by Tee O'Fallon
The barn’s floor was damp, a combination of wet earth and decaying hay and straw. Tiger pranced in place, swiveling his head left and right. Eric unhooked the leash from his dog’s harness. Tiger took off for the ammonium nitrate drums then sat in front of them.
“Braaf.” Eric gave his dog a hearty scrubbing on his neck for a job well done, then lifted his arm, urging Tiger to the isolated drum.
His dog shot to the other side of the barn, sitting almost immediately. Odors had to be pouring off that drum.
“Braaf.” Again, Eric pet his dog, this time giving him his favorite toy—a thick orange ball.
While Tiger enjoyed his reward, Remy gave a high-pitched whine.
“Steady, girl.” Dayne stroked Remy’s ears while his dog enviously watched Tiger chomping happily on the ball.
Even before he’d popped the bung on the drum, the strong odor of fuel came to his nose, and he grimaced, stepping back. There was no need to test the contents because he already knew what it was. He’d been expecting it and dreading it.
Moving swiftly, he recapped the drum. If there’d been any doubt as to what these people were doing, now there was none.
The drum contained nitromethane—another key component of an ammonium nitrate bomb.
Chapter Eighteen
Downward Dog. Chaturanga. Cobra. Warrior. Child’s Pose…
It was just past nine p.m. and Tess was exhausted. No matter what she tried, nothing helped. Her muscles were loose, but her mind roiled with tension, totally undermining any good she’d just done to her body. Groaning, she gave up then rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
Mark Pritchard is here. In New Jersey. The man could still make her skin crawl.
It was a foregone conclusion that the second she’d floored the truck away from the barn, the first thing Pritchard had done was to call her stepfather. The cell phone airwaves had to be lighting up the sky brighter than any lightning storm.
Which meant…
I’m back on the grid.
Everything she’d done to escape her past and leave it permanently behind…all for naught.
Am I strong enough to face him?
Pritchard was one thing—a sleazy bastard, to say the least, but her fear of him was solely physical. At least she’d managed to give him a small taste of what he deserved. Her stepfather, on the other hand, had smacked her around then beat on her emotions with his cruel words. He was the only adult figure in most of her life after her mother died. He should have been everything to her.
Father. Parent. Guardian. Counselor. In the absence of a mother, someone to help a young girl through all the angst that came with teenage years. Instead, he’d been cruel and overbearing, prohibiting her from leaving the house. No school, friends, or boys. She hadn’t known any other way, didn’t know there was another life out there somewhere—one without emotional and physical beatings every day of her pathetic life.
One without men like Pritchard.
The threat of being given to a rapist as if she were a bearskin rug to be bartered had hung over her head for years. The second Pritchard moved into town and hooked up with her father, his sick eyes had followed her everywhere. Fear of being handed over to him was the cruelest thing her stepfather could have done. It had been the final straw, the one that had shown her just how much he not only didn’t love her but thought of her as a piece of property, something to be sold when it suited his needs.
Jesse was right. Her stepfather would pop a blood vessel if he knew she was shacking up—even temporarily—with an ATF agent.
The good news was that her brother was improving. Before letting that agent drive her home, she’d insisted on visiting Jesse at the hospital. After giving him a quick update on the controlled delivery, she’d warned him about Pritchard. The bad news was that Jesse would have to remain in the hospital for a couple more days, which meant sticking around.
Living with Eric in his house. Alone.
She covered her face with her hands, not certain whether she was on the verge of laughing, crying, or both. There was one point of fact she could no longer ignore. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but with every minute she spent with him, the more her emotions complicated matters.
I’m falling for him.
Those feelings had existed back in Springfield, simmering at a slow burn, only waiting for the match that would light the fuse and blow her sanity to kingdom come.
The truth sucked, because Eric was a man who didn’t do commitment, marriage, or kids, and whose quest for revenge was inextricably linked to her past. Until that morning, she hadn’t known the full extent of how much everything was connected, and she was powerless to disconnect them.
She rolled up her yoga mat then pushed to her feet and repositioned the coffee table in the center of the living room.
Once Eric heard a clear version of her conversation with Pritchard, he’d grill her mercilessly until she’d have no choice but to tell him the truth. All of it. Then he’d hate her and kick her out on her ass. She hadn’t meant to leave the pickup’s motor running, but her inadvertent mistake had given her a reprieve. A temporary one, but all she needed were two days. Then she and Jesse would be long gone.
She dug her fingers into the yoga mat. Ironically, she’d found the first place that finally felt like home, and there was no possible way she could stay there. Here, in Flemington. That’s where Eric was, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being so close and having him hate her, something that was inevitable.
What she ought to do was tell him the whole sordid story, but all that would do was warp the prosecutor’s viewpoint of Jesse’s involvement, and her brother might wind up in jail for a crime he knew nothing about. A risk I can’t take.
She went upstairs, pausing to look at the photo on the wall of Eric with his friends. His murdered friends. Her wallet was almost empty, as was her bank account. There was only one decent thing to do.
Leave.
