The decision to try to save Caldwell before checking on Isabelle and Lola went against every instinct. She hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it. She had a small hospital’s worth of supplies in her truck. She was his only chance. As she ran from the room, she noticed Diamond had dragged his accomplice with him when he made his escape. They had even managed to pick up the gun pieces. She glanced at the extra bedroom as she sprinted past, but didn’t want to shout to Isabelle in case there were still bad guys around. She just hoped Isabelle knew to stay hidden until she came to get her.
As she rounded the corner to the front door, she had to leapfrog Lola, who was conscious and crawling in the direction of the kitchen, bleeding from her left temple. Holt stopped her single-minded sprint, checked the wound, and saw that the bullet had only grazed Lola’s head. She probably had one hell of a headache. Holt inserted her forearms under Lola’s armpits and quickly dragged her back to the doorway to the extra bedroom. Lola’s eyes were unfocused, and she looked in danger of nodding off, but she was a better bad guy deterrent than anything else Holt had if Diamond, et al, decided on an encore.
“Lola,” Holt said, holding her face to try to force her attention. “I need you to call Moose. Tell him where we are.”
“All did ready,” Lola said, producing a cell phone from her tightly clenched fist.
“Good woman. I’ll be right back,” Holt said and again sprinted down the hall toward the door. Even if Diamond had been exaggerating, she didn’t have much time to save Parker Caldwell.
On her way to her truck, she called 911, reported the emergency, a suspected overdose, and that she was beginning treatment. She hoped they would arrive in time, as she didn’t have much Naloxone with her.
She retrieved the opiate antagonist from her truck, sprinted back to the house, and returned to Caldwell’s side just in time for him to start seizing. He was barely breathing, and when she tried to hold down his arm, just enough to get a new needle in the vein, his skin was cold and clammy.
Holt injected a small dose of Naloxone, wanting to reverse the effects of the opiate overdose, but not wanting to send him into immediate withdrawal, which would be excruciating. From the look of his track-marked arms, he had a pretty serious habit. The first dose of Naloxone had no effect. She gave him more. His eyes shot open and he looked terrified. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down to him, whispering in her ear. She didn’t know if his consciousness was a result of what she was doing, or some Herculean effort to rid himself of the dirty secret he was carrying before he died, but after he confessed, he lost consciousness again, his breathing even more shallow and labored after the exertion.
Moose bolted into the room as Holt was administering the third dose of Naloxone. “What you got, H?”
“OD, not responding very well to the counter.”
“How much have you given him?” Moose stood on Caldwell’s other side and checked his pupils.
“Three doses. He should be responding better.” Holt was frustrated.
“They could have mixed the shit they gave him with something else, Suboxone, tranquilizers, or gotten him drunk.” Moose looked disgusted. “I think he’s fucked.”
“Go check on Lola. She needs a Band-Aid and probably has a concussion. And please get Isabelle out of the closet, but do not let her see this.”
“Max is with Lola, and I checked in with Isabelle before I came in here,” Moose said. “She’s on the bed in the extra bedroom, helping Max with Lola, I think. Lola had talked her out of the closet before I got here so Isabelle had already started to clean her up.”
Holt pulled Caldwell to the floor and began CPR, waiting for the paramedics. She considered it a minor miracle that Caldwell was still alive when they started working on him. They carted him off to the hospital, and she was left with helpless rage―at not being able to prevent this from happening, at Caldwell, at Diamond. At feeling utterly out of control, a sensation both foreign and unwelcome. Suddenly, the only important thing in her life was seeing Isabelle’s face. Just thinking of Isabelle quelled some of the fire threatening to consume her.
Isabelle was sitting alone on the bed, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, her hands and shirt red with Lola’s blood, and she looked like she was losing a battle to hold back her tears. When Holt walked in, Isabelle jumped from the bed and rushed into her waiting embrace. The torment Holt felt evaporated, quickly replaced with relief that Isabelle was safe.
