Checkmate

by Kris Norris

  “Thanks, I think.” He caught the bar, narrowing his eyes on her. He’d never known anyone so head strong, or fit. Being several inches shorter than him, he’d expected her pace to be comfortable. But she’d bounded along the trail with power and grace, and he’d had to work to keep up to her. She’d started the morning covered in layers, but had stripped down to just a tank and tights. He’d found it impossible not to watch the way her muscles moved as she ran in front of him. She was lean and strong, with enough curves to dispel any doubt she was all woman.

  Dawson looked away. He needed to get control of his thoughts, and his feelings. He’d always been able to keep the distance before, no matter what the circumstances. But Kendall was different. After she’d described her life to him—the way they’d moved from town to town, never knowing when Garrick would strike next, only to have the man terrorize them with attempt after attempt—he’d felt connected to her, like they shared some kind of unspoken bond. After all, he knew all too well what it was like to be hunted, and trapped.

  He sighed. He’d have to work harder to stay distant. Keep his mind from straying too far down a road he knew he couldn’t travel. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment, not when it meant compromising her security.

  “Hey?” she interrupted, tossing a small stone at him.

  He deflected it. “What?”

  “You okay? You look…uneasy.”

  “I was just thinking. That’s all.”

  “About what?”

  He smiled. “About what drives a person to do this sort of thing. It doesn’t seem natural.”

  “You think I’m crazy.”

  “No, I think you feel you have something to prove.”

  She tightened her lips. “And what is it you think I have to prove?” she asked.

  “That you’re strong. That you can’t be beaten.” He smiled. “Am I close?”

  “You’d like it if I said yes, Dawson.”

  “You don’t need to say yes, Kendall. I already know I’m right.”

  “I see,” she said, shifting around on the rock. “So you’re not only a federal agent, but a mystic as well. I didn’t realize Tarot cards were standard issue.”

  “What can I say? They’re more durable than crystal balls, not to mention lighter.”

  “Okay, Madame Zelda, since you seem to know so much about me, may I ask you something personal?”

  “Go ahead. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “I doubt that’s true, but just the same, why did you become a federal agent?”

  “I… I like authority, especially when I’m the one dishing it out.”

  Dammit, did he hesitate as much as he thought? What was it about her that seemed to block his natural defenses? He’d answered that question a thousand times without a hitch. And yet, it was the second time in as many days he’d allowed her to witness a reaction to one of her questions. Questions he didn’t really want to answer. It meant sharing his connection with her. A path he was trying not to take. He steadied his expression, but he could tell by the way she narrowed her eyes for a moment, she knew he was hiding something from her.

  “How long have you been dealing with kidnappings?” she continued.

  “About ten years. I requested the assignment as soon as I was given the opportunity.”

  “And how many kidnappings have you dealt with?”

  “Too many,” he sighed.

  “And how many times have you actually found the victim alive?”

  He caught his breath. Damn, he should’ve seen this question coming. “Every kidnapping is unique. It’s not fair to put it into a percentage.”

  “That few, huh?” She looked down at her feet. “You don’t think Trace is still alive, do you?”

  Dawson paused, considering his response. “I think you believe it.”

  She snorted, kicking at some stones. “Because I want to.”

  “Because you need to. If you thought Garrick had already killed him, there’d be no reason for you to keep fighting.” He moved closer to her. “We’ll find your brother, and I pray to God you’re right about Garrick. It’d be nice to up the percentage a few points.”

  She forced a smile and rose to her feet. “Come on. Time for phase two.”

  Chapter Six

  Phase two was even more insane than Dawson had imagined. Kendall led him across the ridge to a sharp cliff. Trace had set up a permanent course, and he stood staring at the rope strung across the gully.

  “You’ve got to be kidding?” he said.

  “Don’t worry, it looks worse than it really is.” She sauntered up to the edge and tugged on the rope. “We change it every few months, so it doesn’t get damaged. All you have to do is shimmy along the rope to the other side. Then we’ll rappel down and head back to the vineyard.”

  Dawson walked up to the edge, stopping a few feet away. “That’s gotta be at least a hundred feet down,” he said.

  “One hundred and fifteen to be exact.” She handed him a harness and some gear. “These will keep you safe. As long as the rope doesn’t break, you’ll be okay.”

  “And if it does?”

  “Then I hope you brought some ID along with those guns of yours, because it’ll be one hell of a mess.”

  Dawson clenched his teeth, still eyeing the drop. “I suppose now isn’t a great time to tell you I’m not fond of heights.”

  “Funny, this is my strongest event.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  She touched him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll go first.” She strapped her ascender around the rope. “If you’d rather meet me back at the vineyard, you can just turn around.”

  “Nice try, Kendall, but it’ll take more than this to scare me away,” he replied, cursing as she launched herself off the edge and bounded along the rope. “Maybe.”

  * * * *

  “You okay?” asked Kendall, following Dawson up the path to the house. They’d been gone over three hours, and she could see her weariness mirrored in his gait.

  He glanced back at her. “As long as I don’t need to move for the next week, I’ll be fine.”

