Checkmate

by Kris Norris

  Chapter Nine

  Kendall stripped off her shirt, tossing it on the floor. It was nice seeing Jody and Logan again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed their company, and couldn’t think of a better way of spending the afternoon than talking with them.

  Selfish.

  Perhaps, but she needed the distraction, at least for a few hours.

  Her door bounced off the hinges.

  She jumped. Dawson was standing in the doorway, fuming.

  “Haven’t you heard of knocking?” she scowled. Dawson’s eyes were dark, and the look on his face sent a chill down her spine. “Hello, Dawson? I’m practically naked here. Do you mind?”

  “You lied to me!”

  She met his stare. She could tell he was mad, no furious, and she knew why. “I never lied to you,” she replied.

  “No, of course you didn’t. You just neglected to tell me the part about Garrick and your mother being lovers!” He stomped into the room and slammed the door shut. “That’s the real reason he leaves you a picture of her, isn’t it? Jesus, Kendall, how could you think that wasn’t important?”

  “She’s been dead for thirty years. What does it matter she slept with him?”

  “Because it changes the entire scope of his connection to you and Trace. Now I have to wonder if that’s the real reason your father turned on him. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me about it?”

  “Who says I know anything?”

  “Don’t get cryptic with me. I’ve been completely honest with you.”

  “Bullshit!” she yelled, stepping back until her shoulders brushed against the wall. His very presence was overwhelming, and she felt weak. “You’ve been lying to me every step of the way.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Tell me, if you don’t find Trace before the deadline, are you actually going to play along with Garrick’s game?” She watched as he looked away. “I didn’t think so. You make promises of helping me, of getting Trace back. But you’re only doing all of this to humor me. You think you can fool me by pretending to care.”

  “Dammit, Kendall, I do care!” He lunged forward, pressing her back into the wall. “Why do you think I let you drag my ass all over these hills? I know how important it is for you to feel like you’re doing everything you can to bring Trace back alive.”

  Kendall grabbed his arms, intending to break his hold on her, but found herself clinging to them instead. She’d tried so hard to convince herself she could save Trace that hearing him confirm her fears out loud broke her bravado, reviving the images of Trace dead and alone in the darkness. She fell into his arms, crying.

  Dawson caught her, pulling her against his chest, his mounting tension bunching his muscles. Her reaction must have caught him off-guard, and he seemed uncertain of his next move. He cursed as he lifted her up and carried her over to the bed, cradling her in his arms.

  Kendall buried her head in his shoulder, allowing him to encircle her. His body was hot, and gave off a sweet, musky aroma. She took a deep breath, losing herself in his scent. She’d never wanted someone to hold her with such desperation before—no, not someone, him. She wanted Dawson to hold her. And she didn’t want him to let go.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was low and tender. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

  “That’s not why I’m crying, but thanks anyway.”

  She felt him smile against her hair as he went to pull away, but she pressed her body closer, refusing to let go. She was only wearing a bra and panties, and the warmth of his hands on her skin was exhilarating.

  “Kendall.”

  She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. His anger was gone, replaced by a look that stole her breath. She reached up her hand, touching his jaw. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and the feel of his stubble against her fingertips sent a bolt of electricity down her arm. A moan trembled past his lips as she traced his skin back toward his neck, wrapping his hair around her fingers. His mouth inched apart as she took his lips in hers, tasting his heat—his hold tightened.

  Kendall groaned, pulling her body closer, needing to feel his chest pressed against hers. He was still wearing his shirt, and she could feel the rough play of fabric against her bra and skin. It moved across her nipples, teasing them into hard pinpoints of need. She moaned into his mouth, wanting to feel his lips curled around her breasts, stroking her tight buds, sending shockwaves of arousal straight to her core. She could feel her body liquefying, easing her juices along her silky lips, coating them with her slick dew. Would he taste her there? Lick every drop of cream from her body?

