by Joni Hahn
Jaydan walked around the vehicle. Were they… fighting? Sure, they nagged each other all the time but this felt different.
The smell of sweat hit his nostrils. Whipping around, he pulled Hope behind him. A Samoan boy, around ten or eleven, rolled to a stop on a skateboard, baseball cap turned backward on his head. He wore a black, Pearl Harbor t-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. With a bare foot, he stepped on the end of the board to flip it in the air.
He caught it and smiled. “You staying here?”
Jaydan straightened to his full height. “Who wants to know?”
The boy held out a note. Jaydan opened the folded message, printed on plain, white paper.
Tonight, go to the big luau on the beach. What you seek will be there.
Jaydan glanced at the boy. How in damnation did someone know who they were looking for? Obviously, they had the boy watching the house so they knew its traffic patterns and the people that used it.
Stepping beside him, Hope snatched the note from his hand and read it.
Jaydan said, “Who sent you?”
With another smile, the boy held out his hand and rubbed his fingers together. Sighing, Jaydan pulled out a five-dollar bill from his wallet.
The boy’s smile vanished. Hope chuckled beside him.
Pulling out a ten, Jaydan held it up in the air. “Will this do?”
The boy reached for it. Jaydan held it away. “Who sent you?”
“A friend.” The boy reached for it again.
Jaydan held firm. “I don’t have any friends.”
The boy glared at him below slanted brows. “Probably because you’re stingy.”
A grin split Jaydan’s face despite his attempts to remain tough. “Look at the pot calling the kettle black.”
A frown of confusion clouded the boy’s face. “What?”
Laughing aloud, Hope reached out and touched the boy’s chin. A glazed look in his eyes teamed with a sudden blush on his cheeks. She spoke in a cajoling voice, her hand resting on his shoulder.
“If this person is our friend, why didn’t they come see us?”
Seriousness stole over the boy’s features, pinching his mouth. “My note said the risk is too great.”
Jaydan frowned at him. “There’s another note?”
The boy said, “That’s the only way we talk – in notes. I’ve never met your friend.”
Chapter 4
Damp from the shower, Hope slipped into the complimentary terry robe and pulled the belt tight. Staring at her makeup-free face in the mirror, she admonished herself with unforgiving persistence.
Seriously, Hope? Jaydan Rose?
Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced her hands on the counter. He was a cowboy, for gripes sake. She didn’t even like cowboys. Pompous and arrogant didn’t begin to describe his faults, he used to work for a world-renowned criminal, and he treated her like she had one brain cell in her head.
Considering she’d almost kissed him again, maybe she did.
She’d gone from irritation to arousal in the span of an airplane flight. Everything had changed when he talked to his brother.
Turning around, she plopped her bum against the counter. He’d been relaxed and happy talking to Gunner, his voice filled with love. He’d laughed aloud, his white smile striking against his ever-present five o’clock shadow. Even when he’d spoken of his stepfather, he’d had contentment about him, as though he’d come to terms with the past and no longer considered Booker a threat.
He seemed human then, just a normal, everyday man, rather than the badass super agent he’d portrayed every day since she met him. Relaxed and joking, he appealed to her with a stunning surety that left her insides in a jumble, her mind a rubber band ball of confusion.
In the SUV, she’d been seconds away from kissing him. Seconds. If he hadn’t mentioned the danger of his enhancement, she would’ve made a major fool of herself. Again.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her comb off the counter and turned back to the mirror. Why did she care that Jaydan Rose could die? Make that would die? He’d given D.I.R.E. permission to use and destroy his body, with little regard for himself, his family and friends.
Did the safety of mankind really matter to him that much? Or was it something deeper that had him risking his life that way?
She combed out her wet hair. He had the heart of a guardian. He’d proven that on the street yesterday, and today outside the house. He’d stepped in front of her, had put himself between her and danger.
Had confided in her about his enhancement.