At least, find another place to stay, somewhere near the hospital. Most of the day, she could stay with Jesse in his hospital room, and when the nurses kicked her out at night, she’d sleep in her car in the parking lot. Surely, any guard who found her would understand her need to be close by.
With her resolve firmly in place, she stormed down the hallway to her bedroom. Not her bedroom, she reminded herself. The room Eric had graciously allowed her to stay in, and the only room in the house with any color. Somehow, he’d known she would like it. If nothing else, maybe she’d leave him with a different perspective on having a little color in his life.
She dropped her yoga mat on the floor then grabbed her duffel from the closet and began gathering her clothes. What she’d brought with her from Springfield lay all over the room, draped on every piece of furniture.
Next, she went to the bathroom and stuffed her toiletries in the bag. She grabbed a towel from the rack and began wiping the counter. When the granite and sink were gleaming and smudge free, sad laughter bubbled up inside her. Given what a neat freak Eric was, he’d be pleasantly surprised at her thoughtfulness. What had she been thinking, that she and Eric could have lived happily ever after?
You pathetic, hopeless dope.
She turned, slowly searching the remainder of the bathroom to make certain she hadn’t missed any of her things. The beautiful, brightly colored silk scarf Eric had bought for her in town draped over another towel bar. The dangly, beaded fringe clicked softly as she tugged it gently from the rack and held it to her breast. It was the prettiest thing anyone had ever given her. She didn’t know if it had come from the heart—Eric’s heart—but she would cherish it just the same. Because he’d given it to her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think about the adorable look on his face as he’d insisted on buying it for her. Whatever his motivation had been, he could see how much she loved it and knew there was no way she could ever afford it.
Tears leaked from her eyes. She’d loved everything about that little shop
, about Flemington, about being here with Eric.
Still sniffling, she stuffed the scarf into her bag and flicked off the bathroom light. As she turned, sounds of the front door opening and closing came to her ears. Moments later, pounding feet—dog feet—sounded on the stairs, then Tiger trotted into the room, tail wagging, face smiling.
Eric was home.
She’d hoped to be out of here before he returned, but it didn’t alter her plan in the slightest.
Baloney.
Telling him goodbye in person would make it harder. A lot harder.
She set her bag on the floor. Needing comfort, she leaned down and took the shepherd’s face in her hands. His coat was warm, his almond-shaped eyes glittering. He leaned in and gave her chin a sloppy lick. The furball certainly liked to lick. She wrapped her arms around the dog and ran her hands down his back. He rested his muzzle on her shoulder and sighed.
Eric stood in the doorway. He took in the room from narrowed eyes, and she wanted to laugh. The room was clean for the first time since she’d moved in. His neat freak sensibilities should be pleased, but there was definitely anger simmering in those icy blue depths.
“What the hell are you doing?” he thundered, charging in.
Remember your resolve. “Packing.”
“I can see that,” he snapped, hitching his chin to her duffel. “Why?”
She rose from her crouched position next to the dog. “It’s time for me to leave. I realize it’s been quite an imposition having Jesse and me stay with you. Now that the controlled delivery is done, you’re no longer obligated to play host to us.”
A vein pulsed in his neck. “Obligated? Is that what you think this is?”
“Well, of course.” She snagged her bag then pushed past him to gather the few remaining items she’d left on the bed. “What else could it be? You wanted to keep Jesse close by, so he didn’t take off before doing the delivery. Now that it’s done, you don’t need him anymore. You don’t need either of us anymore.” In truth, he’d never needed her, only Jesse.
Gentle hands fell on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. What she saw in his eyes, in every nuance of his handsome face, was stark shock, which only confused her more.
He cupped her face. “Offering you and Jesse a place to stay had nothing to do with the investigation. I don’t deny that part of me did it to keep an eye on him. He wouldn’t be the first cooperator to take off on an agent and disappear, but that’s not why I did it.”
“Then why did you?” she whispered, feeling every one of his fingers branding her flesh.
“Because—” His brow momentarily furrowed, then his eyes softened. “I did it for you.”
She blinked, still not understanding. “But why?” she managed, barely hearing her own words above the fluttering of her heart.
“I wanted to help you.”
“Oh.” The light dawned, and she felt utterly stupid that she hadn’t figured out his motivations. “I get it. I’m Andi’s friend, and she’s married to one of your best friends. You did it as a favor to Nick.”
When he dropped his hands from her face, she knew she’d hit the mark, and her heart sank. For one incredibly naive moment, she’d actually dared to hope there was another reason that didn’t involve his investigation or a favor to a friend. Now, that hope was irrevocably dashed.
Eric frowned again, deeper this time.
“It’s okay,” she said, trying to keep it light, while inside her heart was breaking. She grabbed her nightie from the bed and shoved it into her bag. “I’ll be packed in a few minutes. I understand. Really, I do.”
“No. You don’t.” His voice was harsh yet his touch gentle as he again turned her to face him. He bracketed her head with his hands, sifting his fingers through her curls. “I didn’t do it for Andi, or Nick, or any other goddamn person on the planet. I did it for me. And for this.” He lowered his head and kissed her.
Chapter Nineteen
Tess froze, shocked into absolute and complete immobility.