  She trembled at the thought, not sure whether it was anticipation or fear. She wasn’t one to jump into sexual encounters, and her sudden need to feel him sheathed inside her left her head spinning. She’d never felt such strong emotions for a man, and the idea he held such power over her was frightening.

  The voice in her head whispered words of warning, but they got lost in the heat of Dawson’s embrace. He was palming her back, tracing every inch of skin with his fingertips. His heart raced against her chest, its rhythm almost as erratic as hers. She whimpered as he thrust his tongue deeper, plundering her mouth with steady strokes. Would he take her like that? Strong and hard, or would he start off slow and let her set the pace?

  Dawson pulled back, breaking the kiss just long enough to run his hand along her jaw and lock it behind her head, before taking her lips in his again. His kiss was harder this time, more desperate, as if he’d been dying for her touch all along. He was consuming her. Making her feel drunk with his passion, and she was more than willing to give him anything he desired.

  Dawson moaned, tilting her head back, jousting his tongue with hers. He hadn’t intended on responding, but the moment she’d touched him, memories of the dream returned, flooding his senses until he was powerless against the rush of need. He wanted her, but not just for his own pleasure. He needed to ease the pain he’d seen in her eyes, show her a warmth and tenderness he knew she’d never experienced.

  She was running her fingers along his chest, squeezing his muscles as they twitched beneath her caress. Her touch was light, and the hint of innocence in it shredded his last sliver of sanity. He fisted her hair, breaking the kiss, as he moved his lips to her neck, nibbling his way to the sultry curve of her shoulder. He paused there, biting the corded muscle, wanting to mark her as his own.

  She gasped as his teeth raked against her sensitive skin, leaving a light scratch across the surface. She turned her head, giving him greater access, crying out as he made another pass. He could feel her blood pulsing through her veins, strong and fast. Her skin was warm now, and he couldn’t wait until she stripped off his shirt and rubbed it against him. She pushed back, tightened her fingers around his shoulders and turned in his arms, straddling his waist, pressing her pelvis against his. He moaned, feeling his erection hard against the vee of her thighs, pushing against the soft silk of her panties. He wanted to ease them over her hips, see the velvety flesh she was hiding beneath.

  Bare?

  He didn’t know, didn’t really care. It was more curiosity than necessity, though nothing turned him on more than soft, smooth lips quivering beneath his tongue. He moistened his mouth, anxious to find out. But he needed her to want it more.

  “Dawson.”

  Her voice was a strangled moan, a wanton plea for more. He arched her back, pressing his fingers against her stomach as he inched them upward, massaging her skin until he felt the edge of her bra. He stopped then, using a single finger to trace the seam across her breast, feeling her nipple harden beneath his touch. It was pushing against the confines of the lace, begging to be released.

  He came to the rescue.

  Without losing contact, he slipped his thumb beneath the cup and lifted her breast up, revealing her pale flesh. Her nipple was puckered against her skin, its tip tinged pink with arousal. He smiled at the perfect bud, gripping it between his fingers, rolling it until she cried his name
, undulating her groin against him. She was panting, straining to get closer, clutching at him as if he were the only strength holding her up.

  “So pretty,” he whispered, tweaking her nipple again. “So soft and pretty, Kendall.” He lowered his face, stroking her nipple with his tongue, sipping it into his mouth. It was hard and smooth, and he loved the breathy little moaning sounds she made as he raked it over his teeth, teasing it with strong pulls of his tongue.

  “Dawson, please.”

  “Soon,” he breathed, smiling at how her body convulsed as his breath feathered across her damp skin. She was still covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he wanted nothing more than to lick each salty droplet from her skin.

  “Oh God.”

  Her voice whispered across the heavy air, drawing his attention back to her face. Her hands were locked around his shoulders, and her nails dug into his skin through his shirt. He’d been right. She was the kind of lover who would give him as much in return as he did her. Maybe more. And he couldn’t wait to find out.

