Neva sucked in a breath but otherwise made no sound. Matthew slapped the belt down again, admiring the red lines it raised across her skin. She sighed sweetly and lifted her hips higher. His third strike crossed her upper thighs, leaving a warm flush in its wake. She moaned and parted her thighs. Matthew wanted a yelp or even a scream. He snapped the leather harder.
A long moan escaped Neva’s lips and she rocked back and forth against the air in a familiar rhythm. Her hands opened and closed in her bonds. Her brow wrinkled as if she was searching for the answer to a puzzling question.
Matthew touched her ass, his fingers greeted by the feverish heat of her spanked skin. “How are you doing, Neva?”
Her hips rolled in the air, her face a picture of beatitude. “More, please. I’m all yours.”
Matthew spanked her with the belt a few more times, amazed by her seemingly endless capacity to take the blows. The more he hurt her, the happier she became, spreading herself wider, begging him and straining toward him. He probed her, discovering nipples drawn tight and a sex dripping with the spicy flood of her arousal. He’d never seen anything like it.
Neva purred in the back of her throat as he searched her body, and Matthew suddenly wanted to sink himself into whatever place her pain had gone. He wanted to forget all his worries between her thighs. He dropped the belt and undid his jeans, somehow managing to roll on a condom before burying himself inside her warm, welcoming channel.
She arched back toward him, giving him everything with no resistance. He gripped her hips and held her close against him, flexing his cock inside her just to feel the sympathetic ripples her body gave in response. Finding her so open, so submissive, made him want to take her hard and fast. He thrust as deep as he could, amazed again by how she sighed and responded where another woman might have pulled back from him. Matthew wanted to let her transport him into the world of pleasure he saw on her face. He moved within her, grabbing her by the hips, the breasts and the shoulders.
Before long, he felt himself joining her, so caught in the intimate grip of her body that he could almost forget about Emily. His vision dimmed as he strained for just a little more oblivion, increasing his speed as much as he could in response to her encouraging cries.
But a light in the driveway outside jerked Matthew back to awareness. His desperate thrusting slowed and stilled as he craned his neck to peer out the window high above her bed. “Matthew? You all right?”
The Lotus. How could he have left it in her driveway so carelessly? Panic slammed through him. He fumbled with the quick release he’d tied into the rope around her wrists, releasing her bonds even as he pulled out of her body. Matthew jumped off the bed without answering any of Neva’s spluttered questions. He held his pants up with one hand and raced out of her bedroom and through her unfamiliar house. He slammed his hip into her dining room table and stubbed his toe against the couch in her living room. The front door slowed him, forcing him to fiddle with the unfamiliar pattern of its locks while Neva called to him from the bedroom.
Matthew undid all the bolts and flung open the door in time to see the repo man lowering his flashlight and sliding a key into the driver’s side lock.
“No!” Matthew tripped over his sagging pants and sprawled face-forward in Neva’s front yard. The repo man snickered and opened the car door, going into a deep crouch to fit his long body into the low-slung driver’s seat. Adrenaline surged through Matthew. He could not allow this to happen. He kicked his pants free and raced full-out for the repo man.
Before the other man could successfully navigate his way into Matthew’s unfamiliar car, Matthew grabbed his arm and yanked him away. The repo man twisted and resisted, but Matthew would not let go. Their bodies tangled together for a moment, then the force of the struggle overcame their balance. The two men tumbled onto Neva’s driveway.
Concrete opened stinging tears along Matthew’s bare knees and forearms, but he gritted his teeth through the pain and rolled to keep the repo man pinned. Lit only by the discarded flashlight and the Lotus’s open-door light, the repo man’s face was all shadows and sharp angles. Matthew hated the sight of it with an intensity he’d never felt before. He punched the other man in the side as hard as he could. Something cracked.
The repo man choked and grunted, sweat breaking out across his forehead. His face paled. “Jesus, man. What’s the matter with you? Don’t hit me anymore. I’m not taking your damn car anywhere tonight. I don’t have a death wish, and I don’t think I could drive right now anyway.”