  She laughed. He’d been masterful, at crossing the rope, rappelling, and even the map reading to get them home. She’d never seen anyone take to the sport so naturally before. “I promise I’ll leave you alone until tomorrow,” she teased, stepping up onto the porch. “That is, unless there’s something else you desire of me.”

  Dawson grinned and shook his head. “Oh, there’s much more I desire, Kendall. I just don’t think my body could take any more punishment from you.” He met her gaze, and she knew he could see the heat flushing her cheeks. “So tell me. Will we repeat that invigorating experience again tomorrow?”

  “No, tomorrow we’ll go biking and try out the kayaks.” She looked at his clothes. They clung to him, revealing every curve of his muscles. Damn, he was a beautiful sight. “Trace’s room is above yours. Feel free to use his clothes. You’ll feel and perform better if you’re wearing the right clothes.”

  “Kendall, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Trace would be the first to offer. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and terribly overprotective. But he’d also give you the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it.” She grinned at him. “And you need it.” She moved to the door. “Thank you.”

  “For keeping my promise? You shouldn’t have to thank me for that.”

  “For trying your best. You surprised me today. Not many people can claim that.”

  She stepped inside before he could answer.

  * * * *

  The river was cold and the current strong. The kayaks sliced through the water, dipping and thrusting with every change in direction. Dawson gripped his paddle, plunging it to either side to keep himself upright and straight.

  “You’re doing great!” yelled Kendall. She was shadowing him, maneuvering her craft with the ease of a seasoned rider. “Now tip it and practice righting yoursel
f.”

  Dawson didn’t even have time to object before Kendall slammed her oar against his boat, tipping him under. She watched as he twisted beneath the waves, pushing with his paddle until he crested the surface.

  “Dammit, Kendall, would you mind giving me a bit more warning next time!” he yelled. “It’d be nice to hold my breath first.”

  “I didn’t want you to have enough time to worry about it,” said Kendall, directing them toward the shore. “Besides, I like seeing you squirm, remember?”

  Dawson’s boat knocked into the bank, wedging against a small hollow. Kendall moved in behind him, holding his kayak steady while he stepped out. He pulled the front half out before grabbing her boat.

  “I take back what I said yesterday,” said Dawson, helping her pull her kayak out of the water. “You aren’t trying to prove anything. You’re just plain nuts.”

  “Nice try, but the smile on your face tells a different story.”

  “I’m just happy to be alive.” He sat down on a large rock, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Do you always train this hard?”

  “It depends. Trace likes to ramp it up a few months before the race. I think he enjoys seeing me struggle. He’s way better than I am.”

  “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better for those two wipeouts I took on the bike.”

  “I wish I were, but he really is better than me. He’s strong, he runs like the damn wind, and he remembers every trail on a map, even if he’s only glanced at it. He should be the one showing you all this.” She drew her lips tight. Her heart ached at the thought of what that bastard was doing to him, and it took every ounce of strength she had to stay strong. She looked up at Dawson, attempting a warm smile. “But, alas, you’re stuck with me. Some people have no luck at all.”

  “Guess I was meant to suffer.” He glanced at his watch. “Are we almost done? It’s already been three hours.”

  “Just the short walk back to the truck.” She reached out and touched his hand. His skin was cool and damp, and she had a sudden desire to feel it against hers. “Thanks.”

  Dawson cupped her hand in his. “You can stop thanking me. You’ve kept your end of the bargain, though cooking me supper wasn’t part of our agreement.”

  “After promising to obey your every desire, I thought dinner was getting off easy. Besides, it helps keep my mind off of everything.” She dropped her gaze, not wanting him to see the tears pooling in her eyes.

  He reached over, raising her face back to his. “Why do you fight it?” he asked. “Why are you afraid to let me see you cry?”

  She steadied her jaw, hoping she could keep him from seeing through her again. “Maybe I’m just afraid that once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

  “Or maybe you just don’t want me to think you’re weak.”

  Dammit.

  “Would you?” she asked.

  “No. But I might think you’re human, and I can see the risk in that.” He moved closer. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I’ll still think that, even if I see you cry.”

  Kendall smiled, fighting the desire to do just that. “Well maybe you will, but not today.” She stood up. “Come on. Let’s go. I think you’ve suffered enough.” She extended her hand to him, enjoying the way his body brushed against hers as he straightened.

  Dawson smiled and grabbed one of the kayaks.

  Chapter Seven

  A storm was coming, veiling the vineyard in a shroud of darkness, exposing the cloaked landscape only when a burst of lightning flickered across the sky. Dawson drew the curtains, settling into the bed. He was restless, agitated, in need of…something. The air was charged, prickling the hair on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, listening to the distant sound of thunder, when a timid knock roused him.

  Dawson glanced at the door as he grabbed the covers, fisting the smooth material in his hand. It felt cool, and the startling contrast to his naked body surprised him. He looked down. Shimmering blue peaked between his fingers.

  Silk Sheets?

  He frowned, puzzled by the oddity—another knock. He turned back to the door. It cracked open, inching apart. He held his breath. A bright light burned his eyes, obscuring the doorway. He raised his arm, shielding his face, as a shadowy figure emerged through the radiance.

  “Dawson?”

