready for a full day of investigating, especially since she’d essentially given him half a day off yesterday. She’d expected him to find out if Tru knew anything more than what she’d said to Liam, and he’d come through in an unexpected way. He knew that Brandy and Avery had spent the evening following up on the new lead. If Tru hadn’t asked him into her room last night, he would have joined his fellow agents and burned as much midnight oil as it took to track down every aspect of the lead.
He rolled from bed carefully so that he didn’t disturb Tru. Using the bright glow of light outlining the curtains, he made his way to the chair where he’d draped his clothes, and he dug in his inside jacket pocket for the phone. Just as he pulled it from the pocket, it chirped again.
Tru shifted, lifted her head, and looked toward the sound. “Is that yours?” Judging from the slur in her voice, she wasn’t quite awake.
“Yeah.” He kept his volume low. “I have to go to work. You can go back to sleep. We’re still on for dinner?”
She rested her head back on the pillow. “Okay. Have a good day.”
He dressed and exited the room, making sure the automatic locks engaged before returning to his room for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Twenty minutes later, he held a hasty sandwich made from toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs in one hand and a travel cup of coffee in the other. Avery had snagged the front seat and Brandy drove, so he didn’t have a cup holder for his coffee that would make it easier to eat breakfast on the go.
“The coroner’s report is ready. She said cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head.” Avery’s voice drifted to the backseat as she read through the report that had been uploaded sometime that morning. “The other injuries were post-mortem.”
“Was it murder?” Jed would have liked to read the report for himself, but there was no way Avery was going to give him the tablet until she was finished reading it first.
“Inconclusive. He could have slipped and fell, hit his head on a rock. The water washed away any evidence that might have been there. Time of death is Sunday night between eleven and one.” Avery fell silent as she read more.
“Looks like your girlfriend is in the clear,” Brandy said. “She didn’t check in until Monday night.”
As he had plans along those lines, he didn’t dispute her labeling of Tru. “It also means that when his wife checked out, she knew he was missing, and she failed to report it.” Their investigation yesterday had turned up the fact that Zarah Braithwaite—not Johnson—had checked out of the room just before eight in the morning.
“Jordan called last night.” Brandy sipped her coffee and swerved to avoid a small furry lump that darted into the road. “He said they found a Pigeon’s Blood ruby, and that led their search in a different direction. They also found four unmarked diamonds.”
“Unmarked?” He wasn’t all that familiar with precious gems, but he had done enough research to know that Pigeon’s Blood rubies, the rarest and most expensive gems in the world, were verboten because the mines were controlled by the military junta in Myanmar. That kind of scum perpetrated all sorts of human rights violations on the local populations of the areas they controlled.
“Gems that have gone through the KPCS have serial numbers laser inscribed on them. It’s how you know they’re legitimate.” She took a corner without slowing down enough. Jed and Avery were thrown the other way, but they were used to Brandy’s driving, and they took steps to counterbalance. Jed believed that in another life, Brandy had been a racecar driver. If she wanted, there was still time in this incarnation to take up the sport.
“So there’s no way to tell where the diamonds originated?” Jed made sure they were on a straight stretch of road before taking a swig of coffee.
“Nope.”
“I suspect Africa,” Avery said. “Most conflict diamonds come from central or western Africa. And geeks at Quantico recently found connections between The Eye and the Democratic Republic of Congo.”
Jed wondered how it happened that Quantico knew something before they did. After all, they were the team specifically assigned to bring down The Eye. “Yeah? What’s their source?”
“The drive that Malcolm and Keith found two years ago when they were investigating the murder of Scott Yataines.” Avery sniffed disdainfully, or because she had allergies. “Former Chief Lawrence sent it to them when he was trying to keep us from finding out too much about The Eye, and now they won’t send it back. They say it has information on other cases and national threats.”
If Dare were here, he’d insist on being allowed to hack the central FBI database, and Brandy would veto the suggestion. Jed suppressed the urge to petition in Dare’s absence. Maybe it would help quell
a little bit of guilt over having slept with the woman his friend found attractive. He reasoned through it, reminding himself that not only had Dare left without a word to Tru, the woman in question had also dismissed any claim Liam might have tried to make. Tru knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t the kind of woman to change her mind on a whim. If she’d made promises to Liam, she wouldn’t have asked Jed to kiss her that first time.
