In Search of Truth

by Sharon Wray

  “Zack.” Her breathless word wasn’t a statement or a demand. It was a plea that made his heart swell until he was sure it would break his ribs.

  Using his body to keep her against the tree, he held her face in his palms and planted tiny kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, before resting his lips against hers again.

  She ran her fingers through his hair until reaching the tie behind his neck. A brief tug and his hair fell down, closing them in a world of their own. “I love your long hair.”

  He moved his hands to her rib cage, his thumbs perilously close to her breasts that swelled at the attention. “I’d cut it if you wanted me to.”

  “No.” She took his hands and moved them until they held her breasts through the thin silk. “I like it. It makes you look wild. Like my wild man.”

  He ran his thumbs over her nipples, and they hardened instantly. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree. With both their hands on her breasts, he drove his hips against hers. It was important that she understood what she did to him, understood how he needed her, understood that they were hitting the moment where ending this would take every last ounce of willpower.

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with a force he didn’t expect. He held her waist so her legs could encircle his hips. Using his body to hold hers up, he planted his hands on the tree. Their bodies connected at every soft curve and hard angle. Her breasts flattened against his chest; his erection between her thighs strained against his jeans. Their bodies were as close as two could be with clothes on.

  A situation he hoped would be addressed soon.

  As if understanding his need, Allison broke the kiss to whisper, “Please don’t stop.”

  He met her gaze. “Are you sure?”

  She bit his earlobe. “Yes.”

  Fuuuuuck. His body jackhammered against her. He didn’t want to do this outside against a tree, but he’d no strength to move elsewhere. It took a moment to unzip his pants, slip aside the tiny scrap of lace separating them, and move his cock to her entrance. He held her waist again and lifted her up. He felt her intake of breath and pulled her down until he’d buried himself so deeply inside her he wasn’t sure where she began and he ended.

  She gasped and tightened her hold on his neck, her lips taking his hostage.

  Using his strength, yet trying not to hurt her, he lifted her up and down again. She moved her hips until he repeated the driving action, over and over, the entire time listening to her labored breaths.

  Her core tightened around his cock and he increased the speed. What kind of man was he to treat her so wretchedly? Forcing himself deeply inside her, her back against the rough bark, his hands squeezing her waist?

  Despite the tightening in his balls, he paused the motion and slowed the kiss. She clenched her thighs, but since he had the greater strength, he was in control. Without a word, he swung her around and lowered her to a patch of damp grass nestled between the pond and a row of white daisies, the entire time keeping himself inside her.

  Once beneath him, her body protected by the soft earth, he adjusted himself between her legs and placed his hands on either side of her head. Her blond hair shone from the tiny lights around them; her green eyes glimmered. He began the driving motion again—slowly, then not so much. It took barely a moment to reach the intensity that obliterated everything around him.

  “Zack,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Oh. Shit. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to tighten and clench and slam until he had only one conscious thought: Allison.

  * * *

  Was this what sex was supposed to be like?

  Allison closed her eyes and gripped Zack’s strong shoulders while he drove into her with a power and force she’d never before experienced—a passion she’d never even imagined. She arched her hips and met him thrust for thrust, desperately seeking to fill the emptiness. For the first time in forever, she felt warm and wanted and desired.

  Without opening her eyes, she traced the muscles from his shoulders to his biceps beneath his T-shirt, feeling how cold her hands were against his hard, hot skin. She gripped his arms and relaxed into the damp ground. It’d been so long since she’d made love, she wasn’t expecting to climax. And she was okay with that. It was the closeness she craved, the pressure of his thighs pushing her own apart, his weight on top of her body, his ragged breath on her forehead.

  A light rain began, and she heard plit-plats on the pond. She appreciated the cooler air because an unfamiliar heat had started in her toes and was working its way up her bare legs that were rubbing against his jeans. Her heart filled with a happiness so intense it left her as fragile as glass.

  Suddenly, his thrusts sped up and then stilled, like the moment between when a drop forms on an icicle and the time it falls.

  She opened her eyes to see his own were closed, his face raised to the sky, his nostrils flared. His muscles bunched beneath her fingers. Had he stopped breathing?

  He pulled back for a moment, then released himself inside her with a powerful thrust and a growl that sounded like an animal. Her wild man. He collapsed on her and his weight drove the breath from her lungs. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. Burying her head into his neck, she took three deep breaths. His powerful, masculine scent filled her lungs and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

  How could anyone call this man a coward?

  Zack kissed her face. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head because she didn’t want him to see her tears. “I’m so happy.”

  He frowned and moved off to lie next to her. He pulled her into his arms until her head rested on his shoulder and her clenched fist lay on his chest. Her legs were intertwined with his, her skirt bunched up around her hips. The rain had turned to mist, but she had no intention of moving.

  When she shivered, he took her fist and brought it to his lips. “I didn’t give you enough time.”

  She raised up to meet his gaze. His eyes shone in the reflection of the white lights strung through the trees. “I’m fine.”

  He snorted and started to roll her over again, but she pushed him until she lay on top of him. “Honestly, Zack—”

  “I didn’t do my job because I’m a selfish bastard.”