Isabelle had the ability to do what no other person or thing had ever done, quiet the demons lurking in Holt. She hadn’t ever felt this way before. It felt nice to know someone else could calm her when she couldn’t calm herself, but she wasn’t used to needing anyone quite like that either.
“What took you so long?” Isabelle asked, her face buried in the comfort of Holt’s neck. “You smell like sleep, and sweat, and superhero.”
“Sorry, got lost on my way over,” Holt said lightly. “Had to stop for some breakfast. Never good to face bad guys without a full stomach.”
Isabelle punched Holt lightly in the shoulder and kissed her. The kiss felt different. It was just a little more―more intense, more passionate, more promising, just more.
“Do you need to stay for the police?” Isabelle looked like she didn’t want to spend another minute in the house.
“Unfortunately. I don’t think they’ll be satisfied with catching me later at the office. They’ll want to talk to you too.” Isabelle started crying again. “Only if you’re up for it,” Holt said quickly.
“This night just kinda sucked. I’m a little overwhelmed. I’m kinda over the gunshots. Is anyone else hurt?”
Holt slid her hand from Isabelle’s shoulder, and Isabelle welcomed her as their fingers intertwined. “How about tonight we stay like this and see if together we can get through whatever they throw at us?”
Isabelle nodded, and they walked hand in hand to the living room to speak with the cops.
Chapter Twelve
After waiting for the police and recounting every detail of Isabelle’s close call, Holt was wound tight and struggling to contain her restless energy. She was angry, frustrated, and wildly turned on. She had been living in such close proximity to Isabelle, under stressful circumstances, for over a week, and tonight she had almost lost her. She wanted to reconnect with her, check out every inch of her, make sure she was safe. She also didn’t know how to get rid of the feelings tearing her up, and sex seemed far more enjoyable than hours at the boxing gym. She had been sitting with Isabelle glued to her side for two hours, holding her hand and trying to keep her from looking at the bullet holes in her walls. It was taking its toll.
“Do you mind if we go to your place?” Isabelle asked.
Isabelle seemed to be experiencing the same longing as Holt, because once in the truck, she wasn’t shy about letting her hands wander all over her. She caressed Holt’s thigh, smoothed her hand along Holt’s abs, and ran her fingers through her hair.
“It’s not generally a good idea to tease the animals,” Holt said. “You’re driving me a little crazy here.”
“Good,” Isabelle said. “I know we’re not supposed to be going there, and I’m sure it’s the adrenaline and trauma, but I really want you―need you―right now.”
Not knowing if it was a good idea, but too tired to care, Holt said, “I’m all yours.”
When they skidded to a halt in front of Holt’s building, Holt leapt from the truck and ran around to open Isabelle’s door. Isabelle sprang into her arms and Holt held her, feet off the ground, kissing her senseless. With one foot, Holt kicked the truck door closed and Isabelle wrapped her legs around Holt’s waist.
There was nothing they could say to each other to make the trauma they had suffered any less, but they could share the emotions with touch, kiss, and passion. It felt like they were trying to explain what they were feeling with each kiss. They kissed frantically, passing the tension back and forth until it was less terrifying and felt more manageable.
They stumbled up the outside stairs, leading to the private entrance to the third floor, neither relinquishing the other’s mouth. When Holt glanced away from Isabelle long enough to punch in her personal code to open the door, Isabelle latched on to her lip and gave a less than gentle tug. The door clicked open and they fell through, landing in a heap of tangled limbs in the entryway.
Isabelle was on top and took full advantage of her position. Holt’s shirt was off and discarded, hitting the door that one of them had managed to kick shut. The sight of Holt’s exposed breasts sent Isabelle over the edge. She was straddling Holt’s hips and working on tracing yet another one of her tattoos when she looked Holt over and stopped what she was doing.
“Do you even know the meaning of the word cheeseburger? Muscles and tattoos, God, you’re sexy. If you take your pants off, I’ll probably explode.”