They made it to Sacramento in record time, and Jed flashed his badge as he followed Brandy and Avery into the medical wing of the FBI field office there. Viewing the body wasn’t his favorite part of investigative work, but he donned the required coverings and followed the coroner, Doctor Decet, into the room full of bodies. She was one of those small women who was full of too much energy. He listened while she went over the various injuries on the body, and as he looked at Angelo Braithwaite’s face again, he was forced to admit that Tru was right. With his head bashed in, swollen and misshapen, the man no longer resembled the photograph on his file.
“It was definitely murder.” Doctor Decet pointed at the back of what used to be Braithwaite’s skull. “My best theory is that someone hit him with a stone implement. Given the angle of impact, I estimate their height at about 5’3 or 5’4. Mr. Braithwaite was 5’9, and in reasonably good shape. I don’t think he saw the attack coming. There are no defensive wounds. I found no hesitation marks and evidence of at least sixteen peri-mortem blows around the head and neck.”
Avery pointed to the massive contusions covering Braithwaite’s exposed body. “Rage is the only thing that could make someone continue to beat a dead body.”
Doctor Decet shrugged. “Those don’t have the same shape as the instrument that delivered the death blow, and they’re post-mortem. I’d say they came from being bashed around on the rocks and in the cave where he was found—like a tennis ball in a clothes dryer.”
That matched theories the team had already discussed. Jed surveyed the body, looking for anything the coroner might have missed.
“Oh, one other thing.” Doctor Decet motioned to Jed. “Help me turn him over.”
Jed didn’t relish the idea, but he did it anyway. The doctor was a petite woman. He looked around, wondering if she had equipment to help her move the bodies around when she was alone, but he didn’t find anything.
She pointed out marks on Braithwaite’s heels and the back of his calves. “He was dragged. These are scratches, and I found some particles of sand and rock embedded deep inside. Maybe his shorter assailant hid the body in the cave.”
Brandy again indicated the massive, purpled patches covering Braithwaite’s body. “You’re sure these are all post-mortem?”
Doctor Decet’s eyes lit up as she was swept away in the excitement that came with putting clues together on a case. “Yes.” She leaned closer to Brandy. “Do you have a suspect?”
“Not yet.” Brandy smiled regretfully. They did have a person of interest—Zarah Braithwaite needed to be found. Even if they had a suspect, they wouldn’t share that information with anyone outside their team. “We’re still gathering evidence.”
“Was he married? It’s always the husband.”
“He had a wife,” Avery supplied.
Doctor Decet nodded, and her excitement turned sage. “Wives are notoriously vindictive. Was he cheating?”
Jed pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at the doctor’s enthusiasm. She obviously watched a lot of police and medical dramas. “That’s all we know. Thank you for your help, Doctor Decet.” He handed her a card. “I know that you’re still waiting on some tests. Please call when those results come in.”
She took the card, and some of the wind went out of her sails as she realized she wasn’t going to be invited to join the team. “Oh. Okay. Sure.”
Doctor Decet shook hands with Brandy and Avery, and when it was his turn, Jed dialed up his natural charm. “You’ve been tremendously helpful. Remember to call if anything comes up.” He held her hand a second longer than necessary, and she responded with a brighter smile and the return of her energetic aura. A little goodwill went a long way.
“I will.”
Liam finished reading the coroner’s report on the plane. Their search of Angelo Braithwaite’s apartment had turned up a marriage where the paperwork hadn’t been properly processed, and so it was invalid, five stolen precious gems, and one irate daughter. Angela Braithwaite did not like her step-mother, a woman merely five years older, and she had flung a multitude of accusations at the woman. According to Angela, Zarah had been homeless when she’d met Angelo. Within a month, she’d convinced the older man to marry her. Six months later, Angelo had left the security of his desk job for the uncertainty of living off commission because his wife wanted to travel.
“Jed came up with a lead.” Jordan interrupted Liam’s thoughts. “It seems Ms. Martin recalls running into the Braithwaites at another inn. Brandy, Avery, and Jed are there now, questioning the owner and the night clerk.”
Liam made a thoughtful noise. That wasn’t exactly the direction in which Brandy had been thinking when she’d asserted that Tru knew more than she had told them. However, her instincts had been correct since they’d gleaned another lead from Tru. “I wonder why she didn’t make the connection earlier?”