Powers International had its own share of secrets, just like D.I.R.E. They were tied to each other despite Mitchell Jacobs’ desire to keep the agency isolated. Riordan bonded them from here on out, regardless of whether they decided to sign a contract for the DNA tracker.
Jaydan would always be a part of her life.
The man disparaged her, argued with her and teased her to no end. Yet, he protected her and confided in her. That had to mean he cared to some degree.
Her shoulders slumped. He only cared because of Riordan. Jaydan considered her an obligation, not a woman.
Her body stiffened, her mind spinning, whirling like a tornado. The bathroom faded from view, leaving her isolated in total darkness. The vision gradually appeared in her mind, the tornado giving way to a dense fog that cleared to reveal images beyond.
Jaydan. His fingers feather-light on the inside of her damp thigh, his mouth hot against her throat. The scents of jasmine, rosewood, and sex spun around them in the fog, the sound of their heavy breathing loud in the dimly lit room. Her naked body arched back in his hands, their skin hot and slick with sweat. He made love to her with arresting intensity, slow, meticulous...
Free.
The vision floated away like a fading shadow at sunset. The bathroom came back into view, bright, quiet and scattered with toiletries. Her heart pounded against her dewy chest, her body aroused and ready for his invasion.
Heaven help her.
Turning on the faucet, she splashed cool water on her heated face. Calming down had to be her first objective. Right now, she wanted him with an incessant hunger that urged her to take care of things herself. But she knew it wouldn’t do – only Jaydan would satisfy her.
Forget the vision, Hope. Put it out of your head.
Drying her face, she took a deep breath and picked up the blow dryer. She had to stay focused, remember why they were together in the first place.
Keegan Meeks.
First on the agenda, she had to try to connect with their new, letter-writing friend. Intuition told her their friend really wasn’t a friend at all. Danger lurked behind the scenes. She could feel it.
Before they left for the luau, she’d run the DNA tracker again to see if it showed Keegan – or Natalie’s relative’s - location. At least they would know that much.
With her hair dry, she brushed the platinum locks into a bright sheen. Tonight, she’d wear it down, with a small braid at her temple. She liked the ocean breeze in her hair. It brought a sense of freedom to her lackluster life.
Digging around in her tote, she searched for a tiny hair band. A loud knock sounded on her bedroom door. She gasped, her hand reaching for her throat.
Not now. Not after that vision.
“Les, why is your father calling me?”
Shutting her eyes against the dread that settled in her chest, she groaned to herself. She couldn’t open that door. If she did, she’d make a complete fool of herself.
Walking over to the dresser, she checked her phone. Three missed calls and a text. Her father must’ve checked his DNA tracker and realized she was in Hawaii.
“Les…”
Looking at the door, she spoke in a raised voice. “Um, I’m not sure. Why don’t you call him back?”
He chuckled in the hallway. “You didn’t tell him you were coming to Hawaii, did you?”
Swallowing hard, she gave her chin a determined tilt. “I don’t report my whereabouts to my
father. I’m not a child.”
His sardonic chuckle angered her.
Storming over to the door, she told herself she had to remember this. During those smokin’ hot visions, she had to conjure up this memory.
“Hell princess, you –“
She whipped open the door to arms’ length. Jaydan stood naked in her doorway, save for a pair of gray, athletic shorts that hung low on his hips. Water droplets hung from his dark, wavy hair and dotted his broad shoulders. His arms and shoulders looked huge, the angles and braids of muscle sharp rather than round, the sinew dense and inflexible rather than pliant flesh. His sculpted torso was covered in hard, ridged muscles with a light dusting of dark hair. He smelled of rosewood and jasmine, his copper and gold armbands branding him a masculine god.
Now, she understood his cougar-like grace, his confident saunter. No man on earth could call himself cut as long as Jaydan Rose walked around. He epitomized the term.