  “Kendall?” Dawson stared in disbelief as Kendall flowed toward the bed, a translucent robe draped around her. It hugged her body, clinging to the fullness of her breasts and the flare of her hips. He could see her skin through its hazy gauze, flushed, smooth, beaded with the first hints of moisture. She stopped before him, her eyes dark and misty, half lidded with desire.

  “I need you.” She reached for the knot holding her robe together. “Please, don’t say no.”

  Say no? How could he say no when it took all his strength just to suck in a haggard breath as the robe fluttered from her shoulders, pooling around her feet. She touched his hand even before he realized he’d reached for her, and followed him down on the bed, her body resting on his. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her hips cradled his erection. She flicked her tongue along the length of his neck, licking and nibbling, stopping only when she reached his jaw. She smiled then, tracing the seam of his lips before sealing her mouth to his, suckling his tongue into her mouth, daring him to do the same.

  He groaned, rolling her over until his weight covered her, every inch of their bodies touching. His erection was harder, longer, pressing into the soft hollow of her stomach. Her skin was cool, like the sheets, and the stark contrast made him aware of his own fiery heat. How his cock seared against her, branding her with his mark, or how his fingers warmed her body as they moved across her skin, caressing it until her temperature matched his. She groaned at his touch and wrapped her fingers around his hair, holding him captive against her. Their lips were still locked together, their tongues still wrestling. He felt her grip tighten, her hips arch into him, the moist evidence of her arousal wet against his thigh.

  “Oh, Kendall,” he moaned, drawing his finger down her body, slipping it between her delicate folds of skin. She was warm and slick, and he couldn’t wait to taste the sweet essence of her desire, or feel her velvety lips surround him as he plunged deep inside her.

  “Dawson, please. I can’t wait. I need you…now.”

  She thrust her hips toward his groin, repeating her plea. He peppered kisses down her neck and across her chest, suckling each nipple in turn. They were pebble hard with a hint of salt from the light sheen of sweat now covering her body. He moaned, raking them against his teeth, increasing the pressure until she begged him to stop, to give her more.

  He moved further down, tracing the line of her ribs. The muscles in her stomach contracted, making her skin ripple as he licked each tiny shiver, loving how every touch was mirrored in her groin. She arched into him, spearing her fingers through his hair, tugging on it in the hopes of moving him to where she needed him the most.

  Dawson growled, a primal sign that he was in control. He heard Kendall huff in disappointment as he circled her bellybutton, dipping his tongue inside. It was smooth and soft, and he couldn’t help but wonder if her pussy would be just as soft. A moan broke from his chest as he moved lower, biting at her hip, before settling between her legs. She was bare, her pink flesh smooth and glistening with white cream. He wrapped her legs around his shoulders, cupping her buttocks in his hands, as he lowered his mouth to her pulsing clit.

  “Oh God.”

  She wriggled at his caress, arching against him as he lapped the sweet honey from her skin, eating like a man starving for the taste of her. He wanted to drown in her wetness, dip his tongue inside her weeping entrance, thrusting hard and deep, driving her into a fever pitch of need.

  “Help me out, darling. Hold yourself open for me.”

  She moaned her reply, releasing her hands from his hair as she pulled the edges of her silky lips apart, giving him greater access. He moaned his approval, bathing her
fingers with his tongue before sucking each flap of skin into his mouth. “You taste so sweet. Like candy, darling.” He dipped his finger inside her…one…two. Her muscles tightened around him, drawing him deeper. He drew back, watching as his fingers disappeared into the dark hole of her sex, plunging hard until the palm of his hand pressed against her clit.

  “Damn, that’s a beautiful sight.” He moved his lips back to her skin, licking the sensitive nerves, feeling her quiver beneath him. She was panting, clenching the sheets in her fists, pressing her pelvis hard against his mouth. “That’s it baby, just let it come.” He thrust his hand again, circling her swollen clit with his tongue, driving her ever higher.

  She cried his name, begging him not to stop, to ease the hunger eating her alive. “Now, Dawson. Please! Right there…oh God, so good.”

  She moved her hands to his shoulders, anchoring herself against him. He rotated his thumb, stroking it beside his mouth, pressing his fingers completely inside. Each touch brought her farther off the bed until she arched against him, digging her fingers into his muscles, wailing his name, filling his mouth with the creamy fluid of her release.

  He growled, savoring every drop of her honey, thrusting his tongue inside her drenched opening until she rolled her hips away, not able to stand the almost painful sensation any longer. He released her thighs, moving between her legs, rimming her sex with his cock. She was still coming, her vagina pulsing against the tip. He nudged the crown into her channel, feeling it clasp around him. Her entrance was narrow, and he had to push hard to inch his way inside her, reveling in every pull of skin as his shaft burrowed through her tender tissues, seating his sac against her flesh.

  “Oh God, Kendall, you’re so tight.” He drew back and thrust into her, claiming her channel in one long stroke. “So damn tight, darling.”

  Her warm flesh parted for him, gripping every inch of his cock, clenching and milking as he thrust again, harder, deeper. He closed his eyes, feeling her nails bite into his skin; her legs grip his hips.