“You stay away from me and my car.”
“For tonight, fine. Can you get off me? I think you broke one of my floating ribs.”
“Stay away permanently and we have a deal.” Matthew lay across the other man’s body, increasing the pressure on his adversary’s rib cage.
Rage and pain transformed the repo man’s face. “You think you’re above the law?”
“No more or less than you, my friend. You think you can steal my car, and I think I can make you pay for that.” Breathing hard, Matthew eased himself off the repo man, reaching to the Lotus for reassurance. She was still there beside him, her newly painted door sleek under his fingers. He nudged the repo man with his toe, and the man cried out and tried to roll away.
Matthew glanced back toward Neva’s house. She’d still be in there, naked and waiting for him to finish what he’d started. He didn’t have the patience for that anymore. Not when he’d nearly lost the Elise over it. Matthew kicked the repo man one more time to distract him and ran back to where he’d left his pants. He grabbed them, but didn’t bother to pull them on. Still half-naked, he dropped gratefully into the Lotus and sped away. Neva would understand when he explained himself later—she wanted him too much to make trouble over this.
All he wanted now was a long drive, feeling the Elise slicing through the night, her engine purring beneath his feet, her gas pedal more responsive than a woman’s body. But even in this, Matthew couldn’t find the escape he desired.
Just as he eased the car onto the highway, his phone rang. He sighed and picked up without looking. Probably Neva, wanting him to promise he’d see her again.
The voice that greeted him wasn’t nearly as vulnerable as he expected. “Matthew,” the caller said, in a gravelly tone with just the faintest bit of an Italian accent. “I thought we were friends and now I’ve heard the most disappointing news. Did you tip off Bonavita’s gang recently?”
Matthew swallowed hard. He didn’t often receive calls from the Italians’ top brass. Unconsciously, his foot grew heavier on the Lotus’s gas pedal. He accelerated as he pulled onto the highway, as if the car really could take him away from all this. The caller cleared his throat impatiently and Matthew jumped in with a response. “I just gave them the usual deal, Sergio. Make it worth my while and I’m on your side, no matter who you are.”
“Well, Matthew, you screwed us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We want Bonavita in jail where he belongs. We’ve…put a lot of effort into seeing that he gets there. We have plans for him there. Understand?”
Matthew’s chest tightened. When he’d begun making deals, he’d never aimed to play one side against the other—he’d only wanted to get his. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Is your boss in with Bonavita’s gang too?”
“What? Guy? No way. He’s straighter than straight.”
“I didn’t expect anyone to cover Bonavita’s bail at all. I definitely didn’t anticipate you’d get your hand in this, Lodi, and help the man get away.”
Matthew’s heart pounded. He rested one hand on the Lotus’s gear shift, stroking it for comfort. He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, peering through the windshield into the night as if the solution to his problems waited at the next exit. “What can I do to make it right?” His voice came out smaller than he’d intended, freighted by audible fear.
“Retrieve Bonavita. We’ll add a bonus to whatever your boss will pa
y you.”
“Guy’s got another hunter on that job,” Matthew said. He hoped he could still stay out of the conflict between the two gangs.
“That doesn’t matter to us,” Sergio said. “If the other hunter finds him, fine. But you’re the best. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Matthew said quickly. “Yes, of course.”
“Good. Then I expect you’ll have no problem completing this job—it’s the best choice for your boss, for us and for yourself.”
Matthew recognized veiled threats when he heard them. Emily wouldn’t be happy, but he’d have to add this to the long list of things he hoped she’d get over. He urged the car faster into the night as he considered how best to regain his ex-girlfriend’s trust.
Chapter Five
Emily rushed her captive from her car to her apartment, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t notice the handcuffs that still restrained him. In this neighborhood she’d be surprised if someone took it upon themselves to call the police, but she still didn’t like the risk. He’d gone silent halfway through the car ride over and didn’t comment on the cracks in the concrete leading to her building or the spiderwebs nestled in the stairwell going up or the flimsiness of her apartment door.