His eyes swirled with dark desire, their focus on her chest. Glancing down, she saw her robe gaped open, exposing the cleavage between her breasts.
She should cover herself. Close the door and walk away. Yet, she stood there, allowing him his fill while she took her fill of him. The sensation started deep inside, her mind recalling the vision, her body readying itself for him.
There was more than one way to prove she wasn’t a child.
With a hesitant reach, she feathered her fingers down the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles contracted beneath her touch, rippling behind her caress in a symphony of sensuality. His half smile made her toes curl, his voice a husky croon.
“My turn.”
With a small step closer, she caught her breath, bracing for his touch.
The pad of his forefinger pressed against her chest. Shutting her eyes, she felt it slide down her body, between her breasts, its journey slow, torturous… rousing.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes popped open, her breathing unsteady. His swirling black gaze bored into hers, his low groan escaping on a wince.
Lifting the robe off her shoulder, he lowered it down her arm, exposing her breast to the cool air. He brushed his fingertips down the slope, toying with her, arousing her with minute effort.
His palm covered her. She gasped aloud, his own following close behind, the heat of his touch warming her through to her core. He kneaded her in slow, luxurious movements, his consummate skill reducing her to a mishmash of longing and need.
Lowering his mouth to hers, he whispered, “I have to taste you…”
His lips brushed hers - before the phone rang in his other hand.
Startled, she backed away, her heart hammering in triple time. Grabbing her hand, he yanked her back against him.
The phone rang again. He tossed it on the bed. She stared at it, wanting to be right there with Jaydan beside her. Inside her.
Framing her head in his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers. God… yes. This was Jaydan, home, where she belonged and where she wanted to be. He tasted of mint and honey and Jaydan, though how she knew his taste, she wasn’t sure. He kissed her with lavish reverence, his mouth slanting over hers with scarcely restrained hunger. She could feel his energy humming just under the surface, ready to burst free, waiting for any sign from her to unleash it.
The phone rang again. Common sense answered, drawing her away from the hottest, most poignant kiss she’d ever had. She didn’t know if she was nuts for stopping or nuts for kissing him in the first place.
Her logical mind told her the latter.
They fought all the time – well, most of the time. He considered her a pain in the rear he had to tolerate because of Riordan. He was a redneck of the third degree, and he had a capacitor in his head that could end his life if he pushed himself too far.
Not to mention, he had one of the most dangerous jobs in the world.
Jaydan Rose had a big, red circle over his face with a line drawn through it.
He stared at her, desire and disappointment blazing in his chocolate eyes. His erection stood tall and prominent in his shorts, his gaze unabashed, his jaw clenched.
She wrapped her robe closed. “Jaydan, I –“
Turning away, he walked to the bed and picked up the phone. A triangular-shaped tattoo marked the skin between his massive shoulder blades, Newton’s Second Law adorning the interior. It spoke of command, of domination and confidence, so like the man that had held her captive just moments ago.
He stalked to the door in angry strides. “Get dressed, Les. I’ll call Luke.”
***
Luke’s relieved voice carried a note of frustration. “Is Hope with you?”
Jaydan paced the large, open living area between the two leather sofas. “Yes, Luke. She’s with me.”
I wish to hell she wasn’t…
Breathing into the phone, he chuckled to himself. “Thank God. I was afraid she’d flown there on her own. In case you hadn’t noticed, she can be stubborn and headstrong.”
And outspoken, annoying, erotic...
“No shit. That’s why she’s with me. She threatened to fly over alone. I knew it would be easier to keep an eye on her beside me than traipsing all over the island, trying to keep up with her.”
Luke chuckled. “Even beside you, she’ll be hard to curb. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Staring at the ceiling, Jaydan reigned in his patience. “I know.”
Powers’ voice came out hard and edged with worry. “I mean it, Rose.”
Anger and self-hatred pressed into him like gale force winds. Luke shouldn’t trust him after what had happened with Riordan.