  He eased her closer, catching the combined scent of perfume and arousal on her skin. He drew a deep breath, wanting to put the unique combination into memory. Hell, he wanted to put everything about her into memory. The silky softness of her skin, the sound of her voice. The way she undulated against him, making his cock harder and thicker, or how she touched him in such a way he couldn’t think about anything else, but pleasing her. The walls he’d sensed around her were beginning to crumble, allowing him closer, giving him the will to keep fighting. She was almost his.

  He moved back to her lips, knowing one more kiss was all it would take to break through the final barriers. He looked into her eyes. They were dark, heavy lidded, edged with lust. He smiled at her, tracing the outline of her lips with his finger.

  “Dawson, I…”

  “Shhh,” he murmured, pressing it across her mouth. “Just relax, darling, and let me make it good for you.”

  She stilled at his gentle touch, her eyes wide, her gaze fixed on his, as he brushed his lips to hers again, swiping his tongue along the sensual pout of her lower lip. She moaned into the kiss, sinking into his embrace, pressing her body to his.

  Easy. Keep your promise. Make it good for her.

  He smiled at the thought, thinking of all the ways he could do just that. First he’d taste the sweet cream he knew was easing from her body. His pants were already wet from where she’d rubbed her panties against him, and he liked the idea he’d be able to smell her scent on him later. He bit back a growl as she arched into him again, pressing so hard he could feel her moist lips grip his shaft through both their clothing. Her panties would be the first to go. He’d wanted her to want it more, and the waiting was over. The view beyond her shoulder swayed and shifted as he turned on the bed and began lowering them down.

  “Dawson, we need to…” Mitchell swung open the door, his large figure looming in the doorway. He stopped in mid sentence, his eyes wide. Dawson heard him curse as he grabbed at the door handle. “Sorry,” Mitchell muttered, closing the door.

  Kendall pulled back, her cheeks flushed. She looked at him, then at the bed. He watched as panic flashed across her features, seizing control. She pulled out of his arms and jumped up, half tripping over her feet as she fell toward the bathroom, securing herself behind the door.

  “Dammit!” he cursed and stormed to the door, pushing Mitchell aside as he headed for the stairs.

  “Please tell me that wasn’t Kendall Walker.”

  “Back off, Mitchell!”

  “Dammit, Dawson, you know better than that! Getting emotionally attached to a victim is the biggest mistake you can make. One you’ve managed to avoid, until now.”

  “She’s not a victim.”

  “She damn well is and you know it.” Mitchell followed him down the hall and into the kitchen. “Are you sleeping with her?”

  “That’s none of your God damn business!” Dawson pounded his fists on the counter, growling in frustration. “Besides…she’s different.”

  “Why?” asked Mitchell, a flippant edge to his voice. “Because she’s got stamina?”

  Dawson grabbed the man, slamming him against the wall. He glared into his friend’s eyes, surprised by the guttural rumble in his chest. “Don’t insult her.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Take it easy, buddy.” He straightened his jacket as Dawson released him, and moved to the other side of the room. “I didn’t mean to get you so upset.”

  “Just let it go. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Dawson turned to him. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  Mitchell reached into his jacket, removing a collection of papers. He tossed them on the counter. “We’ve got him.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Are you sure this information’s correct, Mitchell?” Dawson sat at the table, scrutinizing the file. “We can’t afford to make any mistakes. Not with this guy.”

  “Have I ever steered you wrong?” asked Mitchell. Dawson chuckled. Mitchell shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “When it’s important?”

  “No buddy. Not when it’s important.” He flipped the page, scanning the blueprints. “Doesn’t look like much. Why would Garrick use this place for his private getaway?”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s so out of the way even the cockroaches need directions. Come on, everything about this place screams ‘hideout.’ ” Mitchell drew his finger across the page. “Two entrances, one here, near the rear of the alley. The other drops into an abandoned sewer system. Not your typical back door. And he’s surrounded by nothing but vacant warehouses and condemned buildings. Trace could scream all day, and nobody would hear him.”