Holt enjoyed the scrutiny of her upper body. Isabelle’s stare was primal and her hunger apparent. She could feel the heat travel across her skin, following the path of Isabelle’s attention. Before Isabelle recovered fully and could begin working on her pants, Holt turned the tables. She pumped her hips once, throwing Isabelle off balance. In a fluid motion of a much repeated sit-up movement, Holt sat up and caught Isabelle against her. She raised her knees slightly, allowing a measure of support to Isabelle so she could remove her shirt.
Isabelle’s nipples tightened against the cool air and in anticipation of things to come. Holt pulled Isabelle to her, raising her knees higher, forcing Isabelle’s smaller frame tighter to her body. Their kiss wasn’t gentle or tentative. The night had been too emotional and stressful. The need between them pulsed in the still air.
“You said you had a bed?” Isabelle asked.
When Holt nodded and pointed, Isabelle sucked Holt’s lower lip into her mouth and tugged. Holt was forced to follow Isabelle’s lead or lose her lip, and ended up flat on her stomach on the floor of her entryway when Isabelle abruptly let go and moved away. Isabelle was playfully sashaying to the bed, probably making sure Holt was getting the full effect of her impressive ass. Holt executed a push-up a Navy SEAL would have been proud of and set off in pursuit.
They collided in a tangle as they reached the bed, and Holt’s momentum sent them tumbling onto the soft comforter. This time Holt ended up on top, and she didn’t waste the opportunity. Before she streamed a line of kisses along the long, elegant neck below her, she pinned Isabelle’s hands above her head and held them there. At the base of her neck, Holt bit down, eliciting a tiny scream from Isabelle.
Trusting Isabelle to leave her hands where they were, Holt traced the curve of Isabelle’s breasts with one hand, using the other to unbutton Isabelle’s pants. With only minimal help, Isabelle shimmied out of her jeans and everything underneath. Holt’s head spun. She felt drunk taking her first look at Isabelle’s beautifully naked body. Although she had slept with plenty of women in her time, nothing had prepared her for this.
She let her body lead the way, since her brain was useless, and she followed her instincts. Replacing her hand with her mouth, she worked her way around Isabelle’s breast, not quite touching her nipples. She used her hand to do the same to Isabelle’s other breast. One whimper from Isabelle was all the encouragement Holt needed. She sucked one rock hard nipple into her mouth and bit down gently. Isabelle moaned and held Holt’s head tight to her, arching off the bed, encouraging her to take more. Holt did, switching her attention between one and then the other. She briefly wondered if she could make Isabelle come like this. It seemed like a possibility.
Isabelle slipped her hand down Holt’s torso and swiftly unbuttoned her jeans.
“No underwear. I like it,” Isabelle said.
“I didn’t have time earlier. I wanted to get to you.” Holt briefly felt the vulnerability of earlier, but drove it away.
Isabelle continued her exploration. Holt was wet and hard and shuddered at her touch. As Isabelle stroked harder along Holt’s already erect clit, Holt growled and pushed her knee between Isabelle’s, forcing her legs apart and spreading her own in the process.
Holt pulled herself back up Isabelle’s body far enough to have access to her mouth and also make it easier for Isabelle to enter her. Nearly ready to come from the few strokes already delivered, she wanted them to get off together. She smoothed her hand down Isabelle’s body, feeling the tight peak of a hardened nipple, the fluttering of her stomach as her breath increased its pace, and the silky hairs meeting between her legs. She was wet and just as hard as Holt.
They joined first lips and then bodies as each drove into the other. Isabelle arched up as Holt slumped lower, connecting their bodies along their entire frames. Holt tried to block out the rushing in her ears and head as she struggled not to come. She wanted to wait, and most importantly, she wanted to please Isabelle. Their moans mixed with fierce kisses as they drove each other closer to the edge. Holt pumped her hand faster, matching the rhythm of Isabelle’s hips, feeling the muscles around her fingers contracting in the first waves of orgasm. Isabelle pushed deeper into Holt and they came hard and loudly, calling out their pleasure.