His lips were warm, his tongue gentle yet insistent as it invaded her mouth.
Don’t do this.
What she ought to do—no, make that what she needed to do—was push him away, and the time to do that was now. “Eric, I—”
“Mmm,” he said against her lips, kissing her deeper, cutting off the words she would have spoken next.
I have to tell you something. The truth.
But oh, this feels so right. He feels so right. And she didn’t want him to stop.
She slid her hands up his hard abdomen, over his muscled pecs and kissed him back, inherently understanding she was clinging to a perilously shaky limb that might very well break beneath her, sending her crashing to the ground. Because once he learned the truth, he’d never forgive her.
He wrapped his arms around her, molding his big body to hers. Heat and longing licked at her breasts, her thighs, and at the very core of her being, battling with the last vestiges of her willpower and common sense. This was wrong, and she needed to stop things before they went too far.
Instead, she dragged her hands down his back, digging her nails into his skin through his shirt. Maybe just this one time. One incredible night with him before my past destroys everything in its path.
It would be the most selfish thing she’d ever done in her life, but there it was—her justification. All she had to do was reach out and grab hold. They would both be horribly hurt in the aftermath, but for now…just for one night…
Then I’ll walk away.
Eric slid his hands to cover her buttocks then up the sides of her rib cage. His hands, so big and gentle, curved over the tops of her breasts, cupping them, urging her to lean into him, increasing the exquisite pressure of his touch.
God, how she wanted his mouth on her bare breasts, sucking and teasing her tender nipples.
“I love this yoga outfit,” he murmured as his mouth left hers to nip at her earlobe then drop hot kisses along the curve of her neck. “It’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” He drew back, breathing heavily as he slid his hands slowly, teasingly, down her waist. “But it’s gotta go.”
He hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of her yoga pants, taking her thong with it, and in one smooth, steady motion tugged them to her ankles. Heat pulsed between her legs, and with it came a rush of longing she hadn’t known existed.
I want him. I want to be with him more than anything.
When she stepped out of the garments, he tossed them aside. A soft snort reminded her that Tiger was still in the room, watching them curiously, tilting his head first to the left, then the right before lowering slowly to the floor and resting his muzzle between his front paws.
“Voruit.” Eric pointed to the open door.
With obvious reluctance, Tiger rose and stalked from the room.
“Poor baby,” Tess managed between heavy breaths.
“Poor baby?” Eric arched a brow. “No cop makes love to a woman with his partner watching.” One corner of his mouth lifted then he tugged her top up, forcing her to raise her arms. He let the yoga bra fall to the floor then stood completely, utterly still. His chest rose and fell, his nostrils flaring as he stared long and hard at her breasts. He wasn’t even touching her, yet when he ran his tongue over his lips, her nipples tightened and puckered as surely as if he’d laved them with his wicked, wicked tongue.
She shivered at his unabashed perusal. The intensity of his gaze was both sexy and awkward. She was completely naked, while he was totally clothed, from his black cargo pants and shirt to the holstered gun, belt badge, and—oh, yeah—handcuffs.
Unable to bear his scrutiny a moment longer, she moved to cover her breasts. His hands shot out, gripping her wrists gently and pulling her hands away.
“Don’t. I want to look at you. You’re so, so beautiful.” Releasing her wrists, he laced their fingers together, holding her arms out from her sides, making her feel even more uncomfortable. “You’re everything I dreamed you would
be, and more.”
Somehow, his words penetrated her thickening haze of lust and passion. “You dreamed of me?” He had to be joking. A man like him could have any woman he wanted. Why her?
“Honey, I’ve dreamt about you at least once a week since the moment I first saw you.”
“You’re kidding.” He had to be. Right?
“No, I’m not.” The look on his face turned serious.
“That was a year ago,” she countered. In that time, there had to have been a long line of gorgeous women—tall, runway-model women—in and out of his bed. She had to believe that. Needed to believe that, because she couldn’t allow herself to think that she was special to him in any way. This was just sex, that’s all it was. Keep telling yourself that. Otherwise she doubted she could find the strength to walk away.
“Nine months, actually,” he said with conviction. “And I haven’t been with another woman since.”
Uh-oh. “At the risk of being redundant, you’re kidding.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “A man never kids about his celibacy.”
She gulped. This is not good, not good at all. When a man says things like that, a woman can’t help but start to—
Fall for him. Which she already suspected was happening.
How could she not? Because, God help her, she’d dreamt of him, too. So many times she’d lost count.
He gave her a sheepish grin. “The first time I saw you, I practically choked on my tongue.” His blue eyes darkened. “Right now, I can think of more constructive things to do with my tongue.”
Oh, yeah. So can I.
He released her hands to cup her breasts, leaning down to lave one nipple with his tongue, swirling it around and around until it puckered and hardened into a tight little peak, while tugging the other between his thumb and forefinger.
His mouth was hot and hungry as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, sending jolts of pleasure shooting…everywhere.
Her head fell back, and she pressed her lips together to keep from screaming out: yesss. His tongue and lips were everything she imagined, and so much more.