She pulled him inside her small apartment and shut and locked the door behind them. He smelled good, like oranges and cinnamon with an undertone of musk that transformed that citrus spice to a very male scent.
She kept her home neat, so she didn’t have a mess to be embarrassed about. However, she couldn’t help imagining what her living room looked like to Javier’s eyes, comparing the shabbiness of her possessions to the sumptuous clothes and furniture that had surrounded him a short time ago. Emily left him standing near the door for a moment while she tugged a threadbare green blanket over the arm of her couch, hoping to hide the stuffing that spilled from a ragged hole there.
Considering how much she wanted to be taken seriously as a bounty hunter, her feelings about this man confused her. It would, of course, be best for her if this was Fernando—she’d cuffed the right man and had fifty grand waiting just as soon as she could get to Guy. Not all of her agreed though. Far too much of Emily had gotten interested in the idea of a younger brother named Javier, just as cute as Fernando but with kinder eyes. She’d even started calling her captive Javier in her mind. It was a lot nicer to think that the man who had flirted with her wasn’t actually a killer. Emily rolled her eyes at herself and focused on the task at hand—establishing his identity.
“Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll see what we can figure out?”
Javier only raised an eyebrow in reply. Emily sighed and tugged him to the couch, pushing him into a sitting position. “Are you going to arrange me with a bunch of stuffed animals and have a tea party?”
Emily glared at him. His lips always seemed to have a teasing curve. “Would you rather I put you in full-body restraints and leave you that way until you sign affidavits swearing you’re Fernando Bonavita?”
Javier blinked.
“Scared you, didn’t I? I’ve been telling you I’m deadly serious, but you keep thinking you can flirt your way out of this.”
Brash bravado spread over his face again. Emily tried not to let it get to her, but his wide, dimpled grin looked so damn charming every time. “Actually, I was kind of turned on thinking about you restraining me like that.”
Emily blew her hair out of her eyes and stared at him. The grin widened even further. Why was he so intent on throwing her off this way? Emily had no illusions about being attractive. Matthew had used her for leads, sex and housecleaning. Men didn’t like her style—bare of makeup, long on attitude and short on patience and feminine graces. A man like this wouldn’t really want Emily. Women would throng him anywhere he went. They’d go crazy over that dark, ruddy skin, the cleft in his chin, the casual way he carried his strength as if he didn’t even know it was there… Emily forced herself to stop thinking about it. Her quarry was trying to play her, and she couldn’t afford to fall for any of it—not the sexual temptation and definitely not the claim of mistaken identity.
She turned away and stepped to the file cabinet at the corner of the room, crowded in beside a secondhand desk to form a makeshift home office. The file Neva had given her had plenty of information she could use to figure out whether “Javier” was who he claimed to be. Emily sifted through official bail documents, records of Fernando Bonavita’s property, reports on the suspected structure of his gang and background check information. She shook some identification information free from the rest of the file.
“What’s your social security number?”
Without hesitation, Javier rattled off a number that didn’t match Fernando’s, but that wasn’t conclusive. She picked up the picture Neva had provided and studied it.
The features in the picture strongly resembled those of the man before her. Solid, lean muscle. Loose dark curls and a mouth that could take her straight to hell. But there was something about the eyes. When Emily looked at Javier, she didn’t feel the warning sense that came over her so strongly from the picture. It wasn’t innocence—Javier had clearly seen more trouble than most. But the man in the picture seemed capable of anything. He narrowed his rich, brown eyes into a cold squint. She couldn’t imagine that expression on Javier. With his all-too-easy smile and a heated gaze that lingered on every detail, he posed an entirely different sort of threat.
Emily settled beside him with the picture, embarrassed at the protesting squawk the ancient sofa gave as it accepted her weight. She tipped toward him more than she would have liked, correcting herself with a hand on his chest. He’d never buttoned his shirt and his bare, nearly hairless skin burned beneath her palm. Her face flushed, Emily snatched her hand away.