Holt lowered herself onto her side, but didn’t remove her fingers. She rubbed her thumb across Isabelle’s clit and was rewarded with a swift intake of breath and the immediate rise of her hips. She came quickly and seemed to melt into the bed, looking supremely happy. Holt had never seen someone so sexy or so beautiful. Seeing Isabelle without fear or paranoia in her eyes was a gift so precious, Holt was willing to work forever to keep her happy. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
Chapter Thirteen
Isabelle didn’t wake until late in the morning. When she and Holt had finally fallen asleep, the sun was just sliding over the horizon welcoming a new day. Despite the attack in her home the previous night, she felt relaxed and happy. Sex with Holt was good like that.
Isabelle could tell Holt was agitated, though she was clearly trying to hold still. Even though she hadn’t let go of Isabelle all night, her arms were vibrating with tension, and she didn’t look like she’d just woken up.
“How long have you been awake?” Isabelle asked, leaning her head back and kissing Holt.
“A little while. Just doing some thinking,” Holt said. “I think it’s too much of a coincidence that one of your clients owns a methadone clinic and Diamond had all those bottles in his apartment. I need to follow up.”
“Aren’t bounty hunters the action type? Shouldn’t you be kicking in a door or something?”
“I can’t reach the door from the bed,” Holt said, smoothing Isabelle’s hair and kissing the top of her head, pulling her closer as she did. “I didn’t want you to be freaked out when you woke up. I didn’t want you to be alone this morning, and I didn’t want you to jump to conclusions about last night, so I stayed. I’m sure my crew can keep things running without me today. Lola called in sick for you too. I hope I didn’t overstep by asking her to do that.”
“I know what last night meant, Holt,” Isabelle said, but even as she did, she wasn’t sure it was the truth. She had expected to still feel unsafe this morning, but in Holt’s arms, she didn’t. She had also been counting on one night being all she needed to get Holt out of her system. If possible, she wanted her even more this morning.
“That’s good,” Holt said, “because I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“I don’t either,” Isabelle said. “I really like having sex with you. That I’m sure about. But your job, my past, last night. I still don’t know, Holt. I wish I did. I thought I would.”
Holt held Isabelle a little tighter. “I really like having sex with you too. At least we can agree on that. I still have to protect you. I still have to find who is chasing you. I honestly don’t know if I can do that if we’re sleeping together every night. Usually, I count on a certain level of detachment.”
“You can’t keep running yourself ragged,” Isabelle said. “Can you let someone else take over at my house every night?” Isa
belle didn’t like the thought at all.
“No way. I barely survived tonight. I trust everyone I work with, but not with your life.” Holt looked queasy.
“Where does that leave us?” Isabelle asked.
“Horny and exactly where we were yesterday morning, I think,” Holt said, apology in her eyes.
“Fine, then tell me a story to distract me. Why do you do this job?” Isabelle asked. “And I don’t mean why are you okay with the violence, or what motivates you to come to work every day. Tell me why you started this company. Tell me why you do what you do. I’m so anxious all the time, and you and your people are so competent, but I think it would help me to understand you better.” Holt had rejected her request for this story once before, but knowing more about Holt seemed more important. How could she decide if she was okay with what Holt did without knowing why she did what she did?
Holt tensed, not a lot, but enough for Isabelle to notice.
“I mostly became a bounty hunter to piss off my parents. And it turns out I’m pretty good at it,” Holt said. “You have to go back much further to get the full story though. Jose, Lola, and Moose are all involved. I’ve known Jose since childhood and Moose from middle school. Lola joined the team later.”
“But there’s more to it than that, right?”
“Moose, Jose, and I were best friends in middle school and high school. There was a fourth guy, George, who was part of our group. Then it all came apart.”
Now Holt was wound tight, her body a coiled, vibrating ball of tension.
“You don’t have to tell me―”
“I want you to know,” Holt said, seeming to make a conscious effort to relax. “I told you how Moose got his nickname. His motorcycle accident that led to his opiate addiction.”
It seemed like Holt was on a roll, and Isabelle didn’t know what to say anyway, so she stayed quiet and waited for Holt to continue.
The Chase Page 14