  She placed one hand over his mouth. “Shh. You gave me such a priceless gift, more than any climax could.” She removed her hand and kissed him thoroughly. When she was done she rested her head on his chest and counted his heartbeats. “You made me feel desired. You made me feel beautiful. Two things I haven’t felt in years.”

  The way his hands rubbed her back, up and down her spine, told her he was mulling.

  She snuggled closer into his embrace. Although the mist was abating, she shivered.

  Zack’s hands stilled and he whispered, “Do you hear that?”

  “It’s Nicholas Trott. He always makes that noise when he looks for me.”

  Zack laughed. “I’ve never heard a dog purr before.”

  “Please don’t talk about it in front of him. He’s sensitive.”

  A second later, Nicholas Trott lay on top of her, turning Zack into a heavily muscled mattress. While she didn’t love the wet-dog smell, she loved the warmth that came from the man below and the dog above.

  “Ugh,” Zack said. “How heavy is Nicholas Trott?”

  She whispered, “I don’t talk about his weight either. It makes him sad.”

  Zack tightened his hold on both her and the dog. Just as she drifted to sleep on top of Zack, not caring about her dirty hair or the dog smell, the rain started again.

  When it began to pour, she scrambled off and discovered Zack had already adjusted his zipper. On the ground, fully clothed in his jeans and T-shirt, he still had his boots on. The only thing undone was his hair.

  They’d made love, but the only skin she’d touched o
n his body was on his face and his arms. She’d never seen him naked. Yet she’d begged him to do this outside in the dark, with their clothes on.

  He took her hand and she dragged him up. Why did she always forget how tall he was, how small she felt next to him?

  He picked her up in his arms.

  “By the way,” he said as he carried her to the house, “your house is haunted.”

  She tightened her hold on his neck. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

  “Tonight, while we were all falling asleep, I saw a flash of white through the bushes. I think it was Mercy Chastain.”

  Chapter 23

  At ten p.m., Alex entered the lobby of the Mills House Hotel and took off his leather jacket. The crystal chandeliers, silk upholstered furniture, and thick floor rugs told him this wasn’t a jeans-and-boots kind of place. It wasn’t his kind of place.

  A uniformed man hurried over, exuding earnestness and polished perfection. “May I help you, sir?”

  “I’m meeting someone in the Best Friend Lounge.”

  The bellboy pointed to the right of the split staircase. “Around the corner.” He stared at Alex’s motorcycle jacket. “Sir, would you like me—”

  “No, thanks.” Alex found his way to the corridor and straightened his shoulders. He’d yet to see Isabel or the Pirate’s Grille. While he was committed to this meeting with his brother, he wasn’t going to hold up his end of the bargain if she didn’t show.

  He entered the tiniest lounge he’d ever seen. The bar took up most of the length of the far wall and small tables were placed in the open spaces. A jazz trio played in the front corner. Low lighting, partitions, and couches gave the space an intimate feel.

  He found Marcellus at the bar drinking a club soda. “I’m here.”

  “And Isabel?”

  “She will come.” Marcellus waved toward the back corner behind a partition. “My lord awaits.”

  Great. Alex headed over, wishing he were back in solitary at Leedsville. He stopped when he got to the table. He wasn’t going to sit until his brother stood.

  Aidan put down his drink and rose. He wore pressed black wool slacks and a blue dress shirt with a matching silk tie. His dark hair was longer than Alex’s and styled with a cut that had to cost a ton of money.

  Aidan’s brown eyes glinted. He sat and waited for Alex to do the same. A waiter appeared with a cold ginger ale, placed it on the table, and left.

  “I preordered it for you,” Aidan said.

  Alex sipped it, savoring the sweetness. One of the things he and his two older brothers had in common was that they rarely drank alcohol. Shitty childhood memories and all that. “Why’d you take Emilie Tremaine?”

  “Why do you want me to meet with Isabel Rutledge?”

  “Isabel stole the Pirate’s Grille from Allison. In exchange for a meeting with you, she will give the Pirate’s Grille to me. That way Allison and Zack can get on with the impossible mission you’ve tasked them with.” While he waited for a reply, he sipped his soda.

  “Isabel can’t be trusted.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “Alex.” Aidan was now staring at his club soda with lime. “I want you to leave Charleston with me.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to take you to Italy. I have a place there, a safe haven I’ve set up for my warriors.”

  “Fianna rehab?”

  Aidan glanced at Alex, but he wasn’t laughing. “I can give you refuge, all the money you’d ever need. You can work or lie around reading and sketching.”

  “Again, why?”

  “You’re in danger here.”

  “The time for saving me has passed, Brother. Next you’re going to tell me your decision to make sure I was convicted of a murder I didn’t commit was for my own safety.”

  Aidan’s glance bounced around the room. “It was.”

  “You know what I think?” Alex leaned forward to whisper, “Your fake concern, your fake promises coming from fake guilt are bullshit.”

  Aidan grabbed Alex’s wrist and pulled him in even closer. “If you stay with Kells and his men, things will get hot.”