She ignored his knowing grin and touched the side of his face, turning him toward her so she could study him in better light. The beginnings of stubble teased her fingertips and his breath tickled the hairs on her arm. Emily cleared her throat and bluffed. “You look just like this picture. I don’t see who you think you’re going to fool, Fernando.”
“You’re not that careless, are you?” Javier tipped his chin up, revealing a sinister smile of a scar that crossed his neck and curled up on either side of his jaw, creeping up toward his earlobes. “Do you see any sign of that in the picture?”
The man in the picture, for all the challenge in his eyes, appeared unblemished. Emily touched the scar softly, noticing his breathing change as she explored the damaged, vulnerable skin. She shuddered—she didn’t want to know where he’d gotten it.
“Do you want to take my prints too?”
His words distracted her from the experience of touching him. “As a matter of fact, yes.” Emily retrieved her kit from her desk and took them. Still holding his wrist with one hand, she compared the ink marks to the set of prints Neva had provided. The briefest glance told her this wasn’t Fernando.
Emily frowned and chewed on her lip. She ought to be disappointed as hell—and worried about catching charges of her own. Felony kidnapping was no joke, and an unfortunately common consequence for bounty hunters who neglected their due diligence.
But she wasn’t disappointed.
“Javier.” The name escaped her lips without conscious intention, full of a longing tone that heated her face with embarrassment.
He smiled slowly. “That’s me.”
Her fingers tightened on his wrist and he shifted in her grip as if he wanted to take her hand.
Without releasing him, Emily’s free hand returned to his scar—she told herself she had to be sure. Javier groaned and tilted his head back for her. She touched him again, just below the jawline, tracing slowly along the scar’s entire length. He sucked his breath in between his teeth, and Emily found herself leaning closer. The heat of his body caressed her even through her clothes.
Javier shifted suddenly, and Emily’s precarious position on the sagging couch cushions dissolved. She fell to lie half-across him, and he caught her lips
with his. She scrambled to recover, finding plenty of his bare skin as she groped for purchase. He smiled against her mouth, the tip of his tongue teasing her, requesting entrance. Emily braced her hands against his shoulders, but instead of pulling back as she intended, she parted her lips.
Javier gave a little growl of satisfaction in the back of his throat and pressed forward, deepening the kiss. For a glorious moment, Emily gave in completely, molding her body to his, responding to him with every fiber of her being. Logic ceased for her, replaced by pure nature. She pulled herself into his lap and found she fitted against him in the most primal and thrilling way. His body warmed and excited her everywhere, making her long to be naked and skin to skin. Beneath her, his cock hardened and extended in his pants. Emily wanted to accept the delicious invitation and climb astride it. She poured six months of frustration and pent-up lust into Javier’s mouth, her tongue frantic against his.
He grunted, chest muscles flexing. Emily wanted his arms around her, and it took a moment for the sexual fog to clear enough for her to remember why his hands stayed behind his back. The hard-won thought shocked her like a bucket of cold water. Emily shoved away from Javier but couldn’t quite bring herself to break contact with him completely. “What the hell was that?”
“I kissed you,” he said, cocky smile in place. “And I think you kissed me back.”
“Jesus, that was inappropriate. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He adjusted his legs on the couch, rocking his hips in the process. Emily could not take her eyes off the promising bulge of the erection that waited for her. “Why don’t you get back here and kiss me some more?”
A flash of anger cleared Emily’s lust for another precious second. She didn’t know anything about this man other than that he’d misled her by pretending to be Fernando Bonavita. Javier acted like he wanted her—and her neglected body had certainly registered its enthusiastic approval of that idea—but he probably intended to manipulate her. If she gave in to this, she’d feel even more foolish than she had with Matthew. She stared resolutely at the dingy wall behind him, hoping to gain a little more sanity by avoiding the enticing sight of him hard and ready on her living room couch.
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