“I can depend on you… right, Rose? You’ll keep her safe?”
Wincing, Jaydan rubbed a hand over his stomach. “I may have to carry her around kicking and screaming but yeah, I got this.”
“Thanks,” Luke said. “I owe you.”
Luke’s thanks grated on the edges of his conscience. He hadn’t intended to let down Riordan by pulling an all-nighter with Maria.
He still wanted to kick himself in the ass for allowing her to interfere with his job. Throwing his phone into the garbage disposal had been the last straw. He never received Naylor’s messages ordering him to get rid of Riordan. If he had, he would’ve known what was going down and prevented it.
“You don’t owe me, Luke. I’ll always have Saint’s back.”
“Well now, I’ll always have yours. Keep me posted.”
Hanging up, Jaydan tossed the phone on the sofa. Why did that bother him?
Because he just had Luke’s precious daughter in the palm of his hand. Literally. He’d been seconds from pulling her over to the bed and burying himself deep inside her.
Running a hand down his face, Jaydan propped his hands on his hips. Somehow, he had to forget her sweet taste, the mind-blowing softness of her breast, the arousing sound of her lost moans…
Cursing mentally, he dropped to the floor and did one-finger push-ups. He may be able to keep her from danger but who would keep her from him?
Hell. He’d had enough self-psychoanalyzing for one day. He had to figure out who sent that note. Someone who’d taken a chance and didn’t really know them at all? Someone who’d staked out the private hangar at the airport?
Someone who knew the DNA tracker’s frequency?
He smiled to himself. Wouldn’t that piss off Hope?
Whoever it was assumed they were looking for something. Whether that was a hunch on their part or solid knowledge remained to be seen.
If it was solid knowledge, Powers International wasn’t safe. Someone had bugged the conference room or worked there as a snitch.
They would walk into certain danger.
If it was a hunch, someone hoped he and Hope were the cavalry.
He switched to his other forefinger. Regardless, he’d handle it. He’d seen and encountered just about every evil thing the world had created.
If he were at this alone, it would be a piece of cake. With Hope along, it
changed everything. He couldn’t move at will or take risks.
Maybe he’d just lock her in her room.
Laughing to himself, he didn’t hear her approach.
“What’s so funny?”
Jumping to his feet, he brushed off his hands and turned around. His smile faltered.
God help him.
Hope wore a Hawaiian print bikini top, the matching skirt low on her hips, exposing toned abs and perfect belly button. The skirt fell to mid-thigh, with some kind of sheer drape trailing down the back of her legs to her sandals. Her long, platinum hair fell in thick waves over her shoulders, one side braided over her ear.
Rock hard didn’t begin to describe the affect she had on his body, adrenalin rushing to his limbs and energizing him.
He spoke in a low voice. “Damn Les. You look beautiful.”
Her soft smile stirred him further, making him think that maybe he should lock himself in the room with her.
However, the anger that flooded her face seconds after proved he wasn’t as smart as he thought.
“Really? You’re going to say that now?”
He planted his hands on his hips. “Well damn, Les. Most women would like the compliment.”
She mimicked him, hands on her sweet, mouthwatering hips. “Well, I’m not most women, Jaydan.”
He gave a you-got-that-right shake of his head. “That’s for damned sure.”
With a heavy sigh, she turned and walked to the patio doors. “Get dressed, Jaydan. We need to get to the luau.”
The resignation in her voice gave him pause. What had gotten under her skin?
This was not one of her usual outbursts. Sadness had crept into her voice. He didn’t like to see her genuinely upset.
She couldn’t be disappointed about what had happened – or hadn’t happened - in her room a few minutes ago. She’d been the one to stop it.
Thank God one of them had had their wits about them.
Did she have any idea how hard it was for him to walk away from her? That it had taken every ounce of mental strength to shut down his body?
Hell, he didn’t know why he was going there, anyway. He could never be enough for her.
She had it all already.