  Dawson nodded. He wanted to believe they’d outsmarted Garrick, but his little voice wasn’t convinced. “We need to be sure. If we’re wrong, it could all end tonight. And it won’t be a happy ending, I can assure you of that.”

  “Chances are the guy’s already dead. You know that. You’ve done enough of these to know happy endings are far and few between.”

  “We haven’t had one for a while. It’d be a nice change.”

  “You’re the one who’s always saying we have to make our own happy endings. Garrick isn’t going to give us one. If Trace is alive, his only chance is for us to find Garrick, and take him out.”

  Dawson sighed. He knew Mitchell was right. Taking risks and pushing the edges of the envelope were the only times he’d ever tasted success. “You said your informant recognized Garrick’s picture?”

  “He said the man looked older, with some gray hair and a slight limp, but he felt it was the same guy.”

  “Felt? That’s not very comforting.”

  “It’s the best we’ve got. He said he’s seen Garrick twice since Saturday night.”

  “Did he see Trace?” asked Dawson.

  “No. Garrick was always alone.”

  “Damn.”

  “I realize it’s not much to go on, but it might be our only shot.”

  “I understand that Mitchell, it’s just—”

  “Do you have any idea how hard I had to dig to find this place?” interrupted Mitchell. “I haven’t slept in days. I’ve scoured every connection the creep ever made. Did you know his first business venture was a five-cent lemonade stand on his grandma’s porch when he was six? Or that he lost his virginity to a woman named Louise when he was fifteen?”

  Dawson drew his lips tight. If it weren’t for his feelings for Kendall, he’d be out the door already. But he needed to be certain. He didn’t think he could face her if he failed.

  “Well?” asked Mitchell. “It’s your call.”

  “Let’s get him.”

  * * * *

  Kendall sat on her bed, confused. It’d been over an hour since she’d thrown herself headlong into Dawson’s arms, and she still couldn’t seem to calm the pounding in her chest. She’d showered for twenty minutes, but the scent of his body lingered, clinging
to her skin like a fine silk blouse. She closed her eyes. She’d wanted him, and in a way she’d never wanted a man before. Even now the mere thought of him touching her pulsed the blood in her veins, until all she could hear was the beating of her heart ringing in her ears.

  She groaned, sliding her fingers down her stomach, pressing them against her groin. She was still wet, and the throbbing between her legs was unbearable. Damn, it’d been far too long since she’d been with a man. Conner hadn’t touched her in months. He hadn’t needed to since she suspected he’d been bedding every woman in sight, and she wasn’t sure she could stand the painful ache much longer.

  She hesitated, her hand poised at the entrance of her narrow slit, uncertain of her next move. She drew a soft breath, easing her fingers between her legs, feeling the slick evidence of Dawson’s arousal coat her fingers. She held back a moan, tracing a path through her silky flesh until she could plunge a solitary finger inside her.

  “Oh, God.”

  There was no stopping now, not when the single act flashed vivid memories of their brief encounter. Dawson licking her neck, cupping her breast, tasting her nipple. He’d curled his tongue around her hard tip, and sipped at it, savoring the taste as someone savors fine wine. She’d all but climaxed when he’d tugged on it, each pull of his mouth igniting embers in her vagina. It was as if every touch brought her closer to the final moment when her body would explode around him.

  Kendall whimpered, still able to feel the twitch of his muscles beneath her fingers as she’d slid them along his chest, feeling the strength hidden within. She’d give anything to feel those muscles again, only this time as he lay poised above her, his cock thrust deep inside, her heels locked against his tailbone. She could almost feel the rhythmic strokes inside her channel as she mimicked the motion with her finger, plunging it into her weeping sex, wrenching a strangled moan from her lips. Her juices were hot and slick, and just the feel of them against her fingers sent her need skyrocketing.