“She saw a photo of Braithwaite alive. Avery said it took Ms. Martin all day to remember where she’d seen Braithwaite. She didn’t connect it to the body she’d found at all.” Jordan checked the time. “I need to call Amy. She has an event tonight, so we won’t get to talk unless I call now.”
Though he knew that Jordan had already texted Amy several times today, Liam didn’t say anything. Maybe one day he’d understand this obsessive need some men had to communicate with their girlfriends. Right now it just seemed like Jordan was pussy whipped. Liam watched Jordan relocate to the far corner of this section of the plane, a soft smile curving his mouth as he listened to the woman on the other end.
Then again, maybe the bastard was lucky. For as long as Liam could remember, women had been a disposable commodity. They were sexy and soft, but even when he’d been in a relationship, Liam had found that he rarely thought of a woman unless she was right next to him. He’d been dumped for not calling and not caring, and he hadn’t particularly mourned any of those losses. But Tru was different. She’d been on his mind since they’d met. A part of Liam awoke—one that fixated on a single woman in a way that had never happened before—and it buzzed with anticipation. In a few hours he’d be back at The Abiding Tide, and he’d have another chance to get to know Tru. Memories of that last kiss tingled on his lips and tongue. Maybe she’d be amenable to having dinner with him? He could take her away from the inn so that they could have some time alone. As much as he loved his FBI family, if they were around, they’d eventually interrupt the date.
The day had flown by. The Abiding Tide had staged a cooking class where they made crème brulee French toast. Guests had laughed and chatted, and Tru had managed to garner a few great quotes to use in her article. It amazed her how flattered people were when she asked for permission to use their words. The B&B was a great place, and she planned to give it a stellar review. Of course she’d have to mention the tragedy and the appearance of the FBI, but she would be sure to emphasize the friendly atmosphere, dozens of activities, and the quality of the rooms. By the time evening rolled around, she had banked three articles for her series. One detailed her grotesque find, the second one highlighted the hiking and birdwatching, and the third focused on the bike tour and kayaking. Jed figured prominently in that one, though she had given him a pseudonym. She’d mention that to him tonight because she didn’t want it to be a surprise. Their fling might end tomorrow when she checked out, but she wanted to go out on a positive note.
Jed hadn’t specified the time they would meet for dinner, and they had not exchanged phone numbers, so she couldn’t call or text to ask him. She took a glass of Prosecco to the deck that overlooked the ocean. The best thing about this trip was t
hat the B&B’s she’d booked were all on the ocean. Growing up in Northport, she had a preference for being close to water. Lake Michigan had always been a stone’s throw away. The Pacific was vastly larger, though from her vantage point, they seemed remarkably similar. The difference lay in the scent. Lake Michigan smelled fresh and sandy, and the Pacific tinged the air with a briny taste that lingered on her tongue.
Strong hands enveloped her shoulders, and she recognized Jed’s touch. Pleasure radiated from the warmth of his palms. Happiness lighting her from the inside, she turned to see his handsome face and the sexy smile curling his kissable lips. “Hey. How was your day?”
He kissed her cheek. “Better now. Were you waiting long?”
Honestly she had no idea how long she’d been waiting. Tru excelled at solitude, and though she was often alone, she was rarely lonely. She’d passed the time by composing bits of her next article in her head and in luxuriating in the simplicity of just being alive. She set her wine glass on the railing and threaded her fingers through his. “You’re worth the wait.”
“Glad to hear it.” He leaned down, intent on stealing a kiss.
“You’ll also be glad to hear that you didn’t make my top ten list.”
His intention arrested, he paused inches from her lips. “I didn’t?”
“Nope. Last night did not rate a place on my top ten list of worst dates. Your finesse and stamina definitely saved the night.”
A low chuckle vibrated from his chest, and he resumed his quest for a kiss. His lips had barely grazed hers when they were interrupted.
“Seriously? This is how you keep an eye on her?”
Tru looked over to see Liam standing two feet away, hands on hips, and waves of anger emanating from his tight expression. She hadn’t expected to see him ever again. Her jaw dropped, and she jerked away from Jed’s kiss. “Liam?”
“I see you do remember me.” He came closer and directed the entirety of his ire at Jed. Rage simmered below the surface, giving her a first glimpse at just how powerful he could be. She’d known he was strong, and she’d suspected he was dominant, but she hadn’t realized that he had a dangerous edge. “I asked you to watch her, to be there for her, not to make a move on her.” His fists clenched and flexed, thick tendons clamoring to make contact with Jed’s face.
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