  “Things are always hot.” Alex yanked his arm out of his brother’s grasp. “All this, the manipulations, the bribery, the threats, all the Fianna nonsense is for one reason: power. You want to stay in power because you like power.”

  “You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Why is that? Because I’m the stupid younger brother? The one who can always be counted on to fuck up? The one who’s self-destructive, antisocial, and violent? Who the hell do you think made me that way? And while you’re thinking, remember this: out of all of us, I’m the only one who had the balls to go after Remiel even though I knew the consequences.”

  Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “Remiel knows you’re free and will come after you.”

  That deserved a giant duh. “Tell me, Brother. When did the Fianna start targeting women? I don’t mean evil cows like Isabel, but women like Emilie. I thought those were the ones you were supposed to protect? Or have things changed since I’ve been gone?”

  “You don’t understand the consequences, Alex.”

  “No? Then why don’t you tell me? Because I don’t see the honor in terrorizing a woman who’s caused you no harm.”

  “She’s leverage I need to get what I want.”

  “You mean Henry Avery’s treasure? You don’t need money.”

  “I don’t want to spend it. I want to destroy it. If Remiel finds that treasure first, I’ll have to trade Emilie for the treasure.”

  Alex sat back and took a breath. He’d not seen that move coming. “Remiel is a soulless bastard. He’ll torture and kill her. You don’t even know if he’d trade the treasure for her.”

  “Remiel will trade if it means one of Kells’s men, like Zack, will suffer. But”—Aidan waved to the waiter who brought another club soda—“I’d prefer to take the treasure out of play.”

  Alex sipped his soda. What Aidan said was true—Remiel could so easily kill Alex or Kells or any of Kells’s men, but that would take the fun out of things. Remiel was a sadist. He’d rather cause continuous suffering than actually murder the men he hated. The same men he held responsible for his own tragic life. “Stuart was indebted to you, but why put that on Allison? Why don’t you have your men find the treasure?”

  “Stuart was the last person to have the witch’s examination’s appendix. He hid it because he was trying to protect her. In the process, he put her in even more danger.”

  “And Zack? Marcellus called him a coward.”

  “Zack is a coward.” Aidan took a drink. “If you don’t believe me, ask his team that are still in prison.”

  Alex looked away. He’d heard rumors in prison about Zack’s team being in the field without him. But Alex had served with Zack and knew the truth. Zack would never abandon his men. He must’ve had a damn good reason for not leading his team that night. “I’m not going to Italy with you.”

  Aidan took Alex’s arm. “Please, Little Brother. Rein in your self-destructive tendencies and listen to reason.”

  Alex finished his soda and watched the ice melt. “I like my self-destructive tendencies.”

  Aidan sighed and stood. “Horatio is waiting.”

  Alex noticed another warrior in the shadows and stood. “Where are we going?”

  “Zack will want proof his sister is safe.” Aidan gripped Alex’s shoulder. “Horatio will take you to Emilie.”

  Alex pulled away from his brother. “And Isabel? If you agree to meet with her, she’ll give me what I want.”

  “I’ve already issued an invitation.” Aidan raised an eyebrow. “That means I doubt you’ll get what you want from her.”

  Undermined by his brother again. Why was Alex not surprised? “Thanks.”

 
Had Aidan caught the sarcasm?

  Aidan shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Isabel has good reason not to trust the Fianna.”

  “What happened to her when she was seventeen had nothing to do with you.”

  “It’s not about me. Since the man who attacked her when she was a teenager went unprosecuted and eventually became a warrior—”

  “A warrior you beat in the gauntlet.”

  “She distrusts everything about the brotherhood. I don’t blame her for that.”

  Since Alex didn’t blame her either, he followed Horatio and left his brother—hopefully for good.

  * * *

  An hour later, Isabel stood in the courtyard of the Mills House Hotel, yet couldn’t make herself enter. If she did—no, once she did—Remiel would see it as a betrayal and her life would be forfeit. If she entered that hotel, she’d be at the mercy of the Fianna. Something she’d promised herself would never happen again.

  Her phone rang and she moved closer to the center fountain, away from milling guests. “Yes?”

  “We have a problem,” Clayborne said. “The Fianna took one of my men from Hezekiah Usher’s office.”

  She sat on the edge of the fountain, appreciating the cool mist on her back. The sunset had done nothing to alleviate the day’s humidity. “What?”

  “Yep. And from what I can tell, he’s still alive. That means one thing.”

  “If the Fianna haven’t killed him, he’s talking.” She raised her face to the night sky. “He knows nothing.”

  “He knows the location of the work site.”

  The place where they were digging for the treasure. She flexed her free hand and closed her eyes. “You need to find him and take care of this.”

  “You’re fucking crazy. My crew and I are not going up against Fianna warriors. They’ll slaughter us.”

  As usual, the men in her life were cowards. “Any idea where they’re holding him?”

  “No.”

  She straightened her shoulders, opened her eyes, and glanced around to make sure no warriors were present. She needed to find that treasure ASAP. “Any leads on the witch’s examination’s appendix?”